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garbinge · 4 months ago

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GOOD MOOD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader // Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Gibbs comes home in a good mood and you decide the best way to break some not so 'good mood' news to him. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. liiiiight angst. liiiight fluff. Smoking Weed/Being High. Mentions of losing a job, violence, punching. No use of Y/N. Reader is a private investigator, married to Gibbs, and has a teenage child in this fic. A/N: Been rewatching NCIS from the beginning and I just simply forgot how much I love this show. Grew up watching some episodes when they'd be on tv running reruns but never watched from season to season before and I just jkshjkhf love it so much. So now I'm adding another fandom and character to the roster!

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Gibbs’s voice came from behind you along with the sliding of your back porch door.

“Yea, but I’m not.” You smirked, holding the joint in your hand as you blew the smoke out that he was clearly smelling as he joined you in the backyard.

“What’s with the new recreational activity?” He still had his work clothes on as he turned the patio chair around so it was next to yours.

“Rough day at work.” You exhaled.

“Being a private dick will do that.” He had a hint of humor in his voice as he said it. Teasing your occupation the way he would if it was anyone else.

“Investigator.” Correcting him with a smirk on your face, you continued talking. “And what can I say, there were no more special agent openings at NCIS.”

“You’d fail the drug test anyways.” He was looking over at you, a smile wide on his face.

“You’re in a good mood.” Your eyebrows raised, your face matching his humor.

“Better than usual.” He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the bricks that surrounded the fire pit in front of you.

“Hm.” Turning your head back forward, you looked at the fire that was starting to die down.

Gibbs’s face turned into a frown as he questioned you. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” You teased him, taking advantage of his good mood.

“What’s with the hm?” He mimicked the noise you made.

Letting out a laugh you dropped your head on your shoulder, “I’m debating if I want to ruin your good mood.”

“Ah.” It was his turn now to look away and towards the fire pit. “How bad?”

“Eh.” You shrugged.

“That’s like a 5, that’s not bad.” He was joking but his face was serious which is what made you laugh out loud slightly before deciding to spit out the news.

“I lost my job.”

Gibbs didn’t show any emotion on his face, just a slight nod as he acknowledged you. “Who’d you punch?”

It never should have surprised you when Gibbs knew things without being told, but it always did.

“Your knuckles.” He was getting up to feed the fire as he said it.

Your eyes looked down and saw the red bruising finding it's home around your knuckles and closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the chair, joint still in your left hand.

“My private dick of a boss.”

Gibbs smirked slightly at that as he dropped a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “Enough was enough, huh?”

“That and he called me a bitch.” That was a statement which earned you a look from him, he froze in his steps and stared up at you through his brows. “Don’t worry, I clearly took care of it.” You flashed your hand to him.

He went back to feeding the fire as the silence fell over you two for a few minutes. Coming back to the patio chair, he sat down and placed his hands behind his head.

“All things considered, that’s not too bad. Never understood why you worked for that asshole.”

“I told you, NCIS wasn’t hiring.” While it was a joke, Gibbs took you seriously.

He pointed to the joint. “I could get you in. Just have to wait a couple weeks.”

“Nah, I’m goin’ back to my roots. Investigative journalism.” Your eyebrows raised.

It was how you met Gibbs all those years ago, you were working on a big story, one that brought you to the NCIS headquarters during Gibbs’s first year on the job as special agent. The rest was history.

“And now I have an in at the Naval Criminal Investigators offices if I find myself with a big Navy scoop.”

“Pretty sure you had an in when you first stepped onto those offices.” He was smiling now, staring at you.

“You’re still in a good mood.” You smiled back at him, both of you looking at each other as the orange tone of the fire reflected off his skin.

“Told you, wasn’t that bad.”

“Hold onto that feeling.” You scrunched your face up while his own face dropped. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I got the weed?”

Gibbs's mind started running, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Putting that special agent brain to work as if it wasn’t overworked enough all day on duty. He was coming up blank, which automatically put him a few points lower on the good mood meter, stumping Gibbs wasn’t enjoyable, for anyone.

“Where’d you get the weed?” He asked, knowing you wouldn’t tell him unless he did ask. You knew better than to interrupt Gibbs when he was working a case, interrogating someone, or even just as simple as working through a thought.

“Your daughter.” After you said it, you took another hit from the joint, knowing you were gonna need it for his response.

“What?!” He kicked his feet off the fire pit bricks, his arms were next to his body which was sitting up now, bent over his legs as he leaned forward all while turning to look back at you, shock–or anger, all over his face.

“Got a call from the school today, she got caught smoking in the bathroom. The school apparently doesn’t discard of the herb on their own so they gave it back to me.” You let out a giggle at that, clearly the weed starting to work its wonders on you but also laughing at the strange policy.

“Where is she?” Gibbs was still concerned.

“In her room, where she’ll be for the next two weeks. I told her how her father is a federal agent and she can’t have this shit in the house.”

Gibbs’s face twisted up in a smile at that comment. “So you, her mother, clearly are out here setting the example for her.”

“I had to get rid of it somehow.” You lifted your hands in innocence.

Gibbs let out a laugh. “You too high to help me with the boat?”

“Never.” You were getting up, tossing the joint into the fire. “You gonna talk to her?” Now you were standing in front of your husband, his eyes were moving away from yours at the thought of needing to scold his teenage daughter.

“Depends. What else you tell her?”

“That I was still deciding if I was going to tell you or not.”

It was the most you saw Gibbs smile in one night in a while. He was in a good mood.

“That’s good, that’ll keep her guessing.”

“Ain’t my first rodeo.” Your shoulders raised as you bragged, humbly.

It was then that he placed his lips on your forehead, giving you a quick kiss as his hand moved to your hand that was littered with the memory of your awful day. His thumbs lightly caressing the bruises on your knuckles.

“You knock him out cold?”

“I told you, it ain’t my first rodeo.” That made Gibbs good mood turn to a great one, he never liked the guy you worked for, he didn’t like private investigators at all, but for you he tolerated them. But this not only meant he was done tolerating them but that he’d get to live with the mental image of you knocking the jerk out cold.

“C’mon, I’m almost done with the hull, have a feeling this story is gonna get me through the finish line on that.”

“Eh.” You scrunched your face up again. “I am high, so probably through the rest of the hull and the start of the bow. I get kind of chatty.”

With a laugh, Gibbs tossed his arm over your shoulder and planted another kiss to your temple. Yea, he was still in a good mood.

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!)

#NCIS #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #Gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #NCIS fanfiction #Gibbs fanfiction #Leroy Jethro Gibbs Fanfiction

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slater-baby · 7 months ago

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Azure

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Tags: teenage love (characters are 18 and 19), suggestive themes, romantic/sexual tension, banter, friends to lovers, flashbacks, fantasizing, smoking, drug use, mentions of child abuse - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ MDNI!

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Summary: Simon Riley fell in love with you when he was eighteen years old. When he's thirty-five, he's hardly better. Here's the story.

Chapter Summary: You're not friends, but you're not more than that either. However, when Simon plans to crash at your place one rainy evening, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

Chapter 1: Red-handed

Notes: THIS STORY IS COMPRISED OF EXTRA SCENES FROM AN EXISTING STORY!!! It is recommended to read the original before this work. Read it here on AO3!

This story takes place between chapters 12 and 16 of Indigo.

NOVEMBER, 2009

Simon huffs, the autumn air cold over his bare cheeks. He digs his hands deeper into his pockets, scuffing his feet against the loose asphalt. He comes to a stop in front of your house, sparing a cursory look around the dark cul-de-sac, nerves singing underneath his skin.

God, he muses, What was he doing coming out here this late?

Clearly, he hadn’t thought this through well enough. But, well, he’d already spent the past twenty minutes leisurely walking over here, kicking rocks underneath his sneakers. A single glance at his iPod reveals it’s just after midnight—half past twelve, to be exact. Instantly, his fingers freeze around the device, and he shoves it back into his pocket, taking a slow breath. He bites his cheek.

He should go home. Really, he should.

He hadn’t even told you he was coming over tonight. Truly, it hadn’t even crossed his mind until an hour ago, when the creaking of the floorboards outside his door had grated on his mind just a <em>little</em> too much. It was stupid anyway. He didn’t even understand why it irked him so much.

Whatever, he thinks, It’s not like it matters now anyway.

He was here, and it was unforgivingly late. His mind screams at him to go home and pretend like he hadn’t thought of this foolishness, and yet…his feet are staunchly planted on the asphalt, unmoving. He bites his tongue, clenching his hands. It hadn’t been a good night, and if he dwells on it any longer then he might just do something he’d regret.

Tommy had been up past his bedtime. It was a lazy Friday night; Simon guesses he shouldn’t complain. And so he hadn’t said a word when Tommy had spent the entire afternoon watching the television on full volume—a luxury that he could only enjoy when their father was good and gone for days on end. When Simon had raided the cupboard for cup noodles at 7, Tommy had been leaned over the sofa cushions, eagerly watching a rerun of Doctor Who. And by the time Simon snuck outside to roll a joint in the side yard at 10:30, Tommy had hardly strayed. By then, he was watching some old American movie. Which one, Simon hadn’t a clue.

All he knew is that when he was good and high at 11, a commotion downstairs had led him to pull his earbuds out. The closer he’d come down the stairs, the louder the voices got. And when he’d turned the corner in the kitchen, there his father was, drunk and dirty after days off in the crackhouse, pinching Tommy’s earlobe so hard he about pulled the boy up off of his feet. Tommy was on the verge of tears, trying to push their father away. And like always, Simon interposed himself. Brain in a fog and mind still reeling with your shouting voice in his mind, Simon had done nothing more than push the man away.

He’d separated them, and that was all.

He hadn’t fought. Hadn’t brandished his fists. He’d only pushed him away, nothing more.

Your words that day in the storeroom had affected him, to say the least. He was trying. Really, he was. But when his father had straightened up, a mean look in his eye, Simon could barely contain the anger coursing through his veins long enough to usher Tommy to bed. By the time Simon had slammed his own bedroom door behind his back, his father was screaming his name from down the stairs, manically putting about the ground floor. An hour had passed, and no amount of clicking the volume button on his iPod had been able to drown out his father’s incessant knocking and name calling.

God, he’d seethed, watching his bedroom door shake on its hinges, his father’s drunken slurs pelting the door like stones, It’s like he’s bloody asking for a beating.

And after another ten minutes, Simon was just about ready to do it, too. But then your bloody face and teary eyes had flashed over his memory, and suddenly, fear had bleed into his bloodstream with every rap of his father’s knuckles. And before he’d even registered what he was doing, he’d hooked his finger into the sweatshirt lying on the floor, shoving open his window just enough to climb onto the roof of the porch.

Twenty minutes later, and here he was, ready to leave, but hardly willing to go.

He bites his lip.

