#he only has like 8 seconds of lines but manages to make it the best part of the song

[booskwan]

MAESTRO 🎶 240502

[romanreignseater]

Cinematography. (This Is Cinema ~ Roman’s Part)

Roman Reigns x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; Rough sex, p0rngraphy, oral (m&f receiving), slight spit kink, and other nausty (ikyk) thingsssss..

“Already having made an absolute masterpiece with Mr. Jey Uso, you didn’t think you’d be stepping to the so called “Tribal Chief” so soon. But he put himself next in line and you weren’t mad at it.

A/N: This has been the most requested in my inbox and I have been dying to continue this story/series for you all. Here’s the first part of this series. Thanks for the support on my last Roman fic, what a warm welcome back 🥰🥰. More coming soon, I got a lot of ideas brewing up. AND MY HUSBAND IS BACK, TURN UP BITCHHHHHH 😝😝!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIF: @jeysuso

It has been about two weeks since your last adult video dropped and it was the talk of the town. Scratch that, it’s talk of the whole world at this point. You filmed with a member of the hottest porn group there is, Mr. Jey Uso, and he most definitely rocked your world. As that video did your bank account.

The video reached 1 million views in just an hour and over the course of two weeks it was at 205 million views. Those numbers meant shopping sprees and palm trees. But, also trips to the masseuse, cause Jey did not play no games with you. He wore you out to the point where your management thought it was best to put you on an “injury reserve” list.

Yeah… it was that bad and honestly unnecessary.

But, good at the same time. Jey made you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. What you didn’t know was a storm was brewing and headed straight for Casa Y/N.

As you stood in your kitchen making yourself some shrimp alfredo pasta with your teacup poodle, Rex, by your side being your little sous chef. The doorbell rang. Rex instantly began barking and running to the front door, trying his best to be your guard dog.

“Rex, calm your little ass down.” You yelled as turned the stove off and moved the pan of pasta to the side, wiped your hands and headed to the front door. You had no clue as to who was at the door, you weren’t expecting any company. Maybe it was a package, as your online spending habits always seem to leave your mind the second you purchased something. Or maybe fan mail, as you tend to get a lot of those from random men wanting to marry you.

“Rex back up from this door and stop all that barking please.” Rex sat quietly and tilted his head curiously to the side as you opened the huge door. You were surprised to see manager, Vanessa, standing at the door with a big grin on her face. As you opened the door even more, your breath completely stopped and your heart skipped a beat. Stood next to Vanessa was a 6’ 3, tatted, tan, and muscular Samoan with the face of a Greek god.

Your mouth stood agape as you admired his innate beauty, glaring at you with that smirk… that smirk that possessed all the women he’d ever worked with. Made them shrivel in their panties, made them wet for days, and made them absolutely numb to his body and his body only.

Roman Motherfuckin’ Reigns.

The leader of this adult film group aka “The Bloodline”, stood at your front door, with your manager. You couldn’t believe it!! Roman only had 8 videos up… 8 videos!! He’s only ever worked with 5 women in his entire pornstar career and they were quite the professionals. But now he stands at your door, which you could only guess what that means.

“Earth to Y/N, yoohoo. Y/N!!” You snapped back into reality as Vanessa began clapping her hands in your face. “Vanessa, where I’m from clapping your hands in someone’s face means you wanna fight. So, let’s not do that again. Got it?!” Vanessa looked taken aback as Roman just laughed with that dreamy chuckle of his.

“She is really feisty Nessa, just like you said, I like that.. a lot.” Roman whispered that last part into your ear so sensually that it made you want to take your phone and make this tape right here at the front door. But you remained professional as you knew Roman didn’t mess with little fan girls. He only worked with confident women who are professional and know what they want out of him.

And boy oh boy, you knew exactly what you wanted from him.

“Well let’s not waste any time with the long introductions. Y/N, Roman. Roman, Y/N. Shake hands and let’s get this party started.” Vanessa waltzed her way right into your home and picking up Rex in the process as she then said, “Ooo, is that alfredo I smell girl?!” You both watched as Nessa helped herself into the kitchen to feast on the meal you prepared for yourself.

“Your manager is really something, but she’s definitely a smart one and knows what she’s doing with you.” You faced Roman as you just gazed into his chocolate brown eyes as he did to yours. “Yeah that’s my girl. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?!” Roman removes your hand from the door, lets himself in and shut the door behind him. He then immediately picks you up and flings you over his shoulder. You gasped and begin giggling uncontrollably.

He gives a firm smack to your ass and heads his way into the kitchen.

“Oh, imma have fun with you baby.”

You bit your lip as you let Roman navigate his way through your home by following the smell of the pasta which would lead to where Vanessa stood chowing down per usual.

“Okay Groot, put my girl down. She’s on the injury reserve list and I can’t afford to have her down for another week.” You mentally curse out Nessa for mentioning this stupid injury reserve thing in front of Roman. He sets you down and takes a seat on the barstool across from Vanessa on the kitchen island.

“How did you get injured?!” He stares at you with curiosity in his eyes as you weren’t bandaged up, nor needing any sort of crutches or wheelchair. You played with your nails as you looked around the room trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Welllll… it’s kind of a long story. See what-.”

“Oh my god, she’s taking too long. Her last porno with your cousin, Jey. Messed. Her. Up. She’s been done up ever since.” Roman’s eyes moved from Vanessa’s to yours. You shut them not even daring to look back at him.

“Oh please, when I���m done with her she’ll be on that list for months. Why do you think I’ve only worked with 5 women my whole career?! Cause I broke em’ down, claiming they could take it but always proved me wrong. With you though… I know it’ll be different.”

Roman said that as he stood behind you massaging your ass with one hand and massaging your neck with the other. Roman’s massive hand travels from the back of your neck to the front of it as he choked you out. His hand on your lower half took the same route to your front, rubbing your pussy through your shorts. His pillow soft lips laid kisses all over your face, but grazing your lips every time you thought he was gonna go in for a kiss.

You completely crumbled. Cupping your entire clothed mound in his hand, massaging and torturing you. Making you squirm for his viewing pleasure. You lose your breath and awareness of your surroundings as he begins rubbing you out harder and enforcing a rougher choke around your neck.

“Ummmm, get your hands off my girl. You ain’t sign this contract yet.” Vanessa said with a mouthful of pasta, throwing the contract down in front of you both.

“Yeah you’re right. Can’t fuck the shit out of her without this little deal we curated.” Roman released you from the shackles of his hands and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Wait, what deal?!” You stared at your manager trying to regain your breath, as she continued to slurp down the pasta.

“Wellll… you see, what had happened wasss.” You looked at Vanessa in utter disbelief as she was out her making “deals” without your approval.

“Ah she’s taking too long.” Roman began to speak on Vanessa’s behalf. “We have curated a little deal princess, where we will have a committed “porn” relationship. Basically committing to film with each other, and each other only for a period of time. But as of right now, we’re doing a little tester. Seeing if we have the chemistry before we go lighting any sparks here.”

You stood giggling not minding the sound of this little “deal”. But you can’t help but notice that Roman’s come flocking after your tape with Jey and you’ve heard about the slight competition between the both of them.

“Okayyyy, and why now?! Is it because I filmed with your little cousin and you’re nervous he’s doing bigger numbers and has bigger things than you honey?!” You continued your uncontrollable giggles as you looked to Vanessa who stopped in her tracks.

Roman shut his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Those words deeply triggered him. Him and Jey were always in competition with one another. Since they were in little league football to now slanging that dick for all of America to see. Despite Jey being a twin, they were more of an inseparable duo rather than frenemies.

Of course Roman had immense amounts of love for his family, he helped bring them into the industry and helped change all of their lives for the better. But he was a firm believer of not letting the people you allowed in to over throw you. He stood at the Head of the Table and he wasn’t gonna allow little cousin Jey to take that from him.

“Vanessa… call the camera crew.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t even sign the contract and a camera crew was at your home setting up for what you could only assume was gonna be an absolute movie.

Roman didn’t speak to you after asking Nessa to invite the camera crew over. He must’ve not liked to hear you compare him to Jey, but it was all harmless fun… well to you at least.

You find Roman and Nessa in your bedroom with the camera crew setting up angles all around your bed. You slowly walked up from behind your bedroom door and Roman and Nessa looked up towards you. “Well don’t you look all cutesy girl. I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your first ever video..”

You visibly cringed at Nessa constant embarrassment of you as Roman chuckled his life away. “At least she’s all dressed up for a good reason. A great one at that." You dressed in your best lingerie. Red, tight, and riddled with lace.

Just how you liked it and assuming that’s how Roman liked it as well by the way he was eyeing you down.

“How about we get started, why don’t we?!” Roman sat on your Queen sized bed and waited patiently for you sit next to him. You slowly walked to the bed, as if you were unfamiliar with it. “This is your house, your bed sweetheart. Why you being all shy?! I don’t bite, well I might not bite right now.”

You blush and take a seat next to Roman on your bed. You look at Roman as he tells the main camera man where to stand.

“Sooo… there’s no game plan?! Just jumping straight into it?!” Most stars you’ve worked with have a certain setup for how their videos began and Roman seemingly didn’t have one. Most of his films sort of jumped straight into the last minutes of foreplay, then cut right to the sex.

“Sweetheart, this is my show and I’m running it. Just follow my lead and follow like a good girl, alright?!” Roman’s deep voice put you into a trance and hearing him call you a good girl nearly made you drool.

“Oh-okay.”

Roman pats my thigh and smiles at me.

“Good girl.”

He then signals the cameraman, which prompted him to start a countdown.

“In 5…

4…

3…

2…

1…”

He signals his finger towards us meaning that the camera is rolling. Staring directly into the lens, you were completely frozen. Your nerves began to get the best of you and those jitters you had when you first became an adult film star all came back.

You could feel the warmth of Roman peer closer to you. He places one of his large hands on your thigh and the other on your face, making you look him dead in his eyes.

“Don’t be nervous alright. Daddy’s got you.”

Before you could respond, Roman blesses your lips with a passionate kiss. Our lips smacking together in sensual harmony. His tongue swirled on the inside of your mouth, exploring every part of it.

Then the kiss became even slower. Your tongues fighting in a brute of passion, trying to figure out who asserted the most dominance. And of course… the Head of the Table won.

He moves from his spot next to you on the bed and stands in front of at the edge of the bed. He begins to massage your taut breasts through your lingerie, before removing it completely.

“Fuck baby, you look amazing.”

His comment only added to your nervousness, but his heavenly kiss brought you back to down to Earth.

He catches you by surprise as he yanks your hips to the edge of the bed and rips your soaked panties clean off. He spread your legs wide causing the glory of wetness to be revealed to him and the camera.

“You real wet huh mama?! Want Daddy to eat you out??”

You could only nod as his breath nearing your pussy could only cause you to shiver. He smirks and lowers his head down into your heat.

He begins eats you out messily, tossing your knees over his shoulders, and circling your clit until you soak his beard. He then sucked on each individual fold, licking and slurping covering it in saliva. You became a whimpering mess as he shook his head ferociously against your clit, with eyes rolling back, hands tangled in his luxurious hair and legs shaking and closing around his head.

“I’m gonna cum Dadddyyyyy.”

“Let it go mama.”

Your legs enclosed Roman’s head as they shook with maximum strength. Your back arched off the bed and Roman’s fingers gripped your thighs harshly, definitely leaving marks later.

You pant heavily, trying to regain your breath from the insane climax Roman just gave you. Without wasting anytime, he took his tank top off as well as his sweatpants and boxers.

His body a legit masterpiece. Sculpted by the gods.

Shocking you once again, he grasps the back of your knees, forcing them together and then crushing them into your tits. The head of his cock glides against your cunt, still convulsing from the feeling of that climax. 

Roman slams into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He just pounds you into the mattress. The room was filled with sounds, only sounds. The grunts and the wet slaps of his pelvis smacking against yours over and over again with his hand between your legs, rubbing your wet cunt and the place where it stretched around him.

“You like that mama?!”

“You feel it in your stomach, huh?!”

“Daddy’s going in real deep huh?!”

Your entire bed shook, the headboard slammed into the wall to the point where you believed the drywall began to crumble and holes will most definitely appear later on. You begin taking mental notes to tell Vanessa to send Roman a bill for your damaged wall.

His moans made you even wetter than you were before. It almost sounded like he was whimpering over your pussy.

Was the big man really whimpering over how good your pussy is?!

Before you could even relish in the sounds of his moans more, you legs shook once again as you felt your climax approaching and it was approaching fast.

Roman caught on to your short gasps and convulsing legs, he then began beating up your sweet cunt. Throwing your knees to the side of your head, making them touch your silk sheets. Pounding into you harshly, not missing a beat until you squirted all over his lower half and the sheets underneath you.

“Oh my goodness.” You let out an exasperated laugh as you closed your legs together to staph off that feeling. You winced as Roman let out a sharp smack to your ass. You opened your eyes as you watched him pleasure himself in front of you.

“Come suck this dick mama.”

Say no more.

You followed as Roman laid down and you took the position in between his legs, sniper style.

