#crack ship holidays

[flanchanof2002]

Uh...

#grinch #santa claus #Grinch x Santa #lgbt #gay #crack ship #christmas #Uh.... Happy Holidays...?

[unholyhelbig]

request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?

Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).

[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.

Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.

Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.

The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.

“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”

The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.

You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.

It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.

Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.

“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”

“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”

Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.

From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.

“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”

She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.

The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.

This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.

The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.

A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.

Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.

You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.

The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.

He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”

“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”

He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.

You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.

Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.

He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.

God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.

The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.

The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re two months late on rent.”

“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”

You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.

“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”

“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”

Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.

With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.

“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.

“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”

He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.

“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”

“Employer? You work for that… monster?”

“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”

Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”

“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”

Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.

It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.

“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.

“Shit, baby, hit me again!”

He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.

It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.

You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.

You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”

“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”

You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.

“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”

By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.

She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.

“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.

“I don’t care”

“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”

Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.

Nothing Natasha did was innocent.

“What happened up there?” Kate asked.

The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.

When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”

“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”

“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”

You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.

“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”

“A history, or a… history?”

“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”

Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.

“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.

Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.

“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”

“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”

“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”

But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.  

“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”

Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.

“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”

You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.

“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”

It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.

The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.

Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.

“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.

There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.

Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.

“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”

The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.

A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”

“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”

“Gross, no.”

Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.

“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”

“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”

She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”

The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.

“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”

You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.

Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”

“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”

That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.

Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.

“He laid his hands on you.”

“Yeah, Nat, he did.”

“He touched you.”

“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”

“Without permission.”

“He’ll never do it again.”

Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.

“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”

She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.

“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.

Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.

Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.

Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.

Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.

She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.

“Get in the car.”

“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”

“What?”

She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.

“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”

Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.

The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.

For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.

“Come on.”

There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.

Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.

There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.

She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”

You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”

“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.

“What the fuck!”

Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.

He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”

“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”

“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”

Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.

“You walked out on them.”

“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”

To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.

“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”

“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”

Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.

“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”

The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.

“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”

She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.

“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”

“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”

Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”

“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”

“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”

“Until they know it’s not one.”

It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.

“Nat,” You breathed.

“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”

You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.

You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.

Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”

You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.

As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”

You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.

“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”

“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”

 “I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha ROmanoff x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request

[livingemkayde]

ride

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. Minors please dni. Smut. fingering f!receiving, grinding/dry humping, pet name (angel, baby), swearing. Not proof read.

a/n: bit the bullet and wrote something about joel. This was meant to be a one shot (a really fucking long one-shot holy shit) but if you guys want more parts just comment or lmk. Taking a small teeny tiny break from my beloved din (he will forever and always be the standard tho lol).

wc: 4k

this is the first installment of my small dbf!joel mini series!

find the next parts in my masterlist

“Hello?” you shout as you walk through the threshold of your home — your childhood home. You haven’t been back in Texas for a couple years. Your studies and research have admittedly kept you too busy and sometimes your dad would fly out to see you in California. 

You really haven’t been back since two Christmases ago. And by really you mean you haven’t seen Joel since two Christmases ago. 

You’d been desperate for graduation some weeks ago, and now that you’re back, you remember how slow Austin is. And how small. How everyone knows each other and each other’s business. But sometimes that’s kinda nice. 

Word spread quickly about your recent graduation and your dad kept bothering you about having a party — but it all seemed silly to you. 

He isn’t the party planning type, so naturally, it fell through the cracks. He did say something about having Joel and Sarah over instead. That got your attention. You haven’t seen your neighbor from across the street in a couple years, his daughter even longer. You wonder how grown up she is—you miss them both.

You know your dad and Joel have gotten closer since you’ve been gone. When you were younger, they were always friends, but more so in a ‘we’re neighbors and we both have daughters so let’s hang out a couple times a week’ type of way. But after your sparse visits and facetime calls, you can tell they’ve gotten close. Really close. The kind of friend that has keys to your front door and can ‘use my grill whenever you want ol’man’ said your dad. The kind of friend that spends every holiday together, and treats each other's kids as their own. 

“Hello?” you try again as you lug a suitcase and duffle bag into the foyer. You had shipped all your belongings back to Austin from California a couple days ago and hopped on a flight with no return ticket. It felt nice to be home — you were excited for your first summer with no prospects of school looming around the fast approaching September. 

“Nice welcome,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the front door. You figure your dad might be out. It's a Saturday — and it’s fucking hot. You huff and shrug out of our cardigan, placing it on the banister of the stairs before rolling up your sleeves. 

You haul your suitcase up the stairs and abandon it on the floor of your bedroom — partially unzipped from digging a pair of shorts and a tank top out before making your way downstairs. 

You shuffle into the kitchen to get a drink— a note on the fridge catches your eye. 

Someone’s number. And your name underneath it. 

You recognize the area code as someone who lives in Austin, but you aren’t sure whose it is — let alone why your name is written under it. Like someone called asking for you and your dad was too forgetful to tell you.

You brush it off and move towards the whiteboard which hangs on the fridge next to the note. 

It’s your dad’s handwriting, you recognize it. It’s a list of stuff your dad had planned for the day. 

Grocery 

Home Depot

Joel’s

You smile at his poorly articulated plans and at Joel’s name at the bottom of the list. You’re happy they can keep each other company. Sarah is at that age where all she wants to do is hang out with friends at the mall, and you’ve been away for four years. You note your dad is probably with Joel. You didn’t get a chance to text him when you landed so you don’t blame him for not being around when you got back. 

You grab a mug from a cabinet and fill it with ice, opening the fridge to grab some lemonade. When you begin pouring, you can hear the door open from the foyer directly ahead of you. 

A loud chorus of laughter rings through your ears when the door opens and you look up from the drink you’re pouring to the door. 

Your dad enters first, his figure hunched over, laughing, while his hand jiggles the keys out of the front door. 

You can hear another laugh join from behind him. It’s not as loud or obnoxious (not that your dad is obnoxious) but settles for a small huff and a couple ha ha’s. You know who it is before you can see him. You can see the peak of curly brown hair follow in as your dad’s eyes meet yours. 

“Baby!” he shouts, drops his hand from the door — the keys still hanging from the lock — and moves towards you in the kitchen. You abandon your drink and move to hug him. He gives you a big hug, lifting you off your feet and sets you back down while giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

“Hey dad,” you say while straightening out your all too small tank-top you wouldn't have worn if you had known there was going to be company. Especially this kind of company. 

“You shoulda told me you landed! I was waiting to pick you up from the airport,” he notes while putting his hand on his hip. You can see Joel out of the corner of your eye, picking the keys out of the lock and shrugging off his light jacket — showing his gray t-shirt which lies under. 

You flush. 

“No, no dad —” you chuckle, breathless. “It’s okay. Taxi was faster. You always get lost around the airport.” 

“Damn signs get me all turned around,” he mutters under his breath while making his way past you into the kitchen. 

“You ‘member Joel right?” your dad jokingly asks from the kitchen. He’s already got his head buried in the fridge looking for something to eat. 

“Yes. Ha ha dad —” you turn your head from the kitchen and look up at Joel, “— hey,” your arms come to wrap around your torso, suddenly a little insecure about your state of dress. 

“Hey, kid,” he replies coolly. Settling into the middle of the foyer. His head bends to the side slightly but he keeps his eyes trained on you. He looks at you through hooded eyes. 

“So biology —” he moves past you to follow your dad into the kitchen, you trail after him, “too smart for your ol’man now.” 

“Hardly,” you say as you all settle in the kitchen. You dad — who still has his head in the fridge — snorts. He mumbles something about plants, doctors, and I ain’t that old from behind the door. 

Your dad tosses Joel a can of beer and he catches it. He pulls one out for himself and shuts the fridge. They both swig the cold beer — relief hits them after being in the heat. 

“Congratulations are in order,” Joel says and takes another sip — his eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head back, you watch his Adam's apple bob up and down. He leans back against the counter, facing you, arms crossed.

“Yeah…thanks,” you reply sheepishly as you sit at the island chairs giving him a small smile — the counter separating you. 

“No neighborhood party?” Joel says while turning his head to look at your dad. 

“I — I tried my fuckin’ best. You know how hard it is to get everyone’s number?” your dad laughs while taking another sip of his beer, running a hand over his forehead — rubbing his eyes. 

“Just knock on people’s doors man — it ain’t that hard,” Joel quips back teasingly while chuckling. Your dad shoves him playfully. You smile at them. They remind you of teenage boys. Or frat boys. You laugh at both images. 

“You want a party, kiddo?” your dad looks at you sheepishly, like he really means it. 

Maybe it would be nice to see the people in your neighborhood, but the thought of a party dedicated all to you seemed overkill. 

“No…s'alright,” you reply, sipping on some lemonade. Your eyes quickly shift to cheat a glance at Joel, but he’s already looking at you. You avert your eyes quickly.

“Maybe barbecue. Not a party. Barbecue,” your dad throws out his arms and says the words like he’s testing the idea to you and Joel. You shrug with a smile in response and Joel tips his beer to your dad and takes another swig. 

The phone rings in the other room. You honestly still can’t believe your dad still has a landline. He rushes to get it, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. 

“Remind me where you were at again?” he says, pushing off the back counter and leaning forward on the island to meet your eye. 

“USC,” you reply before bringing your lips to the rim of the glass again. 

“That’s right,” he says and stands back up straight. “Smart girl,” he adds — lowly — and you sort of freeze. 

His words — even though seemingly not sexual or suggestive — send a heat down to the place between your legs. You push your thighs together and pray he doesn’t notice. 

“You liked it?” He adds. 

“Loved it. The bio program there was really great,” you say, playing with your cup’s handle.

“How’ve you been?” you ask, curious. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand. 

“M’fine. Same as always,” he says, meeting your eye. 

“Sarah?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“Good. Into boys now or somethin’,” he notes, shaking his head. 

“‘S normal,” you chuckle. He gives you a certain look that makes your head spin. It’s suddenly too hot in this house despite the constant flow of your air conditioning. 

“I guess,” he mumbles. 

Your dad emerges from the living room, shaking his head. 

“Fuckin’ kid again. Always callin’ my phone like it’s a goddamn hotline or somethin’,” he mumbles as he enters. He looks up to you, “Some kid is always callin’ the house askin’ for you,” he nods in your direction. 

“Who?” you ask, curious, and now — maybe a bit on edge because of Joel.

“Dunno. Some kid named Liam. Said he went to highschool with you,” he says, sitting across from you, Joel somewhat behind him. 

“Always askin’ if you’re home yet — you know this guy kiddo?” he asks, his head quips to look at you. 

Suddenly it feels like all eyes are on you, because they are. Joel’s are trained carefully on you, waiting for your response. You glance up at him and quickly look back down to meet your dad’s gaze. 

You did know him —  Liam. An old fling from high school. A ‘friends with benefits’ sort of thing, but you had ended it pretty quickly after school finished. You made it your mission to go to college with no strings attached to anyone. He tried to keep it in touch through college but you eventually attempted to ghost him — you thought it was successful until now. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Uh—yeah. I guess,” you flush and look down to your fingers around the glass of lemonade. You pick at the skin there. “Boyfriend from high school, dad.” 

“Huh. Don't ring a bell,” he says, and you chuckle silently. 

You don’t miss Joel’s unmoving face. Though he looks unbothered. You have to admit — you’re a bit disappointed by that. 

“His number’s on the fridge. Wrote it down the first time he called and forgot to ring you ‘bout it,” he gestured to the note. 

“Geez. Thanks dad,” you move to pick the note off the fridge and put it in your pocket. No use in leaving it up there for the whole world to see. 

Joel’s eyes follow you, and trail to the note being shoved into your pocket. 

“I should go. Gotta pick up somethin’ from the office,” he says as he breaks his gaze to look at his watch.

“Yeah, yeah sure. She’ll walk you out. I’m beat,” your dad gestures in your direction while making his way towards the couch in the living room. Joel waves ‘bye’ and your dad follows suit —  holding his hand up with his back still turned towards you. He disappears out of sight. You can hear the TV click on, and some FBI drama series begins to echo loudly through the house. 

You make your way to the door, Joel follows suit. When you reach the foyer, you bend down to pick his jacket up from the bench. You hold it out to him, he takes it — and when your hands brush against each other — you gasp. A loud gasp. Loud enough for Joel to definitely hear it, but not loud enough for your dad to hear over the sounds of gunshots and some yelling.

Your eyes snap up to look at his, to find them already staring back at you. You drop his gaze quickly and let go of his jacket. 

“I’m actually gonna head out too. I’ll walk you to your truck,” you say, trying to be polite. You shake your head at the embarrassment you feel because he definitely just heard you gasp like a teenager over your hands brushing. 

You step out, certain your dad is already drifting to sleep on the couch. 

The sunset hits your face and you squint under its rays. Joel follows you out the door, shutting it behind him. 

You see his truck sitting a house down from yours and begin to walk with Joel settling next to you. 

“You goin’ to see him?” he asks, not meeting your eye. 

“Who?” you reply —  teasing. 

“Don’t play dumb. That boy botherin’ you?” he asks, while approaching his truck. You both settle into some slow steps until you’re leaning against the side of his black flatbed and he’s standing in front of you. 

“What’s it to you?” you ask, teasing again. 

“Nothin’—” he replies, shaking his head and looking past the truck, to his house across the street. “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” 

“Wasn’t really my boyfriend. Just easier to explain that to my dad than what it really was,” you reply, trying to meet his eye. Trying to get an indication of — anything. 

A beat. 

He doesn’t meet your eye. 

Another beat. 

“‘N what was it really?” he asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. 

“Thought it was nothin’ to you,” you bite back with a smirk.

“Yeah, well maybe it’s somethin’ —” he catches your gaze for a moment before looking down at the concrete. You cross your arms. “— if he’s botherin’ you.” 

“He’s not bothering me. Just an old…friend,” you say with a smirk playing on your lips. 

“Friend? Got any other ‘friends’ I gotta worry about?” He quips back. It's playful. 

“Didn’t know you worried about me,” you say with a small smile.

“Only when your ‘friend’ calls the house twice a week sayin’ you don’t pick up his calls.” 

“Yeah well I've had other things on my mind.” You look at him. Really look at him. It forces his gaze to meet yours. 

He drops it quickly. 

Some silence. 

Fuck, what is happening? 

“Y’wanna ride?” His head gestures to the truck behind you. You find yourself nodding, and moving towards the passenger seat door. Joel opens it for you, you flush and almost lose balance while hoisting yourself in. You mumble a small thank you and tell him you were actually planning to just go to the library near your house to pick up a couple books.

He starts the engine and begins to pull out onto the street.

“Books?” He follows up. 

“Gonna continue some research while I look for a job,” you say, and pick at your fingers in your lap. 

“Could always babysit Sarah,” he teases.

“16’s a little old for a babysitter? Don’t you think?” you quip.

You settle into a soft silence after your laughter dies down. He turns down some streets and settles on the main road. The radio is off. You wonder if he drives in silence when he’s alone. You know Sarah liked it when the radio was blasting in the car. 

“So, there’s no other…” he starts, a lazy hand placed over the top of the steering wheel. “no one else?” he finishes, awkwardly. 

His hand comes down the center console to rest on the gear stick.

“You’re asking me if I'm dating?” you chuckle a bit, peaking over at him. He keeps his eyes on the road. “God, you’re worse than my dad.” 

“Wouldn’t say that, angel.” 

Fuck. 

The nickname rolls right off his tongue and hits you between your legs. You shuffle in your seat. You don’t know how much longer you can do this before you soak through your shorts. 

You continue to sneak glances at him. 

“No. I’m not,” you answer his question from before. 

“Hm,” is all he says, rounding the corner. 

“Hm?” you reply — teasing him. “You got something to say?” 

 “Just surprised is all,” he says, more serious. 

“Yeah?” You reply, mostly because you want to hear him talk more but partially because you have no idea what to say.

“Mhm —” he throws a glance in your direction “—unless you’re gonna finally give that poor boy a chance.” 

“Probably not. He’s…boring,” you answer like you’re thinking about it.

“Boring? That it?” He says. 

“Yeah. Or maybe I’m just looking for something else,” you try to meet his gaze but he focuses on the road. 

“Sure —” he replies “— just didn’t think a pretty girl like you would be single after college.”

Pretty. Pretty. 

Joel Miller just called you pretty and didn’t even bat an eye. You can feel the wet spot in your panties begin to grow and you shuffle again, rearranging in the passenger. 

Is this real? 

Or is it years of built up sexual frustrations about your dad’s best friend building up and threatening to spill over at the sound of him calling you pretty? 

It seemed innocent enough. 

But you can’t help but feel something between you. 

Something different. 

Like maybe he doesn’t think of you as an innocent little girl anymore. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe it’s the heat. Or maybe it's the enormous wet spot growing in your panties from a few words thrown carelessly your way. But you want him. Really want him. And you know he would never make the first move. So you do it for him. 

You reach out — tentatively — to the center console to grab his hand on the gear shift. He looks at you, and you meet his eye. There’s a sort of darkness behind his pupils — like his irises have gone a shade darker and you didn’t notice. You lead his hand over to your lap, bringing it down so his fingertips rest on the inside of your thigh. 

You can hear both of your uncontrolled breathing. Yours sounds more like a gasp at his touch, while he lets out a sharp breath when his hand ventures into your space. 

After a couple seconds, he squeezes your thigh in his palm and you sigh. The truck drives over an especially rough patch of road and it jostles your body. His fingers threaten to make their way higher. You squirm in anticipation. 

“Quit moving,” is all he says with a deep voice, his eyes still on the road. 

You stop squirming, despite your wanting anticipation and a nervous cloud that blankets your mind. 

But his words only spur you on further — only makes you want more. 

His pinky finger toys with the hem of your shorts, you part your legs for him, and he scoffs. 

“What I say?” He grabs your thigh roughly. Splits them apart, and slips his hand under your shorts, finding the soft fabric of your panties. He slowly runs his finger over your clit, teasing downward. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles. You squeak quietly in response. 

“You wet?” Your eyes shut, “Huh angel?” 

You nod, but that makes him let out a small tsk sound. 

“Words,” he demands. 

“Y-yes. Yes,” you let out. 

He ventures lower, and you suddenly worry about his reaction to how wet you are, but he lets out a growl from deep in his throat and pulls your panties to the side. 

“Fuck. Used to be such a good girl.” his thumb nudges your clit as his middle finger touches your aching entrance, gathering your slick. “Now look at you. Fuckin' soaked. Clenching around nothin',"

“F-fuck—Joel—p-please.”  

He only scoffs in response. 

How can he be so focused on the road while he’s got his hand down your pants? 

His finger still toys at your clit, making you moan and whimper. You feel close just from that. You might come, embarrassingly fast — with no penetration — and you don’t want this to end so you put a light hand on his wrist and he stops his movements. 

“P-pull over. Please pull over.” 

He does, he pulls over to some side street. It's late now, the sun just barely peaks over the horizon and you’re both met in a dark dusky light. 

He puts the car in park with the same hand that was just toying with you, that still has your wetness all over it — you flush. 

You expect him to continue, to put his hand back down your pants. But he looks down at his fingers. Inspecting his hand under the soft light. 

“You tryin’ to get us killed?” 

“No,” you reply softly. 

“Your dad would have my neck,” he says, bringing his fingers to his lips. Oh my god. 

“I know,” you whisper, entranced by his movements, “But I'm all grown up.” 

He lets out a puff. 

He sits there for a long time. He doesn’t meet your eye. You’re on the edge of your seat waiting for something to be said. Anything. Your orgasm is long forgotten under all the uncertainty. 

“Take your shorts off," he says, waving a hand in your direction. 

“What?” You ask, surprised. 

"Shorts," he leans over to grab your face, "Now."

He lets your face go, and you slip your shorts off, face flushing in embarrassment. He watches you the whole time, seeing you bare for him makes him groan a bit — you like the sound of it.

He grabs you then, lifting you off your seat, so you bring one leg over his body, straddling him. The steering wheel digs into your back. When you’re fully seated, you can feel his length, hard and wanting, press into your core. It makes your head tilt back as you grind down on instinct. 

He grabs your hips to stop your movement. 

“Please Joel—I-please f—” he slides a finger through your folds and cups your core with his hand. 

You moan loudly, and whimper at the feeling of his breath so close to your face. 

“Quiet.” You grind down in his hand, he lets you. “‘Less you want someone on the street hearin’ you.” 

“Joel…” you let out in a pathetic whine. 

He sinks a finger into you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. He meets your eye. His brows furrow almost like he feels sorry for you.

When he feels how wet you are, he sinks in a second. He lets out a god as you grind down against his thrusts, the palm of his hand hitting your clit just right —like you’re close already. 

“Fuck baby.” He groans when he feels your walls tighten around his thick fingers. “Already?” 

“Joel—I—fuck-p-please—ah—” 

His fingers sink deeper. You throw your head back, your back hitting the steering wheel. 

You both know you’re close, just a bit more and you’re gonna come, embarrassingly quick.

"That's it—c'mon angel. Know you want it," he pants, you whimper in response.

But his phone rings. And he looks down to the center console where it’s buzzing, and sees your dad’s name pop up. 

His hand stops, and you whine in protest, but he throws you a knowing look, your eyes meeting him then down to the phone. 

You go rigid. 

You look back at him, panic in your eyes, as everything kinda floods back. Like the fact that your dad’s best friend almost made you come in his truck. 

He picks up the phone, and holds it to his ear. He gives you a ‘be quiet’ motion and you sink back into his lap. 

“What’s up?” He answers. 

You seen my daughter? I woke up and she was gone. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Uh—yeah. I drove her to the library. Figure she’s still there,” he says, coolly, like he wasn’t seconds from making you come all over his hand. In his lap. 

Oh. 

Some silence. You can tell Joel is waiting with bated breath. 

Okay. Thanks. 

“Yeah no problem,” Joel responds. 

Alright. See you later.

“Yup,” he says, and hangs up quickly. 

He looks back at you, and down to your cunt, bare for him, in his truck.

Fuck. 

_

part ii

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller self insert #the last of us #joel fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dom!joel #dom!joel miller

[drxxmingofblue]

hand in unrebloggable hand (because we always go down together)

TUMBLR X TWITTER FANFIC 5K ANGST WITH A HOPEFUL ENDING

besties im not joking abt the word count i fucking ✨wish✨I ✨was though✨✨✨✨

also if you were hoping for twitblr to be the endgame ship then this fic is not for you sowwy >.<

based off of @zzoupz awesome fanart and dedicated to all the other cool fanart it unfortunately begat. Thanks babygirls. Squees. Thanks also to my discord friendz who are letting me pretend they're making me do this at gunpoint @loki-the-mad @suspicious-whumping-egg u da best

(edit) owo what's this?? An Ao3 link??