After that first movie night when he’d accidentally slept over, you hadn’t questioned it when he’d done it a second time. It was innocent, really. Just another night playing old console games that went on a bit too long. By the time the sun was well below the horizon, you still hadn’t wanted to turn off the television. And when one round of Mortal Kombat turned into two…had turned into three...had turned into stolen beers out of your father’s fridge…Well, you didn’t think anything of it when he was too drunk to walk home at the end of the night.

He swallows.

If he did it a third time, would you think he had some ulterior motive or something? He doesn’t. He just…needed to leave.

Yeah, that was it.

That was why he chose to come here.

You were his friend, after all. The only one he had left, in fact. The rest had all left for uni by now, and if he couldn’t crash on their couches, then at least he could put up at yours until things had cooled down at home.

Yeah, he breathes easily, It’s what he’d do with any friend. It’s not that deep.

He steps forward, crouching down in the front yard by the egress window. The lights in your house were off by now, and your father’s truck was nowhere to be found. Inconspicuously, Simon leans over the brick clearing, peering through your window. Your bedroom was mostly empty, save for a string of fairy lights near your desk. Other than that, the flickering blue light of a television just barely reflected off of the grass.

“Okay…” he whispers to himself, tapping his fingers against the glass.

It takes a few tries to bear fruit. But after a few minutes, you appear at the bottom of the stair case, a confused look on your face. When you spy him behind the window, you raise your brows, hurriedly raising the window.

“Simon?” You question, staring up at him with wide eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he begins with a small laugh, managing a tiny smile, “I just—Well, Tommy got into some trouble. Ran my dad up the wall, been ‘causing a ruckus all night,” he chuckles slightly, “Just…couldn’t sleep.”

You nod your head along, standing on your tip toes to look him in the eye. He bites his lip.

“Um—look, I was wondering if I could maybe crash here tonight?” He shuffles on his knees, looking anywhere but at your face, “It’s kinda loud at home right now. But—if you think your dad might find out, then it’s okay. I’ll just walk back home.”

“No—No, it’s okay,” you say instantaneously, shaking your head, “You can stay. It’s just…wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

Your unsure words transform into a sweet smile, your voice tapering off at the end. You step back from the window, wringing your hands in front of your sweatpants in a silent gesture for him to come inside.

“Yeah,” he replies breathlessly, mirroring your flushed grin. He straightens up, wiping his clammy palms over the front of his pants. He hops down into the clearing, lowering himself through the window. Now that he’s done it three times before, he doesn’t fall on his ass like he did the first time. Though, you always bite your lips when he does it, like you were ready to stifle a laugh if he stumbled.

When his sneakers hit the floor of your bedroom, you grin at him once more, skin filled with heat. Now that he was out of the November cold, the redness spreading over his face feels all the more palpable.

“Hey,” you say with a light giggle.

“Hey yourself, love,” he replies, unzipping his jacket.

And like you’d done it a thousand times—like it was just natural—you reach for the TV remote while he throws his jacket over the chair at your desk. You ramble on about the show you’d been watching ’til now—some American doctor show with more sex scenes than a medical drama should ever require—and Simon kicks off his shoes.

Like that, he litters pieces of himself throughout your bedroom. His old sneakers on your plush, girly carpet. His black jacket on your white chair. His carton of cigarettes on your desk.

And this time, when you crawl onto your mattress, he doesn’t think twice when he takes his place right next to you. And if his bicep just so happens to push into yours as he waits for you to flick to the right channel, then it’s because your mattress is too small to hold the two of you. That’s it.

“What would you do if you had a million dollars?”

He furrows his brow, looking down at where your head was leaned up against his shoulder.

“Well,” he bites his cheek, thoughtfully staring up at your swirling bedroom fan, “I mean, did I earn it? Or, like, is it a lottery or something?”

“Simon, you’re overcomplicating it,” you laugh, turning on your side to rest your chin lazily atop his chest.

“How is that overcomplicating it?” He looks at you incredulously, shaking his head as he returns his vision back to the dark ceiling, “It’s a perfectly valid question. Like, do I have to pay taxes on it or is it just—”

“Simon,” you scoff, “You’ve got a million dollars and you’re worried about taxes?”

“What?” He defends himself, “An income tax on a million dollars is probably a big fuckin’ tax, love.”

“So someone gives you a million dollars and the first thing you’d say to them is—”

“Wait, wait, hold on—so someone gave it to me?” He looks down at you, shutting you up with a single word, “So it’s a loan?”

“No,” you giggle, weakly slapping him on the shoulder, “It’s just, like...like a—”

“Like I’m gonna be a million dollars in debt is what it sounds like,” he shakes his head, readjusting himself against the mattress. Your laughter is muffled agains this shirt, “I can’t pay that back. Screw that.”

“No, but if someone gave it to you for free. No taxes, no debt. Like a present,” you supply, smiling so hard your skin is imprinted with lines. He rolls his eyes, but he settles back against the pillows pensively, idly tugging on a loose string that hangs off the cuff of your shirt.

“I guess…” he drawls, scouring his mind for an answer, “I’d buy box tickets to see Man United…like, champagne, VIP passes, all that.”

You roll onto your stomach, not even minding your woefully frizzy hair as you stare down at him with a smile, “Really?”

He cocks his brow, studying the face you wear with much amusement. He rests his arm behind his head lazily.

“Yeah, really,” he replies.

However, when you roll your eyes, he can’t help but chuckle, “What, love?” He reaches out, hazily brushing a hair out of your eye, “What would you buy then? Let’s hear it.”

At the gesture, you pause for a second or two. The smile on your face remains, but…you sit in the moment for just a split second too long. For just a millisecond, his fingers rest back shakily against his stomach and he watches you go through the motions, as if the flush creeping up over your neck had always been there in the first place.

And in that moment, if he weren’t so faded off of weed and cigarettes, perhaps he would have had more tact than to stare at you so aimlessly like he was right then, like he hadn’t a better thing to do than sit there and study your face. From your eyelashes down to your exposed collarbones, he’s just…stuck on them. Like he couldn’t move on. Like you were a magnet in and of yourself. Like he wanted to say something—like some particular word was right on the tip of his tongue—but he hadn’t a clue what.

God, he blinks listlessly, clearing his throat inconspicuously, Should watch the dosage next time.

However, before he can even comprehend what the two of you just exchanged (as if it was anything to begin with—and why would he hope that it had been anyway?) , you’re flopping on the bed beside him with a giggle.

“That’s all? Just one ticket to Man United and you’re set?”

“What?” He sends you a blank stare, “I’m a simple man, love. What was I supposed to say? A Lamborghini? An island? Come off it,” he shakes his head with a scoff, “Why would I leave when I already have everything that I want right here?”

“Really?” You look at him nonplussed, “If you were a millionaire, you’d stay in Manchester?”

He furrows his brow, acting as though he wasn’t thinking on it. In the scheme of his life, there wasn’t much that he wanted. Sure, maybe he dreamed of getting a new iPod one of these days, or buying a place of his own. But aside from that, there really wasn’t much in the way of dreams that someone like him could have. After all, what use was a million dollars when you had nothing and no one you wanted to spend it on? Yeah, it somehow sounds more like a burden than anything else.

As for what he would do, staying in Manchester wouldn’t be his priority. In all truth, he didn’t have much attachment to this place other than the fact that he’d grown up here. The rest of the city streets and petty details didn’t concern him, especially after how it had chewed him up and spit him out these past few years. Though, looking at you now…

Looking at how you stare at him, in your raggedy sweatpants and flushed face…

Sitting here amongst your too-soft pillows and your old comforter…

Laying right next to you, his shoulder against your own, while he disrupts your girlish bedroom with his black clothes and cigarette smoke…

Something within that—something within this moment—has him holding his tongue, as if he hadn’t been itching to get out of this hellhole all of nine months ago. And yet…right now, he’s somehow hesitant to say he’d ever felt that way.

Why, he doesn’t know.

“What,” he says instead, managing a hasty chuckle, “Want me to buy some first class ticket to the Bahamas or something?”

“I mean,” you laugh, resting your chin in your hand, “Doesn’t have to be first class, but…you’d really spend the rest of your life here? Wouldn’t you want to get out, see the rest of the world? See what you’re missing out on?”

What you’re missing out on…

Simon hadn’t considered it like that. After all, for now, in this singular instance, he wanted for nothing. Somehow, he’s satisfied merely by what he has, and by god had it never been enough before. Perhaps it was only because you were the first person to ask him a question like that that he actually second guessed himself. Yeah, perhaps that was it.

“Hm, dunno, love,” he hums pensively, “Maybe…I’d go to America. Visit all the places in the movies. Y’know, Yellowstone, Mount Pleasant, the Pacific coast. Maybe go to the city. New York, Las Vegas, just for the hell of it.”

You splutter out a laugh.

He sends you another glare, just barely managing to hold back a sound of his own.

“Love,” he scoffs, “Don’t tell me that’s not good enough for you.”

“You, in Las Vegas,” you poke a finger into his chest, raising en eyebrow, “Now that’d be sight I’d like to see.”

He rolls his eyes, shoving you away.

“Piss off, then,” he grunts, leaning back against the pillows.

“Well, you already smoke more than you should…”

“You’re on about that again?” He muses.

“You’d fit right in there, I suppose.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he huffs, mind now drifting back to the pack of cigs he’d left on your desk, “Like you haven’t smoked before.”

“Hey,” you whine, eyes suddenly wide and defensive, “That—that was only one time. I mean, you offered it. And we weren’t smoking cigarettes either…it’s not like I’ve ever done it without you either…”

“Doesn’t negate the fact that you did it, love,” he gives you a look, “Only makes you sound even more guilty.”

You collapse against the bed with a roll of your eyes, flopping onto your back. You pick a loose thread on your jacket.

“Whatever,” you yawn, pouting, “Just means you’re a bad influence.”

He clicks his tongue, “Can’t be a bad influence if it was a good time,” he reminds you, “Hell, nearly smoked through my entire supply, and now you’re tryna say that you regret it?”

He holds your stare for a good, long moment. He watches a myriad of emotion flick through your eyes, your flush brightening, before your pupils flick away, a pensive look on your mouth.

“No…” you admit softly, refusing to meet his eye.

He chuckles then, nodding, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You huff and lean back into the mattress. Warm and sated, Simon finds his eyes blinking slower and slower as he watches the ceiling fan spin out against the darkness. Like that, the two of you go on, with you picking at your sweatshirt sleeves and him slowly drifting off beside you. The only thing that manages to bring him back from the brink of sleep is the creaking of the bed when you shift. Your forearms brush against his shoulder when you push yourself off of the bed, and reluctantly he opens his eyes.

You walk over to your desk and shuck off your sweatshirt. Valiantly, he tries not to pretend like his eyes don’t widen when you expose your skimpy tank-top. When you turn to face him, fiddling with the necklace around your neck, he’ll be damned if he can pull his eyes away from the smallest peak of frilly lace that pokes out form underneath the low collar.

He swallows stiffly, mouth dry.