You grabbed at his flesh pole and it felt so hot and heavy in your hands. He most certainly was big. Like BIG. Although you didn’t want to compare lengths, Roman was massive compared to his cousin Jey. Maybe he liked to call him lil cuz for a reason.

“Whatchu you keep staring at?! Get to it princess.”

You innocently brought your mouth down and sucked the head. Moaning with his cock in your mouth and hands massaging at this balls. You slobbered down his length, bobbing your up and down head slowly. You peer your eyes up as you listened to the moaning and groaning Roman made from the moment you made contact with his member. His legs shook as you continued the pleasure.

His eyes rolled back and he grabbed the back of your head, bobbing your head up and down. Your eyes watered and you gagged as he stalled his hips in your mouth.

His cum coated the entirety of your throat. He groaned as you swallowed his cum while he was still in your mouth. His strong arms brought you up as he gave you a long kiss. Intaking all his cum and yours from earlier in each other’s mouths. A string of saliva hung from your lips to his. You both smile at each other, looking each other in the eyes.

“And… CUT!!”

You slightly jumped as you completely forgot about the tape you guys were filming. “That was absolutely perfect guys. Roman, Y/N… you both got a money maker on your hands right here.”

The camera crew began to clean up and take down the lights and mics. Roman tried to help you up off the bed, but you were so weak in the knees you couldn’t stand.

“I think we’ll keep on that list sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment and he began to chuckle. “Whatever Roman, just let me sit for a little.”

He smiled at you once more before he lowered himself to your ear. “Definitely better than Lil’ Jey huh?!”

This man is a problemmmm…

A good one though.

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THE END.

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED 💕💕!! Probably my fave Roman fic to date!!

MY TAG SQUAD: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @nayys-world @mzv11 @babybatlover @vogueyonce @harlem11680 @seeingstarks @thewarlordsworld @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @christinabae @pitlissa22 @thealliasylum @fame-ass-ers @iluvthebloodline @jeyusos-girl @ah-fin3sse @solosikoasgf @msbigredmachine @rollinsland @angelicflower2020 @theogsamoanqueen @saintsvenust @headoftheetable @romanreignsbae @li-da-savage

Let me know if you’ll like to be added to my tag squadddddd!!!

[mandarinmoons]

dad!spencer

DAD SPENCER SPENCER AS DAD

yknow that scene where JJ calls Will and Henry over the phone so she can read to Henry? or atleast I think she read to him it was so long ago that I watched 😭 anyway, what about that with Spencer and a toddler Bailey? he’s on a case but he still wants to make sure he’s present for his daughter even if he’s not physically there

<333

Your ears rang as Bailey’s cries echoed through the house. She had been fussy and inconsolable for days and you knew why, her dad was gone.

Spencer flew out to a case all the way in Nebraska leaving you to take care of Bailey all by yourself until he got back. You weren’t cross with him, you knew his schedule was hectic and that he tried his best to be a part of both of your lives.

For Bailey however it was a different story. The second her dad walked out the door she was upset and ran to the door to run after him. The only way she would fall asleep is by draping one of Spencer’s shirts over her, her breathing would calm down and a moment later she would be at ease.

It had been four days since Spencer left and there had only been limited text messages between you two. The case turned out to be more complicated than initially thought and it was taking up more of the team’s time.

You and Bailey were cuddling on the couch watching one of her favorite cartoons. Bailey had a crying fit and after some time she managed to calm down a bit and now here you were, caressing her back as her tear filled eyes were focused on the TV in front of her.

As you felt yourself doze off and your head leaned to the side, your phone rang which caused Bailey to get fuzzy.

“Shh there there,” you sat up and pulled Bailey into your lap as you dug your phone out of your pocket, seeing it was Spencer calling you sighed in relief and immediately put it on speaker.

“Hey Agent Daddy,” hearing your words made Spencer chuckle and Bailey’s eyes went big as she heard the laughter.

“Hey you two, how are my favorite girls doing?”

“We’re doing okay, Bailey misses you a lot.”

“She does?” Bailey immediately made grabby hands at the phone.

“C’mon, say hi to daddy.”

Bailey got the phone in her hands and chanted “daddy, daddy, daddy!” in an excited voice.

“Hi baby, do you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, daddy will be home soon, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Spence, do you think you could sing to her a bit?”

“Yes yes, daddy sing!”

Both you and Spencer laughed as Bailey grew excited over hearing her dad sing to her.

As Spencer sang along to the lullaby he recited to Bailey every night before bed, she nuzzled into your chest as her cheek was squished against you, her eyes fluttering shut as she relaxed.

You pried the phone from her hands gently and took it off from speaker mode, pressed it to your ear and quietly spoke as to not wake up your daughter.

“She’s finally asleep.”

“Has she really not slept these past few days?”

“Well only when she tires herself out from crying.”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “I feel bad now.”

“Hey it’s okay. You’ll be home soon so she’ll feel better in no time.”

“I hope so.”

Silence took over the line for a moment and you could hear Spencer trying to cover up a yawn, he was dead tired but still managed to make time to call you.

“You should go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up for too long. You still have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah,” Spencer yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked at the time, 8:47 PM in the evening and yet it felt like it was 1 AM for him.

“Be safe, yeah? Think about how happy Bailey will be once you get home.”

Spencer smiled as he thought about his little girl running into his arms as soon as he walked through the front door.

“Give her a kiss from me please.”

“I will, good night.”

“Good night.”

As the call ended you looked down at Bailey and watched her sleep peacefully in your arms. Her hand was gripping your shirt and you chuckled as you remembered what you wore, the same shirt of Spencer’s that you draped on her as she slept.

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[seungbinbin]

meet ugly - hyung line ver.

not every couple has a fairytale start !!

a/n: first headcanons ! idk if i like this format but i thought i could try <3 lmk what u think ! i was also sleep deprived and delirious writing this but i think it’s a little funny heh

warnings: curse words, very ridiculous writing, mentions of food, gn reader ! (lmk if i missed anything!!)

bang chan

you found out there was a new neighbor on your floor

and you were just so excited to make a new friend

plus you heard the lady from the leasing office saying he was really cute 🫣

so you decided to be nice and bake him some muffins for breakfast <33333

what you didn’t know was that your neighbor stayed up until 4am producing a new song

so when you knocked on his door at 8am, bright and early, interrupting his much needed sleep…yeah, he wasn’t very happy

“what do you want? 😒”

oh 😟

you just hand him the muffins, mumble a quick sorry and RUN

he only realizes how rude he was after he wakes up a second time, hours later, seeing the HOMEMADE muffins sitting on his counter with a little note

“welcome neighbor !!!! :)))”

oh my fucking god 😭 he just HAS to apologize

when he finds you (literally knocks on every door on your floor) he says he’s so very sorry and he’s speaking so fast it makes you giggle

“it’s okay, breathe!”

and he decides right then and there that he’ll make it up to you by taking you out for coffee 😋

lee know

studying at a coffee shop was the best thing ever for you

it made it easier to concentrate on your work, it smelled delicious, and the baristas knew you so they always gave you a little cake pop for free <3

you had been hard at work for hours :( poor baby, midterm season is ROUGH

deciding to take a break to rest your eyes from looking at your screen, and your hands from writing, you took a look around and spotted the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life: lee minho !

his hands were full and he looked very annoyed and you thought "woah that's so much coffee!"

what you didn't know is that he had lost the rock, paper, scissors game for coffee duty <///3

and now he was a little (very) irritated carrying 8 cups of coffee

trying to balance 8 large iced americanos was kind of hard, especially in a crowded coffee shop in the middle of lunch rush

but he had everything under control !

until someone bumped into him while he walked past your table

suddenly there was coffee everywhere; on his shirt, on his face and hair, on your face and hair...and all over your table

thankfully, you had managed to pull your laptop away from the disaster before any coffee got on it

however...your review was all wet and messed up

your 6 page, hand-written review you had been working on for the past 4 hours

"holy shit, i'm so sorry-"

and then you were crying 🧍🏻‍♀️ he didn't know what to do

when you explained everything, he offered to rewrite the review for you 🥹

he took the soggy papers with him, then asked for your number (just to ask what he should write and give you the review, totally not because you were the cutest ever! )

changbin

changbin was having an off-day at the gym

he had been trying to beat his last pr but something felt…off

maybe he pulled a muscle while practicing choreography, or his new pre-workout never kicked in

whatever it was, his mind-muscle connection was off and it was beginning to frustrate him

he was so stiff and crampy and ready to go home after his barely-successful arm day >:(

he was angrily typing on his phone with one hand, complaining about his day to chan and holding a 40 pound dumbbell on the other

definitely not watching where he was going !

he walked right into a bench and hit his shin very hard ! ouchie !

which made him lose his grip on the dumbbell and he dropped it

…right on your foot 🥴

“OW, FUCK!”

“oh NO, ARE YOU HURT!?”

“OF COURSE I AM, YOU ASSHOLE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

please don’t yell at him he didn’t mean to ! he tears up when he sees you start to cry in pain :(

so he apologizes (and keeps doing so as he carries you to his car so he can drive you to the hospital)

when you told him your roommates were out of town and you weren’t from the area, he offered to stay with you :(

and also offered to pay for any medical expenses

oh he just felt so bad 😞

but it’s okay! the doctor said it was a minor fracture that should heal up in no time !

and like…changbin made you laugh the entire time and he’s so kind and nice and pretty and buff…

perhaps you could forgive him for shattering your big toe! but just this once !

hyunjin

you just wanted a nice, peaceful day at the park

the weather was perfect for a picnic and a book and you just had to take the opportunity

a lot of other people had the same idea to visit the local park

hyunjin included! he wanted kkami to get some fresh air and to stretch his legs from being holed up in his art studio all day

everything was going perfectly fine

and then kkami managed to get out of his leash

chaos ensued; everyone could hear his dramatic ass screaming and chasing his little dog 😭

surprise! kkami ended up at your picnic bc he wanted to eat your snacks

“hello, sweet boy!”

he was so friendly, everything was going so well! you even offered him a strawberry

and then he peed on your book

and bit your finger 🧍🏻‍♀️

hyunjin gets there 30 seconds too late and now he has to apologize for kkami and his chihuahua-ness

“oh my fucking god, i’m so sorry, i don’t know why he would do that! are you okay!?”

yes you are…there’s a beautiful man right in front of you holding your hand and checking on you ‼️

there’s still dog pee on your book tho

“there’s a bookstore near by, can i buy you another copy?”

so cute <3 thank u kkami

[cazzyf1]

An Article about Lella Lombardi - Nobody makes jokes about women drivers around Lella Lombardi

The sleek Lola T-332 racing car crossed the starting line at the river side, Calif, Grand Prix, hurtled ahead of three cars, and swooped back inside with split-second timings.

"You mean that's really a girl?" Muttered three times indianapolis 500 winner A. J. Foyt, looking on in incredulously from the side liners.

For Lella Lombardi, the first woman in 17 years (and the second ever) to compete on high performance Formula One circut - the big leagues of professionals auto racing - the question is all but invetable. What in the world is a nice Italian girl like Lella doing in overalls and a crash helmet, risking her life at speeds close to 200 miles an hour?

"That's what mama keeps asking me," says the tomboyish 31-year-old Lella, "I guess she thinks I should be home with a good husband and a houseful of bambini."

It was obvious from the beginning, to Lella at least, that she was cut from different cloth compared to most girls. Born in the little Piedmontese village of Furgarolo, she was hooked on auto racing before she was out of diapers.

"The first I remember, I am perhaps 4 or 5 years old," she recalls, "I was making little cars from things I found in my mum's sewing box. When I was 8 I decided I shall be a racing driver. I didn't say anything but I made up my mind."

As a teenager Lella raced motorcycles with boys in her village. The boys were scandalized she beat them - their mothers that she was racing at all. Eventually the village priest came to call.

"He explained why I should be like a girl and what a girl must do," she remembers. "So I told him, 'yes father' but all the time I am thinking why am I not allowed to do as I want."

Nothing if not persistent, Lella saw her first race at 18. Five years later she brought a car of her own, secondhand, Formula Monza 500 that she tinkered with and drove in races herself. Last year, nearly after a decade of coming up through the ranks, she was approached by March Racing Ltd, of England which was looking for a driver for its two-man Grand Prix team.

"Formula 2, Formula 3, Formula 5000 - I raced in them all," says Lella, "I win a lot in Italy - six times women's champion. So when March comes to ask me to try out for them, I say to myself, 'Why not?'"

March's decision to hire her was hardly made lightly. A single Grand Prix car costs $100,000 and putting it through a season of racing costs several hundred thousand dollars more.

"Putting a woman into a Grand Prix cockpit means shattering a lot of tradition," acknowledges March team manager, Max Mosley. "Of course, my wild told me, the only reason I was hesitating was because of Lella's sex, no doubt about her skill, in the end, I guess my wife was right."

Now prepping for this Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Lella is given little chance of winning a race this season (although she finished a respectable sixth in last week's accident-shorter Spanish Grand Prix) since March is designing its cars. Some drivers perhaps disturbed by Lella's invasion of their male peserve, doubt the chunky, 5"2, Lombardi has the stamina for long-distance racing. But March chief Roy Wardell, was watching her during a gruelling test of the company's racers, disagrees.