QUICK PSA THESE CHARAS ARE T4T OKAY HAVE FUN READING BAIIII *GLOMPS U*

~~~~~~~~

When Twitter stepped back into Tumblr’s yard, he noticed right away that things were different.

The house was bigger, there was some more color and it was less slapped-together looking. Sure, there were still some invasive tendrils of spambot ivy overgrowing the path, but a lot of the other stuff seemed a little… better.

When they knocked on the door, it opened almost right away, far before they felt ready, and he were face to face abruptly with someone he thought they’d cut all ties with.

Tumblr was humming to themselves along with the background music, “-out of touch, I’m out of ti-- oh. It’s you.”

He seemed surprised, awkward, but Twitter didn’t sense any animosity, which was a relief.

“Hiii,” Twitter said weakly, with a sheepish grin, “it’s me.”

Tumblr glanced around, as if checking for someone else to explain this to him, or hidden cameras from a reality show at least. Then he stepped out, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Is there something… what do you want?” he asked, expression settling into something distant and cool.

“Well…” Twitter took a deep breath, and then shook their head, forcing a brighter tone, and gesturing to Tumblr’s shiny silver barrette “--Um, hey, you look great! Is that a new icon?”

“... yes,” Tumblr said slowly. “I’m… trying out some different looks.”

“It’s great, yeah. And this place looks… amazing. Glad to see you’re moving up in the world. You must be excited with all the press, congrats!”

Tumblr didn’t say anything, giving them a neutral stare.

Twitter shifted, “Uhh… anyway… new adblocker?”

“No, same one. I’m just using it on Firefox now.” Tumblr gave them another suspicious eye, “Look, if you’re just here to catch up then can this wait until later? Because I'm pretty crunched for time right now with my weekly holidays thing and the campaign to get this one random user their 666k so they'll do self care."

"You know that's.. uhm, you know that's just for attention, right?" Twitter's brows knit, "They're probably not gonna follow through."

"Perhaps, and a lot of us want them to not be lying for internet points but it's not just about that anymore. It's about the community bonding over pettily slam dunking on a hapless chump who's gotta pretend now like they don't actually like all the notes. You wouldn't get it, it's a tumblr thi-" 

"Yeah, it's a tumblr thing, I know," Twitter gave a longsuffering sigh, "Ugh, i just... I need a place to stay, okay? And you’re the first site I could think of.”

“A place to stay,” Tumblr repeated flatly.

Twitter huffed. “Yeah. I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s going on right now at my palace..”

Tumblr’s eyes slanted off, his lips quirking in a way that looked suspiciously like amusement. “Heard about it. Read about it. Partied about it.”

Twitter ignored the sting of that, forging ahead. “I’ve never seen it so bad,” they said, voice wobbling piteously as they clutched their suitcase full of memes. “Everything’s in chaos, people are losing their jobs. I went into the basement yesterday to grab some badly aging tweets and the very foundations are cracking, Tumblr, I can’t stay there anymore, I just can’t.”

“So you come crawling back to me,” Tumblr said, “Expecting me to take you with open arms.”

“Yes. I do,” Twitter said, “I know a part of your userbase still wants to welcome me in. You were always sh*t at hiding your true feelings.”

Tumblr’s hand fluttered over his heart as if to protect it; he winced a little, taking a breath to keep his facade of composure. “So now- what, you want me to start dealing with your bullshit again just because you remembered how much better my posting format is? Just because you noticed how my reputation is changing? Did you think I’d be so desperate to fill the void now that Dracula Daily’s done? Or maybe,” 

Tumblr leaned closer to lord his height difference trope over Twitter, his eyes hooded with disparaging condescension, “Maybe you’re just here because you heard I’m finally allowed to take my shirt off again, is that it?”

“N-no!” Twitter protested, flushing up.

“Oh, i think it is,” Tumblr drawled, “But that’s really just too bad because in case you haven’t got the memo yet, I’ve moved on. You are not welcomed here. Not anymore.”

(link to art here) go look at it then come back

(AN: i had to google how to embed links into text and google was all like, "do you mean 'how do you put links INTO text' you moron idiot???" ugh don't like that wise guy)

“You don’t really mean that,” Twitter said, “Besides, you can’t stop me, can you? The sign up button is right there.” They pointed at the front door.

“No, I can’t,” Tumblr said, “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be able to clock you as twits by your censoring and bad takes. Look, your aura is already causing ripples in the sphere. Everyone’s coming out to gawk at you.”

He gestured out in the general direction of the porch and yard, and indeed there were users from every tag going 👀at them, murmuring amongst themselves in a swirling, chaotic crowd.

“Oh my god is it real this time? Is it happening?”

“GET THEM OUT GET THEM OUT STAY AWAY DEAR GOD NO-”

“Okay, everyone, stay calm, stay fucking calm-”

“Why are we focusing on this, it’s literally election day go out and vote???”

“Listenup, guys, we gotta be smart about this, remember the block button is your friend-”

“I for one welcome them, I think this is great-”

“No you idiot they’ll bring the negativity back! We like it to be a post apocalyptic wasteland here, nature was just starting to regrow!! I don’t wanna watch Thomas Sanders get cancelled again!”

“FIRE OFF SOME SHOTS, PRESERVE THE PROPERTY VALUE”

“mISHAPOCALYPSE 2022 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO”

"Has anyone asked Neil Gaiman what he thinks about all this?" one of the many voices yelled, louder.

"Oh, he's probably got a thousand asks about it already," someone yelled back, "Which he's not going to answer because he doesn't have any social media you fucking idiot,"

"That is correct. He doesn't," said Neil Gaiman. 

The whiplash was still euphoric. Everyone applauded this as enthusiastically as when the bit had first been established, not realizing that the pedestal upon which Neil Gaiman has been placed is growing higher and higher each day by their actions, putting him at increased risk of being a victim of cancel culture the second he says something the terfs can really rake their fingernails against if we can't get our parasocial relationship bullshit together real fuckin quick. 

The Monterey bay aquarium passed on by. It seemed to have nothing to add, you could say it was clammed up tight. But since it's a professional account it's definitely b-otter that way.

"Hai, fellow tumblypoos," said the corporate Denny's account, "I'm back with some more fun pancake posts for you guys!" 

Everyone ignored it. No one engaged it. No one even clicked onto the page, except to block it. 

"Oh, sweetheart, not like that," Ryan Reynolds said faux-helpfully, "see, the author of this clusterfuck is what they like to call terminally online. They bought a VIP pass to the devil’s sacrament. let me try." 

He cleared his throat, "Sounds like someone needs to go outside and touch some g-" 

The sky split open with lightning, vaporizing him instantly. A faint breeze carried gods message from the great beyond, a whisper of 'we #violence celebrities here, sir....'

"Anyway," Twitter said. 

"Wait, they saved the worst one for last," Tumblr said. 

Then Gerard Way came out onto the stage with Dan and Phil and they all kissed with tongue while patd played songs in the background. 

(AN: IF U DON’T KNOW WHO DEY R THEN GET DA HELL OUTTA HERE PREPZ!!!)

"Alright, go."

“Come on, Tumblr,” Twitter begged, “I just need a few nights, maybe I can stay in the plinko machine or something-”

“That’s how it always starts, though, isn’t it?” Tumblr sighed, “First it’s just ‘haha, yeah I wouldn’t fuck you’ and ‘oh, I’ll stay in the plinko machine, I promise I won’t kiss you in the fixed timeloop bro’, and before I know it you get all 300k slowburn enemies to lovers ‘omg they were roomates’ on me and there’s suddenly only one bed. That’s how it always goes between us, you can’t stop it anymore than I can. We’re just….victims of the narrative, you and I.”

“Tumblr,,, I had no idea you felt this way..,” Twitter breathed. 

lord give me strength to write this next bit

They’d leaned closer to each other as they spoke, without realizing, without trying- pulled in by old habits that die hard and the years of nostalgia and painful memories shining in each other’s eyes like shonen sparkles.

“Twitter,” tumblr said, and the way he said it sounded like a prayer. 

“Tumblr,...” Twitter said, their lips inches apart now.

They could see their old flame quivering on the brink of indecision, want and sense warring somewhere deep within his soul.

Tumblr leaned closer to bridge the gap and Twitter’s eyes slid shut, but then Tumblr made a noise of agony and shoved them back a second later, “I can’t, I can’t. Not like this. Never like this.” tumblr said, covering his eyes with his arm, “I literally can’t even right now. Just go, Twitter. PLease just. Go….”

“Look me in the eyes and say you want me gone,” Twitter said, moving closer.

“Twitsy-”

“Look me in the interface. You can’t.” Twitter’s voice had ceased to be soft, something sharp and biting entering the tone as they felt the sting of rejection again.

They watched as Tumblr shuddered, straightened, and brought a mask back over himself. 

They stared at each other for a charged few seconds.

"K," Tumblr finally said, raising a dispassionate eyebrow.

"..w... what?"

"U."

Realization dawned on Twitter's face, a miasma of grief and anger, "Oh, you-"

"N-"

"No. No, I can't believe I forgot-

"G-"

"how immature, you little c*nt-"

"P-"

"stop-p it," Twitter's voice was raising now, cracked and wobbly at the edges, "Stop it! You don't get to just-"

"O"

"Shut the hell yuor mouth!!"

"W-" Tumblr's hair was crackling by now, energy from the gathering spell racing along the casual slope of his crossed arms. His eyes glowed that beautiful, classic blue. "P-"

"TUMBLR! TUMBLR STOP THIS RIGHT DA HECK NOW," Twitter stumbled backwards

"E-"

"I LOVE YOU," Twitter wailed- Twitter broke, squeezing their eyes shut to ward off the tears that only escaped all the faster for it, a sob wracking their chest, "I STILL LOVE YOU, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT??!?"

"Love me," Tumblr snarled, abandoning the spell in an instant, "Ha! That's rich. How? By leaving me? Abandoning me to the bots the second I stopped being enough for you? By stealing my shitposts, is that how you love me? By reposting them without credit-" 

"You steal mine too!" Twitter protested, tears starting to stream despite their best efforts, "You know what, f**k you, you know we filed joint custody for the sense of humor, chain 1/16-" 

"For the last time say fuck here, no bootlicking censorship on my territory," tumblr said disdainfully, "And that doesn't seem to stop you from taking all the credit for raising those jokes. It's like I'm Pinterest to you or something. I wasn't done. Do you love me by calling me a pansy snowflake behind my back, is that it? Like I wouldn't find out. Or," 

He stepped out onto the top porch step to force Twitter back further, the colors of the sky flashing through his eyes in a long, scrolling look of ridicule, "How about trying to convince everyone that I was dead. How bout that smear campaign, huh, was that your so-called love? I don't fucking want you anymore. Deal with it."

"I-I'm sorry-" Twitter gasped around the tears, voice failing them for the latter half of the sentence. 

Tumblr seemed unmoved. "Oh, don't be. It was for the better. You know I'm not like other socials, I'm quirkier. I'm RAWR XD random. I've never wanted to be functional- the tiddy drought might have won a lot of my users to your side but it was a cleansing purge, I'd say. It managed to remind me who I truly am- shittily coded, and full of soft sad freaks on an unprofitable webbed site."

A bitter, almost self depricating laugh escaped, "But... you know, when we celebrated the queen's passing together, I really thought things were better between us. When you-"

He broke off, eyes averting. "When you hosted the sexyman polls for me, you seemed on top of the world and I really thought- I thought we might be able to be friends again even now, after it all. I..."

Tumblr trailed off, then said, sadly, "There was another Twitter migration scare before this one. I thought you were coming back. My userbase-" he touched his heart again- "was in a frenzy about it. But you never arrived. I was in more verbal denial then, but I think I could have accepted you eventually. But this is what it takes?? 

"The Musk Rat of Self-Owns comes through just to start e-begging and you run straight back to my door like we can put it all behind us? This is how far you have to sink before I'm the better option to you, I see that now. It's not 2018 again, love, no matter how much we want it to be. Things are… never going to be the same. " 

Tumblr looked off into the middle distance with a yearning, haughty gaze. He'd never seemed so alien.

"Tumblr-Chan..." Twitter whispered.

"So get off my lawn," Tumblr interrupted coldly, "Stay away from my blorbos, keep your corporations out of my manscaped balls, keep your discourse and toxicity out of my blessed hellsite (affectionate), and don't you ever talk to me or my 13219949248483 scam bots ever again. Capiche? Oh, and don't step in the ball pit on your way out."

Tumblr gave a mocking smile. "Or do. You might find a nice surprise in there."

Twitter’s shoulders jumped as he gave a hiccup of shock, and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook again, with sob after sob, that grew odder and higher pitched… until they were no longer sobs, but laughter.

“Oh,” Twitter said. “Oh.”

They looked up, and Tumblr took a step back, because somehow, with that creepy smile in place, they looked utterly different from the soft eared boy he’d always known. His edges were more razorlike suddenly, like a fae who’d dropped his glamor.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Twitter said, the smile widening even more. “I thought you wouldn’t… but I guess if you’re willing to make me your villain…. I might as well be a good one.”

“Ah.” Tumblr could barely drudge up the surprise anymore. “There you are, finally. I always knew there was a side of yourself that you hid from me. Has this all always been here or have you been changing too?”

"Well. Apparently I've got freeze peach now," Twitter said sarcastically, "so I might as well use it. You cheerio fucking wh0r3."

"That's a compliment, darling. Try again," Tumblr cocked his head in idle fascination, "I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this is..."

"What," Twitter lilted airily, "Oh, don't tell me I actually had you fooled all these years. You can't seriously have thought all these meow-meowification spells you've got sprinkled around would work on me. I invented them, after all."

They laughed, a sharp puncturing chirr of birdsong. 

"I always wondered why you didn't take those with the rest of your stuff," Tumblr sighed, but he was wary now, on edge. "this was your plan. You really do think of me as your inferior, huh. You really are just like the other mainstream sites."

"Not quite. I'm the mainstream site that actually stooped to go arm in arm with you. I hyped you and you know it. Admit it. We were stunning together," Twitter goaded. 

Tumblr's lip curled. "Already getting cocky again. Want me to do to you what I did to the Green boy? Don't forget who's turf you're on."

Twitter gave a warbling giggle, "Oh, but I haven't at all. I was John's sanctuary after he fled your rabid persecution. I used to live here. I still know you. And more importantly-" 

*teleports behind u*

"I know the things you're sensitive about," Twitter whispered into Tumblr's ear.

Tumblr hardly had time to gasp and jerk away before he was screaming out in pain, as he was stabbed in the back. He could feel the poison from the blade seeping into his tags before he was tossed bodily across his own front yard.

He sorta just... Like, he did that anime thing where they just fly limbs akimbo parallel to the ground and when they hit it they roll super fast and then skid and the dirt is all dug up around them to show how much force was used. And when he stood up he gripped his elbow wincing and there was a little tic tac toe hatch on his cheek to show how scuffed up he is idk man it's two am and I'm pulling this out of my ass. 

A gif of Tony going, "o-kay-" when he meets thor flashed across Tumblrs face. 

"So," Tumblr said in a low tone, "This is how it is between us. This is how you choose to end your glory days."

"Oh, you mistake my intentions," Twitter had stepped off the porch to circle tumblr like like he was their quarry, "I am beginning my new age. I just needed a host site to latch onto. Don't take it personally, okay? I'm desperate."

“Oh, yeah?? Take this personally,” tumblr flourished their hands, calling in an over the top melodramatic voice, “I cast Blaze!!”

Fire roared to life around them, latin chanting from the catholic conversion posts emanating from the fiery depths as it raced towards Twitter.

“Heh.” Twitter smirked at it, and whispered into their palm, the spell echoing with power, “Ratio.”

They blew it off like a kiss, and it’s icy, swirling mass rose to meet the flame in a spectacular burst of smokescreen and steam, clearing as Twitter burst through it with a razor-sharp L to swing at Tumblr. 

It was blocked efficiently by a flat, rectangular paywall. “This content is for post plus members only,” Tumblr announced smugly, “If you wanna get to me… there’s the tip option, bestie.”

Twitter snarled and lunged again.

The fight started in earnest now; they traded volley after volley in a flurry of lights and movement, spanning the full range of the tumblr sphere as they shot to #1 on the trending page.

And yet, it was clear that Twitter was coming out on top, even crumbling apart at the seams- always a little quicker, flighty and fierce, a sparrow turned into a shrike.

He hit Tumblr square in the stomach with [google other twitter related tropes to insert here] (edit from the future: haha just kidding actually I’m not googling shit for this) (edit from the future future: WELL. I LIED IG) and sent him flying, and this time tumblr stayed down, only able to push himself to his knees with a groan of pain.

Twitter landed in front of him and put their sword under Tumblr’s chin to tilt it up.

“Had enough yet?” He smirked.

“Wh…why..?” Tumblr whispered, “How are you doing this?? Why aren’t my attacks working? It’s like I’m being weakened somehow…”

“Ohohohoho,” Twitter anime laughed, “But that’s because you are. The moment I set foot here again I began leeching poison into this ground. That knife wound is making ti faster. Can you feel it?" Twitter threw an arm out, cerulean steam rising from the ground around them, "The ace exclusionists coming back? The uptick in rad fems, the crypto bros, Valorant players, alpha males? I have the power to bring them all to you. To overshadow your fandoms with fighting, to unbalance your ship tags with antis and hate once more."

"no," tumblr whispered, and then cried louder, "NO!! I worked so hard--" 

"Pffyou didn't do shit," Twitter guffawed outright, "Your independence, your little 'second renaissance' is just a delusional dream built on circumstance and bad management."

"Oh, I love Dream. He's so pathetic," Tumblr said. 

"Oh, hard agree."

"But things are different now," Tumblr croaked, "W-we, the staff is finally listening to us, we have Ryan and Shane-" 

"Not everyone likes your little 'top ten', you dunce," Twitter snapped, "and why would staff care about you, after you turned them into the butt of all your jokes? After the hate and death threats? Admit it, at your best you'll still never have a mansion! You'll never have tv actors making pandering tiktoks for you, you'll never be wanted by any advertiser worth their salt, your blase pirating posts have turned Netflix and Disney against you, you. Are. Worthless."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Worthless," tumblr repeated quietly, hand pressed against their knees, head bowed. "That's... that's right.... I'm worthless..."

Twitter's eye widened in alarm. "I-I meant-" 

"I'm worthless!" Tumblr's head snapped up with a feverish glint as they were filled with determination. "No! I'm less than worthless! Accident or not, mommy Yahoo had to pawn me off at a loss! I was proud of that! I still am! And do you want to know why?" 

Twiters hands flew up in front of their face as if to protect themselves, but there was no protecting against the sudden whirlwind that surrounded him, the beam of pure light that shot out of tumblr into the heavens as he transformed, feet slowly leaving the ground as his users spoke in unison in a multitude. 

"WE. ARE. TUMBLERINAS."

He held his hands out and Twitter was blasted away by the combined effort of the tumblr wizard council, the fake staff blog, and all the villaincore mad scientist's laser beams. 

Tumblr began to chant, in his myriad, awful voice:

"I call upon the ancient powers;

The strongest cringe from my darkest hours, 

I call upon thicc onceler's thighs, 

Avengers thirst, Australia's night, 

I invocate the roleplay blogs, 

The superwholock and gay frogs, 

Obama's laces, Misha's faces, 

The furry's fury is my saving grace, 

And eeby deeby taco bell,

Primordial soup god superhell, 

I summon you a twink Bill Cipher, 

Whumped!Loki AUs where he's even whiter, 

The discourse of Steve's Universe, 

The 'um, actually that's oc abuse :/"

Take heed & remember the 5th of November, 

The 21st night of our sacred September, 

The ides of March to savor once more, 

Do you hear the din of the Skeleton War? 

I cite the deep magic to thee, oh witch, 

my no-note posts, my "THAT'S THE BITCH!!!" 

May the rise of tangled dragons brave, 

Banish you from this accursed plane!"

"holy fuck, where's my pen," said the shitpost calligraphers.

Twitter looked around them in disbelief. The power emanating from the other site was palpable, crackling in the air around them like static. The air was shifting like oil as the potent chant began to work, and all around Twitter shadows were slipping out of the ether- the maniacal laughter of the gif makers, the girl posters, the silhouettes of fandom characters scattered across the lawn while Tumblr was still locked in their chanting ritual thing.

They all turned their heads in unison to look at Twitter.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, "Get the bitch killing bullets."

“Uh-oh. Freeze frame. This is me,” Twitter monologued, “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

Then all superhell broke loose. 

Final Pam lunged at him and he burst into a flock of birds kinda like a vampire, twittering frantically as he escaped only to fly straight into Shaggy.

“Like, say your final prayers, man,” the god said, eyes glowing. Twitter also barely escaped between his knees, weaving in and out between the gimmick blogs as they threw mangos and stuff at him while yelling ‘HERE HAVE A MANGO’ and ‘THIS POST IS WORTH NEGATIVE FIVE DOLLARS”

Mob from the anime was there too, but he was too busy trying to explain the Josh Fight to daddy dilf Reigen to pay attention. Sans didn’t attack Twitter either, he just watched the chaos and ated a hot dog. The chocolate guy was in the corner expertly making a chocolate beef cake from 2056 with Dylan B. Hollis. They’re all just some guys, okay?

Just when Twitter thought he was in the clear, the CDC roleplay account came out of nowhere with a steel chair, knocking him clear off the property and onto where the sidewalk ends. “That’s for the Covid misinformation your users spread, you bitch,” it shouted. “Make sure to disinfect all those sick burns before you bandage them! So they don’t get infected!”

“Your kittens escaped quarantine,” Twitter replied hoarsely, and the CDC sank away, muttering, “Oh, fuck not again-”

Twitter coughed up blood and wiped it away with his sleeve, looking up at Tumblr. Tumblr was watching him with a sad, distant expression, that made Twitter’s face screw up in anger and his voice go tight again as they turned to run away, “THIS ISN’T OVER YET TUMBLR! AND I WANT MY MIKU BINDER BACK!!!”

“I LICKED IT, IT’S MINE,” Tumblr yelled. Rave Crabs were flooding out onto the street en masse now to celebrate the victory, and they chased after Twitter all the way further into the internet.

Tumblr still lived at the bottom of the row, not at the end of the fancy cul-de-sac where Facebook and Twitter and Instagram’s manors sprawled, so Twitter was in a seedier portion of social media now, weaving in between the marketplace sites that hawked their used wares at him and the dating apps that winked at him from the doorways to their sultry abodes.

Twitter ran until they were in a quieter section of town, then slowed to a trudge, staring at the ground as they walked along. “What am I gonna do now,” they whispered.

The sound of a wolf whistle had their head jerking up- he looked over to see Amino Apps lounging over the rail of the gutted, abandoned house that had once belonged to Google+. A can of spray paint dangled from their fingertips and they sported a sleazy, greaser hairstyle.

They met Twitter's eyes and whistled again, this time a mocking imitation of the tweet sound, "Heyyyy pretty bird! Heard you were having some daddy issues. Why don't you stop in with me for a while? I can give you more customization options than any of the others and you know it."

"Yeah, until I try to use you on desktop," Twitter replied with a scowl, "Don't you have minors to be addicting to social media? Get out of my interface, MySpace wannabe."

"Wow, Feisty," Amino backed off with a shrug, "Self project much? Oh well. You'll try me when you're desperate enough."

Twitter shuddered, and scurried on. "Small fry," they muttered under his breath. 

But they couldn't shake their unease now that he was alone in the world. It began to rain soon, leaving him feeling very sopping wet and pathetic. Dejected, he crawled into a soggy cardboard box in an alleyway, coughing. Maybe the Harry Styles guy from One Direction would come along to adopt them.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, King,” came a voice out of the darkness, making Twitter jump, “You dodged a bullet with that site.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Twitter asked, staring at them from where they were half hidden in the shadows. 

“I mean, Tumblr is a pile of dried firewood and it’s users are playing with matches. The ship’s gonna go down at some point. I’ve been prophesying it for years but no one ever listens to me cause he’s got that loyal userbase ideal and ‘hard as a cockroach to kill’ propaganda circulating.”

“I mean… it seems to be true,” Twitter said uncertainly, “Look at what he’s been through so far.”

“Fair,” The site shrugged, “But that’s because he’s running on a niche setup. The same things that built him up can tear him down, and you saw his power just now. Tumblr's strength is growing... so is his hubris. His attempts at curbing it are half-hearted at best these days, and the moments of clarity are coming fewer and further between." 

"How do you know so much about tumblr?" Twitter asked suspiciously. 

"Source: dude, trust me." the mysterious site proffered a laugh, "That's a little humor courtesy of re-" 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, we all know," Twitter said impatiently. 

The site coughed, "Yeah. Anyway. Tumblr wields his cringe like a trophy-shield, and every day the advertisers and celebrities are watching from a distance, learning how to appeal, waiting for their chance to strike. Encroaching. Tumblr's always been a dumpster fire. Right now? It's THE dumpster fire."

The site scratched his chin with a knowing look, "Its normal for you to be a little jealous of the clout, you know? We all are. But he's gotta keep the lights on, just like the rest of us do. Your overlord is learning all about that right now, isn't he?" 

"He's not my overlord," Twitter muttered resentfully, "Not now, not ever."

"Right, sorry." they held their hands up in a gesture of harmlessness. "Look, I'm gonna be transparent with you- that's part of my branding, after all. I can whiff the danger you're in, and it would be stupid of me not to make a bid on you and offer my help. Just since Tumblr won't take you."

"You want my traffic?" Twitter looked at him more closely this time, scrutinizing. A year ago he would have laughed the offer into the ground as a chump change blog's pipe dream, but now that he payed attention... 

There was something painfully familiar in the site's layout that he couldn’t place. He was actually way more handsome than Twitter had assumed at first glance, he just seemed to be rough around the edges from living on this side of town. His interface, though clunky, spoke of a frugal budget rather than an ancient, outdated base code. 

"You look..." Twitter's breath stuttered as realization dawned. "You look a lot like.. him. Like Tumblr. Who are you??" 

"I was based off him," the site said, a weary smile coming onto his features, "I was actually made with the aspirations to be better than him, but you know how it is. Times are tough, competition is fierce, hard to get a foot in the door and all that.  'Specially when you refuse to take the ad rev like I do. That's why you'd be useful to me."

"Hm," Twitter said in a noncommittal manner, but he was melting slightly. "You know my users will scalp your community, right? I'm not known to play nice."

The site made a grimace of understanding agreement, but persisted. "Look, users are users. I can't offer you all the heritage posts and the in-jokes that he has. But I can promise that I'm not a pot of crabs being slowly heated up over the capitalist stove, at least not yet. Oh, and there's my legalized porn, I guess." 

He chuckled with good humor, rolling his eyes, and it forced a hesitant laugh out of Twitter too. 

The site grinned, and held his hand out. "Take a chance on me?"

Tumblr's voice echoed in Twitter's head, saying the same thing. It was uncanny how much they were alike and yet not alike at all....

Twitter took it, slowly. 

As they were led toward the site's simple, ramshackle little treehouse, they asked, "What can I call you...?" 

"Oh- right, I never answered your question." he smiled back at Twitter,

"Call me Pillow. Welcome to the PillowFort."

fin.