“Where you going?” He manages, trying to not stutter, while also trying relentlessly to pull his eyes back onto your face.

“Gotta get ready for bed,” you huff, tossing your necklace onto the desk, “It’s already past two…Besides, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly, watching as you walk over the closet on the other end of the room, “Okay.”

However, when you pull out a towel instead of a set of pajamas, Simon can’t help but bite his cheek. Like you hadn’t a second thought, like it was only natural, you walk to your bathroom and turn on the shower without even sparing him a single look. The door closes soon after you, and yet, Simon’s mind lingers on it much longer than could be reasonably expected.

Well…

He was definitely awake now.

He sighs, swallowing as he takes a furtive glance around your room. Even though he’d been here more than just a few times by now, you’d never just left him alone in here. Well, considering how your father would react if he knew you were sneaking boys into your home in the middle of the night through your bedroom window, he couldn’t exactly go waltzing about the house. The most he’d seen of the other story was the tile of the kitchen floor. The two of you had been hazed from good times and exhaustion, and had lingered just long enough to slip a few beers out of the fridge, muffling laughter while you tried to walk down the basement stairs without making a single creak.

But now…only the distant hum of the shower keeps him company. For a moment, he only sits there, listening as you hum a small tune to yourself. The sound of something hitting the counter—your clothes—imprints on his mind.

He bites his lip.

God, this was so stupid. What was he, sixteen? He was a grown man now, almost nineteen years old and with a full time job. He was past that high school shit, past mulling over the hem of his classmates’ skirts or the way their hands felt when they clapped him on the forearm after a good joke. He’d been around the block enough by now that something as stupid and simple as this should be lulling him to bed, not making him lose sleep.

And yet, when he hears the rings of the curtain scrape against the shower rod, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about it.

You, bare just behind that door, lathering yourself in that sweet smelling body wash he could smell on your clothes. You, with suds in your hair, humming the songs you’d listened to when you shared earbuds with him. You, naked, warm, and soft—a woman in your own right, letting him sit here in your bed, as if you might let him get a glimpse of you in your towel through the gap in the door.

Fuck.

He sits up, looking away from the bathroom door.

This wasn’t right.

He shouldn’t be having feelings like this about you, about a girl who clearly trusted him enough to let him spend the night…and yet, he does.

Undeniably, he does.

And fuck, perhaps he could pass it off as something else. Perhaps he could pass it off as a stupid consequence of his own biology, that his being a man and your being a woman was to blame for how he was still shock still and listless in your bed. Perhaps the way he felt about that cute, lacy thing you wore beneath your tank top came purely from the adrenaline running through his veins, from the blood rushing in his ears. Yes, perhaps it was that.

But when he thinks back on all the women he’d ever had, only one had felt right when they fit inside of his arms. And you, even just innocently sleeping beside him with your arm around his…somehow, you made his mind reel faster than any naked girl he’d ever had underneath him.

No.

Stop.

He grinds his mind to a halt, yanking his eyes away from the door. No, he couldn’t think that about you. God, if anything it was disrespectful that you’d invite him in here only for him to think that about you. He’d better reel himself in if he knew what was good for himself—what was good for you.

He pulls himself out of your bed, staring down at the fluffy sheets like they’d personally offended him…or maybe he’d offended them. After the past few weeks, he was beyond trying to figure out that equation. He turns away, resigning himself to look around your room before you’d inevitably drag him back to bed once more.

Aimlessly, he drags his fingers along the spines of the books on your shelf. He studies the trinkets on your shelves from various vacations and field trips. Polaroids from your high school friends, photos of you in your homecoming dress.

He pointedly does not look at the way the dress hugs your curves. Absolutely not.

Your desk has swathes of post-it notes with random reminders scrawled across it. A worn out calendar waves in the breeze of the fan. His cigarettes sit right next to a stack of books, and he meticulously reads the title of each one.

Until he comes to one that’s devoid of any title at all.

He furrows his brow. He bite his cheek, flipping over the front page. Immediately, he’s overwhelmed by sparkly gel pen and loopy handwriting.

“March 10th, 2009” are the first words on the page.

His eyes go wide.

This wasn’t a book at all. It was your journal.

His breath catches in his throat, and instantly, color climbs into his cheeks. He stares down at the lined paper underneath his fingers, and yet, he doesn’t close it. No, even though he was hardly reading the words on the page, he still couldn’t bring himself to close it. Some sparking, daring feeling blooms in his chest, and anxiously, he looks over his shoulder at the bathroom door.

God, he was such an asshole. The fact that you’d want anything to do with him is beyond him. And yet…when had he ever been good at doing the right thing to begin with?

And just like that first night a few weeks ago, it’s not the reality that keep him awake at night. No, it’s the possibilities that do. The possibility that you thought about him when he was gone. The possibility that you liked him enough to write his name in sparkly gel pen in the margins of your notebook.

He bites his cheek.

He shakes his head.

He won’t let himself into your secrets like this. Not…all the way, at least.

No, he’d only flick to the back, and if he didn’t see his name on the paper, he swears he’d flick the cover closed and put it right back in its proper place. Yeah, just one look. That was all he needed.

He steels himself, hurriedly flipping past the pages. The sound of the water beating on the shower floor seems almost deafening as he finally gets there. Manically, his eyes search the top of the page for a date or title.

November 14th, 2009.

Just last week.

Okay…

He flicks his eyes over the lines as fast as he can. Idly, he thinks that your handwriting is pretty. Much, much prettier than his own. But then again, he’d never been a star student to begin with. Though, by the way you write, he guesses that you were. You wrote the words as if they were a note to a friend, as if someone living and breathing would trace the letters with their finger and smear the ink over their fingertips. And while he’d love nothing more than to hear you wax poetic about whatever your best friend had been doing that week, he needed something more. And quick.

Weekend plans.

Phone calls with friends.

He skips past them, flipping back and forth through the pages like he’d missed something. However, on the third try, he once again comes up empty handed. He stands back bitterly, all but prepared to close your diary. As it turns out, perhaps he hadn’t made it into the story of your life just yet. Somehow, that wounds him. He huffs, reaching for the cover. However, when he tilts the book, the next page flips over, and that’s when he sees it.

A small paragraph, not even half a page. It was in blue ink and it wasn’t dated.

He pauses.

He came over the other night. The first time we tried to organize it, it’d been a disaster. But, after last week, I’m feeling better about it! It was only a stupid misunderstanding, but still…I felt bad that I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing.

Fuck, he bites his lip, Not a strong start.

He continues reading.

But I told him I wanted to watch that movie again, and he hadn’t complained. Maybe I’m just getting my hopes up, but he seemed…happy about it? I don’t know. It’s hard to tell how he feels sometimes. I mean, I spent too long mulling over it anyway. It’s probably ridiculous of me to even be writing it down here. Because, what exactly am I expecting him to do? Just because it took me an hour to decide what clothes to wear doesn’t meant that he knows that…and it definitely doesn’t mean that he feels—

“Simon?”

Your voice startles him so bad he nearly drops the diary on the floor in his haste to close it. Thankfully, your call is muffled from behind the door, and even when he whirls around in a panic, he finds that it’s still closed.

Thank fuck.

“You still awake?”

“Uh—yeah?” He answers, hurriedly shuffling your journal back into the pile of books on your desk. His face is blazing with heat.

“Um, I forgot my pajamas out there…” you begin, sounding just as nervous as he feels inside, “You don’t have to get anything in particular, but can you grab me some clothes…?”

Instantly, his mind blanks.

Clothes.

You’d forgotten your clothes…and you wanted him to pick out new ones.

He bites his cheek.

Well, he seethes in his mind, There goes the promise he’d just made himself.

“Sure,” he answers instead of the myriad of tangled words in his mind. Dumbly, he looks around your room, vision wavering.

“Thanks,” you huff from behind the door, “They’re just in the dresser.”

“Got it,” he replies, making his way over to the thing with a small clearing of his throat. He bites his tongue as he reaches for the handles, pulling out the first drawer.

His hands tighten around the handles.

God, he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. It was already bad enough that he’d come over here tonight, expecting you to let him crash at your place like some freeloader. But then he’d spent the past five minutes, absorbed within his own mind again, flipping through your diary like you’d addressed it directly to him.

And now, this.

This is the final nail in the coffin.

Because your pretty panties and bras are neatly laid out in front of his eyes. Pretty little things, lace trim around the edges, just like the bra he knew you were wearing tonight. They were delicate and soft, just how a graceful woman like you would deserve. And in that moment—against every fiber of his being, against any rational thought he could have had—he can’t help but imagine seeing that lace trim in its entirety, in its proper place against your skin.

Naked and waiting. Only a pair of panties and a scant bra to keep you covered from his eyes. Idly, he ponders on what it means that he feels this way about you, but after the first week, he’d stopped trying to put a name to it.

Because he claimed that you were his friend, but what kind of friend would think about you like this?

What kind of friend would imagine what you looked like when you were alone…when he didn’t come over to spend the night.

What kind of friend would wonder if you slept in your pajamas every night, or if you slept only in a t-shirt, or—even worse—if you ever slept naked?

What kind of friend could he be if he thought about that? If he thought of you cuddled up against your sweet-smelling sheets and old stuffed animals, bare breasts pressed into the mattress just enough to hide your nipples…hair splayed out against the pillows as you lounge, only a tiny pair of panties skewed on your hips. He can practically imagine it, how the fat of your tits would look squished against the surface, plush ass cheeks on display as you read a book or waited for sleep to come…

What kind of friend could he be if he thought about what it might be like to hook his finger underneath the band of those panties and pull them off your legs, tuck them in his back pocket—buy you another pair because he wanted nothing more than to ruin them when he’d taken them off of you?

He knows the answer.

But he doesn’t speak it aloud.

He picks up his hand, pressing his finger over the tiniest little bow that sits front and center on one of the pairs. It was soft. Tempting. Something he shouldn’t be thinking about. And yet, he does nonetheless.

Heart thrumming, he averts his eyes, mind reeling.

When you said “clothes,” he assumes that meant underwear, right? Why wouldn’t it? But if you knew that he went through these, then…God, could he really hand you this with a straight face? Without any pretenses?

But what did it say about him as a person if he didn’t hand you any at all? If he just gave you pants and shirt…especially when he was going to sleep right next to you…

Fuck, he curses silently, blindly swiping, To hell with it.

He nearly slams the drawer shut in his haste to close it, and by the time he gets to your pants and shirt, he doesn’t even look at which ones he chooses before he’s shuffling towards the door. He knocks, a flush creeping up his pale neck. When the door cracks, a waft of steam lifts over his face. And just when the bare plains of your shoulders and the top of your breasts peak through the gap, he averts his gaze, teeth bitten so hard into his cheek he’s nearly bleeding.

“Here,” he supplies, holding them out to you.

You take them with an appreciative little noise, “Thanks.”