"Thrasing a car about it bloody hard work," he says, "most male drivers would have been bitching and complaining but she drove more than 300 miles flat out without a whimper." Her main fault, says Wardell, is a rookie's understandable caution. "Lella is still a bit afraid that if she spins out everyone will say, 'see a woman driver'" he says, "but her confidence is building. Pretty soon she'll be mixing it up with the best of them."

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me Simeon Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. Simeon and Lucifer used to take naps together in the Celestial Realm

2. Simeon was once a seraph, for unknown reasons he was demoted to an archangel before the events of the game

3. Simeon’s favorite color is celestial blue

4. Simeon’s favorite animal is a sloth

5. Simeon owns a café in the human world called the angel’s halo

6. Simeon was close enough to Lucifer to be considered one of his brothers

7. Simeon is good at juggling, managing four clubs his first attempt

8. When Simeon is drunk he forgets words and easily cries

9. Simeon describes his job as middle management and cries to Lucifer about it when he gets drunk

10. Simeon makes the best pancakes

11. Simeon has a difficult time trying to act scary

12. Simeon claims he has a hard time getting mad but he’s seen getting mad many times especially as a play director

13. Simeon is the author of TSL

14. Simeon based the TSL characters off the seven brothers

15. Simeon thought it was cute when Levi shyly followed him around too nervous to ask for an autograph

16. Simeon and Diavolo do not get along because Simeon is so good at hiding his true feelings

17. Satan is curious to see what Simeon would be like angry, meanwhile Diavolo is scared to see it

18. Simeon loves making bento boxes for Luke

19. Simeon enjoys escape rooms

20. Simeon’s favorite Devildom food is Black Tapir

21. When a flame salamander became attached to Simeon he considered taking him back to the celestial realm

22. Simeon’s BLT sandwiches are popular among flame salamanders and Beelzebub

23. Simeon enjoys calling Lucifer, Lucy

24. Simeon’s motto is “Learning is a lifetime.”

25. Simeon keeps a daily diary

26. Simeon has been keeping a scrapbook of his and Luke’s time in the Devildom from day one. He claims to be very proud of Luke as he smiles more in each picture.

27. When asked what he’d do if the Devildom disappeared tomorrow, he said he’d take Luke back to the Celestial realm

28. Simeon’s a dog person, specifically chihuahuas

29. Simeon enjoys teasing Luke but prevents anyone else from doing it

30. Simeon and Lucifer used to have movie nights together frequently

31. Simeon is said to be the active one when it comes to love

32. Simeon wishes to “be bound” by his lover

33. Simeon cherishes relationship anniversaries and special dates of remembrance

34. For a relationship with obstacles Simeon states “I wouldn’t want to encounter that if I could avoid it, but I don’t think I’d give up for sure.”

35. Simeon is able to openly express his feelings but will still become jealous

36. It’s implied Lucifer avoids hanging out with Simeon because Simeon is one of the only people who can see through his prideful demeanor

37. Simeon gets along well with Cerberus

38. Simeon sees Luke as his grandson

39. Simeon saved Lucifer and MC’s lives by sneaking into a guarded celestial palace and stealing Michael’s ring of light to give to MC

40. Simeon is very bad with technology but as the game continues he slowly gets better

41. Simeon is so used to using his DDD camera that he’s forgotten how to use a regular camera

42. Simeon once got forced into a self checkout line and in a panic having no idea what to do, he called Lucifer to come save him

43. Simeon helps teach Luke how to do a handstand by holding him from his ankles

44. Simeon couldn’t figure out why he was bad at jump roping until Luke suggested he take off his cape

45. Teaching Simeon how to use his DDD is considered an exercise in futility

46. Simeon is the second-shortest side characters

47. Simeon enjoys cooking

48. Simeon says he can’t wink and is trying to practice

49. As an archangel Simeon is seen as a warrior by other angels

50. Simeon is a skilled musician

51. Simeon thinks horror movies are pretty fun

52. Simeon prefers sweet food over spicy food but likes both

53. Simeon’s human world outfit was chosen by Luke, he decided to go with it after seeing Luke’s cute smiling face

54. Simeon states that just because he’s an angel it doesn’t mean he’s all forgiving

55. As of season four, Simeon is a human after his angelic powers were taken as punishment for stealing from Michael

56. Simeon sees Michael as more of a friend than a supervisor

57. Simeon checks up on Luke to make sure whether or bit he’s actually gone to bed

58. When asmo had shocking pink hair Simeon states it hurt his eyes

59. Simeon believes the whip is an exciting expression of love

60. Simeon enjoys architectures digest

61. Simeon says the secret ingredient for his pancakes is love

62. Simeon was almost attacked by a giant jovial gingerbread man, all he did was smile at it and it shriveled into a fried cookie

63. Simeon taught Luke how to make pie

64. Solomon believes openly sassing the son of the demon king is a very Simeon thing to do

65. Simeon attempted to make solomon cry for his own amusement

66. Simeon once told MC he’d be okay with becoming a demon if it meant he could be with them

67. When Simeon was under a spell that showed him what he wanted to see, he was convinced that Lucifer and his brothers falling from the Devildom was all a long bad dream

68. Simeon says he wouldn’t mind if anyone caught him kissing MC and that they could even make it a point to kiss in front of them

69. Simeon didn’t believe in the exchange program until season four after seeing all the blood sweat and tears diavolo put into it

70. Simeon vents to Lucifer when he’s tired of Michael’s errands

71. Simeon once gave bangles to the brothers enchanted with a spell that would make them angelic. He didn’t place the spell but knew about it.

72. Simeon became an author after leviathan suggested it though at first he claims to be satisfied just reading them

73. Simeon would make up elaborate stories to tell the Cupids

74. Before season three Simeon never stayed in the human realm for a long period of time, though he says he has visited multiple times

75. Simeon enjoys cube puzzles

76. When a rumor about The Angel’s Halo spreads, Simeon requests Mammon and MC’s help to dispel the rumor that if you share a drink together you’ll be together forever. Mammon is unable to pretend to break up and starts crying so Simeon calls him useless

77. Simeon feels anxious seeing others work and not helping out

78. As a seraph Simeon was known to be the least intense

79. Simeon is very serious about his job even becoming very angry when the brothers disrupt him

80. Simeon adores rare books, during the first Christmas event when every swapped gifts he was excited to get the book Satan was hoping to get himself

81. Simeon once got detention in RAD

82. When Mammon created the Miss Em’ dolls, Simeon opted for the goth plushie

83. Raphael claims Simeon is much better at his job (the angelic one) after coming to the Devildom

84. Simeon is one of the only people who can calm down all the brothers

85. At the end of season four Simeon accepted that he’d become human and was okay wearing his celestial realm clothes again thanks to MC’s help and acceptance

86. At the end of season four Simeon decided to stay in the Devildom until Raphael’s year long exchange was over

87. After demotion to human, Simeon was confronted and asked if taking the ring of light is why it happened but he responds “something like that” hinting it could be for more than one reason

88. Simeon tells Mephistopheles he “smiles a lot by nature” when Mephistopheles accuses him of finding him caring for Luke as something funny

89. Simeon once escaped and left Luke to endure Solomon’s cooking by himself

90. Simeon will bribe Lucifer to hang out with him

91. On more than one occasion Simeon has snuck into events celebrating him (Christopher Peugeot)

92. Simeon gets a little embarrassed when he sees his books on store and library shelves

93. Simeon sends Michael sweets from the Devildom is exchange for sweets from the celestial realm

94. Luke claims Simeon is too fond of flouting the rules when it suits him

95. When there was a mess at the café Simeon scared the brothers into helping him clean up

96. As a director, Simeon was called a dictator by the brothers for how strict he was

97. Simeon says he prefers the hustle and bustle of the Devildom over the serene quiet of the celestial realm

98. Simeon is the first person to recognize and point out Levi’s degradation kink and tries to stop him multiple times

99. Despite Simeon always looking serious and seeming hard to read, he claims he’s not thinking about anything deep in particular, and that no one believes him when he explains

100. Simeon thinks it’s fun to cause a stir on occasion

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Next

🤍Masterlist

From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

[justrainandcoffee]

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 10.

Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games

Masterlist. Parts: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine.

Summary: Rose decided to play her best card during the auction and paid for someone else apart from Nina and Alfie. Soon it was obvious that her impertinence cost her more than money. || It's the beginning of the 74th Hunger Games.

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, bombs. But nothing graphic. || Only two chapters until the end of this first part of the story.

Words: 3.6 k.|| I'm not responsible for the last line of this chapter 🙃. (I always said that Katniss didn't exist in my fic. Well, here's her replacement. I was dying to introduce her.)

No one asked why, not even Lawrence. But everyone invited to the auction watched as Mrs. Evert bought not one, not two victors as was customary, but seven.

"We don't judge here," that woman who turned out to be Alfie's abuser had said the first time Rose went to the auction.

They clearly weren't saying it out loud, but Rose felt their gaze on her back.

"I want to make a porn movie. An orgy, hardcore sex," she said, smiling and causing more than one exclamation of outrage. Because there they all were for the same thing, but to say it out loud was almost sinful.

It would go down in Panem's dark history the moment Rosebeth Evert walked out the door with a smile, having left seven checks of considerable sum and exclusivity with them. At least for a weekend.

It had all started before the 73rd games. The song of the twins, the symbol of the dandelion were all over Panem, even the Capitol.

And it was a powerful force that was having a hard time being stopped. Clearly something Snow deeply disapproved of.

The winner of the 73rd games had been a boy from district 2. One more that the careers managed to add to their list of winners. That wasn't news, if it wasn't one of Jack's tributes, it was one of the indomitable District 1. What was news around Panem, was how the tributes from 6, 7, 8 and 11, had sung the twins' song during the seconds before the bloodbath.

Those who managed to survive the initial carnage, kept singing until they couldn't go on. Either because the careers took care of them or because it was the Gamemakers who took matters into their own hands.

But it was too late. The song once again, had stuck in the memory of the entire country. And if those districts rose up against the Capitol, especially district 11, the others would follow like a domino effect.

And Snow wasn't going to let that happen. Unless he didn't know what was going on.

That was why Rose, with consent of those involved, had offered money for them and now in addition to Alfie and Nina as usual, Eva and Jack, Tommy and Lucy and Aveline Young had joined in.

The house Rose had bought years ago was large enough to accommodate them all. And out of the way so that no one would be disturb.

Communication between her and Aberama Gold had not been interrupted in that year and a half. And a friendship had formed between the two.

Snow, in his eagerness to break people until there was nothing left of them had not realized that certain pieces could rejoin with others and that had happened with them.

And Rose knew that the time had come to tell the rest what was going on inside the Capitol itself, away from the cameras and the glamour of the games.

The three peacekeepers guarding the seven who had arrived at Rose's mansion left after leaving them at the property. It was rare to see them outside the context of the games, but necessary. None of them, apart from Nina and Alfie - especially him - really knew Rose so some of them like Aveline, Jack and Tommy were there because they trusted him or victors like Lucy and Eva who seemed to be more open to meeting her.

"The dorms are upstairs," she told them "and each one has a bathroom. So you don't have to worry and you can use it whenever you want."

"This is the house Evert paid for?" asked Aveline, without much trouble. She still didn't quite trust and although she had agreed to be there, she was still cautious.

"Avie..." Nina's voice, made the other woman turn her head towards her.

"I'm just asking."

"No," Rose replied, "this is the house I paid myself, working for months, for years, on designing clothes for kids who are inevitably going to die. Contrary to most of my colleagues, I do care about them and I don't dress them with a piece of cardboard; as Nina, if you don't believe me, can testify. Nothing here has Evert's stamp on it."

"Okay then," the black woman nodded before going upstairs to the bedroom that Rose assigned to her.

.

"Aveline still hates me."

"She's not always like that," Alfie replied when the rest of the victors went to their rooms. The one that he and she shared was the only one in the first floor, facing the beautiful garden the house had. He was hugging her from behind, placing kisses on her neck. "You both have several things in common, she just need to see them. Like both are protectors and both have an awful mood when you're angry. Sometimes you can be stubborn, too."

"Hey! I don't have an awful mood."

"With me, maybe. But, sweetheart… it's time to accept it" Rose heard him giggling in her ears and slapped his arms softly.

"Don't be mean."

"I'm not, luv. But you're not exactly a little lamb."

"Well, speaking of moodiness you're the king, Alfie."

"And fucking proud of it."

She couldn't help but laugh. Rose knew that those weren't times to be happy considering that, except a few group of people, millions of others were miserable. But every time they were together, she allowed herself to smile and forget for a moment, the awful world they were living in.

Rose didn't have avoxes in her house. So, it was her the one in charge of cleaning and cooking. Although considering the last one wasn't her best quality, she ordered for food. Maybe Alfie, if he wanted to, could cook at night.

"Sabotage the games?" Aveline asked raising an eyebrow.

"Next year, yes. During the Quarter Quell. Everything it's going to be ready the next months. We need to do this."

"How?"

"That's secret," Rose said again looking at Aveline. "It's not that I don't want to share it. But I don't want to risk any of…"

"Then how we can help if you're keeping it as secret?"