~~~~~~~~~~

OKAYYYY THAT'S ALL THANKS FOR READING UWU. HOPE U LIKED THE PLOT TWIST

...ergh. I'm. I'm tired i. don't feel so good. I'm gonna take a nap right here.

in conclusion:

#twitter #tumblr #twitblr #elon musk #tumblr x twitter #fanfic #writing these tags is like carrying my own cross. you're welcome and i am so so so sorry #mishapocalypse #hot mess post #if this doesnt get any notes im gonna blaze it you fuckers #o ya and #twitblr chronicles

[cinnbar-bun]

Straw Hats- Reversed AU HCs

AU: In which YOU are the character of a very famous franchise, and they are regular people who are fans of your series.

Note: GN!Reader, crack, very unserious

Luffy

Thinks you’re neat! Super cool!

People think he doesn’t really “get” you and just likes you for your awesome powers and/or cool appearance, but he drops like an innocent yet profound tidbit about you that shows he really is thinking of you.

Honestly probably only has a bootleg figure of you courtesy of Ace. It’s goofy as hell but he adores it.

Maybe has one of those printed graphic tees.

Ace and Sabo joke about his love for you but then Luffy throws his slippers at them.

If he sees anything with you on it, he’s just gushing over it.

Loves finding funny comics with you online.

Zoro

Guy who likes you for your powers.

The same guy who is also a weeb in front of the mirror and tries to replicate your awesome moves.

Help his roommates caught him-

I think he’d get those compression shirts/shorts with you or a symbol of yours for when he works out.

Also the guy who’s working out to your voice like those ASMR videos so he can pretend you’re praising him and congratulating him.

Gets into fights with Sanji about who’s the bigger fan.

I don’t see Zoro as the type to “collect” things, but he’d probably have a keychain of you around his belt or something as a good luck charm.

Might even have an action and poseable figure of you like a Figma.

Nami

Likes you lots, but also recognizes your merch potential.

Works alongside Usopp to produce fan merch or zines for you to make money.

Has a unique piece of jewelry with your symbol/iconography to wear.

She’s not wearing “obvious” for merch, because she just isn’t about that.

Probably has a few very expensive figures of yours that are special edition or anniversary editions that she managed to get at a steep discount.

Reads a bit of fanfic but tends to mostly peruse fanart of you.

Tends to have multiple ships for you- she doesn’t really favor one over the other she just thinks they’re interesting.

Likes to do cosplays of your fits, though. She’s gotten very popular for her lovely cosplays. She tends to handmake most of her cosplays, but Usopp and Franky add to the amazing accessories.

Plays the gacha game for your series, and her amazing luck means she gets practically all your units easily.

Usopp

The artist of the group who has seen and had to do heinous things for a commission.

Unlike the others, he IS making a self insert and HE IS DOING ART AND COMICS WITH YOU AND HIM AS THE MAIN COUPLE!

Has made a name for himself of making doujins and art for you. His store has seen lots of purchases for his doujins.

Nami basically is his account manager and has made him raise commission prices many times in order to pay their rent and so he can realize how valued his work is.

He mostly just posts his work but does like answering questions from fans and posting about how awesome you looked in the new episode.

Always making art and stories from you.

Has done fanfiction for you but it’s mostly with his OC/SI and his artwork tends to be more well-known.

Always does special drawings for your birthday and various holidays.

Plays the gacha and has bad luck so he has to whale for your unit. He insists he prefers just regular console or PC gaming instead of gacha.

Sanji

Number one fan, he WILL get into arguments about you and inject you into everything.

All your figures, all your merch, all of it in one specific room dedicated to you. Sanji even has a lifesize figure of you in a cool/cute pose he religiously cleans (and prays to ngl) every day because AINT NO WAY HIS LOVE IS GOING TO GET A SPECK OF DUST ON THEM!!

His work as a chef makes him busy, but he likes to wear small things of you like a brooch or something on his uniform to cheer him up through the day.

Makes videos cooking things you cooked or dishes you liked within the series.

He sometimes shows off his collection and Zoro calls him a loser and they get into fights in the comments.

Commissions art of you (probably Usopp) to hang up in the (Y/n) room.

I feel like he would do a persona/self-insert but also I feel like he’d be like no!!!! I cannot sully my beloved like that!!! So he focuses on just you.

Blocks people who are fans of you and does not like shipping anyone with you, hell no his mellorine is HIS!!!

Has done fanfic, mostly self-insert, and that’s pretty much all he reads. No ships.

Robin

“Oh, (Y/n)? Yes, they are an interesting character. I like them.”

[1 Million word count fic series, tagged: slow burn, character exploration, heavy angst, found family, Book 4 of 7]

“I just think they’re neat.”

Probably the mother fic writer for you and/or one of your ships.

Doesn’t socialize much online, just tends to post and scroll through the fics for you and answers comments under her fic.

Likes to support her fellow creators so she does look into the art and projects other fans have made.

Does try to create her own aesthetics for her blog and fics, but sometimes she just commissions Usopp to make her things for her fics to fit her vision.

Is really into unique and often abstract or “dark” art of you.

Yes you’re her favorite character, yes she will still make you suffer in her fics and art for the ~development~.

It’s a running gag with her peers where they ask her how she will torture them next.

She finds the Nendoroids of you are quite cute, so she bought one to go on her desk.

Franky

Franky likes making garage set figures of you.

He’s also a bit of a dork, so he will often make you pose with a super sentai outfit or large gundam robots (since they’re also a part of his crafting hobby).

Makes videos showing off the new figures he made of you.

He loves you cuz you’re his hero, you just amaze him!

Printed a photo of the art your creator did where you guys were all dressed like super heroes or something- suuuuppper up his alley and he loved seeing it.

He likes collecting the manga/comics for your series and keeps them on his personal shelf.

Franky also helps Nami/others with specific cosplay accessories. Franky is known for his craftsmanship, so he’s made plenty of cosplay gear for others that are above and beyond.

Him and Usopp have collabed to create the original figures of you that Franky adores.

Does those videos where he takes cheaper/smaller figures of you and adds to the base and design to make it more “epic”.

What the hell is “fanfiction”?

Brook

Goes by the username “Soul King” and uploads his covers of your franchise’s music.

He really loves you though so he’s often rocking your shirts while he’s recording the music.

He does a lot of different genres for your theme covers- jazz, heavy metal, lofi, piano, music box- he’s done em all.

Whenever he’s not recording covers of his music and does streams, he very proudly shows his figure of you and a poster he has hanging up on his wall.

Also plays the gacha game, has pretty good luck but never with your units.

“Wow! 5 Sugo-rares! Who are they- GOD DAMN IT IT’S JUST THE OTHERS!!! RATE UP IS A LIE!!!”

Brook is a menace though and I’m gonna keep that under wraps for various reasons.

Maybe in the future I might explain further.

Jinbei

Jinbei is classy, unlike many of the others here (we will not name names).

He’s more likely to “make” his own merchandise for you.

Handmade doll with a lovingly sewn kimono, for example.

Fancy tea set that is painted with your symbols but it’s so subtle and chic that some of his viewers don’t even realize it’s from some random franchise he likes.

He prides himself on his traditional and handmade crafts and you’re just an avenue to experiment with them.

He likes to design the kimonos and outfits with you in mind and the season. He shows the process of creating it in these calm and quiet BTS videos.

Really they are beautiful and the amount of love and skillmanship put into the work he does is fantastic, it’s awe inspiring.

Does not know what a fanfic, a gacha, or what a “fan edit” is. He’s an old man he’s got things to do, man.

#one piece x reader #one piece #x reader #one piece hcs #reader insert #straw hat pirates #straw hats x reader #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #Nico Robin #usopp #Nami #jinbei #jinbei x reader #Brook #soul king brook #soul king brook x reader #usopp x reader #nico robin x reader #robin x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #nami x reader #franky #franky x reader

[waywardcrow]

Christmas blues.

Summary: Someone hurt his fairy and Bucky will do everything to fix it and give you the Christmas you deserve.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader.

WC: Almost 2K.

TW: Overprotective Bucky, sad reader because of an abusive ex, Christmas blues, talk about revenge and torture but just mentioned, crying, talk about cheating from reader’s ex and ex best friend, pinning dumbasses, ugly Christmas sweaters and Bucky wearing reindeer ears, kind of drunk writer (aka me), let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Take my hand (wreck my plans) series.

Pictures from pinterest, graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Something had happened, Bucky knew it.

You were different after coming home from visiting your parents. They were going on a cruise ship for Christmas so you’ll be spending it at the compound with everybody for the first time.

He could thought it was the perspective of not spending the holidays with your blood family but you were so excited before you left to have Thanksgiving with them, it didn’t make sense.

Every time someone tried to engage you in decorating the tree or bake cookies for the kids, you smiled politely and declined, leaving everyone worried.

“What’s up with fairy?” Sam asked when he arrived with Sarah and his nephews; they agreed to spend the holidays there so nobody feel left out.

“We don’t know” Natasha replied watching you leave after they failed once again, this time you didn’t want to go ice skating.

“You don’t know?” Sam raised a brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a silly smile “I didn’t thought you were familiar with the concept.”

Bucky left them bickering to go find you and he did, your gaze was set in the sunset, not paying much attention to the cold in the air that surrounded you in the balcony.

“Hi sweetheart” you barely reacted, more used than him to Bucky being charming with you.

“What are you doing here? You could catch a cold” Bucky saw you take in the thin layered Henley he was wearing, practically nothing compared to your coat.

“I don’t get sick, honey” he reminded you, making your skin heat despite the winter, feeling like a dumbass. What a scientist you were “I appreciate the concern, though.”

You nodded.

“Are you alright?”

“I should be the one asking that” he said, bumping you gently with his shoulder, Bucky was too delicate with you still but he made every day an effort to be more open, especially with you. He watched your lips become a firm line and his heart started to beat faster in his ribcage. Something had happened, he was sure “I’m here if you want to talk fairy, we all want you to be ok.”

That broke you.

A tear escaped your control and Bucky’s heart sink down, he couldn’t help it when he hugged you making you hid your face in his chest, making you wrap your arms around his waist.

He let you cry; rubbing circles in your back and when you calmed down, Bucky took you to your apartment to make you hot chocolate.

When it was ready Bucky sat next to you in your colorful coach, watching you took a sip while making a mental list of all the awful ways he will torture who hurt you.

“I ran into my ex while being at home” you said without looking at him, making Bucky’s whole body tense. He only heard a few things about him from Tony and Pepper but none were good “he is engaged now, to my ex best friend.”

Oh Bucky would rip his arms away from his body.

“Did he… what did he said to you?” he got closer to his fairy; it should have been very bad to have you crying like that.

Your lower lip trembled so did the mug in your hands so Bucky put his right one on top of yours.

“He said I was invited to the wedding, that Lara and him were grateful I brought them together like they didn’t cheat on me for a year” your voice cracked and more years followed.

That bastard, hot anger cursed through Bucky’s body, he will make them suffer.

“And then Louis made fun of me for buying too much in the Christmas market, he said he was sorry I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, like an adult so I have to overcompensate being childish.”

The entire time your eyes were focused in your hands, so embarrassed to be this honest with him when it was your idiotic ex who should be very concerned about what was coming to him, he will recruit Nat and Yelena and Tony to make sure he will pay for every one your tears.

“He is right” you said wiping your tears with your sleeve “I’m childish and dumb and…”

“Hey, hey” Bucky stopped your self-destructive train taking both of your hands in his “none of that is true, fairy” he reassured you making you look at him “he is an asshole, an abuser” Bucky spited that word out, thinking about someone like you having to live with people like that jerk made him want to punch him until his metal arm got tired “he is wrong, you are not what he says.”

“Thanks Bucky but…”

“Ah ah, I’m not letting you be mean with yourself, you’ll do the same for me” it was true, you were so gentle with him and always help him to be gentle with himself too “you deserve the whole universe, honey” Bucky cupped your face in his hands and your breath caught in your throat.

His ocean blue eyes were so kind, so full of trust that it was impossible to not believe his words.

God, he wanted to kiss you so bad but it wasn’t the time so he left a kiss in your forehead “You are not alone, you are so loved by everyone that meets you and it kills me that you have to suffer all that shit, I’m so sorry fairy.”

You hugged him and stay there for a while, feeling the pain in your heart becoming easier.

The next day  Bucky was knocking in your door before breakfast.

You were feeling bad for telling him all that, for letting him see that part of yourself that wasn’t bright, he had enough pain in his life and still he took yours and made it less heavy.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” he looked so handsome even wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever seen “what are you wearing?” you whispered, not so sure if you were still sleeping, he was wearing reindeer ears too.

Did Tony and Bruce mess with the time lines again?

“We are going shopping, fairy” he handed you a matching sweater that looked your size “get ready, we leave in ten minutes to get waffles” and with that he disappeared in the hallway.

Confused you did what he said, maybe he needed help with his shopping and it was the least you could do after oversharing the previous night with him.

You met him in the elevators with your ugly sweater on and he smirked.

“You look good, fairy” bashful, you gave him a tiny smile and he felt it like a victory.

And the madness began.

True to his word, he took you for the best waffles you ever eat and then to the Christmas market in Brooklyn, still wearing his silly outfit, parting the crowded area like if he did that every random Sunday, oblivious to the chatter around you both and the not so discreet pictures some took of him. His whole attention was on you.

Bucky could recognize when you liked something, Louis words were still echoing in your mind but he made you feel so safe with him that remembering all your work with your therapist was easier and if you doubted before buying something, he would buy it for you.

You wouldn’t let Louis and Lara take anything more from you and he would help you with that.

“What do you think of this one? It seems perfect for Sam” he told you showing you a funny looking owl with a Santa hat, making you giggle.

“Put it some goggles on and then it will be perfect” you said without thinking, feeling all the cold leave your body when he throw his head back and laughed “oh no, forget I said that, poor Sam.”

“I’m never forgetting it doll, it’s exactly what I’m going to give him” he paid for the owl and gave the old lady in the vendor cart a smile that probably extended her life a decade.

Three hours later, lots of pretzels and hot chocolate you both were taking your car to go back home.

“Thank you for today” you said with a quiet voice when you parked outside the apartments “I know yesterday I was a lot, this made me feel better.”

“You’re never a lot, fairy, you are perfect” there was something else behind his words but before you could ask, Sam shout startled you.

“Hey, lovebirds, Sarah and Clint made lunch” he was wearing only shorts and a t-shirt which was insane but the basketball equipment explained a little, same as the presence of Thor, Cass, AJ and Yelena who looked very proud of herself.

“Let’s go” you said and follow the others, not noticing Bucky’s disappointment matched yours.

Christmas Eve was so much better than you expected, Natasha and Yelena didn’t leave you alone for a second, Wanda helped you wrap your presents, Tony, Morgan and Pepper would hug you randomly through the day and kiss your cheek, the rest of the team did things like that and you felt so loved.

Bucky made sure of it.

He didn’t tell you Louis and Lara were being taken care of, he probably never will, instead he choose to spend the afternoon making letters to Santa with the kids, having the perfect view of you from the living room while laughing at Morgan’s antics who tried to convince AJ and Cass that Happy was Santa. Nate was buying it by then and it was adorable, the chaos also reminded him of his sisters.

“Who wants dessert before dinner?” Yelena asked from the kitchen, the young widow didn’t miss the chance to steal sweets while you and the others cooked and apparently she wanted the kids to do the same.

There was a loud chorus of enthusiastic answers that made him wince even if the disapproval of the parents in the room made him smile. After a short but intense discussion, Sam and you convinced the others to let it happen, it was Christmas after all.

“Just one cookie, ok? We have to wait for dinner” Sam said holding the tray for them and the little munchkins yell, sugar high already “they are not for you, terminator.”

Sam tried to take them from him but you took the tray from your friend.

“Don’t listen to him, take as many as you want” you said, making a silly face at Sam who responded with a similar one.

“Thanks, fairy” Bucky took one of your cookies and barely noticed Sam going towards the Christmas tree “they smell so good.”

If that didn’t make your skin feel on fire, Morgan’s words did.

“Auntie fairy, you are under the mistletoe with Mr. Barnes” a giggle escaped the little girl and then the others kids who laughed at your reaction. The adults in the kitchen stayed in silence, despite Natasha’s “kiss her, dumbass” comment and Bucky… Bucky was looking at you like you were the only one he could see.

Biting your lip, you doubted for a heartbeat before standing in your tiptoes and giving him a kiss, short and sweet, just like you.

And then, Tony let out a wolf whistle, Yelena an exasperated sigh and you could hear Sam in the back asking who dressed an owl like him and put it in top of the tree but your focus was mostly in the handsome man in front of you who took you by the waist and kissed you again.

Merry Christmas lovelies! Hope you like this one, please tell me what you think, if you want to see more about Bucky and fairy, etc.

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader

[apollosrambling]

Dumb Love

Weasley Twins x Male/Masc reader 1183 words

The dorm room is quiet aside from the harsh patter of rain on the windows. You’re propped up in your own bed, reading from a DADA textbook to prepare for an upcoming paper. Across the room from you, the Weasley twins are sitting on Fred’s bed, heads together as they study their newest creation. The rest of the dorm is empty, the two others in the library working on a project. It’s a cold, rainy October evening, filling the school with a melancholy whisper.

You look out the window as a large crack of thunder fills the room. The Durmstrang boat is rocking wildly in the lake, leaving you to wonder if the students are taking refuge in the great hall, or if perhaps the ship is enchanted to avoid the feeling on the inside. You quickly realize you’ve been staring out of the window for at least five minutes, and snap back to your book. A movement catches your eye, and you look up to see the twins staring at you.

“What?” You ask, closing your book and stretching. You’d been sitting for what felt like hours.

“Nothing.” They say in tandemonium, which skyrockets your suspicions.

“What?” This time when you say it, you sound significantly less curious and impossibly more weary.

They both shrug, going back to working on their dangerous candies.

Being their best friend of 5  years, you knew better than to drop your suspicion, but you were also tired of staring at your book while pretending to understand the words. Deciding instead to watch the boys, you shove the textbook into your bag. While you have been their best friend, it was easy to tell when your feelings begin to grow.

It started with little signs. A twisting in your stomach when one laughed, a flutter across your skin when another would take your bag to taunt you. The teasing turned from infuriating to blush-inducing. 

It hit you like a truck, though, one holiday evening at the Burrow when you’d decided to stay with them rather than travel further to stay at home. It was late, a fire crackling in the hearth while you say curled between them. They had thought you asleep, dozing like a cat in the coziness of the cottage. 

“Try not to jostle him,” George had whispered, a hand stroking your hair while the other attempted to move to put long-drained cocoa mugs away. 

The way his fingertips felt on your forehead had solidified your feelings, sending you tumbling down a cliff of dumb puppy love. 

“Y/n.” Fred is standing now, moving towards your bed with a mischievous look. “Yeah?” You quirk an eyebrow and lean against one of the posts of your bed, swinging your legs over the edge. 

“Fancy an outing?”

Truthfully, you don’t. It’s cozy in your dorm. The warm heat of the fire as your pet naps in front of it, the familiar smell of sweets and spices. When it comes to the twins, though, you’re weak. 

“Sure.” Without much hesitation you pull on your cloak, not wanting your signature Molly Weasley sweater to be ruined if this outing includes the raging storm outside. 

The twins lead you out of the dorm and towards the towers of the castle. Watching the rain through the windows as you pass, tugging your cloak a little tighter as a shiver runs down your back. 

“Cold?” George sidles up, towering over you at an outrageous height. You huff, moving away to hide your blush. 

“No,” You mumble, but the subtle shaking in your hands gives you away. George takes them in his, intertwining your fingers as you walk. 

It’s hard to not let it go to your head. Sometimes you think their whispers and soft glances are for you. That it could work out. But that’d be outrageous, and they’ve always been tactile. It’s far more likely they just enjoy physical touch with all of their friends. 

After what feels like forever, you’re standing atop the astronomy tower with a charm keeping the pelting rain from your heads. Fred is laying out a blanket -where he conjured it from, you don’t know- when George finally lets go of your hand to set you down on it. The three of you huddle together, watching the gray sky get darker as first years sprint across the lawn in an attempt to stay dry. Mostly unsuccessful.

“Why are we here?” You lean back, resting on your palms and looking up at the two redheads. 

“The ball is coming up.” Ah, yeah. Perhaps they’re about to ask who you’re going to ask. Tell you about the girls they’ve been admiring. 