And with that, the door closes, as if everything he’d just done had never happened in the first place. Slowly, he breathes a sigh of relief, turning around to look back at your dresser…then over to your desk. He hangs his head.

Fuck, he seethes, walking over to your nightstand to grab his iPod, He’s such a fucking degenerate.

You take another ten minutes or so, and by the time you come back—smelling like lotion and toothpaste—he’s got his head buried in his iPod, scrolling through his music library. Without hesitation, you climb over his legs, your loose sleeping shirt riding up your back when you lay down. You rest your head against the pillows and look up at him for but a few seconds. He looks back.

Demure. Innocent. Sweet.

Red handed. Tempting. Dissembling.

Before you can say a word, he pulls himself out of your bed, walking towards the bathroom to tidy himself up. The high had well worn off by now, and aside from the steady thrumming of his heart, the excitement of the night had all but come to a close. By now, the two of you had a routine. Almost. Dress for bed. Lay separately, as if you wouldn’t end up in each other’s arms by the next morning.

You never talked about it.

And neither did he.

He pushes the door closed behind him, not even thinking to turn the light on. Halfheartedly, he turns on the faucet, watching the water run with rapt attention. Even then, in its cool, bubbling reflection, he finds no peace, finds no answers. He inhales, raising his head to look in the dimly lit mirror. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies your clothes neatly folded atop the counter top. And while he reaches for the mouthwash, he can’t help but pass his eyes over them.

There.

In between your sweatpants and tank top.

Another line of flowery lace.

This time, there is no preamble. No ruddy blush or thrumming heartbeat. No, there is only a quiet, simmering want. One that is tried and tired, sleeping and dormant. Hesitantly—like he couldn’t help himself, like he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to—he moves your shirt out of the way to look down at the bra.

He pinches the lace in between his fingers, feels the strings imprint a matching pattern into his very skin. And with that final touch, he drops his arm.

When he leaves the bathroom, he piles them back up just they way they were before. They looked untouched. As he enters the room, the quiet overwhelms him. It’s all but silent now, not even the hum of your ceiling fan can break it. The lights are off, and in front of him, he can barely make out your form under the blankets. You’re breathing even and deep, asleep already.

He bites his lips through a barely contained smile, leaning quietly against the doorframe to look at you for just a second longer.

Fuck, he can’t help but think, What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Thank you for reading!! AO3 Version will be out soon!!

AO3 Version Here!

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hawberries · 2 months ago

Note

holy shit, could you share some of your ratios/artis because multiple top percents is nuts and I wanna see the stats

HAHA TY! Unfortunately you've activated my yap card, so I'm really sorry about how the rest of this post is going to go. I do want to admit that it actually isn't that impressive because there's ways to sort of "game" the Akasha leaderboard system, usually by sharing high CV pieces between your characters, overbuilding crit rate and ER or finding specific leaderboards that aren't as competitive, but it still is a fun sort of low-stakes, inconsequential PVP mode that I enjoy! This is my Akasha page. As you can see my Emilie and Kinich are not doing well.

One notable way I've "cheated" is the fact that my Chiori's ranking is on the Jade Cutter leaderboard, but that's not a real place, because my Chiori is on a Wolfs-Fang. I'm thinking of going for her sword next time she reruns, actually, so she may lose her ranking soon. The boards only look at your artifacts and then make their own assumptions, so board ranking is a VERY poor reflection of in-game performance. Another example is for any Childe mains who have him on Nymph's Dream: it's not actually that good of a set for him! The boards overestimate the uptime, but in actual gameplay, especially if you look at International speedruns, the uptime is bad and he often performs better with mixed sets. However, the difference is not likely to be felt in a practical scenario outside of speedruns and high-level play, so it's reasonable to keep him there for the valour, since he's still going to be good enough.

the reason my Mualani is so high even though I am not a Mualani main is because 1) she's so new that everyone is still working on her domain and using placeholder pieces and 2) I hit her with the yassify beam (gave her this absolutely stupid Hydro dmg goblet which is by far the best piece on my entire account). It just gets passed around between all my watery guys depending on whose personal damage I'm depending on the most at the time, but since Mualani is a hypercarry and Ayato and Yelan are more supportive, it makes the most sense to leave it on her. I expect her to drop a lot in the rankings once people have a chance to farm the Codex set more.

I'm very chuffed with my Navia's build because I recently crafted a new feather for her with the artifact transmuter. Feathers are not broadly recommended to craft, but Navia's feather was by far the most obvious weak link on my account – in the sense that not only was it so bad that it would be easy to get an upgrade (it had 4 low rolls of crit damage and NO other useful stats, not even lower-value ones like atk% or ER) but the rest Navia's pieces were good enough that I had no reason to still be actively farming her domain. Anyway, I got quite lucky with the crafted feather, though as you can see it's still easily the weakest of all her pieces. This is enough to tide me over until Nighttime Whispers is in the strongbox :D

I've worked really hard on my Xiao's build – I've strongboxed 364 Vermilion pieces to date – but Xiao, being an older character with dedicated mains, has a very competitive board, so I don't expect to ever get much higher than this. Isn't that feather disgusting, though? I farmed Marechaussee domain a lot but never got a build good enough to replace this one, especially considering I'm on Jade and therefore about to overcap on crit rate just by sneezing. He has 97% crit rate WITH A CDMG HAT, I want to point out! I am considering crafting a circlet for him as his current one is relatively weak, but that's a problem for future Phee to think about, since I'll want to rebalance his build anyway once I get Xianyun – he'll need less ER and less crit rate.

What level of nerd am I about combat stats in the video game Jenshin Intact? I do my own damage calculations to see which pieces are best! That's why Xiao is on an attack goblet instead of an Anemo DMG one 😔

Also… see how my Wanderer is top 2%? I still don't have an EM goblet on the Flower of Paradise Lost set. RNG is really so funny sometimes. Anyway, at the moment I've allotted myself 6 weeks of farming time to try and get Emilie at least a good 2pc 2pc, after which I'll probably go back to making my Kinich not suck!

#legit if anyone wants twitch streamer phee to give them artifact/build advice im literally available.#and never has my personal tag been so apropos:#SHUT UP PHEE #q and a time with phee #genshin impact

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redroomreflections · 4 months ago

Text

Hotel California | Track 3: Metal Voices

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 5.8k

Chapter 3/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I can't tell if y'all are rocking with this one or not but Imma keep uploading.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

You lay soundly asleep, nestled in your warm cocoon of blankets, the soft comfort of slumber wrapping around you like a cozy embrace. Your fatigue from a long week had finally caught up with you, and your dreams were painted with peaceful serenity.

But then, as if summoned by a mischievous fairy, you felt tiny hands tapping your arm. The gentle, persistent taps grew stronger until they became an undeniable summons from the waking world. Reluctantly, you stirred, your eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep.

As you blinked yourself into awareness, you found yourself face to face with Isabella who was looking down at you in annoyance. You mumbled groggily, "Too early, Isabella, go back to bed."

Isabella, not one to give in easily, shook her head. "Mama, it's not early. It's noon! I’m going to be late for Lenny’s skate party!"

You blinked in disbelief at the time, grabbed your phone from the nightstand to find the truth, and then threw yourself back into the pillows with a groan." Noon already?” You rubbed a hand over your face.

Isabella's tone turned stern as she scolded, "Sleeping in until noon is unacceptable, Mama. You promised you'd help me get ready for the party."

You couldn't help but smile at your daughter's seriousness, and you felt a rush of gratitude for having such a responsible child. You glanced at the nightstand and saw a glass of water and aspirin neatly arranged, a thoughtful gesture from Isabella.

You reached for the water and aspirin, whispering your thanks, and then turned to Isabella with a mischievous grin. "You know, being a mom is hard work. Sometimes, moms need a little extra sleep to keep up with their super responsible daughters."

Isabella rolled her eyes, giving you a playful but loving look of disbelief. "It’s hard being the boss.” She shook her head. She crawled into bed beside you and leaned into your side. Her cheek pressed against yours. It was often she practically wanted to live in your skin.

The feeling was mutual.

"You can be the boss later, sweetheart. But right now, can you just let Mama get her bearings and drink this water?"

Isabella sighed. "I bet North West doesn't have to deal with this."

You chuckled, kissing Isabella's hair. "No, I'm sure she doesn't. But you know what? I'd trade a hundred Kardashian daughters for my one."

Isabella's lips curled into a pleased smile and she snuggled deeper into your side.

"Grandma told me a lot of things last night," She began.

"Like what? You were supposed to be sleeping when I left you," You downed your water and aspirin.

"She let me watch Wendy Williams reruns," She smirked.

"I don't believe it," You narrowed your eyes. "Did you steal her phone?"

"Maybe," She shrugged. "Anyway, I saw you when you were a kid. Well, a teenager I guess. Before you had me. Wendy kept saying how getting pregnant was a disaster and how everything was going to change and that you were throwing your career away."

You sighed, "Sweetheart..." Setting your cup of water down. You certainly didn't think you would be talking about this. “I wouldn’t even call it a career.”

"I'm not offended, actually," Isabella stopped you. "I kind of think it's true. You don't sing much anymore. Only to me and in the shower."

"Do you want me to sing more?" You asked, slightly concerned.

"I just don't understand why you're not a star." Isabella sat up. "You could be bigger than Beyonce'."

"Well, I couldn't sing onstage when you were growing inside my belly," You chuckled, running your hands over her hair. "Also, bigger than Beyonce is a stretch but I'm glad you're as delusional as me."

"And you stopped after you had me, didn't you?" She looked at you with big curious eyes. "You didn't even try?"

"No," You answered, not really wanting to discuss your past.

"Why?" She tilted her head. "You're really good, Mama. Grandad could definitely get some things set up for you. Or I know. Natasha from the band. You two are dating now right?"

You shook your head. "We're just friends, Isabella. It's not like that. We're not serious. Plus, she has her own thing going on right now."

"Well, then why not do something with the band?" She suggested, clearly not taking no for an answer.

"I don't feel comfortable about that, Isabella," You said. "I have you to think about. I like my life right now as it is. I like my job."

"But I've got to have a rockstar mother, Mama!" Isabella threw herself back into the pillows. "It's embarrassing enough that my best friend's mother is a pop princess, but now my own mother isn't even a musician?"

"Well, my cushy job provided you with this house and all of your gymnastics gear, musician or not," You poked at her. "I'm going to tell my mom we need to put passcodes on every single electronic in the house. You get too many ideas."

"It's true," Isabella pouted.

"Isabella, if you love me, you'll accept that I'm not a performer. I'm a boring, everyday working mom. That's the only thing that's true about what Wendy said."

Isabella sat up. "But Mama, don't you ever feel like there's a part of you missing?"

You thought for a moment. "No. I'm perfectly complete. I have the best daughter I could ever ask for."

"You haven't been with anyone in years," She pointed out. "Your cookies are going to be all dried up."

"Do you even have any idea what that means?" You raised a brow. God, you weren’t ready for that talk yet.