"You need to trust. The Quarter Quell is special. As well all know. You were already a mentor when the 50th games happened, right? So you know how chaotic it'd be."

Except Nina who hadn't been born yet, the rest although young, were old enough to remember the second Quarter Quell. It was massive, the double of tributes. Meaning, not 23 kids died, but 47. Aveline told them that people was completely excited about those games and she remembered the joyful screams near the Tribute Building. The faces of all the presents said it all. That was a really disgusting, but it wasn't nothing they weren't use to it.

"They won't have the time to celebrate after next year," Rose affirmed. "There's something I learnt last year when I met Aberama after those games. And I didn't tell anyone, not even Al. But you two know right? Tigris knows, I bet you're aware of it," she said looking at the Nelsons, especially Eva "the deepest secret that the Capitol have."

"We knew it, not long ago. But… what? Are you planning to go there?"

"Yes. District 13 is alive, it was never destroyed," she said to the rest of them. "They just pretend to the sake of both worlds."

"That's bullshit!" Lucy said, "we all see the images, all the time! As a friendly reminder that we can be the next ones."

"They tried, and evidently succeed, to selling us that story. But it's false, they even have their own president. His name is Campbell. But don't expect a Messiah. According to Aberama, he's like Snow but without the tendency of killing kids. He's not very charmed nor welcomed. But he has the power we don't."

"So he's helping you and this guy Gold, with this idea of sabotage the games?"

"Not entirely. The first part is something I worked over a decade. I promise I'll tell you after the 75th, but I can't now… it's personal. But Aberama has people on district 13 and they accepted the deal. We know we can't trust all the mentors nor the kids that are going to be part of the 75th, but at least a part of us can fight him. And expect for the best."

"Do you know anything about this, Alfie?" questioned Aveline once again.

"No. And I haven't known shit since we met. I just trust her, Avie. You should do the same."

It was then when Rose told the rest about her birthplace. Her life and family in district 8. The number of tesserae with her name in the bowl and how, like them, knew very well what it was to be part of the kids that could die. And how the only difference between them and Rose it was pure luck. Just luck.

"I wish I could save you from the horrors that Evert did to you. You, Eva… what he did to you… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault, Rose."

"I married him and he gave me his stupid last name. So since I'm the only Evert here I feel I need to do it. But I'm not him. I'm not! I only knew what he was, when Alfie told me that first year I met him. Since then, I forbid him to touch me. That was 14 years ago. We're still married because it's a great dishonour for a man like him, to divorce. But he doesn't care about me being with Alfie. He loves new things, he's blind. He believes that he's good but he's fucking sick."

"We know," Tommy said. "We, Lucy and I… we're in."

Eva was the first one to accept even when everything was still green and she didn't know exactly when the rebellion was going to start. Jack accepted later, probably influenced by his wife. And Nina was ready to kill Snow from the moment her brother was reaped. The only one left was Aveline and the eyes of them were on her. Soon they got the answer they were waiting for.

"Let's kill this fucker," she said.

_

The victors, weren't allowed to leave the house or apartment of the member of the Capitol who paid for them. But Rose's house was big enough for them to enjoy a bit.

The moment they arrived, Alfie noticed that his wife wasn't alone. The previous month when he and Nina went, Rose was alone as always. But apparently the last few weeks, something changed.

There was a chonky dog, an English Bulldog, next to her. CP, was her name. But Alfie found it so ridiculous that he called her CPU. An in matters of hours, every one was calling her CPU. And apparently, the dog was okay with that.

And that was how started what happened next.

Nina found a little package in front of the house when she opened the door to let CPU go out. It hadn't any name on it, just the address. When she gave it to Rose and she opened it, she found an USB port.

"Maybe Gold sent it," Alfie said.

"No. We have an agreement to not send anything like this. Not even letters, just fortune cookies. This is not him."

"So? Who sent you this?"

"I don't know."

There was only a way to know it. Rose picked up her laptop and went to the kitchen alone to see what it was. There was just one file and it was a video.

From the dinning room, some minutes later, the victors heard the sound of a glass crashing on the floor followed by a scream.

Alfie was the first one to react, the rest went after him.

"Rosie? Rosie!!"

She was frozen looking at the screen, unable to answer to him. But she was crying loudly. His wife didn't react when he put a hand on her shoulder.

"That's district 8," said Jack looking at the video that was playing in loop. "What happened?"

The video showed the desert streets of district 8. Its grey buildings and the smokey air. It seemed that the camera, probably a robot, had a clear destination. Everything happened so quickly that the victors didn't have time to react. One moment the camera was pointing at a specific house and the next one was an explosion and the house became a pile of rubble and fire.

For few minutes the camera was still. The sound was off, so it was impossible to know if someone was screaming or if there was some kind of voices. The camera suddenly moved and pointed at two bloody bodies next to the house, clearly dead. A woman and a young man. The video ended several seconds later and after a moment started again.

Alfie was now hugging her but Rose didn't hug him back. She was in shock.

"I think is her mother," Aveline said. "Alfie, does she have brothers?"

"Two…" he replied, still hugging her "Oh god. Rosie, luv… look at me, sweetheart. Look at me. I need you to come back, please, luv."

The rest was in silence. Nobody said a thing but it wasn't necessary either. Only one person could be capable of such thing and they all knew who it was.

"Louis," was the first thing she said, looking at him. "That was Lou. My little brother Louie. He was a man now. And my mom… my…"

Only then Rose hugged Alfie and cried against him. "I'm here, luv. I'm here." He guided her out of the kitchen, towards their bedroom.

"The fucking bastard," Nina exploded. "He wants all of us dead, doesn't he? Son of a bitch! Killing kids isn't enough! Making us revive our nightmares over and over again, isn't enough!"

She kicked a chair that fell on the floor. "I'm tired! I'm so tired! She did nothing! Nothing!"

"Snow doesn't needs reasons, Nina," Eva said "I guess he believed that it was suspicious that Rose paid for seven victors and acted in consequence. I'm genuinely surprised that he didn't do it before."

"Maybe he was just waiting," her husband said.

Lucy and Aveline were in silence watching the video again. Then both of them exclaimed something at the same time which caused the rest averted their attention to them.

"The shadow!" said Lucy pointing at the screen. "Avie told me she saw something but it's so quickly that you can't see it the first time."

"What shadow?" Tommy asked, watching exactly where Lucy had her finger.

"There's a shadow moving right there, see?"

She was right, barely imperceptible but it was there. Like someone moving the rubbles before running away.

"Alfie said that she had two brothers, right? If the ones that the explosion killed, were her mother and one of her brothers, then logic says that the one moving there is the other one. Maybe not all her family perished."

"It can be anyone, Luce," said Tommy a bit sceptical.

"It can, but we must have hope too, don't you think?"

Tommy said nothing. But Lucy was right they needed to believe that there was hope.

And yet, the mood in the house that started very well suddenly was destroyed by Snow. And around them was only pessimism.

Aveline stayed in the kitchen preparing the dinner, although she knew not all of them were going to eat. Only CPU seemed ready for her meal.

"Lucky you," Aveline said to her giving the animal a piece of cheese. "I wish I could not understand what is going on."

In their bedroom, Alfie was sitting on the mattress with his back against some pillows. Rose was in his arms, facing the wall.

"…she practiced abortions," Rose was saying. "You know, she loved us, the three of us and she was a good mother but she wanted other women to solved their mistakes. It was illegal, but some women and went in search of her to fix the unfixable. I guess she kept doing it these years… I-"

Alfie stroked her hair, she continued speaking after a moment in silence. "I never had the chance to tell her about you. Nor meet my brothers again. I only recognise Louie because of his hair. He was the only one of the three of us with actual curls. It's my fault, Alfie. I killed my family by organising this meeting. I ki…"

"No, no! Luv! Rosie… you don't. It's not your fault, sweetheart. You didn't do this."

It was Snow. Darius Armstrong, the auctioneer, told him that Mrs. Evert paid a fortune for seven victors. He was happy about that when he commented it to the president, a bit scandalised, but it was a night he didn't see before.

But Snow could see beyond that. It took the man several weeks after the auction to find what he was looking for, but he did it.

Rosebeth didn't exist. But Rose Elizabeth Coldwell did. The one that at the age of 19 left her lands in search of a better future in the Capitol. One of the very, very few people who had the chance to live in the Capitol. And Snow believed that she was the only one of those miserable outsiders who really made it into the exclusive circle around him.

Quite dangerous.

Once he found her real identity, it was quite easy know the rest. A mother with an illegal job and two brothers working in a factory, but still living with Mrs. Coldwell because it was impossible to afford a house.

That's when Coriolanus Snow decided to kill them and filmed it.

Maybe that could make Mrs. Evert understand why he was the leader.

Alfie was still comforting Rose when they heard some soft knocks on the door. Nina's voice replied from the other side of the door when he asked who it was.

"What happened?"

"I need to talk."

"It's not the best time, Nina. Rose…"

"No, it's okay," replied the mentioned watching at the younger woman. Nina saw her red puffy eyes and put a hand on her arm.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so mad, Rosie. So mad, so frustrated! We have to let Snow destroy our lives as he pleases. I really want to go to his fucking mansion and stabbed him. I didn't believe it was possible to hate someone this way but-… I won't do it, I swear. It's impossible. But I don't came here to tell you how much I hate Snow, but something else."

"About what?"

"I want you to do something for me. But also for you two… I don't want you to pay for me anymore, no… let me finish," she said before Rose could interrupt or protest. "I'll be forever grateful for what you did for me. The both of you. How you protected me from what for sure, it was going to be an inevitable fate. I don't want to think about it, I don't. But now, years later, you and Alfie deserve time alone. I don't care if you say that I don't bother. Maybe I don't. But if everything is going to shit next year… we don't know if we're going to survive, Rosie. I want to believe we will. But, we don't know. So, I want you two enjoy your time alone. You fucking deserve it."

"Nina, if I don't pay… then…"

"I'll take a risk. I'm an adult, I'll face the consequences if I have to. You always asked me if I agreed with coming here. And I did. So, the same way I'm asking you to do not doing anymore and spend the time with this idiot you call husband," Nina said smirking briefly at her ex mentor.

Alfie rolled his eyes at the last words. He was proud of her and thankful too, but he remained in silence. He probably will say it when both of them were returning to district 9, two days later.

"What do you say?" the girl asked.

"It's that what you want?" Rose asked and Nina nodded, so the woman agreed. She was crying again when this time Nina hugged her warmly.

.

If the the shadow in that video was Samuel Coldwell or not, it was impossible to know.

Jack had cut the video to avoid showing Rose the corpses of her relatives. But he kept the part where the shadow could be seen. Those seconds were what they showed her. But it was impossible to distinguish it.

And yet, she embraced the idea of what her brother was still alive. Sam was always hard to catch, maybe he could avoid Snow. She hoped so.

That Sunday they kept talking about district 13 and the best ways to tell the future tributes about the rebellion.

But first they needed to face the 74th Hunger Games. And they didn't know the calamity that it was about to happen.

The group left Rose's mansion early Monday as it was usual escorted by the peacekeepers. Only Alfie would return there to all of them. Rose would only see the rest during the games.

Nina was right, her time alone with Alfie was something that she craved. And also Alfie. But they didn't know they were living the last moments together before the beginning of the war.

During the reaping day, District 9 got its tributes. A girl who was 17 and a boy who was 14. Everything that Alfie and Nina expected. Two skinny and malnourished teeangers who had to face the consequences of an inevitable death.

But the news arrived from district 8.

The boy was 18. The girl was 16. The problem began when no one volunteered in her place, despite the fact she was 7 months pregnant.

NEXT

[professional-sephiroth-scrungler]

Ok wild fuckass theory that probably works more as some type of fan fic AU or fix-it (loosely) and probably won’t happen but chekekfj

This is gonna be very rambly but bear with me

To me it seems that TFS and new details in Rebirth are setting up that Jenova is in more control than we previously thought. While I still believe there is some level of fucked up symbiosis, I question how much is actually Sephiroth (insane or not) and how much is Jenova. Would Jenova want revenge on Rufus for killing Glenn? Probably not because that is a very human, Sephiroth thing to want.

Jenova is a calamity that destroys worlds, we’ve known this since the OG and we’ve known that the Nibelheim Incident was because Sephiroth was rightfully angry, betrayed, and upset at what he had learned (false info but hey). In Rebirth we see it flashing between Sephiroth and Jenova, especially in the reactor where their faces are overlayed for a second. It makes me wonder, while Sephiroth was 100% having a mental breakdown, would he have killed and burned the entire village if it wasn’t for Jenova’s influence. In Crisis Core before leaving for Nibelheim, he was talking about deserting/leaving after this last mission. Without Jenova, i could see him wanting to get revenge on the people who wronged him, take down Shinra, and other such things. But since Jenova’s sole purpose is to be a world destroying calamity, she would twist that want of revenge on those people into just getting rid of all of it and become a god.