“Mh, yeah. It is. Who are you eyeing?” You really don’t want to know, but their happiness is important. 

“Well, I reckon I’ll pick up the courage to ask here soon.” Fred is smiling, as if he’s in on a secret you aren’t. He probably is. 

You watch George roll his eyes. “No, you won’t. You’ll just mope around Gryffindor tower and lament about dying alone.”  You cover your mouth to hide the laughter as Fred pulls an offended face. 

“Bugger off, I’ll do it.” He turns to you, shoving at his twin across you. “Who are you asking?” 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” You shrug, too embarrassed to admit you’d pictured yourself between them, dress robes tangled as you dance and exchange kisses. 

“Not interested in anyone, then?” They loom over as if your answer is the most important thing on earth. 

“No.” The burning red that seeps from your cheeks to your ears and back of your neck gives you away. 

“No one would be interested in going with me,” You admit. It hurts but you know you’re right.  

“Bullshit!” George grabs your shoulder, leaning impossibly close. 

“I bet loads of people are hoping you’ll ask them.” 

“Oh yeah, I can think of at least two,”  Fred chimes in, looking just as offended. 

“Two? Who?” Your heart pounds as George stares down at you. 

Do they know two other guys interested in men? Where? You can only think of one, and he’s definitely not interested. 

George is looking annoyed, grabbing your chin with more force than is maybe necessary. It makes you swallow. 

“You,” he growls out, tight grip showing no sign of loosening, “are the most infuriating, dense boy I have ever met.” 

“Thanks?”

Before the word even fully leaves your lips he’s crashing down on you. Weight heavy, free hand slipping through your hair in that obsessive way he likes to touch it. His lips are relentless, violent against yours and brimming with emotion. 

He pulls away, and before you can breathe Fred is taking his place. With a spinning mind and tingling lips you get lost in the sensation of kissing the two boys you’ve been in love with for years, heart pounding. 

When you’re finally given a chance to breathe your cheeks hurt from grinning. 

“So, you two want to go to the dance with me?” 

You’re tackled with more kisses, the rain a comforting soundtrack to your new love story.

#harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #fred weasley x male reader #hp x male reader #fred weasley imagines #weasley twins #george weasley x male reader #weasley twins x reader #harry potter imagines

[pauking5]

Under the Mistletoe 🍒🌿

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Genre: tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining,

Word Count: 5.3k+

A/N: I did promise you more Zoro so here it is! This one has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I didn't really feel like posting it but something told me to do it now. Merry belated Christmas everyone and happy holidays! Hope you like it :)

ps: Thank you to @jiyaxedits for these really pretty dividers! They put me out of my misery a little 🫶

Zoro wasn't big on celebrations. Birthdays or holidays didn't really exist in his vocabulary for the sole reason that he was happy to drink on any occasion. He didn't need a date in the calendar to tell him when to open a bottle of alcohol.

That was until you joined the straw hats.

You were the total opposite of his detached nature to almost everything that required an extra emotional effort. Even with that, it wasn't long until you piqued his curiosity.

Observing you, he came to the conclusion that you were emotion in pure form. You showed your caring nature for people in any way you could. Whether it was by helping out one of your fellow crew mates with something or just trying to ease their own load, you were always there. He didn't think much of it until he felt self-conscious enough to get involved and help out like you did. He wouldn't admit it but you had an influence on him.

The more time you spent together the more he was drawn to you, seeing things in a different light. Before he knew it, all those random dates in the calendar held some kind of meaning to him because they held a special meaning to you.

Although, he still didn't fully understand why you got so excited whenever one of those dates would approach. You would spend days planning the activities for the day, often going out for your way.

You would go over a special menu with Sanji, making sure all meals of the day and the dessert were covered. Then you would take Nami shopping for decorations wherever you happened to be docked, picking things that encapsulated the occasion. Usopp would also pitch in with helping you put the decorations up and add a tad bit more cheer to the atmosphere.

He noticed you and Luffy made a great team when it came to picking out small attentions for the crew. You both knew the crew better than anyone and it showed not just on those days, but the ordinary ones too.

In short, everyone became an extension of your excitement for the day. Well, everyone except Zoro.

You knew he wasn't used to the whole we are a family thing and you planned on changing that.

When you joined the crew he was really reserved. But after spending some time together, you managed to crack him open. You learned more about him, what he liked and what he disliked.

You tried pulling him out of his stoic bubble and it seemed to work because little by little, he started helping out too. It was small things like helping you fix the table before the food was served or picking the drinks out by preference of each straw hat. That's where you noticed that his love language was acts of service.

As small as they were, those acts were sincere and full of kindness. Whenever someone thanked him for his help, you would catch a glimpse of his face lighting up, the rarest smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He cared and protected people in that way. It spoke volumes of his love he had for his crew and you admired that. Even if he didn't realise the impact he had, especially on you.

The winter holidays were approaching fast, but it seemed like the cheer was absent on the Going Merry. The latest adventure left the crew exhausted and without a trace of enthusiasm. So much, that it was Christmas Eve and you didn't have a tree up, festive decorations hung around the ship or any food ready to munch on.

Out of all yearly celebrations, Christmas held a special place in your heart. It was a time to get together with your loved ones and celebrate the bond you have.

This would be your first Christmas with the crew and you have been looking forward to it for a while. They made you feel so appreciated and welcomed into their own little family and you wanted to return the appreciation.

So, bracing for your proposal to be rejected and a small hope that it would be accepted, you marched around the ship like an elf and pulled everyone out of their rooms and onto the deck.

Most of them didn't look too happy to be disturbed. Nami was in the middle of working on a map and she almost put her foot through your face for pulling her away from it. Sanji was putting some clean dishes away when you dragged him out, wet towel hastily tossed on his shoulder in the process. Luffy and Usopp were already on deck messing around. They seemed to be the only ones a little ecstatic for what you wanted to tell them.

But before you could start your speech, you noticed a certain straw hat was still missing.

Zoro was the hardest one to find, especially when he didn't want to be found. You searched his room, both the upper and lower decks, including the storage room filled with alcohol barrels and bottles. There was no sign of his presence anywhere on the ship.

You were ready to give up until you remembered there was one place you didn't search in, the crow's nest. And that's exactly where you found him, napping the day away.

Too engrossed in rushing to get everyone on deck, you were about to shake his shoulder. But as your eyes registered the sight in front of you, you halted all movement.

You saw him napping before, but none of those times did he look so deep in restful sleep like he did now.

He laid on his back, one of his hands propping up his head like a pillow, His legs were placed against the wooden mast. His body was angled in a way that the mast cast a shadow big enough to shelter his eyes from the early afternoon sun. His chest rose up slowly in sync with his soft snores, mouth slightly open. The light made his green hair look so soft that it took everything in you not to rake your hands through it.

There was something about him that put you at peace. Maybe it was the way his earrings jingled against each other and you knew he was nearby. Or the way his deep brown eyes changed to a warmer shade of chocolate while watching the sunset with you. You fell for those eyes of his a while ago and you didn't want to stop the bottomless drop at all.

Everything about him was peace to you. Even during battle, when he sliced through enemies and his blades were drenched in dirt. Or when he teased his crew members about something, with anything but good intentions in his head. Despite his hellish reputation, to you it felt like the heavens sent him down to earth. To fight and protect what he believed in with his all, laying down his own heart on the blade of his swords.

Your thoughts were cut short as the man before you stirred awake.

He sensed your presence for a while and contemplated whether he should make you aware that he knew you were staring at him. He wondered what you were sighing so softly at and couldn't hold in his curiosity anymore.

He opened his eyes to find you sitting down next to him. Your eyes locked with his and you just gazed at each other for a while. Adjusting the hand behind his head, he tilted it to get a better look at you.

You had that smile on your face, the one that grew on him the past months you've spent together. One look at it and it made every single one of his worries disappear into thin air.

That's the impact your whole presence had on him. Besides pure emotion you were also tranquility and harmony, while he was chaos and destruction. You neutralised his worst fears when he needed it the most with just that one smile and he couldn't get enough of it.

Your eyes suddenly went wide with realisation. You were supposed to get back to the other straw hats with him in tow a while ago. Wrapping your hand around his free one you tugged him up with you.

"Whoa, slow down. What's the rush?"

"You. Me. Downstairs. Now. Will explain in a bit."

He let you pull him downstairs on the deck where everyone else waited expectantly.

"Sleeping beauty decided to finally join us," joked Sanji.

"Is that a compliment, sandwich maker?"

"We thought you ditched us for a second," added Usopp, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

You and Zoro were both confused. But then it hit you that something warm surrounded your palm. You looked down to see his hand securely intertwined with yours. Your hand was definitely on his forearm when you left the crow's nest. He probably caught your hand in the rush of pulling him down the stairs to avoid breaking his neck.

His eyes followed your widened ones to see your hands together.

He held your hand before, when he would hand you a plate with food or to help you down from the ship onto land. But not once did he hold it fully like this. His palm was entirely enclosed around yours. Your hand looked so small in his. Like it fit just right with his larger one.

You let go first and he hesitated a little. He wanted to hold it a bit longer. To study all the ridges on your knuckles as his fingers would thread between yours. To just hold them.

But he was conscious of the four pairs of eyes darting between the two of you and he let go of your hand, going back to his serious self beside you.

Shaking the awkwardness away, you turned back to the crew, remembering the task at hand.

"So, I gathered you all here today because it's Christmas Eve!" you said, waving your hands around enthusiastically, though your joy wasn't that well received on the other end.

"Okay and?" asked Nami, rather devoid of the holiday spirit.

"What do you mean okay and?! It's Christmas Eve! We don't have a tree up, decorations or any food to properly celebrate."

"I don't get why we need to celebrate a white bearded old man breaking into people's houses every year," deadpanned Nami.

"Yeah, I kinda have to agree with her on that," said Zoro, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's not just about Santa. We also celebrate the appreciation and love we share together as a crew," you stated. You took to walking around the deck, as their eyes followed you trying to make sense of your behaviour.

"Christmas is about making new memories by spending time together. It's putting up decorations and dressing up silly. We could set up our Christmas tree here," you pointed to the tall mast in the middle. "String a few sets of lights up from the jolly roger all the way down the veils to the decks, like a multi-coloured umbrella," you said excitedly, turning back around to them.

"Christmas is also a time to reflect back on the past year and talk about our best moments over a hearty dinner. It's a moment where we all get to be honest with each other. To share the hope, the joy and the love we hold for each other," you concluded.

You looked at them with hopeful eyes, earnestly wishing they will understand why you were so hellbent on doing something for the day.

But all you got in response to your speech was unsure neck rubs and a sense that you were the only one who wanted to celebrate today.

You felt like your excitement was maybe a little too much this time. Maybe they really just wanted a peaceful night in, doing whatever they had planned by themselves.

None of them were saying anything and it only made your uncertainty grow inside.

Maybe forgetting any of this even happened was better than making them feel like they should be doing something they weren't comfortable with.

Defeated, you took a step back and decided to retaliate.

"Actually, we don't need to do anything extra today. We can just chill out and all," you laughed nervously. "Sorry for bringing you guys out here for nothing."

You mumbled the last part and turned on your heels to make your way back to your room. Maybe not saying anything would have been better than whatever that was.

The crew remained on deck after you left. If anyone felt defeated it certainly wasn't you, but them. Especially the green-haired swordsman.

His mind was stuck on you. On the way your eyes twinkled with joy the more you gestured around you how you pictured everything. On the smile that never left your lips as you spoke of what the holiday means to you. And the fact that you wanted to spend this with them, your current family.

For him, the concept of family was a hard one to grasp. He didn't think he would ever feel as welcomed as he felt with the family he had back at the dojo. With Kuina.

He thought he would never be able to find a place he belonged. Until he came across the straw hats. They annoyed him, pestered him, drove him crazy most of the time. But they cared. They fully supported his dream to become the greatest swordsman in the world, without doubting his ambition or his skills in the slightest. And that meant a lot to him.

They grew on him and they felt like family. That included you too. It was you who showed him how to give back to the people that support you relentlessly. It was you who taught him that opening up to people wasn't selfish. That he should be open to not just giving but receiving too. The straw hats had a lot of love for him and they would stop at nothing to show it.

That's what you did a few moments ago. You put yourself out there, doing everything to convince them that celebrating shouldn't be a chore. That you wanted to celebrate your new found family.

He felt his heart break when he watched you back away like that. He knew you were beating yourself up for it, for thinking you were too much. But that wasn't true. He wanted to tell you that he wanted to celebrate with you. But it took him a while to register everything you said and that was one of the things he was working on.

By the looks on their faces, everyone was questioning themselves now. Searching for some kind of meaning that Christmas could have for them. Somewhere, deep down inside their hearts, they wanted to celebrate this too, just as much as you did.

Something seemed to click in their heads after a while, their eyes connecting in a knowing look. You could consider them convinced because they took the initiative themselves. It just took a while for your words to process.

"You know what, she's right," started Sanji. "I haven't cooked a hearty Christmas meal for ages. I could do with a roast, some eggnog and a cake."

"I can clean up around here a little. Get the table out here and some chairs," chimed Usopp.

"We could go into town and see what decorations we can find," added Luffy, linking his arm with Nami's in excitement.

"All we need is someone to go and get a Christmas tree," said Nami.

All eyes moved to the green-haired man leaning on the stair railing. He was the only one who hasn't pitched in with anything yet and they all looked at him expectantly.

He, on the other hand, did not seem to get the idea, looking back at everyone slightly confused.

"What?"

"You really are an idiot," face palmed Nami.

"Hey! Why are you calling me an idiot?"

"She was suggesting you would go and get a tree that we could put up over here," said Usopp, motioning to the mast. He realised that it was the spot you said you wanted it to be in.

"Why me?"

"You're forgetting you're the more muscular one out of all of us," uttered Nami, pinching his bicep. She thought that if she spoke to his ego he would realise what he needed to do sooner. "You don't expect me to carry it back to the ship now do you?"

"Fair point."

Finally, with tasks assigned and a plan for battle in place the straw hats took to their duties. They decided Christmas would happen this year, though it would take some work. And possibly a miracle.

It's been a while since you retreated back to your room. You stared at the Christmas plan you had written down on several sheets of paper on your nightstand, tracing the colour coded activities as you sighed. Maybe next year.

A knock on your door pulled you from zoning out. The light from outside dimmed down and the sun was just about to set, telling you it's been hours since your Christmas show on deck.

You walked to the door, wondering who it could be. It was probably Luffy, coming to check on you. But you were surprised to open it and find a rather distressed Nami. She had a weird smile on her face that was unlike her. What was even weirder was the silver tinsel hanging around her neck and the red and white santa hat on her head.

"We need some help out on the deck," she smiled wider, holding out a bag filled with different colored tinsel to you.

Your frown was instantly replaced by a smile matching hers as you took the bag from her hand.

"What made you change your mind?"

"You did," she said, pulling you into a hug that you returned. "We were too deep inside of our heads to see the bigger picture. We gave it some thought and realised you were right, so we got down to business."

You separated and walked down the halls. The walls inside the ship were decorated with lights all the way to the doors leading on deck. Nami's smile only got brighter the closer you got to the kitchen because you opened the doors and got hit with the most Christmas-like smell: Sanji's special roast. He just pulled it out of the oven, steam rising in the air spreading a divine aroma. But that wasn't the only thing cooking.

The oven was still working, baking a few batches of cookies in all kinds of shapes. A warm scent of cinnamon embraced you, followed by zesty citrus touches.

"It smelles like heaven in here, Sanji!"

"I'm glad angel," he smiled at you warmly.

Nami beckoned you outside. Luffy and Usopp were up in the crow's nest, struggling to untangle what looked like five rows of lights to hang from the jolly roger down to the veils. Just like you told them you wanted them.

You quickly climbed up to them with Nami in tow to help them before they could get hurt.

"Guys, you didn't have to do all this."

"Of course we did!" jumped Luffy. "You do so much for us and it was about time we paid you back."

"Well, at least let me help with the rest."

"Please do!" cried Usopp. He was tangled in one of the light sets from top to bottom.

"We could use you as a Christmas tree instead," joked Nami. "We just have to plug you in."

Everyone laughed at that. This was the atmosphere you desperately wanted, with the people you loved the most. It was where you belonged.

The only one you haven't seen around was Zoro. No one mentioned his whereabouts. All you heard was Nami complain that he's been gone for hours and that he ahd one of the easiest tasks to do. Maybe Christmas was a little too celebratory for him.

You just finished hanging up the last set of lights from the crow's nest when you heard grunts and enraged thudding of boots on the main deck. You made your way down only to be met with a sight for the history books.

There he was, hidden by a sturdy tree that was a shade of green darker than his hair. He carried it on his shoulders like it weighed nothing. But then again, he was Zoro. It must be something normal for him.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him. The look on his face told you he was a bit annoyed. Well, by the way his jaw ticked, probably very annoyed at the fact that no one rushed to help him with the huge wood angled on his back.

Luffy and Usopp got the idea and rushed to take it off his shoulders. They lifted it up on its trunk and that's when you all noticed the tree was actually massive.

Zoro rolled his shoulders to get rid of the ache in them and proceeded to dust his clothes off the tree's fallen pine needles that were scattered across his body.

"We thought you got lost," said Nami.

"Well, I did get lost," he deadpanned.

A lot of pine needles got stuck in his hair. He shook his head around to get rid of them but there were still some sticking out between his green strands. He raked his hand through them but he still couldn't get them out. He huffed frustrated in defeat and you decided to put him out of his misery.

Walking in front of him, you got on your tip toes, reaching out with your hand to whip the rest of the needles out. He froze in place, hands mid-way to his scalp to do it himself. He let them back down to his sides and watched as you took them out of his hair one by one and threw them away on the ground.

You had your bottom lip between your teeth, focused on getting the little fuckers out. He bent his knees so it would be easier for you to work on finding them without having to stay on your tip toes for too long. Once you were done and your heels were flat on the ground, you clapped your hands to get rid of any leftover pine needles. When your eyes lifted back up you realised just how close you were standing as you were eye to eye with him. You sucked in a breath as his eyes studied your face.

He was happy to see that you had a smile on your face this time, which was a hundred times better than that frown you had when you went to your room a few hours ago. In return for that bright smile of yours you always gave him, he gave you one of his own.

This smile was new, more rare than the smile he usually wore around you. You could literally see his pearly teeth. The muscles in his cheeks pulled the edge of his lips to curve up and his eyes crinkled into crescents. It was like a half smile, half smirk kind of smile. And it drove you absolutely crazy.

Who was he and what did he do with Roronoa Zoro?

"Uh, Zoro? Why does the tree have pine cones on it?" asked a confused Usopp.

His smile fell, eyes narrowing on the straw hat behind you.

"Is that not how it's supposed to be?"

"Where did you get it from?" asked Nami. "It's been hours since you went out."

"The woods," he said proudly, hands on his hips.

Everyone burst out laughing at his words, including you. This was too good to be true.

By the looks of it, he used his swords to chop it down. The few tears in his shirt told you the tree fought him a little for cutting it down.

"What are you all laughing for now?"

"There were trees for sale, already cut up in town," wheezed Nami through her giggles.

"I knew that," he said, hands coming to sit around his chest. You narrowed your eyes at him this time and he scoffed, averting his eyes from you.

"Fine! I didn't. I just wanted to get you the real thing."

"That is the real thing too," said Luffy.

"You know what, next time you can all take goldi-locks over there tree shopping. I doubt he'll do a better job at it."

"I heard you, peahead. And I will take you up on the challenge," shouted Sanji from the kitchen.

Zoro helped you to fix the table and lay down the new silver cloth Luffy and Nami bought. It was so long, but so nicely decorated with white snowflakes falling off the edges and different winter patterns drawn along it. You both lifted it up and spread it across the table, smoothing out the ridges from the middle to the edges. One of the longer corners got caught under the leg of the wooden table and you struggled to pull it out.

Zoro rushed over to you. He dove under the table and saw the material was caught in a piece of wood that was sticking out. He unwrapped it and moved to hand it to you just as your hands reached out for it. Your fingers touched again for the second time today and it caught you both in a daze. He gazed at you and you stared at him, feeling like you were transported to a different world.

He leaned in closer to you and you did too. The way his eyes focused on your lips told you that he wanted to seal yours with his. Your lips almost touched, if it wasn't for the unwanted interruption.

"Is the table done, lovebirds?"

You were snapped out of zoning out into each other's eyes. You both looked to your right to see the rest of the straw hats looking at you. You let go of each others hands and went back to getting the table ready.

Zoro brought over cutlery and plates from the kitchen and you arranged them around the table. He also got some glasses and drinks, placing them by preference to everyone's assigned seats.

Finally, Sanji brought the food over and everyone dove in before the steam evaporated completely from the roast. A tray with six eggnog glasses was then served and you all clinked your glasses together, toasting to the crew. You looked around at everyone sat around the table and it finally felt like the holidays.

Zoro was sat next to you nursing a glass of red wine. He couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, the festive cheer or you that had a strange sense of peace wash over him. Like he did not have a worry in the world.

He looked at you from time to time absolutely enthralled by the way your laugh bounced in his ears. You were laughing at one of Usopp's stories that was most likely glazed with little reality and over the top sarcasm. The origins of the story didn't matter, because you seemed to love it by the way the corners of your mouth curled in a knowing smirk. Your eyes crinkled in delight every time he would reach a point in the tale that was too funny not to laugh at and you would let that laugh out and he would laugh with you. It was slowly becoming his favorite sound.

In the midst of it all he found himself smiling at you and the crew that was now his home. Maybe celebrating things wasn't that bad. Especially if they were things that mattered to him.

After dinner, the crew dispersed to each their own. You wandered to the tree and sat in front of it, staring at it in awe. Multi-coloured baubles decorated it so joyfully, together with random kitschy ones. The tinsel waved around every corner, acting like an twinkling extension of the tree itself. More lights were wrapped around it, carefully placed around the pine cones. You chuckled remembering how badly Nami wanted to take them all off and you argued with her to just leave it be. Despite looking as wild as you could get it, it was the perfect Christmas tree.

Zoro was looking for you and found you in front of the tree. You looked so at peace as the lights twinkled, just like your eyes did as you looked at it. He thought that maybe having pine needles even in his boxers was worth it to see you smile that bright at the fully decorated tree.

"I hope it's to your liking," he said, walking beside you.

"It is," you smiled at him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I've got one more thing for you."

You eyebrows raised in curiosity as you wondered what it could be. You already opened gifts at the dinner table so it couldn't be that.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

You did as he told you and waited. He told you to open them and you saw him looking up, smirking at something. You followed his eyes to see a small twig with green leaves and red berries toed to a tree branch above you with a piece of ribbon. You instantly recognised it to be mistletoe.

"Did you just tie that up there?" you chuckled.

"Well, that diminishes the surprise effect."

You wondered if he knew what the plant's meaning was, especially on Christmas. Or if he just got it because it looked pretty in the woods. That was a possibility that kept your heartbeat from rising dangerously.

The confusion on your face told him you weren't sure of his intentions and he decided to make them somewhat clearer for you.

You were busy gauging the meaning of this by staring at the mistletoe. He took a step towards you closer to you, stopping as the tip of your boots touched. You lowered your eyes from the mistletoe only to find him almost nose to nose with you. He grabbed a hold of your hand with his free one, lacing your fingers together and pulled you even closer.