"No, I heard Aunt Monica say it," She said innocently.

"That woman has so many issues," You said, shaking your head. "Now, do you want to keep talking about my life or do you want to go and live yours and go to the skate party?"

"Okay," She said, getting up and stretching. "Just think about it, Mama."

"I will," You lied. "Now go get dressed and we'll get your hair done."

"Thanks, Mama." She kissed your cheek before leaving the room.

You took a deep breath, your mind swimming with the thoughts of the past. You couldn't deny that sometimes, there were moments where you missed it all. Then you remember that you're content. You enjoy your schedule. You like being home every day in time for dinner with Isabella.

Her question was valid. You hadn't been in a committed relationship since Sam, her father. That entire breakup had ruined you, even if you did end it on amicable terms. The thought of being with anyone else wasn't exactly appealing. You liked to focus on your daughter and work. Though that kiss with Natasha last night was something. It's a spur-of-the-moment thing if you will. A great end to the night. She's a rockstar. No way she had time for you.

But if she did, would you let her?

You shook the thoughts away and got up, getting ready for the day.

********************

“I’ll have bacon, eggs, and a side of toast,” Steve ordered from the cafe waitress. Across from him, Natasha stirred her coffee absentmindedly, staring out of the diner window.

“Had a good night?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair.

Natasha smirked memories of her kiss with you flashing in her mind. “Yeah, you could say that. You?”

Steve chuckled. “Nothing too wild. I just crashed after the party. Where did you duck off to?”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee before answering, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Y/n and I decided to go and talk. We ended up at a little restaurant a few blocks down," She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Mhm," Steve hummed, unconvinced. "Just talked?"

"Just talked," Natasha rolled her eyes. "Why do you guys all think I'm some sort of womanizer?"

"Because you are," Steve laughed, and Natasha couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"Yeah, okay, fair point," She conceded. "But we did just talk. I like her. She's cool,"

Steve raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his face. "I can tell. Do you think it's going to be something? So soon after Carol?"

"Who knows," Natasha shrugged. "But it was nice to feel that connection again."

Steve nodded a small smile on his lips. "That's good. You deserve someone who makes you feel like that,"

Natasha's expression softened her usual mask of bravado. "She's Nick Fury's daughter. You know the music mogul dude."

"Wow, she's way out of your league then," Steve chuckled.

"Shut up," Natasha laughed, kicking him playfully under the table.

"Maybe you could slide her dad one of our tapes," He suggested.

"No, it's not like that," Natasha shook her head. "I'm not trying to get with her for that. I like her."

"I know, Nat," Steve said. "But you can't blame me for trying."

"You're an idiot, Rogers," Natasha laughed.

"A lovable one, though," Steve grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of management.”

Natasha sighed, already anticipating the conversation. “The label thing again?”

Steve nodded, pausing only for the waitress to set down their finished meals. “Tony’s been pushing for it. He thinks it’s our ticket to the big leagues. And Wanda’s on board too. But it’s more than that, Nat. We need better management. The gigs, the travel, it’s all starting to take a toll.”

Natasha leaned back, running a hand through her hair. “I get that, but signing with a label? We’ll lose control, Steve. They’ll want to shape us, change our sound. We’ve always been about doing things our way.”

“I know,” Steve said gently. “But think about the opportunities. Better venues, more exposure. We could reach so many more people.”

Natasha frowned, the conflict evident in her eyes. “It’s just... I’m not sure I want to deal with all that corporate bullshit. I want our music to stay pure, you know?”

Steve nodded, giving her an encouraging smile. “I understand. But we don't have to decide anything right away. Just think about it, okay? For the band."

Natasha took a bite of her eggs, chewing thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll think about it," She said finally.

The two continued their breakfast in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Natasha took a long swig of her coffee. "I know you're right, and I don't want to lose the band over my stubbornness. I'll think about it, but for now, we've got a gig to prepare for. Are you in?"

Steve smiled and extended his fist, which Natasha bumped with her own. "Always."

As the day passed, Natasha couldn't shake the thought of her kiss with you. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach whenever she thought about you.

*********

You stood by the edge of the rink, watching Isabella glide across the wooden floor with Lenny. The kids were laughing, carefree and happy. You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest as you watched the friends bond over their time together.

Isabella looked up, waving excitedly at you.

"Look, Mama! Lenny and I are gonna skate backward!" She exclaimed, and you held a thumbs up in response. "I've watched so many Tiktoks about this."

"Go get 'em, kiddo," You chuckled.

Isabella stood before you, holding her hands out to keep her balance, as she used the muscles in her legs to push her backward. She looked so cute and you snapped a photo.

"Look at my baby, all grown up and skating," You smiled, watching her.

"That's my favorite grandbaby," Your mother came up behind you, and you wrapped your arm around her shoulders.

"Your only grandbaby," You reminded her. She waved you off with a laugh. "I'm glad you could make it here with us. How's dad?"

"Busy," Your mother said. "As always."

"Where in the world is he now? Bali?" You asked. "I tried calling him this morning but his phone went straight to voicemail. " Having a music mogul father had its ups and downs. His being unavailable when you wanted to talk randomly was one of them.

"He's in London," She informed you. "He's setting something up for some young girl from the X-Factor. He's also in talks about a possible Broadway production."

"Ah, so he's not tired yet," You sighed. "I told that man he needs to sit down. Come and enjoy being a grandparent." You shook your head fondly.

"You know your father. He's not going to stop until he's six feet under."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," You laughed, glancing over at her. "Oh, before I forget. Isabella saw some things last night."

"Oh?"

"On the internet," You clarified.

"Oh," She frowned. "I fell asleep shortly after you left."

"Yeah, apparently, Isabella saw some clips of my past and was asking me questions," You said, rubbing the back of your neck. "She seems to have this fantasy of me becoming a famous singer."

"Well, I don't blame her," Your mother shrugs. "Girl knows her stuff. Gets that from Nick."

"You still miss him," You stated, observing her.

"Of course, I do," She smiled softly. "Your father's been great, but he's not him."

"Yeah," You nodded. "You know you could catch an airplane to him. London's not that far away."

"Oh, he's so busy and-"

"Mom, seriously, go see him," You looked at her.

"You have a point," She conceded. "But what about you and Isabella? Plus, I hate long flights. "

"We'll be fine, " You assure her. "Besides, I think Dad would love an overseas booty call from his wife."

"Y/N!"

"What? It's true!"

Your mother shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips.

"You are just as bad as your father."

"You still love him, right?" You asked, wanting to know if it was just nostalgia or actual love. Your parents had a complicated relationship. No there was never any grounds for divorce. It was always this thing where they were solely dedicated to each other and then somehow business got in the way. She's a dance instructor and owner of one of the best dance schools in the Los Angeles area rivaling Debbie Allen's Dance Academy.

"Of course, I do," Your mother said, her face lighting up at the mere mention of your dad. "We are just so busy. It was easy to put our marriage aside."

"At least you have a marriage to put to the side," You shrugged, leaning against the railing.

"Is this about that Natasha girl?"

"What how do you know about her?" You asked incredulously.

"Isabella told me this morning at breakfast," She shrugged.

"How long was I asleep?" You frown.

"Long enough for me and my granddaughter to have a nice, long chat."

"About?" You asked.

"Everything," She said. "Including your dating life. She's right you know."

"How?" You asked, turning to her.

"You deserve someone, Y/N," She said, reaching out and holding your hand.

"I have Isabella," You remind her.

"I'm not saying you don't," She replied. "But there are things a partner does that a 9-year-old can't give you."

"Oh, gross, mom," You pulled a face.

"Not sex, Y/N," She smacked your arm. "Affection. Companionship. Someone to share the good and the bad with."

"I had that with Sam and look where that got me?" You subtly pointed to Isabella.

"You were younger with Sam," She raises a brow. "Both of you were just teens."

"Yeah and I had to give everything up for my daughter," You sighed.

"But look at her," Your mother squeezed your hand. "She's amazing."

"She is," You said, looking at her. "This thing with Natasha isn't even a thing. We kissed one time and that was it. We've barely known each other for a month. We've talked even less."

"Well, it seems like Isabella wants to change that."

"She wants to change a lot of things," You chuckle. "Mom, when I'm ready to get back in the saddle you will be the first to know. Right now I'm just enjoying my freedom. I only got divorced four years ago."

"I understand," Your mother nodded.

"Good," You said.

"Mama! Did you see my new trick?!" Isabella's voice rang throughout the skating rink as she skated towards you. She bumped into the railing with a thud before looking up at you.

"I sure did, Bella!" You cheered, helping her off the floor. "You and Lenny have been practicing."

"Well, she's better than me, but I'll get there." She said.

"You'll get there," You assured her.

"Do you think the gift I got Lenny is cool?" Isabella asked suddenly.

"Well, I hope so, you were the one that picked it out," You said, ruffling her hair.

"Okay, if you're sure," Isabella nodded. "Can I eat ice cream at this party?"

"Wait a minute," You tried to hide your grin. "I thought you were vegan. What happened to save the animals?" Isabella had been vegan for all of a month before today. What you had to give it to her was impressive.

"Saving the animals is still my passion," Isabella agreed. "But I have come to terms with the fact that I am a growing girl."

"Are you sure that's it?" You raised a brow.

"Okay, okay," Isabella rolled her eyes. "It's because Lenny is eating ice cream and she said it's really good and I want to try it."

"I thought so," You smirked.

"Will you please let me, Mama, please?" She gave you her signature pout.

"We'll see," You said.

"Yes!"

"If Lenny can have some then so can you," You compromised.

"Denying the girl sugar?" Your mother chimed in. "I knew raising you in LA was a bad idea."

"I've never denied her sugar," You shook your head. "I did fine being raised in LA. Wrong kid remember." You said referring to your brother and sister.

"I suppose you did," She said.

"Isabella, let's go find Lenny and give her the gift."

"Okay!" She said, taking your hand and dragging you off.

The party was still in full swing by the time you had tapped out. You opted to allow Isabella to continue on with the festivities while you sat alone in a booth. You hadn't truly checked your phone all day so you thought this was an appropriate time. Opening Instagram, you can briefly see the onslaught of new comments and followers on your dashboard. You decided to click on the post and instantly groaned. There on TMZ's feed was you, sitting dangerously close to Natasha in Heatwave last night as she whispered into your ear. Then another of you leaving the club. You had thought taking the back exit was a smart move.

The caption read: Lead Singer of Punk Rock band bags Hollywood Royalty. New relationship brewing? Check out these hot pictures as the couple cozies up to each other at Heatwave LA.

You rolled your eyes and clicked the home button, seeing that you had a few missed calls and a text from Monica.

Monica: Hey, babe. Are you alive?

You: Yes, just exhausted.

Monica: Good. I have an update on your situation.

You: Situation? What's up?

Monica: Well, the photos from last night are out.

You: I can see that.