Side Tangent. I find the length of Sephiroth’s bangs to be important on telling what Sephiroth we are looking at (sane, short. insane, long) and Square seems to have just kinda forgotten about CC Seph having shorter bangs ig for optimization but it makes moments like in Chapter 8 of TFS confusing where we see very much sane Sephiroth from right before the CC era with long bangs and it cuts to Sephiroth with the same model, as far as i can tell, at the Edge of Creation. That leaves two options I can think of; 1: the Edge of Creation is a Jenova created sub space or mind space that she has been taking Sephiroth to and he has no idea wtf it is yet (unlikely). 2: That little scene was Sephiroth during the Remake Trilogy slowly gathering old memories and maybe even realizing that Jenova is in more control and influenced him more than he originally thought and is slowly regaining his identity. This feels more likely so thats what im gonna continue this rambling with. But please Square, you can sacrifice a few more megabytes to add another hair model to swap in.

Anyways, going with that Sephiroth is slowly remembering who he was, and how episode 1 of TFS seemed to be drawing some pretty harsh parallels between Sephiroth and Rosen plus everything they seem to be setting up with Jenova, i think Square is setting up a type of redemption for Sephiroth. It won’t be a true redemption but it would be something. The line from Rosen, “There is no place for me in your world,” feels very intentional and VERY Sephiroth. The parallels between Sephiroth and Rosen’s isolation and being trained from a young age to do one thing only for Sephiroth to kill him because Rosen feels that he can’t be a part of society feels like a set up for how Sephiroth’s story will ultimately end. If Cloud and crew somehow manage to separately Sephiroth from Jenova or something, there is no place for Sephiroth in the world anymore for very different reasons than Rosen. He’s killed, tortured, tried to end the world; no one would accept him after everything he did. Clearly, sane Sephiroth felt a lot of guilt over who he had killed and was trying his best to be the hero he never truly wanted to be to maybe right his wrongs. But if he gets his mind back, there is no righting the wrongs he had committed. There is no place for him anymore. He had been a dead man for 5 years anyways. The only thing he deserves is death and to finally join the Lifestream. The only catch is if Cloud can show the same empathy young Sephiroth did for Rosen. Any in the end, I think Cloud will be able to. In Advent Children, he showed some level of empathy and compassion for Kadaj in the end.

In the small snippet of Sephiroth we got in chapter 8 of TFS, he was thinking about how hate breeds more hate but compassion can end that cycle. And I think that is going to be the key to finally ending the cycle of FFVII.

[stereax]

I seek your wisdom, o wise one.

Exactly how screwed are the sharks, the flames, and the oilers?

You can't see me but I am RUBBING MY HANDS IN DELIGHT at this ask. Nothing I love more than talking about why teams suck. As always, meet you under the cut! 💜

(Also, sorry this took so long! Had to make a presentation on the Chinese Super League for sports diplomacy and it siphoned my will to live.)

Do I have you? Great! Okay. Let's go one by one.

CALGARY FLAMES: CANDLE IN THE WIND

I, for one, never got the hype behind the Flames. Every pundit in the entire NHL was saying "Oh, the Flames are going to have a massive bounceback year, last year was a down year for everyone!" And now look at them. 3-7-1 to start the season with a mere 7 points in 11 games.

Spoiler alert: Trading your best forward in points production to literal Satan for a single corn chip is not going to help you be competitive. Who'd'a thunk it?

In addition, there seems to be a major coaching problem. On theory, this team should be solid. Maybe not top of the league good, but solid enough to make a wildcard spot at least. But you watch the systems at play and they just don't work with the players. For instance, Huberdeau is an east-west player being forced to play a north-south system. He can't do what he does best, make plays, because the current north-south system simply won't allow it. Firing Sutter was supposed to fix this locker room. It only seems to have made the problems worse. Christ, Zadorov is apologizing to the fans because they're playing that shittily.

How screwed are they? Probably a solid 8/10. Markstrom seems to have bounced back, but the team in front of him has not, tanking his save percentage because the defense simply cannot defend. We're being treated to a classic Huberdeau and Kadri Disappearing Act (2-4-6 and -12; 1-4-5 and -12). Mangiapane and Andersson have both gotten suspensions already for no god damn reason. All extension talks (Lindholm and Hanifin chief among them) have been suspended. It's chillingly possible this team will have to sell big at the deadline to get any value out of their expiring UFAs - and then what? You've got a few good pieces (Cary, Sharangovich, Wolf) that can lead your retool, but you've also got anchor weights in massively underperforming contracts, like the aforementioned Huberdeau's, that come with no-move clauses and are just such bad deals that even if those clauses were waived, who'd take them?

EDMONTON OILERS: BULLS ON PARADE

I think if you told anyone in July that the Edmonton Oilers were going to start their season 2-7-1 in 10 games, you would be laughed out the door. And yet.

I do have to preface this by saying yes, McDavid was out for several games, and when you're without the best player in the NHL, it gets tougher to win games. But fuck, man. The Devils are now down BOTH their top six centers for the foreseeable future and yet they're still managing to win games. You know why? DEPTH SCORING. Something that the Oilers have not had since seemingly the 80s. If your game plan revolves so strongly around one guy, chances are you'll be fucked anyway if that guy goes down.

Also, Campbell cannot stop a beach ball in net. Skinner isn't much better. How much of this is the defense and how much is just the goalies sucking? Unclear, but it is NOT a good sign. Although the Oilers mostly work under "outscore your opponent before they outscore you", you want to be able to make SOME timely saves. Neither tendy is giving any hope recently.

And all this can ultimately be traced back to Ken Holland fucking this team over with contracts. Nurse did not deserve that much. Kane is questionable at best. Campbell? Christ. And then you have no cap room to sign actually decent bottom sixers and then wonder why they're getting shelled. Why is Sam Gagner, a random legacy Oiler on a league minimum contract, on your second line? Make it make sense!

The thing is - you CAN win if you have a few guys getting paid the big bucks. Just look at Vegas for an example of that. You CAN'T win if you have a few guys getting paid the big bucks and almost no depth beyond your top line where you stack McDavid and Draisaitl to try to get SOMETHING going. You can't doubleshift those two across the entire lineup. I know, it sucks.

SAN JOSE SHARKS: COLD WATER

How screwed are they? I'll give them a 6/10. We're seeing the "or bust" part of "cup or bust". Can they turn it around? They have McJesus. Anything is POSSIBLE when you have McJesus. But it's not looking pretty, at all. I bet they end up in the wildcard hunt, or close to it. Just enough to maybe make the playoffs but too exhausted to do anything else.

Remember, Draisaitl's contract is up after 24-25. McDavid, 25-26. Will they want to stay in this garbage fire? If one, or God forbid both, ask to be traded, this team better channel the early 2010s and tank hard.

And now we reach the ultimate lolcow. These guys STINK. 0-10-1 in 11 games. .045 points percentage. The only point they managed to get was because Blackwood stood on his motherfucking HEAD in game 2.

But then you have contracts like Hertl, Vlasic, and Couture, which you can't move and which will weigh down the franchise for years while it tries to rebuild. What are you going to do with them? How will you get rid of them?

What's the problem? More to the point: What isn't??? There's zero star power on the entire roster. The defense doesn't know how to defend and the offense can't score against a Shooter Tutor, much less an actual NHL goalie. The goalies... they're trying! I think! Give them credit. And Quinn's trying, maybe, to coach? But when do you kick his ass to the curb too, just to try to put some life back into that lineup? That is the world's deadliest team. It's like hockey is a punishment to them!

FanDuel is running bets on when they will finally win their first regular season game. That's how ass they are. I wish I were kidding.

On top of all this, the locker room seems like it's going up in flames. Remember the Nucks' 10-1 beating of the Sharks? Kahkonen, the Sharks' tendy, got injured after the sixth goal, when Kuzmenko ran into him. Kuzmenko and the Canucks made sure Kahkonen was alright and that it wasn't a major injury. The Sharks? They just went back to the bench!

This unironically is probably the worst team in my lifetime, and maybe for decades before I was born too. They're just so BAD. There's no redeeming reason to watch Sharks games at all except to laugh at the Sharks as they get 10 goals dumped on them.

How screwed are they? 10/10*. I'm sorry, but fucking Zetterlund is leading your team in goals. ZETTERLUND. I cannot name ONE player on that roster who I would send to an All-Star Game. Maybe Blackwood, if he doesn't crumble into fucking dust first. And knowing how injury prone he is, he just might.

But this is a 10/10 with an asterisk. And here's why: * They WANT to be bad. The worse they do this year, the better their chances for Celebrini or whoever is the first overall. That's the idea of the Shark Tank. And if that's the goal, it's being executed perfectly.

There you go, anon! Hope this helps! If you have any more questions, feel free to drop into my inbox! 💜

[it-begins-with-rain]

TV Recommendation: Love in the Air

** This show follows two mostly separate love stories, with the mains from each part playing supporting roles (same characters) in the other. Each part has separate trigger warnings, as the most extreme elements are contained in the second love story.

Part 1 (Ep 1-7)

TW: Early harassing behavior that may be triggering for some, but it is not shown to bother those involved so... judgement call.

Rain is a university freshman in the architecture major, but he's more than a bit lazy and snippy. He quickly runs afoul of Payu, the handsome, charming, insanely talented, and overwhelmingly desired graduate from his same major.

Payu is the object of obsession for the underclassmen- not only is he an architect, but a thoroughly gifted mechanic who works on the cars of the rich and powerful. Sick of hearing the girl he likes fawn over Payu, Rain decides he's going to get close to Payu and learn his secrets to ruin his image.

But Payu sees Rain coming a mile away. When Rain breaks into an illegal street race Payu organizes, it's Payu who saves him from the guards who patrol the race- guards who would make Rain vanish off the face of the earth without blinking.

He takes Rain home and tries to collect a reward for his chivalry- but Rain has no interest in men and aggressively rebuffs the repeated attempts, until Payu gives up and goes to bed.

But Rain is not deterred from his plan. He announces loudly that he will force Payu to love him and then ruin his image, winning (in his mind) the heart of the girl he likes.

Payu decides to humor Rain- but forces him to play by his rules and work hard for the honor of being in his presence.

As he toys with Rain and toes the line, the Dominant Payu starts to fall for the bratty freshman, and Rain begins to discover a submissive side he didn't know he possessed... and that he may not be quite as straight as he'd believed.

For the first time, Payu has allowed himself to show the world weakness in his love for Rain-- a weakness his enemies are all too eager to exploit.

Can Payu keep Rain safe?

And will their mutual trickery lead to genuine love?

----------

Part 2 (Ep 8-13)

TW: Contains on-screen instances of sexual assault, gang-rape, torture and abuse by a romantic partner, emotional and psychological manipulation, and depictions of PTSD.

When Rain broke into Payu's illegal street race, he was saved by the man who would become his lover. But he wasn't alone- his best friend Sky was with him.

Left behind, Sky managed to escape the guards of the race only with the intervention of the star racer- playboy Prapai. Prapai demanded a reward for protecting the strange, cute boy, and was pleasantly surprised when Sky immediately submitted.

For months after, Prapai was haunted by the memory of the best one-night stand of his life- and the strange way it ended.

The glares.

The hate in the stranger's eyes.

The darkness.

Three months after the race, Prapai manages to force Rain to reveal the name and phone number of his best friend. He harasses Sky, worming his way into the young man's life with every ounce of charm he possesses.

But he was't wrong in his memory of the one-night stand. There was something dark hidden behind Sky's eyes. More than once, Prapai sees something in Sky that looks eerily and terrifyingly like a trigger.

And then Sky collapses at school. He spikes a bad fever, but is too scared to stay at the hospital. Rain brings Sky back to the dorm, and Prapai offers to watch over him.

That night, Prapai sees more signs of trauma that Sky has kept hidden from even his closest friends. He may not know what Sky has survived, but he knows it was something truly horrifying.

Prapai won't force Sky to tell him what he's survived, but he vows to show his sincerity towards this man who fell into his life and stole his heart.

Prapai will have to prove to Sky with his actions that he's different from the monster in his past- and sincere in his ever-growing love for Sky.

And Sky will have to fully face his trauma and learn how to begin to heal his broken soul.

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

u/patriot_turned_pirate:

AITA for murdering eight people over a side comment?

I know how this sounds, but I really would like a second opinion on this.

Context: I (19M) had an older brother Al (adult M) who was in the military. We are from a powerful family who are expected to do our patriotic duty and join the military, who ruled the country with an iron fist, as in the kind that would hunt you down for criticizing it. Al was the best person and swordsman I know and is extremely valuable to have on your side; I hold him very dear to my heart.

About 10 years ago, my parents and I were told by the military's commanders that Al died heroically in battle and wouldn't be coming home. I swore at the time to get my revenge and kill whoever killed him. Was this unhealthy behaviour for a 9-year-old? Probably, but as I said, top of the sociopolitical ladder under military rule, not exactly a healthy environment for anyone to be growing up in.

A few years later, I joined the military and quickly rose above the ranks using my family's connections and my own skill. By age 16, I became skilled enough to be invited to dinner with the 10 military commanders, i.e. the de facto rulers of the country. During the meal, one of the 10 commanders made an offhand comment about having sent Al as part of a decoy crew in a battle to "save resources", and very few actually died in the battle.