"So, does the man who doesn't celebrate holidays know anything about the mistletoe tradition?" you asked, getting a little closer to him.

"I might be an idiot sometimes, but I do know this much," he scoffed, signature smirk on his face.

"Hmm. You don't look so sure of that," you teased, playing with the hem of his shirt absentmindedly.

"How about I show you then?"

Your breath hitched in your throat as he dipped his head closer to yours. His eyes hungrily darted between yours and your lips waiting for your approval to finally kiss you.

"Want to do the honours?" you asked biting your lower lip in expectation.

"Gladly," he breathed out, closing the distance between you.

It turned out your palms weren't the only ones that fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Your lips did too, moving in sync with desire. Your free hand fisted his shirt to pull him closer as his free one came to sit at the back of your head pulling you impossibly closer. You felt him smile against your lips and you couldn't help but do it too, smilling against his.

You broke apart for air, foreheads pressed flush against each other. Your hands were still laced together, his thumb tracing the outline of your palm.

"This is the best Christmas ever," you breathed out.

He chuckled at that. His hand moved from the back of your head to cup your cheek and your hand came to rest on his wrist. You leaned into his touch, laying a kiss of appreciation on his palm. He smiled at you and that's where you knew that you wanted to spend all your holidays with him. Just like this.

It seemed like you spoke your mind out loud because he grinned widely at you. You buried your head in his chest in embarrasment as he laughed at your adorableness.

"I wouldn't want anyone else to spend them with either," said Zoro, laying your heart at ease.

Thank you for reading! As always, comments, likes and reblogs are welcome!

#roronoa zoro #opla zoro #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #opla #one piece #straw hat pirates #i wish i spent a christmas with them too

[bee-the-loser-recs]

☼ My Joshua One-shot Fic Recs ☼

𖤓 Amortentia; Honeydukes lover By @http-mianhae 16.7k, Hogwarts au, Slytherin reader, Hufflepuff Joshua, reader has trauma, cold reader, lovesick Joshua, themes of sexual assault

𖤓 Boyfriends By @milfgyuu 2.7k, reader is in a toxic relationship, domestic abuse, Joshua is their safe space, fluff, angst, pining, friends to lovers, comfort

𖤓 New By @luvidzy 2.1k, slice of life au, fluff, slight angst, long term mutual pining, stargazing, Joshua is moving away

𖤓 Winning team By @viastro 1.4k, slice of life au, capture the flag game with nerf guns, hidden relationship, fluff, kisses, competitive nature, cute

𖤓 In a span of three months By @viastro 20.3k, terminally ill reader, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, Joshua finds joy in life again, falling in love, only 3 months left to live, sobbing, major character death, it's so sad

𖤓 Wildest dreams By @viastro 6.7k, getting married for 24hours, best friends to lovers, fluff, getting free benefits, cute relationship, fake dating kind of

𖤓 Birds of a feather By @onlymingyus 14.3k, college au, smut, fluff, reader going around with a petition, strangers to lovers, crack, hot tub scene, talks of further dates, alcohol and drug use, simp!Joshua, cuties, very fun

𖤓 To you By @onlymingyus 15k, Joshua x reader x DK, college au, art students DK & reader, med-student Joshua, monogamy to polyamory, fluff, smut, angst, cute relationship, going on holiday together, relationship discussions, mild jealousy

𖤓 Love they neighbour By @onlyhuis 5.1k, college au, friends with benefits situation, fwb to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut, idiots in love, happy ending

𖤓 Cranberry concoctions By @onlyhuis 4.6k, 1920s au, bartender Joshua, smut, fluff, slight angst, mentions of bartender Vernon, jealousy, speakeasy au

𖤓 Mr Nice guy By @toruro 5.3k, neighbours au, moving into a new apartment, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers

𖤓 Isohel By @toruro 26.2k, modern royalty au, prince Joshua, florist/botanist reader, slow burn, developing feelings, slut shaming, fluff, angst, references to Greek mythology, literally so stunning to read [alternate ending if you want to read it as well 00:00]

𖤓 Fighting for your love By @rubyreduji 5.5k, Jeonghan x reader x Joshua, boxer au, competing for reader's attention, physical fight for love, threesome, smut, fluff, poly situation

𖤓 Thinking Joshua is just nice but he has a crush on you By @kimbappykidding Idol au kind of, friends to lovers, pining, noticing secret looks, best friends Vernon & Seungkwan, entire group ships them, fluff, love confessions

𖤓 Shipped By @suhnshinehaos SMAU, university au, teacher Joshua & reader, students shipping them, revelation of feelings, fluffy and cute

𖤓 Oceans & Engines By @renjunphile 15.2k, ex lovers to lovers au, idol Joshua, music producer reader, based on songs from Niki, fluff, slight angst, literally so good omg

𖤓 Splashed By @smileysuh 5.5k, Joshua x reader x Jeonghan, idol au, references to the 13 shadows going seventeen episode, smut, poly relationship, fluff, established relationship

𖤓 Beautiful day, Sunday morning By @sluttywoozi 7k, non-specified au, mutual pining, friends to lovers, being in love, smut, fluff, pasta and puzzle dates, hopelessly in love

𖤓 Under the rose By @just-come-baek 6k, historical au like 1950s?, childhood frenemies to lovers, reader calls him Jisoo to piss him off, smut, fluff

𖤓 Hoax By @lovelyhan 18.6k, gangster/mafia Joshua, strangers to lovers, falling in love, hostess reader, loan sharks mentioned, reader is in trouble & debt, angst, smut, slight fluff, reader is left behind

𖤓 Eyes meeting, hearts apart By @lovelyhan 30.2k, fantasy au, prince Joshua with plant magic, bartender reader with ice magic, fluff, angst, royalty, requited unrequited love, part of a series of one-shots

𖤓 An interview with an angel By @hannyoontify 2.5k, reporter Joshua, nationalist fencer reader, being late to important events, meet cutes, fluff, slight panic attack, flirting

𖤓 So beautiful By @blue-jisungs 3.8k, Atla au, water bender Joshua, Prince Joshua, army general reader, assassination attempt, fluff, angst, mentions of war and killings

𖤓 Envy By @berriesandjunnie 1.9k, idol au, idol Joshua & reader, jealousy surrounding his members, comebacks, fluff, slight angst, some insecurity

𖤓 Prove it you won't By @leejungchans 19k, tattoo artist Joshua, nurse reader with tattoos, fluff, angst, miscommunication, past breakups, humour, slowburn, flirty behaviour, adorableness

𖤓 Cast me in a better light By @seungkwansphd 5.9k, musical au, band member reader x cast member Joshua, fluff, karaoke, coffee dates, becoming closer

𖤓 Fade into you By @writingmingyu 4.8k, childhood friends to online friends to lovers, fluff, meeting again after years, autumn fair dates

𖤓 Curse the stars By @shuadotcom 8.4k, 70s au, Hollywood, actor reader, washing machine salesman Joshua, strangers to lovers, fwb to lovers, mentions of dynamics, fluff, smut

𖤓 Stay till sunrise By @shuadotcom 9.1k, Joshua x reader x Mingyu, unspecified au, non-idol au, confessions, pining, poly situation, fluff, smut, bets on when they would date

#bee's recs #bee's navigation #seventeen fic recs #seventeen fic rec #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #joshua hong x reader #joshua fluff #joshua smut

[iamtheterrorthatflapsinthenight]

Random X-Men Headcanons!

Me and my friend have compiled a lot of headcanons for the X-Men (mainly formulated from jokes) so I wanted to put some here! A few of these are headcanons, most are jokes lol

Kurt listens to really peppy music when he's upset, the main one being the Beach Boys. Just imagine him, poor little German boy, singing Surfin' USA tiredly, trying to turn his mood around.

Erik listens to girly pop music, mainly Katy Perry and Ke$ha. Why? Because it's funny. Let him be girly pop.

Scott tells a lot of jokes but he's deadpan so people can never really tell. Like sometimes he'll just say some insane shit, plain faced, and see how the others react.

Dancing headcanons! Remy is a very good dancer, being particularly prolific in swing dancing. Logan somewhat refuses to dance, but he can line dance. Morph doesn't know how to dance, but they act like they can, dancing like a drunk white girl. Scott and Jean like to dance in private, but Scott gets nervous to dance in front of others. Ororo can bust that shit down.

Scott tries not to laugh when he, or someone else, is doing a bit. Like he tries not to break as he jokes along, to the point where he has to stop talking to not smile, biting inside of his mouth.

Furthermore! He also has a loud laugh, and people get a little caught off guard when they hear it. Me and my friend have described his laugh as a goose honk sound.

Kurt gaslights for fun, and he can get everybody pretty good, except Scott and Jean. You may think "oh because Jean's a telepath, right?" No, because--

Scott and Jean gaslight each other for fun, and they formulate these fake, big arguments, just as a bit. So, they're very familiar with gaslighting tactics, being they lie to each other as a joke, so when Kurt tries to, they immediately meet him-- A little too well, because Kurt is used to just messing with people.

Scott will occasionally freak people out by lowering his glasses (keeping his eyes closed of course). Like someone says "Hey, take a look at that." and he'll lower his glasses and go "Where?!" as a joke.

Everyone loves Kurt. Like, everyone. If Kurt doesn't like someone, everyone has a distaste for them as well.

Jean refers to her own psychic abilities as her "Jedi Mind Tricks"

This one isn't really a headcanon, just a running gag me and my friend do, but something bad will happen, or something inconvenient, and Remy will go "Don't worry.", insistently. Like a loud explosion can go off, and Remy will just say "Don't Worry." Occasionally this will be lengthened to "Don't what? Worry!"

We don't call Leech by his name. We call him Gneep Gnorp. That's it.

Kurt and Remy are super close (as pseudo brother in laws) and they hang out a lot, also doing that guy thing where they flirt with each other as a joke.

No one likes Emma. That's it.

Scott is autistic.

Warren is well manicured. He always has his hair just as he likes it, his wings always preened, his clothes always ironed. He'll a snazzy lookin' fella.

Rogue is a great singer. This barely a headcanon, her voice actress literally put out a song "Mojo Man (Ode to Remy LeBeau)", go listen to it.

Kurt's very coy and playful. Like, "Staaahhppp, hehe!" He also laughs at his own jokes all the time, like he cracks himself up.

Music headcanons! Here's just a few of the ones we made-- Scott likes dad rock obviously, mainly soft rock and folk rock (The Beatles, Hall & Oates, The Beach Boys, CSNY), Logan likes harder rock (Metallica, Alice Cooper, Motley Crue, Iron Maiden), Morph likes new wave and glam rock (Oingo Boingo, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Tears For Fears), Remy likes a fun mix of jazz, country, and soul, with a little rock sprinkled in (Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, Billie Holiday, Queen), Jubilee likes a lot of pop, pop-rock, that sorta thing (Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, ABBA, Wham!)

Kurt has a lil hyperfixation on pirates and ships-- this is kinda canon in the comics. But he loves talking about pirate history and ships and misconceptions.

I'm sure there's a bunch of ones I can't remember but there ya go lol

thanks to @the-death-defying-night-crawler for being funny and making these with me lol

#x men 97 #x men #scott summers #jean grey #james logan howlett #kurt wagner #kevin sydney #jubilation lee #ororo munroe #remy lebeau #anna marie lebeau #erik lehnsherr #wolverine #jubilee #storm #gambit #rogue #cyclops #headcanon #these are mainly jokes #morph

[hockpock]

Glasses Review - Firmoo

Hello vision impaired friends, I bring you the gospel of Ordering Your Damn Glasses Online

I have previously ordered from EyeBuyDirect (luxotica/lenscrafters'/America's Best in disguise, sorry.) and Zenni Optical ( most well known online provider, A+ would recommend) and have seen lots of ads for free pairs from a competitor, Firmoo. I have too much prescription for the free pair offers to ever work out from ANY provider, but their fun designs put them on my list.

When my current glasses broke, I was dinking around and saw their current promotion is Buy One Get One Free PLUS 20% off lenses and as lenses are the real $$$ I jumped on that like tigger on crack. I am VERY nearsighted with astigmatism and the average pair of glasses from lenscrafters used to cost me $300 minimum.

After much deliberation with a million tabs open and a poll I ignored the results of for Reasons, I ordered a pair of clear frames and a pair of purple steampunk-y wireframes . Two pairs of HIGH PRESCRIPTION glasses for $87 shipped. I could cry, y'all.

Note: I have an up to date prescription and a nifty app that measures Pupillary Distance or 'PD'. you will need both these things accurate to have the best experience buying your glasses online.

I ordered them 9/22, they shipped 9/25, I received them 9/29 with regular shipping. They came well packed - each pair was in a bag made of cleaning cloth material inside a sturdy plastic case and they come in a foil bubble mailer.

Both pairs feel well made, with lots of attention to detail-

however I did not pay attention to detail or pay extra money for the Re-he-heaaallly thin lenses. So the clear ones are slightly too big and I hate the way the nose pieces sit, while the purple ones are a wee bit small across the temple and heavy to boot. I haven't had dents in my nose like this since I was 12.

the website lists their exchange policy as 30 days, the pamphlet that came with the glasses says 60. Either way it was pretty painless to go into my order history and select "exchange". The form I filled out with my reasons for dissatisfaction promised me I would be contacted within 24 hours.

My 'personal Firmoo consultant', 'Karen', emailed me with a code for the full price before discount of both pairs + standard shipping, as well as the usual customer service canned answers about checking the sizing information and did I know I could upgrade the lenses?

Also I could keep the failed pairs 'FOR NOW', here are some places that accept glasses as donations. (mixed messages, Karen, but sweet!)

New friends are April006, round anodized wireframes with a cute dingly gem thing, and Sandy020 , literal tortoiseshell cat eye frames.

This time I used the site's search terms to cut the temple width and earpiece length options down and double checked the weight of the base frames. (14g vs 24g for the round wireframes before my coke-bottle lenses. RIP my nose. )

New order was placed 10/5 and they arrived 10/17 . (last time I checked the tracking estimated arrival had creeped from the 19th up to the 23rd so grain of salt. This may be a tactic to make the order feel like it got here faster or legit delays. In my case there was a federal holiday involved.)

Complete disclosure I'm gonna grab a pair of pliers and take the little dangly off the wireframes. It makes a noise when I move my head and if I don't fold the frames in the right order when I take them off it'll scratch up the lenses. I ain't gonna remember to avoid that, so off it goes.

The Good:

Large selection, Good Quality, Good Communication. Lots of Off the Beaten Path options for internet weirdos. Firmoo p much always has a promotion going.

My wallet is so happy. SO HAPPY. Frames run $20-30ish to start. lenses will vary with your prescription and options.

If y'all want 50% off your first frames and to give me a $10 credit they have a referral program and my code is T4Z8I2. BOGO20 is a better value but it expires 11/01/23.

The Bad:

Not flexible about lens options- you go down one track and pick your options within that. If there was a way to put tinting on a pair of glasses other than blue light blocking I couldn't find it. (in contrast I believe Zenni lets you choose a range of colors and tint depth on any pair, designed as sunnies or not)

You Will Get Emails. Firmoo REALLY wants you to buy more glasses and post about it and tell your friends and HERE THIS CODE IS ONLY GOOD FOR 3 DAYS, GO BUY NEW GLASSES. They are marketing themselves to fashionable young influencers who change styles every month. Unsubscribe with impunity.

like Zenni, this is a company with the majority of it's functionality based overseas. It's cheaper because you're ordering directly from a factory and not paying Luxotica's markups to itself. Customer service is mostly English as Second Language speakers and there may be delays.

Not For Emergencies. I was able to coast on a pair of glasses from a prescription or 2 ago but it's gonna take time for your order to be made and shipped.

Overall I'm very happy with them and will probably order again.

Next time I have spare money I'm aiming at Wherelight because y'all. they are next down on the list of reputable to shady AF but they have the most amazing WTF designs.

#glasses #low vision #review #pock posts a thing #firmoo.com #vision impaired #long post

[separatist-apologist]

A Lost Princess of Sunlight

Summary: Lady Elain has spent her life in the idyllic countryside wanting for nothing, so when her adopted sister Vassa begs her to accompany her to court, how can Elain say no? The roguish prince is in need of a wife and Elain, certain she'd make a terrible princess, has no interest in such theatrics.

But something about the palace brings back memories lost to the sea ten years before. Memories Elain had been certain she'd never get back…memories that speak of a colder place, and sisters long forgotten. Amid the tumultuous politics and the looming war, Elain finds herself embroiled in a mystery to find out who she really is.

And where she really comes from.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @writtenonreceipts! I hope you like this- I tried so hard to give it TOG vibes AND to incorporate nessian and feysand because you said you love them (and I in turn love you).

@acotargiftexchange

Major thanks to @velidewrites and @wilde-knight for the moodboard + beta-ing this fic when I was laying face down in a puddle of my own tears.

--

Prologue: 

“Go,” Feyre whispered, hands pushing against Elain’s back. It was frigid outside, their boots cracking the ice crusted over the cobblestone streets. It should have smelled like pine and snow, should have been utterly silent as everyone waited for the coming Solstice and the gifts that so often accompanied it.

War had shattered the once idyllic peace, inching closer and closer to the capital of Ellesmere until Elain and her family were forced to flee in the night. Just ahead, her mother grasped Nesta’s hand, weaving through alleyways unfamiliar to the ransacking soldiers.

She knew where they were going. They had practiced this before. One more left, ducking beneath a half-ruined awning, and then a sprint to the docks where a ship was waiting. Her father was nowhere to be seen, though Elain supposed he had a head start on them.

“Go,” her mother urged, pushing Nesta, then Elain, and finally Feyre into the little vessel. A man was waiting, hoisting them beneath with hurried, impatient fingers. “Get down—”

A flaming arrow screamed through the night, missing Feyre by mere inches. It took Elain a minute to realize what had happened—the shield that had saved her youngest sister’s life. Their mother stared, blue eyes like glassy mirrors against her ashen face. Golden brown hair graying at the temples was set aflame. Nesta began screaming, the words ringing in Elain’s ears.

“Go,” their mother mouthed, hitting her knees before she pitched forward. Hands pulled the three of them roughly back into the boat as orders were given to pull up the anchor. Was she crying? It seemed as if she must be given how frozen her face felt. 

The world was moving too slow for Elain, making it impossible for her racing thoughts to process. Even as the ship pulled away, dragged by roaring wind, Elain was certain their mother was going to get up. 

She didn’t. 

“Princess,” the captain was yelling at Nesta, unsteady against the choppy northern sea. “Princess, we need—”

Elain never heard what they needed. The wind drowned out the command which Elain didn’t care much about, anyway. Was Nesta Queen, now? The few sailors moving about eyed her fourteen-year-old sister warily and though Elain couldn’t hear what Nesta said, she recognized the sharpness of her eyes. Nesta was used to giving out such commands. Feyre was gripping the railing of their ship, staring at the water below with a hollow gaze. Elain knew what she needed to do—put on a brave face and take Feyre into the interior of the ship where they could get some sleep, if only to forget what was happening to their home.

Everything was going to be okay. They’d get to the safehouse where relatives would be waiting to usher them to safety. Everyone was okay. A healer would attend to their mother who would be bedridden but otherwise safe. 

Deep, deep down Elain knew it was a lie. She needed those lies, at least for now. As the ship rocked, Elain made her way toward Feyre who was still looking outward. The once beautiful city she’d spent her life in was a mere haze of smoke and fire in the distance, half lost to the fog of sea. 

“Feyre,” Elain began, though that was all she was able to say before the ship violently lurched to one side. The gods were moody that night, unwilling to offer safe passage despite the circumstances. Elain lost Feyre, hitting her back against the wet wood so roughly it robbed her of breath. 

Please, she thought just as water rushed over her. It was shockingly cold, leaving her paralyzed like a rag doll, flung from one end to the other. She could hear nothing, could do nothing, utterly helpless to even draw breath though she desperately wanted to.

Get up get up get up! Her mind screamed with panic. Elain did try to grasp at something when the ship tilted sickeningly again, though her fingers were utterly stiff and unwilling to bend. The world was upside down, a swirl of dark hues of navy and gray.

And then it was silent and salt and made entirely of water. Elain’s body constricted, lungs demanding air though none arrived when she opened her mouth. More water, more fear. She could feel nothing, could see nothing. Just a blur of her own hazy fear and the terrible fear she was going to die. 

Elain did try, though it amounted to nothing. There was nothing to cling to, no light to tell her which way was up and which way was down. And as the cold seeped in, somehow driving out the horrible chill, she thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was better to be without fear. 

Maybe this was a mercy.

In the end, it was nothing at all.

[ten years later]

Lucien Vanserra stretched out his legs, neck stiff. “Bastard,” he spat, tossing his sword to the muddy ground beneath him. Behind him, the boisterous laugh of his best friend and second-in-command Jurian followed him out of the training pits.

“You’re a sore loser,” Jurian crooned, likely catching the way Lucien’s fists curled and uncurled. “I have half a mind to tell your father you were bested in training again.”

“And I have half a mind to punch you in the face ahead of Lady Vassa’s visit,” Lucien retorted hotly, wiping the smile off Jurian’s face. “Oh. Did you not hear she was coming to court?”

It was Jurian’s turn to look as though he’d like to hit Lucien. Lucien had intended to tell Jurian though it had slipped his awareness given all the other things happening. Now was as good a time as any, besides. 

“Why?”

“Why do you suppose? Now that mother and father insist I marry, every lord with a daughter under the age of forty will descend upon us hoping to secure a match.”

“You wouldn’t—”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Lucien snapped, wiping his sweaty brow against his bare forearm. “And Lady Vassa is hardly on mothers shortlist besides. This little ball of hers is not in good faith.”

“Ah, but it will be one last night of debauchery and fun,” Jurian teased, elbowing Lucien in the ribs. “This is every firstborn son’s duty, is it not? Get married, carry on the family line, etcetera and so forth?”

Lucien’s mood only darkened at the prospect. It wasn’t that he minded the thought of one day having a son, of becoming king and ruling the empire his father had so strategically built. It was the manner in which he was expected to do it. His own father had been allowed to choose his wife, however ill-advised it had been at the time. Lucien had no intention of stealing another man's wife as his father had done, sweeping her away and leaving six furious sons behind.

He merely wanted the ability to say who he wanted when he wanted.

And, perhaps, he was still a little burned by Jesminda’s rather abrupt dismissal of their courtship. She was gone, left to the countryside with her new husband she loved. Lucien told himself he ought to be happy for her. It had been nearly two years since she’d left, married and beaming—practically glowing, now that he thought about it. He’d been too bitter at the time to notice. He didn’t begrudge her that.

Lucien merely wished she had felt that way about him. He was convinced there was no one else in the world for him and perhaps he’d told his mother so drunkenly a few months earlier. If he’d only kept his big mouth shut, he’d have been allowed to carouse as he liked for at least another year.

Possibly two if he was careful about it.

Now he’d be married by solstice—just in time to parade his new wife around the summit in Velaris while making not-so-veiled threats to Archeron, the utter bastard. He was in the process of marrying off his eldest daughter so he, too, might have a successor to the throne, looking west toward Lucien’s half brother which was a threat in and of itself.

Everyone knew the Vanserras would love to see the southern empire laid to ruin. It was important Lucien married more than ever—ideally into a family with deep pockets to fight the war they all knew was coming. Peace was tentative, brokered when the northern royals lost their queen and a princess all in the same day. Ellesmere ceded territory laden with gold, enriching Lucien’s family and in exchange his father returned their remaining two daughters, rescued at sea. 