Monica: And to my surprise, I didn't get a phone call or message from you with the details. Am I not your best friend?

You sighed at Monica's dramatics before pressing the call button under her name. The Facetime ringing doesn't last for a second before she's picked up the phone.

"You're an asshole," Is the first thing she says.

"Good to see you too," You rolled your eyes. "Is it really that serious?"

"Yes!" She said. "This is a big deal."

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"Well, first, it's Natasha fucking Romanoff."

"Yeah and?"

"She's a rockstar."

"I've gathered that," You deadpanned.

"Okay, I mean, have you seen her social media? It's insane. She has like 30 million followers and they're all thirst traps."

"What?"

"I'm just saying," Monica threw her hands up in defense.

You shuffle between screens with a swipe of your thumb, tapping frantically into the search bar, until Natasha's profile comes into view. Her bio reads: 'Lover, not a fighter'.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her latest post. The picture is of her lying in bed, the sheets barely covering her bare breasts with a black songbook next to her. Okay, it's a thirst trap but a tasteful one. You continue down her feed to investigate. Most of her photos are similar. Some include her bandmates, and others include her posing with fans. She does seem to be very active.

"So you can see why I'm surprised you haven't mentioned anything," Monica continues.

"Nope," You reply. "She seems fine. Those pictures will blow over and people will find something else to talk about."

"I'm not done, Y/N."

"Oh, shit," You cringed. "There's more?"

"Yes," She nods. "Your name is trending on Twitter."

"My name hasn't trended on Twitter since..." You try to think.

"That time you were drunk and tweeted that Beyonce' was going to be your new girlfriend and you were going to steal her from Jay-Z."

"That was a dark time," You sighed. "Possible though. I have confidence in myself."

"Sure," Monica laughs. "Anyway, I have screenshots of a few things people are saying."

"Go ahead," You gesture with your hand. You cringe. You tap to follow Natasha's profile. Knowing this probably won't abate the rumors at all.

"Well, this one," Monica begins.

You’re not really listening as you get a notification that Natasha followed you back.

"Is interesting."

@Blackwidowfanpage: Who is this girl? She looks like a basic bitch. #Blackwidowdeservesbetter

"Ouch," You cringed.

"You see my point?" Monica says. "And another reads..."

@heatwaveslut1: Whoever this chick is, I hope she's prepared to take care of Widow's children. I'll help her out.

"Widow's children?" You questioned. "What's with the widow nickname?"

"Well, it's pretty clear she's a Spider fan," Monica snickered. "I'm guessing it's her little nickname."

"She doesn't seem like a spider kind of girl," You said.

"Besides the point," Monica huffed. "Her fangirlies are rabid. They probably eat people alive."

"I'm sure I can handle people on the internet," You roll your eyes. "It's what I do for a living. Nothing is going on between us. Yet or at all."

"Yet," Monica emphasized. "Look, you haven't been with anyone in so long. Take the chance."

"I don't know," You bite your lip. "Dating someone with status isn't my thing. Especially someone so new."

"Just keep your options open," She suggested.

"Okay, okay, I will."

"So, did you guys...ya know?"

"No, we didn't you know," You shook your head. "I'm not that easy."

"Right," Monica smirked. "And how did it feel?"

"Good," You sighed. "Great even. We only kissed."

"Kissed or made out?"

"What's the difference?"

"Oh, honey," Monica sighed. "There is a huge difference. How did it really feel?"

"Uh," You tried to think back to the moment. "Soft, warm. I liked it."

"I bet you did."

"Shut up," You laughed.

"Look, I have to go, but just know I'm rooting for you," She winked. "I almost want those sexy red locks for myself."

"Okay," You shook your head. "Go get them. I'll see you at work."

"Bye."

The call disconnects and you sigh, looking at your home screen once again. You decide it's now or never. You navigate to Natasha's name on the screen. You are instantly met with her face, and you can tell she's caught off guard.

"Hey," You said.

"Uh, hey, hi, hello," She replied.

"Are you busy?" You ask, not wanting to interrupt.

"Not at all," She shakes her head. "I just got home from rehearsals. We have a gig coming up soon in New York."

"Oh, exciting," You nodded. "How is the music writing going?"

"Well, I'm actually in the middle of something right now," She said.

"Oh, sorry, I'll leave you to"

"Wait," Natasha interrupted. "Would you mind talking to me while I write?"

"Yeah, I would like that," You nod. Natasha props up her phone against a pile of pillows, stretching to grab her guitar. It's then you see the casual, yet sexy outfit she changed into. You shouldn't be so turned on by something so simple.

"Are you ready?" She asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

"Of course," You nodded, turning your phone onto its side. "Lay it on me."

Natasha strums her guitar for a moment, playing a few chords.

"That sounds beautiful," You say when she's done.

"Still needs some work," She grins. "So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

"Uh, the kiss?" You questioned, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Yup," Natasha nods, leaning forward to adjust her camera. Your eyes follow the strap or her tanktop as it falls off of her shoulder exposing more of her smooth skin. Natasha doesn’t bother adjusting it though you don’t know if it’s for her benefit or yours.

"Well, what's there to talk about?"

"How it felt," She replied.

"Well, how did it feel for you?"

"Pretty great," She smiled. "But, I asked you first."

"Natasha," You said, rolling your eyes.

"Y/N," She mimics.

"Okay, okay, fine," You huffed. "I guess, I had fun. It was nice."

"Not just a kiss?"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Okay, good," She smiled. "Because I wouldn't want you to think I was using you. That's not my intention at all."

"I'm glad to hear that," You said. "What are your intentions?"

"I'm not really sure," She replied.

"I don't blame you. Neither am I."

"That's why I like you, Y/N," Natasha's lips curved up in a smile. "You're honest and straightforward. Not lost in the superstardom of it all."

"Oh, no, I'm lost," You waved your hand around. "I just hide it well."

"You can't hide from me," She teased.

"Oh, yeah," You raised a brow. "I don't think I want to."

"I don't want you to," She admitted. "I know this isn't the most ideal way to start things but it's kind of exciting. Don't you think?"

"Very," You nod. "Though I think we had a pretty organic meeting. A nightmare sweet sixteen doesn't scream love story to you?"

"Oh, it does," She assured you. "But I'm not so sure I would've met you if that wasn't the case."

"We could have," You shrugged.

"I think I would've been too afraid to approach a stranger," She replied.

"You? Afraid? You don't seem to have a nervous bone in your body?"

"Everyone has something they're afraid of," She said.

"Like the ocean?"

"The ocean," She confirmed. "And flying."

"Flying?"

"It's a whole thing," She sighed. "So, are you going to let me see you again? Or are we keeping things virtual?"

"Uh, well, I would love to see you again," You said. "But I have Isabella this week. Between her extracurriculars and my work."

"I completely understand," Natasha assured you.

"I want to see you," You said definitively. "I can move a few things around."

"Well, don't put yourself out," Natasha shook her head. "You can take your time."

"How about next weekend?"

"Next weekend sounds perfect," Natasha smiled. "I have a gig Friday night but we can hang out after."

"Sounds great," You grinned.

"Perfect," Natasha replied. "Well, I've been sitting here for a while. My legs are killing me."

"Sorry, I've kept you," You shook your head.

"I'm not complaining," She replied.

"I'm sure," You laughed. You both hold the phone, simply sitting in silence, as you figure out what you want to say next. It's then you're reminded where you are when Isabella comes rolling over to you. She presses herself into the booth and forces herself into the camera.

"Who is that? Is it Dad?" She asks.

"Isabella!" You exclaimed. "This is not your dad."

"Oh, I see who it is now," Isabella grins cheekily. You notice from the corner of your eye the way Natasha fixes her top. "Hi, Natasha. I’m Isabella Marie, the first daughter."

"Hi," Natasha smiles.”Nice to meet you, Isabella.”

"How are you doing?" Isabella asked, making herself comfortable next to you.

"Doing well, how are you?"

"Good," She replied. "What are you guys talking about?" She snatches the phone from your hands to talk with the woman. Not that you had a chance to stop her. You don't know how you feel introducing Isabella to her so soon. Especially when you haven't defined what this is.

"Uh," Natasha paused. "I was getting ready to ask your Mom on a date. A real one."

"A date," Isabella's face lit up.

"A real one," You added.

"You better," Isabella replied.

"Is that a yes?" Natasha asked.

"It's a yes," Isabella confirmed.

"I think I should be the one to say that right?" You argued. Though technically you both had already confirmed it before Isabella had even stepped over to you.

"You're right," Natasha chuckled.

"Anyways, Natasha, let's talk about the new album," Isabella interrupted.

"I didn't know you listened to Velvet Rebellion?" You look at her skeptically.

"Duh, they're so good. I love them," She replies.

"You do?" Natasha says.

"Yeah, of course. You're my favorite band. I listen to you all the time." She compliments. "My dad kind of likes you too. He thinks you're hot."

"Isabella!" You scold.

"He does," She insisted.

"Thanks," Natasha laughs. "Well, to answer your sort of question, the album is coming along. I'm hoping we'll be done in the next few months. We've been working day in and day out to get some things together."

"Do you guys play any other songs?"

"Yeah, we do. A few covers here and there. We're planning on having a cover song on the new album."

"I think you should do a Taylor Swift song," Isabella suggests.

"Taylor Swift, huh?"

"Yes, her songs are good."

"They are," Natasha agreed. "She has a couple of really great ones."

"You guys should cover 'All too well'."

"Why that song in particular?" Natasha asked.

"Because Mom loves that song," Isabella looked to you. "It's the saddest song she listens to on repeat."

"Oh, does she?"

"It's on my playlist but I wouldn't say it's in my top ten." You answer.

"You totally listen to it all the time," Isabella rolls her eyes. "Anytime she gets sad."

"Well, i hope she doesn't get sad often,"

"I'm not sad," You say.

"She doesn't like to talk about her feelings. She's emotionally unavailable."

"Isabella," You scolded. "Natasha doesn't need to know all of this."

"I just think that if you guys are going to be the Hollywood IT couple you should know these things about each other," She replied.

"IT couple, huh," Natasha chuckled.

"Yes," Isabella nodded. "You guys would be perfect for each other. Mom has had the worst luck with men."

"I can't deny that," You cringe.

"You've had boyfriends?" Natasha asked.

"Just a couple," You shook your head.

"And they're the worst," Isabella continued. "One guy didn't even like kids. We kicked him to the curb so fast. Do you like kids, Natasha?"

"I do," Natasha nodded.

"Do you have any kids?"

"No, no kids," She answered.

"That's good," Isabella said. "Are you looking to have kids?"

"Isabella," You say. "Natasha isn't looking to have kids anytime soon."

"I can answer for myself," Natasha insisted. "No, I'm not."

"Okay, good, because I'm the only kid my mom needs," She replied.

"But one day I may want kids," Natasha answers softly.

"Oh, wow," Isabella is shocked. "I guess I'd be fine with a little sister. Then we could be like Noah and Miley Cyrus. Plus, I think Mama would look cute pregnant."