I was in shock for the rest of the meal. All this time, I thought my brother died valiantly in combat, when in reality, it was completely preventable; it was the people whom I was raised to idolize and was sharing the meal with that were the monsters I swore to kill years ago. They never cared about Al or anyone but themselves.

Now, here is where I probably crossed the line: that night, I snuck into the 10 commanders' chambers and killed 8 of them in their sleep. The 9th one caught me in the act and injured me severely before I could do anything, but I managed to survive and escape.

It's been 3 years since then. I've amassed many friends and allies among other outlaws to take down the military commanders once and for all, and have been trying to help out those who need it because clearly, the government isn't doing their jobs right. But for now, at the advice of a friend, I've sought refuge far away to gather more allies before I make my next move.

When I did what I did, I was 16 and consumed by grief and rage as my world fell apart, and I knew that there was no other option: it was the only opportunity anyone had to get rid of them, as you'd have to get up close and personal to even try to do anything, and if I ignored what I heard, I'd have no other chance to even try. However, in the process of doing so, I… kind of half-toppled the government and left a huge power vacuum and an already corrupt and suffering country in a state of chaos. And of course, murder usually isn't the morally correct option one should be using.

Looking back, I would not deny being TA for overreacting; I did kill almost 10 people over a side comment. But at the same time, I don't regret what I did and think I did what I had to do in that situation. I've dedicated my entire life to seeking revenge for what happened to Al, and I will not rest until he has been fully avenged.

Still, I really don't mind a verdict on whether AITA.

[justimajin]

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 8

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (5.9k), Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes) 

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

GIF credit.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, August 29 (series masterpost here)

The tumultuous day has arrived.

You stand outside of the room door, clampy hands wrapped around a thick file and bottom lip bruised from your constant gnawing. Your eyes remain latched onto the ticks coming from the clock hanging on the opposite wall, the seconds easily flying by.

You’re not the only one submerged in the countdown.

“I’ll begin in five minutes.”

“–it’s just a meeting, how hard can it be?”

“What if the information is wrong?”

It’s difficult not to chime in with the various murmurs coming from other employees in the Sales and Finances department, but nonetheless, you know it’s wrong to say that you’re unaffected by them.

All of your previous meetings consisted of quick overviews and basic updates about the new product. However, Soyou had approached you for this one specifically, requesting if you could present your information to the higher up’s of your department and consequently, take a role in leading it.

The opportunity is golden, and it sends you a flood of both genuine surprise and disbelief. 

On a normal day, you would be pretty content with it. However–

Presenting something by yourself is scary. Especially in front of all the higher-ups. 

The door opens and you suck in an inhale, only for your shoulders to deflate upon realizing the man emerging before you was a part of Production and likely heading towards his own meeting.

That was another thing – luckily, you’re not the only one facing this dilemma.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Taehyung weakly says, having been chosen by the Manager from Marketing as well.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hoseok softly mentions, an encouraging smile on his lips, “All of you have been working hard on this product launch and now this is your opportunity to prove it!”

Yoongi lets out a low grunt, dark circles lining the bottom of his eyes.

“I just want to get these meetings over with already.”

A small smile quirks up on your features and Hoseok chuckles, “That’s the spirit, hyung!”

“I think I’m going to throw up….”

Hoseok swivels, “What?”

Taehyung waves a hand against his face, “I don’t know, I just feel really nauseous and sweaty.”

Your eyes are wide and Yoongi speaks up.

“I’m not a doctor, but those sound-like symptoms from fear of public speaking.”

“Oh!” Hoseok claps his hands together, “Imagine everyone in their underwear!”

“What?!” Taehyung snaps, “Why would I want to do that??”

“It helps!” He persists, “Or you can pretend like there’s no audience!”

Taehyung groans, “Can I pretend like I don’t have to do this presentation?”

Hoseok winces, staring at him with sympathetic eyes, “Sorry, but unless you work in Human Resources, you can’t miss out on these meetings.”

Taehyung slaps a hand against his temples in a fit of realization.

“Why didn’t I just take up a HR job?!”

“Um, because you studied Marketing…?” Hoseok brings up, but two other voices pitch in at the same time.

Your eyes flicker, “Don’t you have a degree in Marketing?”

“You work in Marketing.” Yoongi states.

“Geez, I get it, I get it!” Taehyung frowns, hoping someone would have at least defended him. He whispers underneath his breath, "Tough crowd.”

Hoseok continues, “Well, best the luck to all of you!” He glances at each of you, “Yoongi, you got this! Y/N, need I say more? And Taehyung, stop pretending like you’re going to throw up!”

“I’m still nauseous!” Taehyung complains, but Hoseok frowns and continues to tell him that it was obvious how hard he was trying to get out of this.

After he chides and convinces him to go to the meeting, the four of you departed and headed towards your individual meetings.

The room is empty as you enter, paperwork and water bottles set on the table in front of each chair. Slipping into a seat right away, your eyes dart up as the door beside you widens fully.

Soyou sternly walks in, sending you a courteous smile. 

Sucking in a deep breath, employees pile in one by one, and you brace for impact.

***

There is an urge to collapse somewhere as soon as you walk out the door.

It’s astonishing, even for you, as you’re still somehow unable to process it.

You spot a mop of black hair down the hall.

“Y/N!” Hoseok chimes, spotting you frozen by the meeting room. His eyes sweep over your knotted features, concern dipping into his expression, “How was it? Good? Bad? Okayish?”

You can barely muster a single sentence, “I-It went well…”

Hoseok breaks into a giant grin that you match with a sheepish smile, eyes fixated on the thick file in your hands. To be completely honest, you weren’t expecting much to come out from this meeting. You had just assumed that things would have run through in a predictable manner – being surrounded with fellow sales representatives and of course, with opinions being thrown left and right. 

But when the finger was pointed in your direction, you hadn’t even had a speck of criticism thrown your way nor any gap in your explanations. Instead, there was only compliments and understanding, leading up to a discussion that you found yourself extremely involved in, even when questions arose.

Soyou herself has even chimed in, stating that she was impressed with how well you organized and explained all the details thoroughly. 

You blink a couple of times, still suspended in between disbelief.

“Y/N?” Hoseok shakes your arm a bit, still a little concerned with your detachedness.

You immediately smile at him, “I’m fine, just really surprised.” 

Hoseok grins at you. “What about Yoongi and Taehyung?”

Planting his hands on his hips, he lets out a huge sigh, “Yoongi was okay for the most part. Told me there was bit of an argument happening with the budget, but that was about it. Taehyung on the other hand…”

Hoseok makes it sound incredibly ominous and you immediately narrow your eyes.

“What? What happened?”

Hoseok smiles, “He’s fine – a little scared, but he was fine.”

You let out a breath of relief as Hoseok snickers, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

“Y/N!”

You swivel around, noticing Taehyung rushing over to you as Yoongi strolls behind.

“How did it go?” You question right away.

“Not too bad.” Yoongi mutters, “They were stricter on the budget because of last time, but that was about it.” 

You hum and Taehyung puffs out of his cheeks.

“I was confident the whole way through.” He shakes his head, “To think you guys were so nervous.”

Yoongi raises a brow, “This coming from the person that was nauseous?”

“I wasn’t nauseous, I was feeling sick.”

“That’s literally the same thing.”

You exchange a wary look with Hoseok, who has an amused smile plastered on his lips.

“Hey!”

At the sound of a new voice, you turn to see Bora sitting at reception, occasionally glancing at your group.

You wave at her with a smile, “I’ve been hearing a lot about the meetings happening today, how’d it go for you guys?”

“It went well, thanks for asking.” You reply, gesturing behind you, “Most of us are just tired now.”

She hums, “A lot of work, huh?”

You nod with a sheepish laugh, “Say, do you guys want to grab dinner tonight? It’ll be nice after all the hecticness today.” 

“Oh.” You blink, surprised by the invitation. Unlike your other coworkers, you’ve never quite had the chance to interact much with the receptionistbefore, typically being the one that skips out with these sort of meet-ups because of other obligations. 

“I’m not too sure…” You mumble, but then Hoseok swings an arm around you. 

There’s a glimmer in his eyes that you notice right away, and he doesn’t hesitate to respond. 

“That sounds like fun!” He glances at you knowingly, “You and Taehyung just lead the presentations for your departments, we should go!” 

“But going out…?” You scratch the back of your neck, hesitance leaking into your voice. 

“Why not?” Hoseok chirps, whirling around. 

His gaze catches Taehyung’s and Yoongi’s attention. “What do you two think about getting dinner tonight?” 

Taehyung places a dreadful hand against his chest, “Oh, I need this for sure.”

“I’ll have to make a quick call, but I’ll let you know.” Yoongi states.

“That’s no problem!” Bora smiles, “Just let me know by the end of work today.”

You nod in agreement, before heading back to your cubicle.

Walking down the hallway, your fingers glide against the screen of your phone, hurriedly typing up a message for Yuna that quickly lets her know you’ll be home late today after going out with your coworkers. She responds within seconds, a quick message that reads “have fun with your friends! :)” that makes you laugh.

You’re just in the process of turning off your phone when a voice from elsewhere beckons you.

“Who are you texting?”

A yelp leaves you and you spin around, noticing that Seokjin was only millimeters away from your shoulder and gazing at you curiously.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You hiss, heart practically racing from his sudden appearance.

“Who was that?” He asks again, innocent eyes blinking.

“My sister.” You remark a tad annoyed.

He hums, but you furrow your brows at him.

“Why did you want to know so badly?”

“Because you had this huge smile on your face.” He playfully says. 

You cross your arms, “I’ve smiled before.”

“Not like that.” He remarks with an amused grin, like he had just figured out something new about you.

You shake the thought away, “Did you get through the documents I told you to look over and work on?”

His eyes brighten, “Oh, yeah I did!” Turning to your cubicle, he scavenges around and locates the file, “It actually wasn’t too bad, but it was really boring in the office today.”

You hum, taking the papers from him as you peer around the workplace. Because of the many scheduled meetings happening during this week, there hasn't been much time left for getting your tasks done.

As a result, the cubicles near you are nearly vacant, barely anyone in sight.

“Remember how I told you about the meeting I had?” You look over the documents, studying them intently, “There’s ones for each department happening.”

Seokjin hums, curiously peeking over your shoulder as you run through his work.

For a split second – you pause. There’s a crease between your brows, and the silence you carry makes him grow apprehensive.

“What?” He questions in an instant, “Is it not good?”

“No, no, it’s–“

You flip through the sheets once again, placing a finger against your chin. 

Seokjin is puzzled by your reaction, barely able to read your impassive expression.

“It’s…” You begin again, and he perks up, “Wow….you’ve made some solid progress here.”

“Seriously?” His eyes practically shine with the response, but your eyes remain fixated on the paperwork in front of you.

“Yeah, good stuff.” You finally look up, only to see him have a giant Cheshire smile.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement, “What?”

“I got a compliment from you~” He cheekily remarks. 

You neatly set the papers down with a smile. “Well, I know progress when I see it. You did a good job with this.”

“Sorry, what was that?” He ponders.

“Huh?”

“You said something about me?” He leans closer, furrowing his brows, “I can’t seem to hear well today.”

His childishness arises a playful scoff from you, “Wow, it’s getting late. I think I should start heading home.”

“Y/N!”

You let out a laugh, walking back to your cubicle as Seokjin pouts.

***

“–the analysis shouldn’t be too difficult to do, you just need to account for all the variables.”

Seokjin hums, trailing after you as you walk through the floor. In an attempt to help him understand other aspects of the office, as well as honor the negotiable terms he had, you attempted to bring him to other departments, explaining their fundamentals roles.

Additionally, you had assumed that working in an office all day long by yourself would have gotten tedious and lonely at one point.

As a result, it’s not too difficult to notice the subtle changes in him. His eyes are considerably wide and peering around the other floors, closely taking in his surroundings while occasionally glancing over at you when you offer commentary on your part.

The end of the day arrives sooner as expected. The lights are turned off, the monitors are shut down and you grab your coat, planning to leave the facility.

“Y/N!”

You pivot to see Bora waving over to you with a smile, gesturing you to come closer with the coworkers surrounding her. Your eyes drift over to Hoseok glancing over with a smile and Yoongi standing next to him, but then you notice the absence of a certain someone. 

“Are we all set to go?” You ponder, but then Hoseok shakes his head.

“Taehyung isn’t here yet.”

You hum in response, leaning against the side of Bora’s receptionist desk next to Hoseok and Yoongi. Peeking over, you notice she’s in the midst of placing some files off to the side. 

The sound of footsteps has your head lifting, expecting Taehyung to finally join you.

But then– “Oh.”

Seokjin’s irises flicker around the table, bewildered with the appearance of so many in the near-empty office. 

“Heading home?” You wonder and he gyrates, locking eyes with you.

“Uh, yeah–“ His vision sweeps around again, “What’s going on here?”

“We’re just grabbing dinner together.” You nonchalantly reply, but then your eyes widen.

The image of a negotiable term pops into your head and you don’t hesitate to ask– 

“Do you want to come with us?”

Seokjin’s eyes light up immensely and there’s no mistaking the huge grin he holds, “Can I?”

You shrug, a smile looping on your lips, “I believe I still owe you a restaurant visit – if you’re okay with going in a group.”