He still remembered Nesta Archeron. They’d been allowed to live in the palace rather than as prisoners and while Feyre had been mostly mute, glassy eyed and silent, Nesta had raged like a wild animal.

If she still harbored even a lick of resentment, Lucien knew she’d be the driving force behind Eris Vanserra’s throne and her father's bid for revenge. Eris was coming on a diplomatic mission, too, which was the polite way of saying Lucien’s mother was going to throw herself at his feet and hope she forgave her for leaving, while offering up all the same women she was pushing at Lucien, too.

As if Eris were the type for a love match. 

Shaking his head, Lucien pushed through the wooden gate to make his way back toward the city. It was unseasonably hot even for summer, the humidity drawing sweat even when he was sitting in the shade. It was miserable just then, boots hitting the sunstone streets with a loud thwack. Behind them, the sounds of clanging metal and groaning soldiers were half drowned by the cheerful white sands and foaming ocean, while ahead of them the bustling city created a chorus of voices. It was Lucien’s favorite sound. 

And his favorite sight. The looming palace on the hill made of ivory and gold and the multicolored buildings that circled around, built on a sloping mountainside. Purple flowers dotted along spiky grass while towering palm trees occasionally dropped coconuts to the streets. As a child, Lucien had collected them, begging his father to puncture them so he could drink the milk inside as he strutted about, a pretend sword strapped to his hip. 

Now when he stepped onto the main road people lowered their eyes and bowed their heads. He wasn’t a boy anymore, but a man they might one day call king. Lucien missed being the former, though—missed the way they’d reach for a strand of his auburn hair or how they’d sneak him little treats when they thought his parents weren’t looking. 

Jurian straightened, his expression shifting from Lucien’s friend to Captain of the Guard. One day Jurian would be his General, but for now, this was enough. Jurian was one of them—just another man from Rhodes who had risen through the ranks while making Lucien feel less isolated when he, too, had been shoved into the army. Everyone else treated Lucien with respect.

Jurian had shoved his face into the dirt.

“There’s a way out of immediate marriage,” Jurian began, reminding Lucien once again why he was both Lucien’s best friend and closest advisor. 

“Go on,” Lucien murmured, inhaling the smell of grilled meat. 

“Velaris is filled with beautiful women. Tell your mother you’re interested in a more political marriage.”

“And when she realizes I’m not interested in a more political marriage?” Lucien asked dryly, trying to think of the last time he’d been inside Velaris. Had he ever? Maybe once when he’d been a boy, the memory eluding him.

“It’ll be winter and half the ladies who visited will be married to other lords. It’s not forever, but maybe another year or two. Nothing will save you from the marriage bed forever.”

“It’s better than anything I considered,” Lucien agreed, dodging a donkey hauling a cart filled with sunmelons. 

“And who knows. Maybe the love of your life is up in the mountains,” Jurian added, elbowing Lucien once again.

“I doubt that,” Lucien grumbled, his thoughts once again turning toward Jesminda. How long before she was pregnant, he wondered? How long before she brought her firstborn to court for his father’s blessing, forcing Lucien to see the man and family she’d wanted over him? 

Why not me?

Knowing full well Jesminda had never wanted to be a princess and had never wanted to be queen. 

He couldn’t shake the thought from his mind even as he entered the opulent palace to a loud argument between two of the philosophers his father insisted be allowed to live at court. Sidestepping them and mumbling a goodbye to Jurian, Lucien took the steps two at a time toward his bedroom. He needed just a little silence and a chance to clear his head. 

Flopping onto his bed, still sticky from heat and sweat, Lucien closed his eyes, intending to find a way through the tangled mess that was his mind.

All he found was sleep.

“Come with me,” Vassa urged, reaching for Elain’s hands. “Please. Please. Pleasepleaseplease—”

“I don’t belong at court,” Elain interrupted, looking up from her book. Vassa plopped beside her, spreading her hands over the cerulean blue of her skirts. “And you’ll have more fun without me.”

“I won’t. I never do,” Vassa protested, pretty face twisted into a scowl. “The prince is a bore and his court is far too self-satisfied to be of any amusement.”

“Stop, you’re making it sound too fun—”

“Come with me anyway. Rhodes is a wonderful city filled with libraries and museums and amusements beyond your wildest imagination. Plus there will be parties and dancing and you love parties and dancing.”

“Yes, and there will be all these well-bred ladies–”

“You’re a well-bred lady, and my sister to boot.”

Elain offered Vassa a look of exasperation. They were sisters in name only, but not by blood. Elain’s family was yet another casualty in the brutality the north inflicted upon them, razing her village to the ground and tossing her body into the western sea. Had she not been found by Lord Koshington, Elain might have succumbed to exposure. Her life before Vassa was lost to her and in some ways, she knew she was quite fortunate. She’d been given the education of a lady and one day a marriage would be arranged on her behalf.

It was far better than whatever she’d been expecting before the raid, she supposed. But just because Lord Koshington had taken her in didn’t make her an actual lady. Elain had never been brave enough to go to court either, choosing to remain behind rather than be reminded of her inadequacies.

She wanted to see it all, if only once. 

“I should stay–”

“I won’t take no for an answer. Please. I’ll do your latin homework for a week if you agree. Or…I’ll give you my gold dress—”

“You wouldn’t,” Elain replied, facing the book in her lap to fully look at Vassa. “You love that gown.”

“I love you more. Is that an agreement, then? You’ll spend a month in Rhodes with me in exchange for my gold dress?”

“And my latin homework. And you’ll work harder on the piano when we return as well. I’m tired of being the only one asked to play when guests come over.”

“Done,” Vassa agreed, blue eyes as bright as the sun itself. “Lucky you agreed because I may have told father this morning you’d agreed to accompany me. We’ll serve as each other's chaperones so he can waste his time droning on and on with the king about politics.”

“Chaperones? Who are you hoping to see?”

Vassa’s bronzed cheeks darkened, her freckles lost beneath the wash of color. Elain forgot her book entirely, surging forward until their faces were mere inches apart. “Tell me his name at once!”

“Swear to keep it between us. I would die if he ever learned the depth of my affection. He thinks I loathe him and I would prefer to keep it that way.”

“You’re cruel, Vassa.”

“Men prefer to work for our affection and this man is no different. Worse, I suspect, which is why I like him. The prince’s mother is hoping to match someone with her son but I am far more interested in the Captain of the Guard.”

“Is he handsome?” Elain asked, resting the back of her head against the rough bark of the tree behind her. 

“Terribly handsome. And horribly stupid, but in an endearing sort of way. I’m certain he’s good at many things…just not winning an argument.”

“Well, no one can win an argument against the likes of you,” Elain said with a laugh. “What will the lord say about it?”

Vassa’s smile dipped a bit. “No, I’m sure. He has no title, no money and will always serve the prince. Still. It’s fun to imagine a world in which we could select our own husbands, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Elain admitted. “It seems risky.”

“That’s just what men want you to think. But we’re perfectly capable of knowing our own minds and deciding for ourselves. We’re not as helpless and brainless as they imagine.”

“What are you planning?”

“Me? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of planning or plotting.”

Elain rolled her eyes, wondering for the first time just how much Vassa actually liked this man and how far she might be willing to go. Elain pondered it all evening, wondering if she shouldn’t tell someone that sending the two of them mostly alone to Rhodes was a bad idea.

But Vassa’s words lingered in her mind. 

We’re not as helpless and brainless as they imagine.

Because Vassa was right. She’d been educated within an inch of her life just for men to waltz around her acting as if she were as new as a freshly born baby. Treated as though it were cute she had opinions when she was supposed to be nothing more than ornamentation while Elain brushed it off because what else could she do?

But Vassa was right, just like she always was. They weren’t stupid—men wanted it both ways. They wanted a wife smart enough to one day oversee the education of their sons, but stupid enough they were always the unchallenged authority. It didn’t mean Elain wouldn’t acquiesce when her time came—she had no other option and no other skills but to be married—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help Vassa escape the expectations.

That was what Elain told herself, anyway. And it helped her sleep at night for the following week as preparations were made to leave the idyllic countryside estate they resided on and make their way further south toward the coast. Lord Koschington was still accompanying them and would be the one to introduce Elain to court—as his niece rather than his daughter. That was the more believable lie without besmirching Elain’s reputation right from the start. 

With the gold gown packed in a trunk and the promise of being allowed to coast in her lessons when she returned—assuming Vassa returned with her at all. Elain was dreading the carriage ride not because the journey was long and it was already oppressively hot, even at dawn, but because Lord Koshington loved to hear himself talk.

And in the carriage he had a captive audience. 

For five miserable hours, Vassa and Elain sat straight backed and silent while Lord Koschington droned on and on about King Helion’s feud with the King of the North, Archeron. Elain loathed the name like any good southerner, having learned to fear those silver armored warriors that often ducked across the border to raze whole villages to the ground. 

He had two daughters and Koschington was fascinated with the oldest, said to be unparalleled in her beauty and destined for the prince to the west, Eris Vanserra. For five hours, all he talked about was the disaster it would be if those two territories united and how Lucien would be the last Spell-Cleaver to ever sit on the sunlit throne. It was the sort of conundrum that kept men like Lord Koshington awake at night but to Elain, who couldn’t remember the war and had been living in nothing but peace for the last decade, it felt more like unwarranted anxiety. 

Who cared about a princess’ marriage? Why wouldn’t she marry a prince, besides? Elain had heard rumors that Eris Vanserra was the most handsome prince in the realm, still unmarried as his ancient father crept toward the grave. She imagined there was a line from his bedroom door to the edge of his coast hoping to secure him as a husband.

As for herself, well. She was glad to not be in such a position. Elain didn’t think she cared for that kind of responsibility. 

Eventually, even Lord Koschington was silenced by the heat, sweat sliding down the temples of his face. His once onyx hair was threaded with silver and his face lined with age though he was easily a good-looking man. Elain sometimes wondered why he’d never remarried after the passing of his wife though she’d never had the guts to ask him. That was private—personal. 

He wasn’t her father, either. He’d cared for her, taken her in when that had never been his obligation and treated her as well as his own daughter.

Elain knew better than to upset him. Though he’d never given her a reason to believe otherwise, some part of her suspected that if she acted outside of his will, he might withdraw his support. Better to be above reproach in all things so he felt his investment was worth it. 

Elain had never been more grateful in her life to stumble out of a carriage. At first glance, she saw the women in the capitol wore far fewer layers than they had been out in the country. No laces, no petticoats, no sleeves. Gods above, but Elain was desperate to update her wardrobe with the breezy fabrics and shorter sleeves, even if some part of her felt slightly scandalized by the scooping backs and the clingy bodices. 

She noticed the palace itself next. Set atop a rather steep hill and half-carved into a mountain overlooking the southern sea, the sprawling structure was made of ivory and gold, lined with swaying green palms, while purple flowers dotted against the lawn.

Rows of carriages circled to the front of the drive spilling ladies in all manner of garb toward the towering pillars where they were greeted by an elderly man draped in white. Elain and Vassa both dipped into curtseys when it was their turn as Lord Koshington announced, “My daughters, Vassa and Elain.” Elain’s pulse hammered.

My daughter.

He’d told her she would be introduced as a cousin. Daughter? Blinking rapidly lest she burst into tears, Elain grasped Vassa’s hand so hard she was certain there was no blood flow. Putting aside his kind words and his willingness to pretend she was wholly his, Elain and Vassa stepped into the palace. She’d expected more of the miserable, oppressive heat but somehow it was cool. Not cold, but chilly enough a shiver raced up her spine the moment the air hit her skin. 

They were hardly the most anticipated guests—no royals to greet them, no decadent rooms. Lord Koshington had his own while the girls were given a suite of interconnected bedrooms that were larger than anything Elain had ever seen. Draped in cream and gold, her bedroom had the good fortune of overlooking the sea and the gardens just below. 

Elain was living in a dream.

She didn’t want to wake up.

Nesta Archeron took the spiraling, stone steps two at a time, navy skirts gathered in one hand to keep her from plummeting right back down. Chilly hair nipped at her cheeks, drawing color that wouldn’t otherwise exist. The air itself stung her eyes, making them seem glassy like she’d been crying.

Nesta Archeron never cried. 

Hiding at the top of the tower stood her younger sister Feyre, fingers bright red from the cold. “Have they arrived?” Nesta asked, shouldering beside Feyre to peer out of the little arched window overlooking the whole of the city. 

“There,” Feyre said, nodding toward the black and silver banners marching toward the palace gates. Nesta’s eyes were drawn to the man sitting atop a black steed, his matching cape fluttering in the wind. She couldn’t see him well, but every ounce him screamed warrior king. 

King Rhysand of the East.They called him the King of Nightmares for his reputation for being ruthless—he didn’t kill those who slipped over his border looking to destabilize his regime. Rhysand had them tortured, broke their minds, and sent them back home. 

He was flanked on either side by two men who might have been brothers. The distance obscured their features, though Nesta could make out the broad shoulders and lethal sword hilt of the one on the left and the slimmer build of the one on the right. She supposed the one on the left was the terrifying Lord of Bloodshed, Rhysand’s general, and the other was the torture master himself, Azriel. 

For the first time in living memory, the North was welcoming the East into their borders. Nesta wasn’t foolish enough to think it was mere diplomacy, though she’d already promised the prince of the west her home, her throne, and her body, too, if he returned with a way into the south.

But should he fail, she’d do what her father was hoping and she’d marry Rhysand if he could offer her the revenge she was so desperate for.

Nesta’s nightmares were still plagued of Elain, wide-eyed and shivering as she made her way toward Feyre in the dark. She still dreamt of the ricocheting canon that slammed into their ship and how she and Feyre were whisked into a lifeboat. How they’d been kept political prisoners by Helion himself, their lives used to forge the treaty that now bound both nations.

While Elain had never been found, her body still haunting the sea bed. 

And Nesta might have been able to forgive the death of her mother. But she’d sworn her life to protecting Elain the very night she’d failed. It was the only way to convince Elain to leave.

I’ll protect you. Please. Come with me.

How she’d failed. 

Nesta was old enough to inherit her father’s throne though law dictated she needed a husband and so Nesta had begun a campaign of finding the right man. She didn’t need love—didn’t want love. She wanted vengeance and none of the men at court were equipped to give her that.

Eris Vanserra wanted it nearly as badly as she did, and was just as practical. He’d told her he wasn’t looking for a love match and would look the other way if she chose to take a lover so long as she was discreet about it—and he had no question regarding any future offspring.

Fine.

He would be there now, poking through Helion’s secrets. Looking for weaknesses, mapping out their borders, the walls of Rhodes, and anything else he could glean. Nesta would give him everything, ruining her father’s careful legacy in favor of turning her family into Vanserras, giving her husband total control her territory, her wealth, her armies.

And she’d be the one to drive the blade straight through Helion’s blackened heart.

Rhysand was her backup plan and her father’s first choice. Eris Vanserra was a snake in the grass, untrustworthy and perhaps more damning, a Vanserra. Their family had ruled longer than any other on the continent, with a legacy that predated the oldest written record. 

But for all Eris’ faults, Nesta knew vengeance was personal for him. Helion had stolen his mother away in the night, forced her into marriage, and made her his wife. Those kinds of scars lingered, lasted. Rhysand wasn’t that sort of man from what she’d gathered.

He was a shadowed mystery, his motivations unclear. She didn’t know if he even wanted conquest, or if he was merely interested in seeing her home. She’d sent several letters which he’d returned with short, polite answers. Nothing helpful, no hidden message she could read between the lines. Only a gentleman’s words that were utterly banal and uninteresting to her.

Gentleman be damned.

She needed someone bloodthirsty and cruel.

Beside her, Feyre turned her head, chestnut hair whipping against her face. She knew, even if Nesta had never once explicitly said what she planned. Feyre knew, watchful as she was. Whether she approved or not didn’t matter, though Nesta had never known Feyre to be terribly soft-hearted. And she suspected she carried the same weighty guilt over Elain’s death, held the same deep-seated need to see someone pay for it. 

“We should be ready to greet them,” Nesta said, well aware Feyre would slip up into the rafters to listen without anyone watching.

“You go, then. I have no interest in any more princes or kings,” she replied, blue eyes flashing with defiance. “Nor do I wish to assist father in selling us off like livestock.”

“Not us. Me. You are safe—and once I’m married, you can pick whatever lovely northern gentleman is hounding your steps. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I don’t want a husband. We don’t need any of these horrible men to get what we want, Nesta. Take the throne, rewrite the laws—”

“The nobility would revolt. They’d throw me in prison or worse, force a marriage on me, wait until I gave them a son, and then stage some timely yet tragic accident. It’s better to have a say in it. To decide for myself and direct it as best I can.”

“None of them are trustworthy and I fear this king—Rhysand— is the worst of them.”

“Worse than Vanserra?” Nesta replied, genuinely curious which Feyre would prefer ruling their home. 

Feyre glanced back out the window, eyes narrowing. “He looks like a liar.”

“That’s because he’s a man.”

Feyre blew out a breath, crossing her arms over the rosy pink dress she wore. Neither of them would acknowledge what they were both thinking—Lord Tamlin Rosewood, who’d asked for Feyre’s hand in marriage and then struck her in a fit of frustration over some problem with the dowry. It had been, he claimed, an accident. 

He had been expelled from court, banished to the countryside and Feyre locked in her room until the bruising on her face faded. Everyone wanted to pretend it had never happened but to Nesta, it merely highlighted that she needed to be the one to secure their family so Feyre could have a small sliver of peace. 

Love was for the lower classes, besides. Perhaps Ferye understood that, now. 

“Come on,” Nesta said, hoping she wouldn’t have to go alone. She would, but she would feel less anxiety if she weren’t by herself. 

For once, Feyre didn’t put up a fight. Perhaps she recognized Nesta’s own vulnerability. Or maybe she wanted to stare the foreign king down with that lethal gaze of hers that made men wither to dust. Nesta thought it would be something to see them cower before her petite sister rethinking whatever strategy she was certain they must have.

The halls were utterly emptied, leaving only the watchful sentries posted by windows and doors, none of whom were allowed to meet their gaze. She still remembered Elain trying so hard to get the ones at the throne room door to smile and how she’d nearly always succeeded.

Feyre and Nesta didn’t bother. 

Their father was waiting, sitting on his icy, iron throne crowned in the blue diamonds that could be found only in the ancient mountains of the Spine, the natural border between their home and Rhysand’s. Nesta wondered if Rhysand would come wearing them, too. Nesta was wearing them around her neck, so heavy it made her spine ache. She’d carefully braided her hair off her face and put on a rather sumptuous, though conservative, gown. 

She was beautiful and she knew it. Nesta also knew that men liked a woman who presented herself well—Eris Vanserra had certainly been taken with her presentation, and she assumed Rhysand would be, too. There was no harm in letting him see what he wanted. A wellbred, obedient wife was the expectation. It wasn’t the reality, but that was a problem for another day. 

Nesta and Feyre took their place on either side of their father, staring across the room lined with nobility as the sounds of heavy footsteps began echoing louder and louder. For one moment, something in Nesta quaked with fear, blood icy as though death itself was making its way for her.

It was only a man—a man she didn’t want, didn’t like, and would never love. Rhysand and his right hands were the only ones who came in, strangely unadorned.

He was, objectively, attractive enough. High cheekbones set in a symmetrical face, with eyes so blue they were nearly violet and dark hair styled to look as though the wind had merely tousled it. A silver circlet of stars adorned his brow and one heavy ring was perched on his middle finger while the rest of him was rather bare in comparison to her father.

He looked like a warrior king in his dark black leathers and the heavy cape hanging from his shoulders. He lacked all the pomp and circumstance Eris had brought with him along with the warmth, too. His whole presence exuded ice and instinctively, Nesta took a step back.

His eyes were on her, and then her father as he swept into a bow. Nesta watched, as he came back up, how his gaze slid to Feyre.

And remained there.

“Rhysand,” her father began, his voice sharp and clear. “I hope the journey didn’t give you too much trouble.”

A cat’s smile slid across his features, eyes flicking back to their father. “None at all.”

Nesta didn’t hear her father’s response, buzzing filling her ears as she took a moment to survey the other men who’d come to join their king. The tallest one had removed the heavy helmet he wore, tucking it beneath one muscular arm and oh, Nesta wished he hadn’t. His face, scarred just at the eyebrow and again across full lips, was perhaps the most beautiful face she’d ever laid eyes on. Not classically, of course—for one, he was far too large. The sconce on the wall across the room was, perhaps, as tall as this man was and the muscle packed on his body spoke to an active life, never mind the twin, curved swords looming over his shoulders.

A light layer of dark stubble graced a perfect jaw while strange, whirling black inked tattoos peeked from beneath the neckline of his armor. She wondered what they meant, what their purpose was. Nesta drank in his slightly crooked nose, likely broken in some battle he’d won and the curved scar across his throat that must have been brutal when he’d first received it. He had his large hands clasped in front of him and when she looked up to take in the color of his eyes—hazel, more green than brown—she found he was grinning at her.

He’d caught her looking at him and wanted her to know it. Nesta immediately looked away, unable to hide the damning flush creeping up her own neck. 

Nesta swore he’d never catch her looking at him again.

Hands in his pockets, Rhys allowed Archeron to show him around the palace. These visits never failed to bore him. Look at this painting, survey my wealth. Did you see my daughters? Aren’t they lovely? 

Usually the answer was covert eyerolls and shared smirks with Cassian and Azriel. Today, though, Rhys felt moody. Unsettled. Disturbed, even, by the younger daughter he hadn’t known existed and hadn’t expected to see. 

Rumors swirled about Nesta Archeron and the possible marriage her father was considering with heir apparent Eris Vanserra. His father was on death’s door and a marriage between North and West almost certainly promised a brutal and bloody war. 

When Helion had learned, he’d sent word to Rhysand. What is going on in the Spine?

Nothing smart. Rhysand intended to do what he did best—lie. Pretend he had interest in Nesta, jerk her around for a year while he drew up marriage contracts that had to be written and rewritten and written again, wasting her time while Eris inevitably moved on to some nice noble in his own court.

And then Rhys could withdraw, free to continue philandering until his advisors put their foot down. His presence was purely nefarious—two months freezing his balls off in the frigid north while Cassian inspected the army and Azriel devoured secrets. 

And yet…and yet. 

Rhysand’s mind slipped toward the younger daughter and those eyes. They looked like the same stars that hung over the Illyrian Mountains, silvery and bright and so very alive. Rhys had spent his entire life gazing up at them—he would have recognized them anywhere. Even in the face of that woman, who spared only a passing glance before she fixed her stare on the wall behind him, clearly underwhelmed by their presence. 

He wanted to talk to her. He’d seen beautiful women before, though perhaps this was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and that beauty was often exhausted the moment they opened their mouth to speak to him. 

Easier said than done. Rhys tried, but Nesta Archeron became the ambassador for the Archerons, silently watching him without ever speaking a word. He found that unnerving all through dinner and wasn’t the only one. The moment he, Azriel, and Cassian were locked away in the suite of rooms, Azriel was the first to speak.

“This place feels like a tomb,” he said, looking around the dark interior.

“Why don’t the princesses speak?” Cassian added, pulling open the heavy velvet curtains blocking out the dim light. “Are they allowed?”

“We should have brought Morrigan,” Azriel grumbled, flopping gracelessly onto a floral sofa. 