"Why are you so sure I would be the one to get pregnant?" You ask.

"Because you'd be the most fit for the job," Isabella answered. "Mommy, are you and Natasha dating?"

"We're..."

"We're going to be dating," Natasha interrupts.

"If I'm going to be tag-teamed by the both of you..." You shake your head. You tap Isabella's arm with a warning and take the phone back. "I'm sure Natasha has things to do."

"I'm in no rush," Natasha assures you.

"You're too sweet," You grin. "I'm not going to keep you from your things."

"Okay," Natasha relents. "Bye, Isabella. It was nice talking to you."

"Bye," Isabella waves to the camera. "Make sure you tell Bucky that I really like his tattoos. Also his new haircut is going to be great for the new album cover."

"I'll pass on the message," Natasha assured her.

"I'll see you later," You say, bringing the phone closer. "And thanks for the chat."

"Anytime, doll," She smiled. "Bye."

The video feed cuts out and you sigh, dropping your head to the table.

"What just happened?" You ask.

"You talked to her," Isabella replies.

"And then we were ambushed by a nine-year-old," You said.

"I think I did a great job," Isabella praised. "We know what her intentions are and we know that she likes kids."

"I mean, I guess that's true," You said. "Though I already knew both of those things."

"Did you? Really?"

"I can speak for myself, Isabella."

"I guess," Isabella shrugged.

"Now, come on, let's say bye to Lenny and find Nana. I still have to make dinner for you."

"Alright," Isabella sighed. "Can I stay up late?"

"Not tonight," You replied.

"Oh, come on, Mom," Isabella begged.

"Nope," You said.

When Isabella is in bed and you're tucked into your covers, you scroll through your Instagram feed. Natasha's videos and tagged photos have popped up. Your curiosity continues to get the best of you and instead of going to sleep you decide to be a cyber stalker. In a good way though. You find a picture that you find particularly endearing. It's a difference in the thirst traps. She's sitting with Wanda, on a picnic blanket, in a park. The picture is black and white but you could still somehow see the shade of her red hair.

TheRealRomanoff: Picnic dates are my favorite. 25,000 Likes. 500 comments.

You decide to check the comments. Her fans are loyal.

_@TheRealRomanoff: What's your favorite thing to do on a picnic date?

_@jenx007: Are you and Wanda dating right now?

@widowbaby97: You look beautiful today Nat.

_@BlackWidow: You have a lovely smile, Romanoff!

@blackwidow666: I'd love to go on a picnic date with you.

You read through a few more before opening the text box to add your own. You comment "Cute." before pressing send.

Almost instantly, you receive a message from Natasha.

TheRealRomanoff: Cute? That's all you got for me?

@OFFICIALY/N: Well, it is cute.

TheRealRomanoff: Interesting.

@OfficialY/N: Interesting good or bad?

@TheRealRomanoff: Good, good. Perfectly good. For the record, you're cute too.

You toss your phone to the side. It's been a while since you've had this many butterflies. You want this to be something.

---> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natsxaddiction #rockstar nat

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lewiseb · 2 months ago

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was rewatching malaysia 2013 (for the first time in 11 years??) and there's nothing to say about this race that hasn't already been said a million times but. i do wanna highlight a few of my favourite moments

- seb yapping on the radio after like 5 laps that "mark's too slow, get him out of the way!!" and completely being ignored by the team. pour one out for rocky fr

- literally nobody knew what was going on at red bull? i don't think they broadcasted the multi 21 radio (or at least they didn't show it on the f1 tv rerun) so to the commentators it was just a hard and a bit unnecessarily risky overtake by seb on his team mate. everyone was just like "ok fair ig?" until mark webber stomped into the cooldown room with an air of betrayal and impeding retirement about him and made seb sulkingly down three liters of water

- adrian newey on the podium (to keep the problem child in check?) who built a human wall between seb and mark in the cooldown room (which did not withstand a "multi 21, seb. yeah, multi 21 🙄")

- everyone is always like "ohh lewis always at the scene of the crime in other team's drama races" bitch he had his own thing going on!! that guy was devastated after nico spend 20 laps catching up / trying to overtake him until nico got team orders to stay behind (in their second ever race as team mates ....) even though he was ultimately faster. that man could not care less about red bull drama he had layers of guilt to work through or whatever. he literally said on the podium that "nico should be up here". anyways brocedes the real team mate conflict of the malaysian gp

#lis.txt #malaysia gp 2013

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r0b0s-robos · 1 month ago

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Moon's Scary Stories to Fall Asleep To, a Halloween DCA Shortfic Summary:

It's Halloween and you're sick with the flu! The only way to overcome the disappointment of missing your favorite holiday is for your loving, doting partner to tell you scary stories. [ CH.1 - Zombie!Reader AU - Reader is a zombie, but Sun and Moon don’t have human brains so they’re all good. Sun and Moon live in delusion, believing you are just sick and that everything is okay and they just need to get you something to eat. You are hungry. So hungry. Always hungry. ] [ CH.2 - Vampire!DCA AU - Reader finds themself on the unexpected side of two Count's hearts- and fangs. They are so very excited to see that you showed up to their dinner party. Your only concern is... you don't see any of the food ] [ CH.3 - Cryptid!DCA AU - Reader gets lost in the woods and must make a deal with the guardians of the forest. Let's hope you succeed in their quest. If you don't, well... Being lost in the woods forever isn't so bad. Right? ] [ CH.4 - Frankenstein's Monster!DCA AU (Eclipse) - Reader takes refuge inside an abandoned laboratory one night. Inside, they find someone waiting for a new friend. You will be their friend, won't you? It's been so long since they had a friend... ]

Read the WHOLE fic and check tags -> here!

Sneak Peek Below!

From Ch.1

Horror movies weren’t everyone's cup of tea, but they were certainly yours.

Where others seemed to be squeamish and recoil at the gore on screen, you found it fascinating. You saw the art of horror. It wasn’t about getting scared, not all the time anyway. Mostly, it was about telling a story. It was about a narrative. That’s what compelled you to watch.

Plus, you loved a good practical effect! From the way blood splattered to costumes and set design, oh, you were a fanatic.

Just like you loved horror, you also loved Halloween. It was a package deal as far as you were concerned. It wasn’t just the scary Halloween movies you loved, though. You also adored the classic animated films and the feel-good ones like Casper or Addams Family.

It was a good thing, too.

Your collection of horror movies had been thoroughly run through and now, you were watching reruns of old classics on cable.

You were sick with the worst flu you’d ever had in all your life. Cursed and confined to the couch, you sounded like the gargling zombies on screen. All you’d managed to do was binge-watch movies and eat a few bites of food whenever Moon or Sun begged you.

Today was Halloween. Your unworn outfit hung on a coat hanger in the hall. The longer you stared, the more disappointed you felt.

At least you, Sun, and Moon had managed to completely deck the place out in décor before you caught the sickness.

What hurt the most was being unable to help hand out candy. The job went solely to your partners.

The sun hadn’t even set when the first knock came. Sun was more than eager to answer and gave each child a glowing review of their costumes and king-sized candy bars before returning to your side. This happened a few more times until the sky’s light faded and Moon took over.

Sun. Your poor Sun.

He fretted over you as if you had been diagnosed with a plague. You supposed his worry did make sense, given his sensitivity to all things virus. Moon wasn’t as vocal but you noticed how his treatment changed.

#[r0b0.readingcircle ]#fnaf sb #fnaf dca #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #sun x reader #moon x reader #dca community #fnaf sun and moon

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shes4twnksinatrnchct · 2 months ago

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Hell of a Show

Jake Kiszka x fem oc

Fifteen years after resigning from Greta Van Fleet, for reasons undisclosed to the public, Coley Payne is asked by her former band members to tell her side of the story.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, angst, fluff, first love, drug and alcohol abuse, mental health struggles, character death, familial grief, reference to sexual situations, *explicit sexual situations (smut warnings will be mentioned pertaining to each chapter it occurs in).

Words: 3k

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has liked/commented/reblogged and even has just read this story so far. It really does mean a lot and I appreciate the support and your time! Thank you.

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED***

***Table of Content***

The Beginning: Interlude i

2039

She can’t keep her concentration.

Not when he’s glancing around her house with the curiosity of a child, brown eyes scanning around the walls littered with years of photographs, decor, memorabilia, and souvenirs.

One photo in particular catches his eye.

Possibly one of the first pictures she had taken after leaving the band consists of her holding a seven-year-old Collins on her hip while Kayce holds six-year-old Rhett on his back, the twelve-year-old in the picture smiling ear to ear with his aunt in front of the house she now lives in.

It was bought without Jake’s knowledge in December of 2023, and was kept from him until the brief break in the tour after they finished their European leg.

“I’m assuming that’s move-in day?” He points to the photo he’s so transfixed on, and she pokes her head from the kitchen to take a look.

“Yeah.” She nods, clearing her throat with the discomfort of the conversation before ducking back into hiding, eyeing the frozen lasagna in the oven.

He pieces together what parts of her life he hasn’t been here in person to witness…everything from vacations through various stages of her niece and nephews lives, to prom pictures, to photos of weddings he was invited to but couldn’t attend due to scheduling conflicts.

Kayce’s, Collins’, and Rhett’s senior portraits are closer toward the hallway, and although they’re even older now than when the pictures were taken, it still blows his mind to think how fast time has flown by, and hurts his heart to think that he’s missed so much of it with her.

“Shit,” He hears her say under her breath, the top of the oven burning her hand, causing her to nearly drop the pan.

Stepping into the kitchen, he sees another smaller fan perched on the kitchen counter, blowing on her and causing the stray strands of her hair to billow in its breeze.

She’s chunking the lasagna onto the stovetop, discarding the hot pads from her hands, and examining her wound.

“Shit, shit, shit,” She continues to herself, hissing through her teeth while her facial expression shifts at the sight of the very top layer of her skin rolled back.

“Did you burn yourself?” He asks, making his way to her.

“A little but it’s fine.” Coley assures him, flatly.

“Get some mustard on it.” He advises, and she rolls her jaw.

“I don’t want mustard on it.” She insists, and he rolls his eyes and moves to her fridge to grab the yellow bottle anyway. “Mkay, I know you’re hard at hearing now since you’ve shot your eardrums through the years, but I said—”

“—I know what you said. And I also know you’re just gonna sit there and whine about it hurting instead of doing something about it.” He quickly rebuttals, popping the top of the bottle, and she holds her hand to her chest.

“...Does it burn?” She inquires of him, raising her brows.

“Not any worse than what it already does.” He shrugs, the woman still looking at him unconvinced. “If I have to fight you like I had to when you stepped on glass at the lake, I will.”

Deciding not to have a rerun of him practically sitting on her while using his dad’s pocket knife to get the shard of broken bottle from the sole of her foot, Coley holds her hand out to him for him to generously graze her burn with a dollop of mustard.