“Yeah, that would be–“

“I’m here!”

Taehyung bends down, grasping his knees as he wheezes in exhaustion. You presume that even with taking the elevator up here, it was a journey just to get up to your floor.

“Great!” Bora exclaims, glancing around at the group, “I guess we’re all set to head out again!”

Her words are met with ‘hms’ and ‘yeps’ before everyone heads out, waiting for the elevator. Seokjin follows in last as the door closes, and you can’t help but muse over how he looks like an overexcited kid among a group of adults. 

The corner of your mouth upturns. 

The restaurant is nearly packed.

It’s not a simple task to find a table, especially when there’s six of you and every single one seats either two to three people. You even end up stumbling a couple of times, crowds of people bumping into you every five minutes. 

Luckily enough, you’re soon able to secure a large table that accommodates everyone. Yoongi takes the first seat at the round table and Hoseok settles down beside him. Taehyung takes the spot beside Hoseok and you sit with him as Seokjin slips in between you and Bora. 

“These noodles look really good.” Taehyung remarks, sweeping his eyes through the menu. 

“I think the rice looks nice. It’s got a mix of things in it and it’s fried?” Hoseok brings up, nudging you in the shoulder, “Sign me up.”

You smile lopsidedly at him and Bora puts down her menu, “They have drinks here! We should get some to celebrate!” 

Taehyung glances up a tad confused, “Celebrate what?” 

“The start of a new project.” She remarks with a giant smile. Taehyung still looks confused, but Hoseok pitches in. 

“I think that’s a great idea.” He exhales, “After a hectic start to that product launch, yes please to any drinks.”

Bora laughs and Yoongi hums in agreement. Her eyes roam around the table, landing on two individuals.

“What about you guys?”

Taehyung and you side-eye each other. It’s not that you don’t do drinks, it’s that–…well…

“Me and drinking?” Taehyung gestures to himself exasperatedly, “I thought we were out here to have a fun time!”

That’s just about it – you both lack the right amount of tolerance. You can’t hold your liquor down even if you tried and Taehyung has a tendency to get a little…interesting when he’s drunk.

“Didn’t you get deadbeat drunk last time and end up almost calling your boss to give a speech on having more benefits?” Hoseok chuckles and you remember Yoongi describing the incident as a ‘complete nightmare’.

“Don’t remind me.” Taehyung shivers from the memory.

“Alright, so it’s a no from Y/N and Taehyung.” Bora finalizes, gazing at you, “Would it be okay for one of you to drive us all home?”

You wince, “I don’t have a car.”

Taehyung widens his eyes, “I was planning on catching a cab.” 

Bora grimaces, but a voice you had least expected pitches in.

“I can do it.”

You swivel around, “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” Seokjin shrugs, staring at you, “Everyone should get home safely.”

Your eyebrows raise at that, surprised from the lack of hesitation on his features. Bora takes the answer right away with a smile, glad to go all out tonight and not needing to worry.

“Yes! Thank you!”

Seokjin warmly smiles, “It’s no problem.”

  With that, you all begin ordering different dishes and drinks, conversation slipping in with ease.

***

As the hour passes by, your table is littered with plates of food and there’s different exchanges occurring.

Hoseok started off initially simply talking about work, or more specifically, the recent product launch that had everyone working more than usual. Taehyung pitches in the interesting changes being made in his marketing campaign and Yoongi mentions Namjoon, the new CFO being a good part of it, that Seokjin wholeheartedly agrees with.

Aside from that one brief mention of work, none of you stir toward that topic and you’re honestly grateful for that. But the conversation dips into something that brings a huge grin to your features. 

“Yoonsun can already speak full sentences.” Yoongi shakes his head, as if astonished, “I’ve never seen a kid his age do that.”

“Should that be given as a five-year-old?” Hoseok curiously wonders.

Yoongi boastfully grins, “Well yeah, but I’d love to see those other kids try and beat his grammar.”

Bora speaks up, “Why do I have a feeling you’ve probably framed all his certificates by now?”

“Certificates?” He says baffled, “I frame everything. Certificates, drawings, pictures.”

“Is that why you were asking Jungkook to buy you a camera?” Hoseok brings up.

Yoongi hums and someone from across the table giggles.

Bora covers her mouth, “Sorry, you just sound like such a proud father.”

Everyone laughs as Yoongi beams, not even trying to defend or protest against the compliment.

Hoseok continues to ask him more questions and you take a bite out from your dish, eyes sweeping around the table. The individuals around you are either eating or conversing with one another, wistfully listening as conversations flow with ease.

A tender smile stretches across your lips. You’re not used to things like this, typically the one that skips out with these sort of meet-ups. You can’t even count the amount of times Hoseok’s tried to persuade you to get dinner with him, or to come over to Yoongi’s house for some drinks. It’s not like you purposely didn’t want to spend time with them – you were just so occupied all the time and barely had the chance to step out from your two jobs. 

It feels a little different being here now, as your coworkers joke around and laugh, but you don’t find yourself minding in the least.

Your eyes flicker down to your food, shaking your thoughts away. However, you don’t notice the set of eyes glued to your form.

Taking another bite, your attention is drawn away by the clearing of a throat.

Peering at Seokjin puzzled, he leans against the table with his arm and faces you.

“This is completely a working theory,” He begins, “and let me know if I’m wrong, but I think I’ve realized something…”

Your brows knit together, “What?”

He leans closer to you, his finger resting against his lips like he was about to sprout out some kind of revelation.

“You’re a workaholic, aren’t you?”

You blink, attempting to process what he just said with a simple, “What?”

  He raises his hands, “See, originally I just assumed you were the nonsensical type, but then I shifted to you just having a strong work ethic and now–“

He grins in a teasing manner, “I’m starting to believe you might just suck at having fun.”

You raise a brow at the remark, “Do you usually put this much effort into your work?”

“See!” He brightens up like he just solved a mystery, “My theory does make sense!” 

You frown, “It doesn’t.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes, like he’s just getting started.

“So you aren’t able to talk to people?”

“I can talk to people.”

“You can talk to people, but you can’t make friends?”

“I can make friends!”

“So you just suck at having fun?”

“Yes! No!” You huff, planting a hand against your temples. Glancing around, no one seems to notice the match you’re having with him at the moment.

You take a deep inhale, “It’s just strange…being out like this.” You explain, “I’m usually working all the time and I don’t get these chances often…but they’re nice.”

It’s something you’re coming into terms with since being here.

Seokjin loudly gasps, like he’s made a revelation. “So you can have fun!”

You turn to him with the most deadpan expression ever and he chuckles at the sight of it.

Shaking your head, you attempt to change the topic, “So why did you want to go to a restaurant in the first place?”

It was initially an odd request that you agreed to put down, but he had offered up no explanation for it.

“I don’t know, it’s different.” He simply states, “I’m stuck in that office 24/7 now and I’d rather be somewhere else.”

You hum, well aware that while you were comfortable in that environment, he was definitely not.

“And actually…” He’s hesitant for a moment and you’re taken aback, witnessing a rare moment his confidence fleets.

But he pushes forward, “Okay, it’s stupid but you can’t laugh.” 

He stares at you like the world would end if you did and with a playful roll of your eyes, you agree.

“Fine.”

“It was a childhood dream.” He clarifies quickly, eyeing you carefully as you nonchalantly stare back, “Just a dream, but I…I thought one day, it would be cool to own one.”

“A restaurant?”

He nods and you’re intrigued, “That’s interesting.”

“Really?” He squints his eyes at you like he thinks you’re lying.

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, “Everyone has dreams.”

The image of a Manager plaque surfaces into your mind, but you silently push it away.

Seokjin hums, but he’s still staring at you like he’s confused with your simple and direct response.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to burst out laughing.”

He eyes you, “You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“And did you get that down in writing for negotiation?” You add with a smirk.

He gives you a look along the lines of ‘well played’ and a waitress approaches your table, holding a plethora of drinks.

“Here are your orders.” She says with a tired smile and you make a mental note to generously tip her afterwards.

Bora raises her hands, receiving them before distributing across the table. Majority had gone over the drinks menu with ease, but you on the other hand–

There’s a fruity pink drink that lands in front of Taehyung and a fizzy orange one in front of you.

He meets your intrigued gaze and you exchange a grin.

Taehyung might have ordered the more interesting non-alcoholic beverages for the two of you.

“This looks amazing.” Taehyung exclaims, not even hesitating to take a huge gulp as you eye your drink. To be honest, it's something you’ve never tried before and you’re definitely curious about the taste.

Taehyung lets out a happy hum and you take a sip from your drink.

A cough leaves you instantly.

He whirls around, “What is it?”

“I don’t know….” You eye it carefully, “It’s not as sweet as I expected.”

Taehyung widens his eyes, leaning over, “Can I try?”

You hum, and he takes a sip, an intrigued look crossing over him, “It seems okay to me…do you want to switch?”

You blink, “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah, why not?” Taehyung shrugs, “It tastes better to me and I don’t want you to be stuck with it if you don’t like it.”

You warmly smile at him, and he doesn’t hesitate to swap the drinks. You’re much more content with what he ordered, happier with the more evident sweetness. 

It’s not long before your glass is near empty and everyone is laughing around the table. Your eyes glance around in a daze, noticing the slight pink that’s coloured Yoongi’s cheeks and the way he’s laughing joyfully. Hoseok is next to him and couldn’t be even closer to the opposite, his cheeks puffed out and eyes sullen.

It’s almost like they’ve traded personalities and you don’t hesitate to point it out, “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Yoongi glances over and Hoseok pouts, peering in your direction, “What do you mean?”

Taehyung catches on, laughter spilling from his lips, “Did you two switch personalities or something?”

Yoongi simply grins and Hoseok’s pout deepens. It evokes hearty chuckles and Taehyung bursts out laughing as you lean against him, watching the two fondly.

“Wait, wait,” Taehyung whispers to you, “I’m going to try something.”

You nod with a giggle and he eyes Yoongi, to which the former simply smiles.

Taehyung clears his throat like he’s about to make a formal speech, “Yoongi – my man,” He plants a hand against said man’s shoulder, raising his glass, “You are truly….truely! A gift to this world.”

He immediately backs away as if scared, watching him carefully. Yoongi chuckles in response, enamoured by the words.

“Ohhh.” Taehyung turns to you with awe-stricken eyes that you reflect back at him, “He didn’t even look disgusted!! This is incredible!!!”

The laughter is bubbling out of you at an alarming rate that Taehyung echoes, the hues of your cheeks reflecting pink.

Seokjin stares at you, something unreadable in his eyes as they flicker from you to Taehyung.

He doesn’t hesitate to address it, “Are you two okay?”

Bora furrows her brows, still somewhat sober. “I was about to just ask the same thing.”

“Of course we’re okayyy!” You protest, but your words are beginning to slur. You snap your head at Taehyung, “Right?!”

“Absolutely!” You hum, “We’re 101% percent fantastic!” 

You burst out giggling at that and Taehyung joins you, but Seokjin suddenly sits up in his seat.

“Are you…?” He begins to suspect it, however it’s not until you give him a certain wide-eyed look that it all makes sense.

“They’re drunk?” Bora replies astounded. “But how…?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen, and he leans over, grabbing the menu Taehyung was using.

“I think I may have found the answer.” 

Bora tilts her head closer to him, and he shows her the section the drinks were from, the words ‘alcoholic beverages’ clumsily placed away from thelist. 

She sucks in a sharp inhale, letting out a low but dismayed, “Oh boy…” 

Her exact words echo Seokjin’s thoughts. 

“For now, we just need to keep those two under control.” He replies, and she nods in response. 

He turns around to you and Taehyung, currently in the midst of laughing over something that both of them weren’t able to catch.

Seokjin quirks up an amused brow, muttering under his breath, “I’m suddenly glad I stayed sober now.”

The shop begins to close and Seokjin grabs his coat.

“Well, this was a disaster.” Bora chuckles. 

Seokjin hums, and she gestures to you and Taehyung, “I didn’t drink much tonight because of them, so I can drop someone home. I think Hoseok mentioned he lived nearby.”

“I can take Y/N and Taehyung.” Seokjin offers and Bora smiles at him.

“Thanks, but I hope you’ll be okay with the two of them.” She raises an eyebrow in your direction, finally understanding why you and Taehyung were insistent on not drinking in the first place.

He shakes it off, “It’s fine.”

Quickly grabbing his keys, it’s not long before the group is splitting up to head home. Bora decides to drop Hoseok off home after confirming the latter wasn’t far from her. Yoongi had ended up taking a cab because of the distance, but Seokjin had made sure to see him off just in case.

Which leaves you and Taehyung, not the absolute drunkest of the group but definitely the most troublesome.

Before entering his car, Taehyung had spent considerable time gushing over it (which was weird for him to watch, to say the least) until complaining that the night was young and he wasn’t ready to go home just yet. He had to end up yanking him off the vehicle and pushing him into the front car seat, buckling him in akin to a child.

You were surprisingly a lot more understanding and agreeable in that regard, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t go through his own troubles with you. In your case, he was getting a lot of pouts and puppy eyes that were making him laugh more than actually persuading him.