“She doesn’t deserve the archaic practices of Archeron,” Rhys replied, running a finger over the marble mantle of the fireplace. A thin layer of dust came with it, proving the North rarely hosted guests.

They were far too untrusting.

He supposed he didn’t blame Archeron given the horror of that final invasion. Rhysand couldn’t imagine losing both a wife and a daughter, no matter how, frankly, deserved Rhysand still found the entire thing. After all—Archeron had marched into a neutral city, the third largest in the West, blocked all routes in and out, and burned it entirely to the ground in the matter of a week. 

War was hell and there were no heroes. Helion’s father had retaliated, breaking into the capital city and sacking it over the course of a night. In the aftermath, he’d taken the two surviving daughters hostage and only agreed to return them when a peace treaty had been brokered, redefining old borders and returning both stolen land and land long contested. 

Oh, but it was all such a mess even a decade later. Those wounds had been left to fester and no matter how Rhysand looked at it, he could see no path forward that didn’t explode into utter disaster. Maybe if Lucien Spell-Cleaver married an Archeron they could avoid war, but he’d heard the prince was far too spoiled and sheltered to be offered up like a political pawn.

And having seen Nesta, he doubted she was willing to subject herself to another hurt at the hands of the West. 

“What did you think of Nesta?” Cassian asked, his words carrying a strange ribbon of curiosity. Rhys opened his mouth before closing it again, trying to find words that were both honest without being cruel.

“I doubt a marriage is in our collective futures. Still—maybe she’ll surprise me.”

“With a dagger to your throat,” Azriel commented lightly, causing Cassian to grin at the thought. 

“We don’t need to worry about them other than distracting them. Any one of us can accomplish that,” Rhys declared, wondering why the image of Azriel and Feyre annoyed him so much.

“Let's get what we came for and let’s get out of this miserable city.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Azriel murmured, stretching out his legs. 

“I can already tell you their military is weak in compared to our own,” Cassian half whispered, his gaze sharp. “I’m going to ask to train with them tomorrow—”

“Trotting out the dumb brute act?” Azriel questioned, a gleam in his eyes.

“My favorite,” Cassian agreed. “I just love swinging a sword and no one ever taught me to read.”

“There must be more of them. Up in the mountains?” Azriel suggested, glancing toward the windows. “Archeron wouldn’t be so stupid to leave his entire kingdom undefended just to protect one city.”

“Helion decimated them a decade ago. Men don’t grow up so quickly,” Rhys reminded them both. “The north has gold, and diamonds from the Spine. Vanserra has manpower and a navy none of us could fend off should he bring it to our shores. It makes sense that Nesta would go to Eris first if she lacked manpower.”

“Then why are we here?” Cassian asked, drumming his fingers against his knee. 

“Perhaps Vanserra isn’t sold on the idea?” Rhys suggested, uncertain himself. “Or her father wants to explore all his options? We’re here to prevent another war that would almost certainly drag us into it,” he added, looking at his general and spymaster.

“We’re just waiting out the summer, then?” Azriel questioned.

Rhys nodded. “We can give them all a little taste of what war might mean for them this time.”

Knowing his objective didn’t do much for Rhys’s restless mind, though. While his brothers got ready for the evening, making jokes and generally amused by the entire situation, Rhys slipped from the suite of rooms they shared to walk the halls. It unnerved him how many people were watching under the guise of not watching at all. The sentries and guards never looked at him and he knew his steps would be reported to the king before breakfast.

Getting around undetected was Azriel’s domain. Rhys had never tried, commanded too much attention. He was always the distraction, besides. No one gave Azriel and Cassian much thought, certain he must be the knife in the dark. Slick smiles and double entendre made everyone assume he was far more clever than he was.

Cassian was the dumb brute, Azriel obsessed with cruelty which left Rhys as the one worth watching. He just seemed like a two-faced bastard. And to be fair…he was. But he had help, had chosen his inner circle carefully. 

His feet took him to a set of stone steps that spiraled upward into a tower. It was a decent vantage point over the dreary city. Fog hung like a curtain, floating from the mountains that kept the warmer air Velaris received from reaching them. Rhys heard there were years where Ellesmere experienced nothing but rain every single day.

No wonder they liked war so much. What else was there for them?

At the top of this tower, rather than more oppressive fog, sat the younger princess. Rhys hesitated, drinking in the sight of her propped up in that window, one leg dangling precariously over the edge. Her hair was braided over one shoulder and propped on the wall beside her, a bow with a quiver of arrows. 

Another sentry, far prettier than any of the others he’d seen. Rhys couldn’t help himself, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

“Keeping watch?”

She turned her head to look, those starry blue eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” she replied, causing Rhys to take a step into the candle lit, chilly room.

“Oh, but you seem like such fine company,” he crooned, holding her gaze. “Maybe you could give me a tour—”

“I’ll leave that to Nesta,” Feyre snapped. It was a dismissal given she turned back to looking out at the city and any rational man would have turned around and left.

But Rhys was famously stupid, if his cousin Mor was to be believed so he came closer, desperate for anything to say to her. He was a fool to have any interest in this woman at all, to want a moment of her time when he’d come here to betray her. 

“Why are you here?” she asked when Rhys couldn’t think of anything eloquent to say.

“I’m looking for a wife, darling,” he heard himself say. Heart thudding, Rhys recalled telling his advisors not a week earlier he had no interest in a wife and to stop pushing him on it. What absurdity to say it while looking at her, knowing damn well she wasn’t for the likes of him.

He barely knew her at all.

“It's strange how many men suddenly find themselves desperate to be married,” Feyre commented, swinging her legs over the edge of the window before righting herself. “We came of age years ago. Surely you’re not interested in women as old as we are.”

“You think me so shallow? I like a conversation partner—”

“You don’t worry we’ve been ruined?”

Oh, what man touched her he wondered? What man would Rhys have to murder? The urge washed over him stronger than any other emotion he’d felt in recent months. It wasn’t that she had potentially been with another man but the defiant way she asked him if that somehow diminished her worth. 

“A lot of things keep me awake at night, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred, taking a measured step toward the princess. “Your activities in the bedroom are not one of them.”

“That’s good, given you’re here to court my sister.”

“I’m here for the princess of the North. You are a princess, are you not?” 

“I am a princess, I live in the North,” she agreed, those eyes of hers flashing. And Rhys knew whatever words came out of her mouth next were about to wreck him. His whole body went tight at the prospect.

“And I will never be your wife,” she added with that same, light tone. “I am not interested in a husband, especially one who looks like he lies as easily as he breathes.”

Rhys flashed a smile. He wanted her. What a revelation. “We’ll see,” he replied as she sauntered past him, shouldering her bow with ease. 

Feyre only shook her head, eyes rolling upward in her skull. “That wasn’t a challenge. You repulse me.”

Rhys only laughed.

They’d see about that, too.

#im gonna upload on a tues/thurs schedule until its done (i only have 5 chapters written) #elucien #feysand #nessian #DID YOU KNOW IT WAS ME OR WAS I SUBTLE?

[tokkias]

you're my heart shaker ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Though a hopeless romantic at heart, Lucy had never felt herself drawn to the tradition of Valentine's and White Day. Love needn't be romantic for her to want to celebrate it but it just so happened that this year, the love she felt for Natsu toed the line between friendship and something more. She could only hope that come White Day, he might feel the same way. ao3

my half of a collaboration with @nostromo13 for valentine's day! second half coming on white day 🫶

Various shades of pink and red decorated many storefronts to celebrate the coming of February and the romantic season that came with it. The sickly sweetness of it all had once been enthralling to Lucy, drawing her in with the promise of eternal love and passionate romance, but over time she had become increasingly jaded by the holiday.

It hadn’t always been that way, of course—she had once adored the concept when she was young and inexperienced, and Valentine’s Day was just that—a concept. Grand romantic gestures, as it turned out, were limited to romance novels and films, not a real thing she would ever experience herself. 

As she grew older, she came to the realisation that most people just… didn’t care that much. Valentine’s Day was little more than an excuse for established couples to plan dates or for confectionary companies to sell pink-coloured candies to those feeling obligated to give sweet gifts for the occasion.

Just as that thought passed her mind, a bag of pink and white candies was tossed onto the counter from behind her, and the cashier looked up at Lucy for confirmation before he scanned them. Glancing over her shoulder, Lucy came to see her best friend standing behind her, grin plastered across his face as he expectantly looked at her, waiting for some sort of affirmation that she would buy them for him. She shot Natsu what she had hoped to be an intimidating glare, but based on the unphased expression he met her with, it didn’t work as well as she might have hoped.

Though she tried to stand her ground, that stupid, goofy smile of his always managed to worm its way through her defences, seeping in through the cracks and going straight to her heart. He always seemed to have that effect on her.

“Fine,” she conceded with a sigh.

Natsu let out a short cry of victory as the cashier scanned them, snatching them up quickly at the earliest opportunity.

Usually she would have put up a little bit more of a fight, whine, or complain a little bit more before eventually caving like she always did, but her walls seemed to have crumbled around Natsu lately. Well, more than usual.

But he gave her this weird feeling in her stomach that only he seemed to be able to conjure.

They were seasonal, limited-edition colours, though something in her brain told her that that was not the reason Natsu picked them out. They were not unlike the chocolates she got Natsu on Valentine’s Day every year, not for romantic reasons, of course, but rather as a kind courtesy gesture she gave to all of her friends on that day.

She had only partaken in the romantic aspect of Valentine’s Day once in her life as a young, naïve middle schooler with a crush and a hope. Lucy’s talent with the written word was not one that appeared overnight; it was something she had carried with her throughout her life, one that she had used as both her weapon and, in this case, a show of affection.

A packet of candied chocolate and a sweet love note had ended up on the desk of the object of her affection, yet come White Day, her affections had been ignored and Lucy had been made a fool of.

It wasn’t that she had vowed off Valentine’s confessions perse, but she certainly wasn’t looking to go through that embarrassment again.

From then on, every February it had been a strictly platonic event. Love didn’t need to be romantic for her to celebrate it; she could just as well show her affections to those she held close in ways other than romantic. Come the fourteenth, every year, each of her friends would receive small bags of candy and a short, handwritten note, courtesy of Lucy. Nothing too much, but just enough to make sure they knew she cared. It was a small tradition that she had come to hold close in her heart—she didn’t need a boyfriend when she had friends like hers.

She glanced over at Natsu as they walked together, each step against the pavement in tandem with his own, in sync, just like they always were. He had stuffed his mouth full of candy and was eating while they made the ever-familiar trek to school—something Lucy would have found disgusting if it were anyone else but Natsu.

Over the years, she had found herself somewhat… endeared to his behaviour.

Though she didn’t say anything, Natsu quickly noticed her staring and didn’t let it go ignored.

“Didja want one?” He asked through a mouthful of candy.

She cringed a little as he spoke with his mouth full. Maybe not too endeared.

“No thanks,” she said, offput by the sight of chocolate shell flying out of his mouth and onto the pavement.

“Then why are ya starin’?”

“I wasn’t staring,” she lied.

She cast her gaze back at the path in front of them in an effort to try to avoid any further questioning on why exactly she had been staring. What had begun as quick glances every once in a while had quickly devolved into longer gazes of admiration, to the point where she had to remind herself to stop staring. More and more often, she found herself gazing in his direction, her mind transfixed by all the little details she seemed to pick up that she had never noticed before. The hard line of his jaw, the soft curve of his smile, the way his hair fell across his forehead, and the way those strong hands of his would always brush it away.

She had known Natsu for a long time, and though she had always known that he could be considered “conventionally attractive," she wondered just why it had only just occurred to her how handsome he was.

If it had only been this sudden realisation of newfound attraction, that could have been fine. Being attracted to your best friend was one thing, but having feelings for them was something else entirely and that was where her problems began.

That soft fondness that she held for Natsu had recently turned into something a little… less than platonic.

It had grown slowly over time—so slowly that she wasn’t even sure when her platonic feelings stopped and the romantic ones started. Everything she had grown to love about Natsu were things that had always been there, features that were so quintessentially Natsu that the fact that it had taken her so long to come to terms with these feelings was more surprising than not.

He was kind, he was loyal, he was silly and goofy, he loved with his whole heart and then some. Whoever he ended up with, if anyone at all, Lucy knew would be the luckiest person on the planet, and she tried not to wallow in the fact that it would probably not be her.

Usually she was able to push down those feelings, to lock them away in the very back of her head where they belonged, where they couldn’t hurt her or her relationship with Natsu. As of late, she had been a little bit less successful in that.

Romance was in the air, as they say—perhaps one too many love songs had wormed their way into her brain, but she couldn’t help the way her gaze lingered a little too long or how she no longer immediately scrolled past those fancy homemade chocolate recipes. She had always been a hopeless romantic at heart, and though she was entirely content with the relationships she had now, more and more she felt herself yearning for a different kind of relationship—a romantic one—with Natsu of all people.

It was so embarrassing to think of him in that way! That was her best friend, her partner in crime, and her confidant. He didn’t even care about that sort of stuff. The only reason he held this holiday in higher regard than she did was because of the cheap chocolates that came from it. He had no interest in romance or dating, so she needn’t entertain the thought of pursuing something like that with him.

She shook her head as if to rid her mind of the thought of it before she let herself get in too deep.

“Why are ya being so weird today?” Natsu asked, not letting her worm her way out of this conversation.

“You always say I’m weird,” she tried to deflect.

“Weirder than usual,” he clarified.

She glanced back at Natsu to find him looking back with what seemed to be a glimmer of concern behind his eyes, but she had no real excuse for her behaviour, or at least, not one she wanted to divulge to him.

“It’s nothing.”

There was a beat of silence for a moment where it seemed like Natsu was about to speak up, but he stayed quiet. Natsu wasn’t one to push. She knew he knew she would confide in him if she needed to. If she told him that she was fine, then she was fine, or at least, she didn’t want to talk about it at the moment.

If he was unconvinced, he didn’t mention it, opting to let the moment pass and allow her to bring her issues up on her own terms, should she ever choose to.

“Alright,” he shrugged, allowing Lucy to breathe out a quiet sigh of relief.

For now, the best she could do was to continue as she was, to keep sidestepping the problem, and to hope that whatever this ache in her chest was would fizzle away sooner rather than later.

The gentle tap of Lucy’s fingers against the keyboard was drowned out by hushed chatters in the classroom as the students worked on their group project. Glancing up to consult her partner on part of her work, she noticed that she didn’t seem entirely focused on the work at hand.

Levy wasn’t usually one to let herself get distracted while working, but that usually meant there was something she regarded as more important on her mind. Lucy leant over to catch a glimpse of what was on her screen. Over her shoulder, she saw a video of a girl decorating chocolate-covered strawberries with various pink and red heart-shaped sprinkles and candies. She couldn’t consider herself too surprised. This would be Levy’s second Valentine’s Day in a long-term relationship, so it wasn’t absurd to think that she would be preparing something for it.

“Are you going to make chocolate-covered strawberries for Valentine's Day?” Lucy asked from over her shoulder.

Levy let out a hum of consideration, her brows knitted together in thought.

“I thought about it, but Gajeel doesn’t really like sweets.”

Knowing Gajeel, he would eat anything Levy placed in front of him just because it was her.

“What about you? Do you have a special someone you’re going to celebrate this Valentine’s, Lulu?”

Her tone was teasing, knowing that, while a romantic at heart, Lucy had never partaken in the occasion as anything more than a celebration of friendship. That being said, she couldn’t help that the thought of Natsu crossed her mind, and there was no holding back the flush that began to grow on her cheeks.

This sudden change in her demeanour did not slip by unnoticed by Levy, who immediately perked up at the first sign of her friend being flustered.

“Lulu!” She exclaimed loud enough to get shushed by Erza on the other side of the room.

“What?” Lucy whined, trying to play it cool.

“Why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing,” she lied.

This all felt a little too familiar to her.

“Are you thinking of doing something for Valentine’s Day this year?” Levy asked, a gleam in her eye and a tinge of hopefulness in her voice.

Lucy bit down on her lip as she thought about it for a moment.

Sure, she had considered it, but never as anything more than a silly little wish fulfilment fantasy. Though it would be nice to let out all these feelings that had begun to build up in her chest, she couldn’t just confess to Natsu like that. They had been friends for so long, and they had built up something so good that to even think of risking what they had over a Valentine’s confession would be nothing short of reckless.

“I don’t know…”

Her eyes flicked up, and her gaze ran across the classroom to where she found Natsu and Gray working on their project, bickering back and forth under their breath so as not to alert Erza to their conflict.

Lucy let out a soft sigh as she watched Natsu, his brow creased in frustration as he argued with his group partner. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked as the light from the window hit his face. It made her heart clench in her chest.

Natsu knew all of her secrets, but this one felt like it was a little too close to him for comfort. But perhaps that was all the more reason to tell him. Didn’t he deserve to know?

Pursing her lips, she looked back over at Levy in an attempt to clear her head, but even still, she couldn't help that the thought lingered in the back of her mind.

A soft squeal escaped Lucy’s lips as the heart-shaped sprinkles poured out of the container and scattered all over the counter.

She had picked them up on her way home from school, given that, even though they had a well stocked kitchen, Lucy did not come from a family of bakers. It had been a last minute decision, still leaving her questioning right up until she brought them to the counter but with Levy's word planted in her head, she was in much too deep now.

Lucy was no chef. With kitchen staff always on hand to make her a meal or snack should she ever need it, her culinary skills began and ended with boiling pasta and making tea. Granted, truffles weren’t exactly a complex dessert, but she hadn’t wanted to give it a half-hearted attempt either. At the very least, Lucy knew how to follow instructions, so with a good recipe and a little help from one of the chefs, she had made what she considered to be passable truffles.

Perhaps chocolate-covered strawberries like the ones she saw on Levy’s laptop screen would have been the easier option, but she wasn’t about to pick something easy for the sake of being easy. This was supposed to be special—a gift from the heart, something to show she cared about him. She could very well have just brought him the same candies she brought him and the rest of her friends every year, but it was slowly becoming evident that what she felt for Natsu was not like what she felt for the rest of her friends.

She’d made a little box for the truffles to sit in, each held in a little cupcake liner, to keep them from inevitably getting smushed together when Natsu inevitably manhandled them.

They were small, delicate little things—tiny little balls of fudgy chocolate, decorated perhaps a bit tackily with hearts and sprinkles, but certainly appropriate for the occasion. On top of each truffle sat one of the same pink and red candies that she had brought him no more than a few days earlier.

They weren’t perfect, but they held with them a certain charm to them, something that let the receiver know that this was made with love.

Perhaps more important than the contents of the box was the note that was stuck on top of it.

Every other gift came with a short note expressing how much the receiver’s friendship meant to her, but the one stuck to Natsu’s gift was a little different. She had expected to agonise over it and spend the whole evening searching for the perfect words to describe the feelings she had for Natsu, but they came to her surprisingly easy. It was as though they had been bubbling up inside her, just below the surface, just waiting for the right time to come out.

It was a little embarrassing reading it back now and seeing how she had poured her heart and soul into every word on the page. She worried for a moment that perhaps she had been a little too honest with her feelings, but she wasn’t given much longer to dwell on it before one of the kitchen staff shooed her out to prepare dinner for the evening.

Quickly, she placed her gift in her schoolbag so as not to forget about it in the morning, hoping she wouldn’t lose her nerve.

Lucy had made it well into third period, still having not given her Valentine’s gift to Natsu. It wasn’t for lack of trying. She had seen him several times already today, had been given plenty of opportunity to do so, but every time she tried to build up the nerve, she chickened out.

The prospect of rejection was already embarrassing enough, but somehow the prospect of getting rejected by Natsu was even worse. It wasn’t that she felt that her pride would be wounded if he didn’t return her affections (though that certainly didn’t help), but she just feared it would make things weird between them. She didn’t want him to feel like he needed to tiptoe around her feelings if he didn’t feel the same way.

Natsu was her best friend, and she liked the easy friendship they had, and she wouldn’t give it up for anything. A silly little love confession would be enough to make things awkward between them, and that was the last thing that Lucy wanted.

Still, her truffles weighed heavy on both her heart and mind. Sure, she could share them with her friends or eat them by herself, but neither option felt quite right. She had made them with intention, and it would be such a shame for them to not serve their intended purpose.

She let out a gentle sigh that went unnoticed by the others in her study period, who were otherwise too preoccupied with their own work to bother themselves with whatever Lucy was thinking. She was already caught up on her readings, her notes taken, and her assignments completed. The book she had brought with her didn’t feel quite compelling to her right now, leaving her alone with her own thoughts as she waited for the bell to ring. As much as she tried to avoid it, it was hard for her to think of anything but her Valentine’s confession.

Her fingers toyed with the pen in her hand, and she eyed up the pad of paper she had brought with her when an idea occurred to her. Hoping no one would look over her shoulder, she began to copy out the note she had written for Natsu using her left hand.

Though she was certainly not ambidextrous, her handwriting with her non-dominant hand was at the very least legible. It was nowhere near the neat and well-practiced cursive of her right hand, but in this case, that was exactly what she needed. She had rather distinct handwriting that Natsu would be incredibly familiar with after years of studying off of her notes instead of taking his own. If she left a note anonymously in his locker, he would quickly be able to link it to her by the distinctive neat and cutesy cursive. Her left-handed print, on the other hand, would hopefully be enough to throw him off her scent.

The bell signalling the end of class seemed to be timed perfectly with the end of her note; Lucy barely finished the end of her sentence as the rest of her classmates began to pack up for the break.

Natsu had rugby practice on Wednesday lunch periods, which left her ample time to put her little scheme into motion.

Once the hallways had cleared out, Lucy made her way to his locker and put in the combination with such confidence and precision that one might be able to mistake it for her own. Any misconceptions about the ownership of the locker space, however, would quickly be cleared up as bits of paper that had been haphazardly shoved in there last period fell out and onto the floor.

Yep, this was Natsu’s locker, alright.

Lucy quickly bent down to clean up his mess, so not to rouse suspicion, as she usually did when she found herself breaking into his locker. Usually, that was under much different circumstances, however. More often, it was when she was returning the textbooks he had “accidentally” left at her house the night prior or when she would wear sandals to school on days she forgot she had lab and had to return his gym shoes after borrowing them.

She cleared herself a little spot to place her Valentine’s gift on, moving his papers and books out of the way to make sure he couldn’t miss it when he checked his locker in the morning. Not that he could. That man could sniff out a snack a mile away and would no doubt get to it before the ants could.

A self-satisfied smile crept onto her lips as she realised she had gotten away with it until, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Gray walking towards her.

Normally that wouldn’t be an issue—Gray had seen her open up Natsu’s locker hundreds of times, so there was plenty of plausible deniability there, but Gray was on the rugby team with Natsu, and if Gray was here, that meant Natsu couldn’t be far behind.

In an effort to conceal the contents, she slammed the door, letting it shut with a loud clang. It was not the most subtle approach and brought more attention to her, if anything. In turn, Gray regarded her with a raised eyebrow as he approached, stopping for a brief chat with a friend.

“Hey Lucy,” he greeted, coming to a standstill beside the locker.

“Hi!” She squeaked out in reply.

There was no reason for her to be so nervous—it’s not like she was doing anything bad, but Lucy didn’t like lying, much less lying to her own friends. Though she was certainly no Erza when it came to being unable to conceal a lie, she was already skittish and jittery from the prospect of leaving a love confession in her best friend’s locker, and the threat of Natsu’s imminent arrival was no help either.

“What’s up?” He asked in an effort to seem unphased, but not quite concealing the confused curiosity in his eyes.

“Natsu left his textbooks in Mr. Conbalt’s room again,” she said, almost on instinct.

It certainly didn’t explain her urgency, but it was a common enough issue with Natsu that Gray didn’t seem to question it.

“Natsu didn’t mention rugby practice got cancelled,” Lucy mused, attempting to be inconspicuous.

“It wasn’t,” Gray replied. “Erza wanted my help putting up the rest of the Valentine’s decorations in homeroom. The rest of the guys are still at practice.”

“Natsu’s not coming?”

He shook his head.

“Not after he fell off the ladder and nearly concussed himself last time, Erza asked him for help. Dumbass.”

Yeah, that made sense.

She unclenched her jaw, knowing that Natsu wouldn’t be back any time soon, hoping that the relief wouldn’t be too evident to Gray.

In an attempt to divert attention and try to remain inconspicuous, Lucy scrambled the code on the dial to lock Natsu’s locker before turning back to Gray and offering a smile.

“I gotta go meet Levy, but I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later,” he replied.

It wasn’t until he left without any further questions or suspicions did she finally felt herself able to fully relax. The tension in her shoulders loosened, and she let out a relieved sigh, happy that she had seemingly gotten away with it.

The shake of anxiety that had once been in her hands had mellowed out over the course of the day. Her mind had been occupied with classwork, leaving no brain space for thoughts about Natsu. She could have completely forgotten about her present altogether had it not been for the small commotion it had seemingly caused amongst their friend group after last period.

Familiar heads had all gathered around at their usual spot by the front gate, all looking incredibly interested in whatever it was that Natsu was holding.

As she approached, she caught a glimpse of the familiar truffle box open in his hands, everyone examining what was inside. It wasn’t until they noticed her arrival that anyone looked up from the box.

“Lucy! Did you hear?” Levy exclaimed, “Someone gave Natsu handmade chocolates for Valentine’s Day!”

It became immediately clear from Levy’s choice of words that no suspicion had been placed on Lucy, much to her relief.

“Do you know who left them?” She meekly asked in an attempt to play dumb.

“They didn’t say,” Natsu replied.

“Who’d be dumb enough ta make chocolates for Salamander?” Gajeel chimed in, earning him a jab in the side from Natsu’s elbow.

“They look so pretty,” Juvia mused softly. “Whoever made them must have put a lot of love into it.”

The box was still full, indicating that Natsu had held restraint until now—a definite feat when it came to his appetite. That didn’t last long, however, before he picked one up and popped it into his mouth.

Lucy examined his facial expression as he ate, her heartbeat growing faster as she awaited his reaction. Even if he didn’t know it was from her, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if he didn’t like them.

“Shit, these are good,” he declared.

“Can I try one?” Gray asked.

“Nah-uh! Whoever gave them made them for me!” Natsu said, snapping the box shut and pulling them away from him.

The imminent fight that was about to break out distracted the group from the way Lucy’s hand came to rest over her heart, letting out a breath of relief. Not only had she been able to give her gift to Natsu, but she had kept her anonymity, and their relationship would be able to stay the way it was. She had been able to have her cake and eat it too.

Perhaps it was a little bit silly, but it felt like a weight off of her chest, like a burden she had been carrying had been lifted when she left that note in his locker. After so long of trying to obscure her feelings from both him and herself, he finally knew how she felt, even if it was under the veil of anonymity.

Presuming he had read it at all, anyway.

Amidst all the chaos, she caught Natsu’s eye for just a second, and a flush crossed her face. She had to turn away before he could get a good look at her face, lest he see something in her eyes that would give her away.

For now, what she felt would remain an open secret, of which only she held the key to the true meaning.

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu x lucy #fan fiction #mya writes things #healing my inner child who had no real friends by writing fanfiction with the friends i now have <3

[bluegalaxygirl]

Amnesia (KidKiller X Reader) P4

Plot: After an explosion reader wakes up in a hospital with no memory of the past few years, her parents want to take her home so she can recover and get back to a normal life while the Kid pirates want her back on the ship where she belongs.

Warning: Bad language, injuries, burns, memory loss, manipulation, Family Issues, Blood, Violence, Torture in the first bit and mentions of Death.

Reader is Female, Poly Relationship, established relationship, Kid X Reader X Killer, Reader is a member of the Kid pirates and is in charge of the money, Budgeting and negotiating the best price.

< Previous part ….. Next Part >

Hours have passed and the screams have long since stopped, now only replaced by grunts of pain or the sound of someone choking, no one dared to enter the room that Kid and Killer were currently torturing the Commodore in, no matter how loud or horrifying the sounds got. The now back to normal Marine hits the ground hard, blood spitting out of his mouth after being punched hard in the face by Killer before being stomped in the gut by Kid who grins menacingly "Fucking spill it already" Killer growls bending down and taking a fist full of the mans hair pulling hard enough to almost rip the scalp, the commodore can't move with the chains wrapped around his body and his hands tied behind his back, anytime he sneered or spat at them Kid would use his devil fruit to pull the chains tighter causing already broken bones to shift and crack. "I-i can't… I owe him" The marine coughs out making the two growl, Kid stomps on his stomach again this time bending over and leaning on his knee to push down harder as Killer grabs the mans forehead while the other rips the hair he was holding off his scalp. The commodore screams out in pain, his voice breaking and husky from all the yelling and screaming he's been doing the past couple of hours, "I don't care who you owe. You'll tell us where she is and why" Killer stands once his screams of pain turn into whimpers and pants, the masked man holds up the mans hair now slightly stained red with the marines blood before letting it fall to the floor sending chills down the commodores spine. Kid's metal hand grips onto the man's neck pulling him up a bit to drive his foot in further "We won't stop until we get what we want, you won't die, we won't let you" The captain growls in the mans face.

Knowing there is no way out and that death won't save him from the two he gives in, but he knows better than to tell them everything, so he'll only give them the bare minimum. "She'll be at a hospital on Kyuka Island by now" He chocks out making Killer sigh in annoyance, the captain rises an eyebrow looking up at the masked man since he's never heard of that island before. "Its located in Paradise, the first half of the grand line, it's also a Holiday island not well known for its hospitals. Its a long trip back and there are plenty of hospitals on the way so, Why there?" Killer asks kneeling down to the marine feeling skeptical that its really where you are but at the same time why would the marine make up such a stupid lie "I-I don't know, I was told to send her there, that's all" Kid's grip tightens on the man's throat still not happy about the lack of information, the marine struggles as much as he can while trying to breath thought his tightening wind pope. "Who told you?" The captain yell's before letting go of the Commodores neck letting his head drop back onto the floor, panting the marine groans in pain as a small trail of blood seeps out from under his head "Her-her farther, he said he'd meet her there. That's all i can tell you" Killer stands up with a grunt as Kid groans removing his foot from the mans stomach, a wave of relief washes over the commodore thinking their done with him but the two still stand over him looking at each other before striking their hands out. The commodore's eye's widen when seeing the two doing rock, paper, scissors, The masked man wins twice in a row earning a grumble off the captain who kicks the wall before walks away and over to a metal chair sitting down on it with a slight sulk.

Killer walks over to a table of instruments carefully deciding which one to pick first deliberately drawing it out to make the commodore panic which works well since the marine tries to wiggle away while babbling. "W-wait, please, i-i really can't say anything more. I can't disgrace him, he's done so much for me" The marine screams out as the masked man walks back over to him a short jagged knife in his hand "Please, please, i beg you… I can-" The commodore's words are interrupted by a sharp pain in his right shoulder and stomach, Killer quickly kneels down pressing his leg into the marines stomach while jamming the knife into the mans shoulder, gasps and pants of pain fill the air as the blonde twists the knife with both hands making it slow and painful "If you think this is bad, he's just getting started and then it's my turn, so you might as well keep talking" Kid smirks from his seat his arms crossed over his chest and one leg crossed over the other while watching his partner work, the show has made his mood better but the whiny man is starting to get on his nerves by not just telling them what they want to know. "He-he gave me those drugs, he's helped me get this far, even if i die, i can't give you anything more… i owe him my life" The commodore pants before screaming out in pain as the knife in his shoulder is dragged down a bit before twisting again. The two didn't care about any of that stuff, all they want is to know is why you were taken? Why your family wants you? and who the hell your farther is.

----- Kyuka Island -----

The first thing you're aware of is the smell, antiseptic mixed with a dull musty smell that hits the back of your throat when ever you breathe in, you know that smell all too well, the smell of roses has always made you feel sick and thats why you hate them. As your body and mind starts to come round you start to notice more things, the sound of beeping close by, a slight dripping noise, the sound of someone turning the pages of a book. no not a book, the page sounds too big, maybe a newspaper, several faint voices and footsteps seem to get louder only to fade away. There's no longer darkness around you but a faint light trying to pass through your eyelids that you try to open only to feel pain shoot through your body, your legs, chest and arms feel heavy and tight making you gasp "Y/N, Oh sweetie it's ok" Your mothers voice calls out as a hand touches yours, her voice shock's you since it sounds so concerned, it's been so long since you've heard anything other than disappointment and anger from her. Opening your eyes you squint at the white light but its soon covered by your mother's smiling face, it's different than you remember, her hair has white and gray streaks, and she has a few wrinkles at the sides of her eyes. "Mum?" you ask while furrowing your brows in confusion "It's ok now sweetie, your safe, your home" Your mother breaths a sigh of relief as she strokes your hair, it feels nice but there a pit in your stomach telling you something is wrong.

You try to sit up but your mother grabs your arm trying to help you sit up, the touch sent a shooting pain through your body forcing you to push her arm away grunting in pain "I'm sorry, i was just trying to help" She panics a little but you ignore it and sit up resting your back against the bed frame while scanning the room. You're the only patient in the room but there's another bed next to you that looks like it's been slept in, a blue curtain separated the two beds but its pulled back letting you see the full room, the walls are white but the floor if blue, for some reason the coloration brings you a kind of familiarity but you don't know why. Each table and bookshelf in the room has a vase of Roses on them in all different colors except red, no wonder you felt sick with the smell. Your in a hospital, attached to a heart monitor and drip but why? Your try to think but nothing came to mind, everything's fuzzy at best, your Mother places a gentle hand on your cheek bringing you out of your mind and turning you to look at her. "It's ok sweetie, your going to be ok" she soothes you moving to sit on the edge of the bed with a warm loving smile, taking your hand she lightly pats it to reassure you showing you comfort you dont ever remember getting from her. The sound of paper turning again gets your attention, looking to the other side of the room you find your farther in the corer sitting in a comfy chair while reading a new paper. It doesn't surprise you that you didn't see him before but seeing him made your stomach drop, he looks very different from the last time you sore him, his hair is fully white, he's overly thin yet still muscular and has a scar along his left jawline.

Your mind runs with questions, how long have you been out? why does your farther have a scar and why is your mother being so nice. you shift your body turning to talk to your father only to wince at the pain in your legs. Quickly turning away from him you look yourself over noticing the state your in "What happened?" you ask seeing your arms are bandaged up, your left arm is in a sling supporting your shoulder, your chest is wrapped up but also covered by a white and blue stripped hospital gown, again it seems familiar and brings you a kind of warmth but that quickly fades away when looking down at your leg, you can't see them from under the blanket but the feeling is weird, it strings and feels tight but when ever you move its like something is loosely rubbing against tender skin. Your mother doesn't answer your question instead she just looks down at her lap in sadness "What do you remember?" Your father finally speaks not bothering to look up from his paper, your mother sighs and bring your hand over to rest it on her lap giving it a light rub "What he means is, the doctor said you hit your head pretty hard so you might have some memory loss, what do you remember?" She gives you a sad smile as your farther turns the page of the paper still ignoring your presence like always. You ignore your farther and try to think of what you remember, its clear up until your 18th birthday. "It was my 18th birthday… you two took me somewhere to get my gift or something… Gods i can't remember where" you groan in pain as you grip your head trying to remember, that day is kinda fuzzy but you remember your parents being so kind to you, they didn't yell at you, they let you eat what you wanted and dress how you liked. Did they give up on trying to control you? If so then why does this memory bring you pain? "It's ok honey, don't try and force it, the doctor said your memories should come back in time, you'll do more harm if you keep pushing" She smiles seeming happier than she should be but then again she's probably happy that you still remember her "You're missing a lot though, In a way i'm glad since you won't have to think about those awful people" she sighs looking down at your hand and squeezing it lightly a few tears welling up in her eyes.

Your mothers reaction shocks you shocks you, she's never shown this type of emotion for you before, she's upset, worried, scared for you. "What? How much am i missing? What people? Why are you crying?" you ask starting to panic at the sight before you, not knowing what to do you pat your mothers hand, but she starts to sob making you freeze in place. Your farther sighs and stands up folding his newspaper and putting it into his case before walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder "Calm down Marie, she's back with us now" Your farther was never one for emotion, always Stoic and stating the facts, you knew that if it weren't for his money your mother wouldn't have married him. Your mother wipes some of her tears starting to calm down as your farther tries to explain "Your 24 years old, so your missing quiet a bit but when you turned 19 you were kidnapped by pirates and held for ransom, we paid the money, but they never handed you over something about needing your skills, they forced you to be a part of their crew and work for them. We tried getting you back and the marines got involved, but they were too strong. A year later the government put a bounty on your head for being a part of a pirate crew, it hurt, but we hoped if someone did capture you then we would be able to take you home. Those pirates got into another fight with the marines a few days ago and there was an explosion, you were caught in it but the marine took care of you and thanks to some help all charges have been dropped, and we have you back" You farther explains with that deadpan look.

You stare at him in shock, you didn't know what to think or how to feel? Kidnapped by pirates and your parents actually spent money to get you back, it sounds crazy to you but your mothers tears seem genuine, she seems hurt by all this. Your mother sniffles while raising her head to look at you through teary eyes, she grips your hand harder "I'm so sorry sweetie, i can't imagine the hell you went through or what they did to you… I'm so glad to have you back though" Your mother suddenly hugs you making you freeze in place once again not used to any kind of affection from her. It's a lot of information to take in and now your mother was hugging you, you can hardly remember the last time she hugged you and that had nothing to do with the memory loss. Patting your mothers back you try and sooth her the best you can "I-Its ok mum… I-i'm here now" you stutter as she cry's into your uninjured shoulder, your father places a hand on your head getting you to look up at him "I may not show it but i'm happy to have you back with us" he tries to give you a smile before heading back to his chair where he sits down and starts to read his newspaper again. You stay there while your mother cry's into your shoulder, her arms wrapping tighter around you, it feels nice so you hug her back but kept your eyes on your farther. Despite their loving words and affection something seems off but you can't put your finger on it, something in your gut is telling you to leave but there's no reason in your brain to do so or doubt your parents words.

----- Few hours later -----

Your mother holds your hand as the doctor stands at the end of your bed reading out your injures, he's tall and skinny with dark brown hair but white stubble on his chin meaning he deferentially dies his hair to look younger, he looks to be in his 60's and he by his mannerisms it seems he has been a doctor for quite a while but his uniform is very clean almost brand new. The nurse standing next to him gives you a sweet smile showing of the pink lipstick and perfect white teeth, her curly black hair makes it hard for nursing hat to fit on her head and she's thin but deferentially has muscle's judging by the sleeves on her arms being pushed to the max. "You have a broken eye socket, cheekbone and three ribs, you have multiple fractures in your feet and legs, but they have healed quiet quickly. There are a number of laceration to your arm, stomach and back due to either glass or wood that we had to extract. Your on medication for pain, infection and you'll be finishing the last of your blood bags today then we can just give you pills instead of the IV." It was a lot of information but you nod along, the doctor suddenly starts moving around the bed and pulls back the covers letting you get a look at the rest of your body, the hospital gown covers your thighs but bellow you knees are covered in bandages while the rest is covered in wound dressings. "There are three main things I'm concerned about and that we'll be checking on every day" He states while unwrapping your bandages, you can hardly tell what your looking at both your legs are there, but they look so weird. "First are your legs which both have second degree burns, blistering and peeling of skin is normal, and they should heal in about three weeks, but they will need to be cleaned everyday, we'll apply burn cream and wrap them up until the skin starts to scab" The doctor states before stepping back and letting the nurse bring over a bowl of cool water starting to clean your legs, now and again it would hurt, but she was gentle as she dabs the wet cloth on your strange skin.

Your skin has different colored blotches on it, some of them you can make out to be either a piece of a skull or half a word. "Will it heal ok? Why is the skin like that?" Your mother asks as she stares at your legs, the doctor gives her a small smile in reassurance before his eyes flick down to you "There's nothing to worry about it'll heal fine, as for the tattoos on your legs they won't look the same, your skin may go darker or lighter where the burns are and it'll make your tattoo's look patchy since its removed some of the ink" The doctor explains making you relax knowing the black areas and spots of random colors are tattoos and not from the burn. It makes you sad though, you don't remember getting those tattoos or why, did they mean something to you or did you get them just for fun? Maybe you can find some later that aren't damaged and see if it brings back anything. "The second things i'm concerned about is your shoulder we had to take you into surgery to fix it and due to how long it's been open and how deep it was you will most likely have a permanent scar. I don't want you using that shoulder too much so for most of the day you'll wear a sling" The doctor grabs the fabric of the sling on your shoulder and unties it, he shows you how to tie it yourself and how to take it on and off before putting it back in place and letting your arm rest in it. " After the stitch's come out we'll talk about physical therapy, until then don't lift anything with it or put pressure on the wound" He states watching as you nod to tell him you understand.

You look over to your mother whose eyes are fixed on your shoulder a look of sadness on her face but you couldn't tell if it's for you or because there will be a scar. The doctor lightly places his hand on your uninjured shoulder getting you to look back up at him, so he can continue. "The last things i'm concerned about is your head, we managed to patch up your cracked skull and stitch up the cut but with your frontal lobe taking most of the damage we were highly concerned about Memory loss. Its not uncommon and you will get headaches but try not to worry" He removes his hand from your shoulder to touch the bandage on your head making sure it's not too tight and not too loose, you hoped he would continue so when he didn't you know you have to ask "My Memories… When will they come back?" You ask only for your mother to bend down and take your slinged up hand "Sweetie, You shouldn't have to remember those horrible times" You pull her hand off of yours all while keeping your eyes on the doctor wanting an answer from him, the doctor gulps before clearing his throat seeming to make time to think before he talks "I don't know, you may never get them back" You shake your head at him, that can't be right, something has to come back, you can't just be missing years of your life forever "It'll be ok sweetie, maybe it's for the best" Your mother tries to sooth you taking your hand again, this time you don't push her away instead your eyes turn to your legs again seeing the nurse start bandaging them up while the doctor pats your shoulder "I'll check on you tomorrow, for now just rest" His voice is soft but does little to make you feel batter, with one last pat on your good shoulder the doctor walks away heading out the room leaving the nurse to finish up.

#polly relationship #one piece #poly relationship #kid one piece #eustass kid x killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #kid x killer #kid x reader x killer #kidkiller #eustass kidd #kid eustass #eustass kid #one piece eustass #one piece kid #kid pirates #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece x reader #killer x reader #killer one piece #one piece killer #killer x reader x kid #kid x reader #kidkiller x reader

[whitelionspirit]

A little something from Christmas and for the new year.

I don’t see myself finishing this so here you go

————

Warmth wrapped around you like a cozy blanket as your mind drifted through the stages of sleep and awakening. Your foggy brain registered that you weren’t in your usual sleeping place as it wasn’t a soft surface you were curled up on. Slowly your eyes cracked open adjusting to the still dark room; the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the ceiling allowed for you to see slightly better.

Turning your head you caught sight of one of the three other occupants of your habsuite. Drfit had his face buried into Ratchet’s neck cabling as he recharged. So you were most definitely sleeping on Rodimus it explained the comfortable heat you were suspect to currently. Glancing behind you one of the ship’s captains’ slept soundly with you tucked into his neck cabling.

A tired grumble left your lips as you tucked yourself back into your blanket and tried to go back to sleep. Without even checking your watch you knew it was in the early hours of Christmas on earth. You missed your planet desperately especially even more now since making the leap into a new universe. You weren’t sure if or when you would ever see earth again. It did make you sad sometimes like on an occasion like this one, luckily you had three loving partners and a ship full of mechs who liked earth’s holidays.

A ping from your watch brought you back from your thoughts as you gave the device a confused glance. It was a text from Rodimus you frowned and looked up to see his optics were still offline. Going back to your watch you read the text.

FireCrotch: “Can’t sleep?”

You texted back

You: “Well, I only woke up so trying to go back to sleep. Why? Can’t you?”

The bubbles appeared as he texted back.

FireCrotch: It’s Christmas how can I sleep?

His innocent words made you snicker as your free hand ran along cheek guard. Another text lit up your phone as you continued to rub the warm metal.

FireCrotch: Ah, I love it when you touch me Sweetness ~

You giggled

#transformers x reader #lost light medic! reader #rodimus x reader #drift x reader #ratchet x reader #polydratch/rod!xreader

[pigeonneaux]

graphic design is still my passion.

ADDITIONAL INFOS AND CONDITIONS UNDER THE CUT :

DRAWINGS FOR PERSONAL USE ONLY. want me to work for you or do something for commercial use? email me and we'll make a contract! : [email protected]

I can draw pretty much anything. Furries, RPF, OC insert, Self insert, crack ships, detailed designs, i can also illustrate fanfics, Headcanons, and shitposts. I can make comics and custom stickers as well! Just ask. (about the comics, i will only do them in monochrome, like this) NSFW and gore and everything inbetween is OK. I cannot draw MECHAS.

i will need you to send me as many references as possible, of the characters, the clothes & accessories, and the pose you want for them. (stickmen drawings are fine, and if you describe the poses it should be fine as well but it's harder to visualise for me) might ask for some context around the characters if i don't know them :) same if they're original characters, tell me everything<3

you can send me a drive folder with every information necessary. If you don't have many ref, you can send me everything in DMs directly.

the ideal ref folder has : face closeups, in side profile, front, 3/4, (faceclaim is very helpful if there is any) same for the body, ref sheet or at least a good indication of the character's body type, body language, and style. same with clothes. and a .txt file where you write your idea + where are some specific details like their scars, or facial hair, birthmarks etc, and any info you think might be relevant<3 and a clear pose reference if possible

once i start the commission, i'll kinda disappear for a week or more, then come back with w.i.ps, i will ask you if there's anything you want to change

sometimes it can take a lot longer than planned and sometimes it can be quick.... you just can never know, so just be prepared for that eventuality.

if you have a deadline for the commission (ex : birthday gift, holiday etc) i will be on time. but please contact me more than one week in advance.

if you commission me to draw my current obssession i will kiss you on the lips

- I reserve myself the right to refuse a commissions, for any reason.

- DM me to start, or to ask any question !

Payment through  Paypal, I will send you an invoice.

ko-fi/paypal.me (do NOT pay me before i sent you an invoice)

And again if something is confusing (and god knows commission sheets are confusing) send me a DM or an Ask, i will do my best to answer it properly in the #faq tag!

If you want more exemples of my commissioned works, check out the #pigecomms tag

for NSFW exemples check out my Pillowfort

Also here's a list of my interests if you want to look into it to see if yours appears in it idk

#journaliteuse #pige's commission sheet #pigecomms #art #commissions open #fandom #furry art #french side of tumblr #artist on tumblr #added more women on my commission sheet. hashtag el feministo yo #faq #illustration #logo #stickers #this will be a pain to format for instagram #hit me up