He eventually manages to get you settled in the back seat, before slipping into the driver’s one and turning his keys in the slot.

The engine roars, and he peers over as he begins to back out.

“Where do you live, Taehyung?”

“On the mooonn.” He slurs with a grin.

Seokjin frowns, “I meant where do you live on earth?”

“I told you! The moooonn!”

You chime in from the back, “He’s right! I saw!”

“See?!”

It’s taking every ounce of his strength not to laugh or crack a pun in response, but instead he focuses on leaving the parking, pushing his gears in drive and heading onto the road.

He tries again, playing along, “Okay so, hypothetically if you lived on earth, where would that be?”

Taehyung pouts, “Are you trying to trick me again…?”

Seokjin smiles sweetly, “Of course not.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes for a moment, before giving in, “The apartment complex ....on the south of Moon Street.”

He grins in response and steps on the gas pedal.

***

Aside from complaining about not wanting to leave and stumbling on his feet while trying to dash away, Taehyung gets home without any issues. Seokjin sighs in relief, whirling his head around.

“Where to, Y/N?”

“To party!” You reply with a giggle and he softly smiles.

“I actually meant your place.”

You sharply gasp, covering your mouth, “Are you going to come with me?”

“I’m just dropping you off, unless you’re going to try to escape like Taehyung.”

There’s more giggles leaving your mouth and Seokjin completely turns around, gazing at you in amusement.

“What?”

“You’re complaining about Taehyung trying to run away?” Your eyes are crinkled, a giant grin stretched out on your features.

Seokjin scoffs in offense and your laughter only increases, but his expression dissolves into a smile.

“Alright, I guess I'm the last person who should complain about that.” He admits, “So if you’re not going to run away, where do I drop you off?”

“The apartment buildings on Blue Street.”

He hums, instantly whirling around and swerving onto the road. Luckily enough for him, it’s not too far from where Taehyung lives and it only takes him a couple of minutes to drive into the building after you navigate him to the exact address.

He parks the car and gets out of his seat, walking over to your side to open the door and help you out.

“Someone’s a gentleman.” You say with a giggle and he raises his brows.

“What? Don’t think someone that looks this good can’t be a gentleman?”

You laugh at that, but he’s not amused.

“What?”

You shake your head, “I’m just laughing at how much you call yourself handsome. It’s almost like your signature move.”

His eyes briefly widen before they narrow, and he plants his hands against his hips.

“And? Don’t you agree?”

You simply chuckle in response, and he’s somehow extremely offended. 

Your disagreement is like his entire existence is being questioned.

“Wait, so you don’t find me handsome?” 

You giggle in response and his mouth falls agape. 

“What is wrong with you?” He squints, leaning closer to you, “Are your eyes working properly?!”

You wince and cover your ears, “Why are you always so loud?”

He immediately falters, but the annoyance is still evident in his features. Closing the door behind you, he notices you’re stumbling on your heels and ends up walking you to the front door of your apartment. 

Letting go of you, Seokjin stares at the door. “Do you have your keys?”

You hum, brows knitted together as you search through your coat, “They should be here somewhere….”

The door comes swinging open the moment you find them, a set of naïve eyes staring back at you.

“Yuna!” You exclaim, hugging her instantly. The fourteen-year-old doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, but her eyes are glued to the person behind you.

Seokjin takes it as an opportunity to offer her a friendly wave, “Hi.”

He turns his attention back to you, pointing to your feet, “Do you think you’ll be okay?”

You hum, but instantly straighten up with a burst of energy, “Wait here for a minute!”

Seokjin squints, “Okay…?”

You suddenly rush off into the apartment, and he’s left standing at the front, next to your sister.

“Say,” He begins, “Am I horrible looking to you?”

“No.” Yuna shakes her head, “I actually think you’re really handsome.”

A huge grin spreads against his features, and he acknowledges that if a relative of yours agrees with him, there’s just something weird about you to think otherwise.

“Thanks.” He beams, raising his shoulders higher. Yuna looks at him oddly, but his eyes begin to roam around now, taking in his surroundings.

The apartment is strangely small compared to the building size, a lower roof ceiling that would be easy to bang his head on and more closed in for his own liking. It suddenly makes him feel exposed, realizing that aside from the fact that you take work way too seriously and occasionally had a sarcastic side – he really doesn’t know much about you outside of the office.

He also wonders where the rest of your family are, if they even live with you to begin with.

His questions remain lingering in the air by the time you return, a cold-water bottle in your hand that you offer to him.

He accepts it with wide eyes, “Thanks for dropping me off.”

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, turning his attention to Yuna as his voice lowers, “Make sure you keep an eye on her, she’s kind of crazy when she’s drunk.”

You scoff and prepare to rebuttal a comeback but Yuna smiles, surprising you.

“I will.” She says and Seokjin warmly smiles, before waving at you and starting to leave through the door.

“See you tomorrow!” He exclaims and you lazily hum, closing the door behind him.

The moment it shuts, Yuna turns to you with intrigue.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Your eyes are as wide as large saucers, “What?”

  “Is he your boy–“

“No!” You emphasize, “No! Absolutely not!”

Yuna nods, looking a tad bit disappointed that makes you quirk your head to the side. You shake your head, entering into your living room as you chuckle to yourself.

You and Seokjin – what a truly interesting pair that would be.

[childotkw]

go on. tell me more about the orphaned at 8 years old au

Harry - Hadrian, his name is Hadrian now - is three months into his first term at Beauxbatons when he gets called into the Headmistress' office. He sits on a chair too big for him, little feet dangling off the floor, surrounded by people he doesn't know, and is told by a woman with a gentle voice that his mother is dead.

An illness, he's told. It was very sudden. She didn't suffer.

He's only eight years old, and so very small, and now he's all alone. His mother has been his entire world up until this point, the only person he could trust, the only one he knew would protect him, and now...

Now he's an orphan.

The knowledge is a brand across his soul.

There are conversations after that, some he's there for and many he's not - about what to do with him, who would look after him, where he could live.

Hadrian drifts through the days in a haze, his future unravelling right in front of his eyes.

How was he supposed to kill Voldemort now?

His classmates and professors all treat him like spun glass, delicate and seconds from breaking. It's irritating and a constant reminder of what he's lost, and Hadrian finds himself pouring over his memories of his mother, to keep something of her close to his heart.

Over the coming months, he's told he'll be taken to an orphanage when the year ends. He's told it's a lovely place, warm, with a kindly man that will look after him. He's told that is where he will live from now on.

Hadrian decides then that he's really rather sick of people telling him what will happen to him, but he's too young to be by himself, so he puts his head down and accepts things for now.

Instead of stopping to think about the gapping hole in his heart, he throws himself into his studies, desperate to live up to his mother's expectations. Desperate to make her proud.

And for years, he does.

He's a brilliant student, driven, exceptional in whatever task he puts his mind to - but he's also odd. A little too intense, too caught up in his own head, to make friends. He's unsettling to his peers, and barely puts effort into maintaining relationships. He's obsessed with learning, with pushing himself, and that drive to be the best takes him down...darker paths.

He teaches himself magic, dives into obscure branches, things that might be considered...unnatural. And he eventually crosses a line not even his professors can forgive.

Hadrian is expelled from Beauxbatons, his wand snapped, and just as he's kicked out of the orphanage - just as he's on the verge of losing everything, someone comes to him.

A vampire finds him, a peculiar glint in his red eyes, and Hadrian is out of option. He accepts Erebus' hand without hesitation, because the promise of power is too hard to ignore, and Hadrian still needs to kill Voldemort.

Erebus, on his part, is quietly ecstatic that he managed to stumble across the Harry Potter on some random street.

The boy is alone and desperate and young, easily ready to be moulded. He's also adorably murderous, and Erebus is too much of a bastard to not take advantage of this opportunity.

His employment to his Lady has always been a matter of convenience, after all, and now that he's got direct access to little Hadrian, he finds it a simple enough choice to cut ties and move forward with his own plans.

[chicagocubsreactions]

Cubs move on from Seiya Suzuki’s interpreter and look ahead to second half of season

[original article]

The Chicago Cubs are making a subtle but potentially significant change coming out of the All-Star break, dismissing the interpreter who has worked with Japanese outfielder Seiya Suzuki through his first two-and-a-half seasons in the majors.

Toy Matsushita will no longer serve as Suzuki’s voice in interviews with American media, a team source said Thursday, framing it as an organizational decision to go in a different direction. Those responsibilities, which also included relaying messages from the front office and the coaching staff to Suzuki, will be absorbed by two Cubs staffers.

Nao Masamoto, a longtime Cubs employee who manages their Pacific Rim operations and major-league video system, will continue to support Suzuki. Shota Imanaga’s interpreter, Edwin Stanberry, will also assist in communications with Suzuki.

The Cubs will open the 2025 season at the Tokyo Dome with two games against the Los Angeles Dodgers (March 18-19), Major League Baseball announced Thursday, matching up two iconic teams on an international stage.

The biggest story of this year’s Seoul Series was the gambling scandal that engulfed Ippei Mizuhara, Shohei Ohtani’s interpreter. The Cubs, the team source stressed, are not dealing with a similar situation here.

The Cubs want to continue to be known as a destination for Japanese players and seen as a place where they can reach their full potential. Masamoto is so trusted that he remained good friends with Yu Darvish even after the Cubs traded the Japanese pitcher to the San Diego Padres following the 2020 season. Stanberry has done an exemplary job of accentuating Imanaga’s personality during interviews and helping him assimilate into the team’s culture.

Intentional is the oft-repeated description of how Imanaga built relationships with coaches and teammates. That was publicly displayed during the welcome-to-Chicago news conference where he recited the lyrics to “Go Cubs Go.” Behind the scenes, it also involved keeping some distance from his interpreter and strengthening his sense of independence.

A rookie only by major-league standards, Imanaga, 30, pitched a scoreless inning in the All-Star Game. He’s 8-2 with a 2.97 ERA through 17 starts, making his four-year, $53 million contract look like one of the most prescient signings from last winter. He’s also on the cover of Chicago Magazine’s recently released “Best of” issue.

Imanaga has also benefitted from the team’s learning curve with Suzuki, who signed a five-year, $85 million contract after MLB’s lockout ended in 2022. Suzuki is a supremely talented hitter and tireless worker who has dealt with some injuries and a weird issue with catching routine fly balls in right field.

When Suzuki is locked in, though, he can elevate an offense that has several weak spots. His mixture of power, patience, mental approach and contact skills are close to an ideal version of what the Cubs value in their hitters. Streamlining the communication could be a way for the team to make sure he’s confident and decisive.

Suzuki, who will turn 30 next month, is a good major-league hitter (.811 career OPS) who should be in the prime of his career. His first-half production (13 homers, 45 RBIs) was boosted by a hot streak in July (.321 batting average, .942 OPS) that lined up with one of the team’s best stretches all season. The Cubs (47-51) need that kind of performance to shut down any discussions about a sell-off at the July 30 trade deadline.

[kaibutsushidousha]

Opinion on each Jojo part ?

Phantom Blood can definitely feel underwhelming compared to other parts but being the first makes it highly elevated by the novelty of Jojo's aesthetics, and most importantly, Jonathan's and Dio's relationship is a dramatic peak Araki rarely ever reached again.

Battle Tendency has Joseph Joestar as the protagonist, which automatically makes it a blast to read through. I also like the way its line-up of enemies is presented and built up in advance. I understand it's not Araki's style but I prefer that a lot compared to Jojo's usual monster of the week deal.

Stardust Crusader is the big adventure of a crew of boring characters commanding boring Stands, so its quality needs to be hard carried by the quality of each fight's villain, which fluctuates very wildly.

Diamond is one of those urban fantasy settings that manages to make you fall in love with the city. Morioh feels really alive and I wouldn't mind its SoL antics going on for a lot longer. Especially since here is where Stands really start to get consistently good. That said, the final plot is also excellent, with the PoV rotating between Josuke, Rohan, Hayato, and Kira, which are all excellent characters.

Vento Aureo has the best overall cast and it's where the Stands reach the sweetest of being very creative without feeling bloated like the future part stands. But what defines a plot the most is the quality of its conclusion and Vento Aureo's conclusion is about as lame as it can get.

Stone Ocean is entirely shaped by the Pucci brothers, with Enrico being Araki's best-written character by a very wide margin and Weather not falling too far below him on the rankings.

Steel Ball Run clashes the most compelling Jojo against the least compelling villain for a very mixed-bag experience, but overall more on the positive side. Stands are thankfully downscaled after the part 6 bloat but still fail to return to the consistency peak of parts 4 and 5.

Jojolion is a mystery, which is a genre that very much plays into Araki's writing weaknesses, mainly his inability to give a fuck once he changes his mind. It also wastes its good villains in the first half, so the second half leaves us stuck with lame-ass Tooru and his way too many friends with Stands that spread powders in the air. The only thing holding that half together is how great Wonder of U is.

The Jojolands makes a great first impression that drives it perfectly clear what the part is about. Now we only need to hope it sticks the landing, but Tayutan from Cipher Academy says it's the best part and I trust her judgment.

(Ranked: 6>4>7>2>1>5>3>8)