She’d seen him do it to himself over years of him getting burned cooking, but didn’t think it would actually work.

Jake waits patiently for her mumbled out, “Thanks,” before he’s replacing the bottle in the fridge.

He’s about to step back to the living room, feeling an icy (regardless of the house being so obnoxiously hot his shirt is beginning to stick to his skin) unwelcome from her, despite the fact she invited him inside after he gave her a little more insight as to what the band is working on with Connie, until he sees her open a cabinet above her head and stand on her toes trying to reach a plate because her niece enjoys being tall and putting things out of her aunt’s reach.

Coley’s bracing herself on the counter to climb onto it when Jake steps behind her and reaches over her head.

She nearly melts to the floor from his close proximity, his warmth against her back, allowing her to get a good whiff of his cologne mingling with the same way he’s smelt since they were teenagers.

Jake’s struggling not to acknowledge that she’s nearly bent over the counter, her knee hiked from where she was about to hoist herself up.

“Thanks.” She says as soon as he hands her three plates and steps back so she can go back to standing.

“No problem.” He assures her with ease, hoping it’s enough to disguise the breath he’s struggling to catch while thinking of the most unattractive things he can to try to eliminate the discomfort below his belt.

“Can you go back there and knock on the last door on the left and tell Collins dinner’s ready?” Coley asks him, needing him to get away from her momentarily.

“Yeah,” He gladly takes the opportunity to escape, and steps to the hallway, a large smile soon overtaking his face.

The whole hall is like a shrine to her time with the band.

It’s paid tribute to with pictures of her, him, and the guys from their years of performing and touring—none of which fall in a particular order.

He cringes at the couple of ones from their earlier shows, horrified with his hair and his clothes before taking note that his brothers are also very much styled like dorks—he’s sure Coley probably thinks as much of herself, too, but he’s too biased to think she never looked good.

Then, of course, he makes the mistake of not looking away from the wall of the memories, stepping along the wood floors to take in many of the other pictures of later shows.

One that he’s surprised to see is of their last show together.

After the high of playing one of his dream venues, in the midst of taking a final bow and waving farewell, he kissed her.

The silhouette of such is casually framed on her wall.

It was public knowledge by that point that they were a couple, but never had they dragged their private life onto the stage aside from some looks and silent flirting.

He assumed this would be the last picture he’d stumble across in her home—or at least without his face scribbled out of it.

Collins' door swings open, the young woman stopping when she sees him, curiously stepping to his side to see what he’s looking at.

One might argue it was perhaps one of the last few normal moments they shared together before it all went to hell.

“God, that was forever ago.” She mumbles, gazing around at the photos surrounding it with gray eyes. “So much has changed since then.”

The ones that she’s in all range from infant to seven years old.

Collins can tell which ones are post-accident or pre-accident just based on whether her mother or father is present in any of them with her or her brothers…Jake can tell the difference between pre or post-accident based on how exhausted Coley looks despite the smile on her face in every picture.

“Your aunt said dinner’s ready.” He tells her, pulling his gaze from the photo that elicits the memory of the moment.

“…I told her I was going out with Dominic.” Collins sighs at her aunt’s lack of listening skills.

“Glad to know that hasn’t changed .” Jake says to her in reference to Coley only hearing half of what she wants to.

“Tell me about it.” Collins scoffs, stepping to the kitchen. “Dominic’s about to be here.” She continues while her aunt blinks at her with a blank expression on her face. “I told you last night, remember?”

“Um, given the circumstances it kinda slipped my mind.” Coley scoffs, motioning toward the hallway that Jake’s making his way back up to join them. “What time are you gonna be home?”

“Late.” Collins shrugs.

“Where are you going?” Her aunt asks, next.

“We haven’t decided yet.”

“When you do decide, please let me know.”

“If it doesn’t slip my mind, given the circumstances.” Collins assures her, hearing the horn of her boyfriend’s car outside. “Bye, see you later,” She hugs at her aunt’s shoulders.

“Bye. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye, Jake.” She pipes in passing.

“Bye, Collie.” He says without a second thought, her childhood nick-name being the only thing he’s ever called her by unless she was in trouble for something.

Collins smiles to herself upon hearing it as she walks to the door, while Coley tenses up.

“He just honks the horn and she goes?” Jake asks once Collins has shut the door, locking it behind her.

“Yes, Jake.” Coley replies while he takes the extra plate and puts it back up since it’s just the two of them, now.

“Kind of a dick move.” He mumbles, turning to face her.

“Not everybody can be the pillar of chivalry that you are, Jake.” Coley’s voice is nothing short of smart-ass.

He leans against the counter, forcing himself not to get any closer to her despite wanting nothing more, and her skin grows warm when she notices that he’s watching her.

Jake doesn’t dare comment on the lack of sides, or bread, to accompany the lasagna, but one thing he can’t help but ask as she hands him over a plate of the pasta is, “Do you have any wine?”

Coley pauses, knowing that he surely knows that she does.

Cigarettes were tossed out twenty years ago, and she could cut back on drinking beer and hard liquor, but wine was a vice that she’d never not have access to.

But it feels like a trap to get it out, now, because it’s like giving a mouse a cookie—especially when the cookie is wearing a shirt that’s not buttoned as it should be, and has a couple necklaces tucked behind one another splayed across the smooth skin of its chest.

Yes…if one gives Coley and Jake wine, they’re going to reminisce, realize they miss one another, and decide they’re wearing too many clothes.

At least that’s how the story went the last time they saw one another.

“I do…but you need to be able to drive home tonight.” She quips, making it perfectly clear that his welcome does indeed have an expiration date.

“Ouch.” He hisses through his teeth sarcastically, “Is your boyfriend gonna be home soon or something?”

“If I had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t be in my house.” She promises him.

He could easily dig up the past, throw in a comment or two that would irritate her even more, but he just keeps his mouth shut.

“I have beer.” Coley offers, next, knowing he won’t turn that down.

She pauses and reaches into the fridge, grabbing a bottle and grabbing the bottle-opener that’s magnetized to the refrigerator.

A soft hiss is let loose from the cap being unsealed, and she doesn’t look at him as she hands the drink over to him, too distracted with putting the bottle-opener back where it was.

She glances at him momentarily when he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a sip, his throat shifting with his swallow that has her eyes practically paralyzed in a daze that is miraculously broken before he can notice her staring.

Coley merely pretends to have been busy the whole time, reaching for a paper towel to gently wipe the mustard off the back of her hand so she can’t smear it all over her kitchen in the midst of not paying attention to anything but him.

They’re soon seated at the table, and Jake stabs around at the lasagna, forcing himself to eat a few bites of it to avoid being rude.

It doesn't go unnoticed, Coley finally poking fun at him with an over-dramatic, “You’re being so brave, right now,” for him daring to at least try it.

“Ha.” He flatly lets out, looking at her unamused before he cracks a grin. “I haven’t had frozen lasagna since that night Sherri had Collins—or was it Rhett? And we went to help her out since Trace worked nights.”

Coley had forgotten about that in the midst of all that’s unfolded since then, and her eyes light up as a laugh falls from her lips.

“And I burnt half of it?” She adds, and he nods.

“I thought that was gonna finish your sister off, I’m gonna be honest.” He tells her, and she cackles.

Sherri had awful baby blues at the time, that’s why Coley insisted on helping her as much as she could.

Jake was an unsuspecting victim that night, wanting to tag along to spend the night and help out at Sherri’s and Trace’s with a newborn Collins.

The two Payne sisters were both in tears before eight o’clock because Coley severely misread the instructions, and her older sister cried because Coley was crying—leaving Jake and Kayce to keep their mouth’s shut because neither of them were listening to their repeated attempt to reassure them it was going to be okay.

It was also the night she and Jake learned to be extremely meticulous about safe sex.

“That night was the best birth control ever.” She rubs her forehead while he scoffs out through a grin, “Yeah, that fake baby you and Josh had to take care of for two weeks our Senior year was a breeze compared to just one night with a real one.”

“Oh, God, that was a nightmare.” Coley groans, recalling that Josh tried to ditch the simulated baby with her more times than not. “That made me so happy that there was never going to be a chance of him and I having a kid together.”

“Hey, we gotta give him credit. He did pretty damn good with the kids.” Jake takes up for his twin brother. “I think we all did given the very little amount of preparation we had and how fucking young we all were.”

Coley can’t argue it, especially with how sudden all of it happened.

“Yeah, we did.” She agrees, an awkwardness soon finding them in the silence when the natural point to make, next, is also how suddenly it ended.

But Jake doesn’t dare speak about that, not again, wanting to avoid another fight like the last one they had.

He’d known her since they were thirteen, and he knew she tended to make rash decisions—if she believed them to be the best option—without letting anyone else know she’d made them until she absolutely had to.

She finishes her food and heads back to the kitchen with her plate when his phone rings, pulling him out of the room for a couple moments to be berated by his twin brother.

When he returns to the kitchen, she’s drying their plates off from washing them and offering them to him to put back in the cabinet.

Clearing his throat, he puts them away and says, “I should get going.”

“Is your girlfriend wanting you home?” Coley downplays her own curiosity as teasing sarcasm, and he pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Just a ‘61 Gibson and a cat.” He retorts.

“Does the Gibson feed the cat while you’re running around the world?”

“You used to not mind all that running around the world.” Jake reminds her partially stern, raising his brows as he steps out of her way while she wipes down the counters.

“Yeah, well, things change. Responsibilities change.” She offers up a hard pill for either of them to swallow, even fifteen years later.

Again, he finds himself unable to argue with her out of not wanting to start another fight.

“I’m supposed to meet Josh at the studio in a few hours and he’s actually gonna be on time—supposedly.” He explains, rubbing at his nose while she replies with a, “Ah,” to which he adds, “Our project meeting is two weeks from Saturday. We’re gonna meet at my house. I can get Josh to send you my address.”

“Are you afraid of having my number in your phone?” Coley teases, not realizing he actually is, wanting to spare her the drunk phone calls in the middle of the night to ask why they aren’t together anymore.

Jake only laughs her off, not answering her question before she’s asking, “Is it mandatory?”

“No, but if you don’t show up Josh will probably come find you.” He warns.

It wouldn’t be the first time his brother has had to hunt her down and drag her practically kicking and screaming to attend meetings.

“What time do I need to get there?” Coley sighs out, finally looking at him again once she deems the kitchen cleaned up, crossing her arms.

It adds a strain to her glistening chest through her tank-top, and he has to use the will of God himself not to allow his eyes to even dare fall to the exposed skin.

“Well, it’s set for five o'clock—we’re eating dinner there—but you can show up anytime you want to.”

“So, it’s set for five o’clock but won’t start until nine o’clock because that is five o’clock Josh-time?” She double-checks, and Jake’s smile practically ignites the room they’re in.

“Yes.” He nods. “And you can, um, invite Collins and the boys if you want to—for dinner. I know Jules is coming with Danny, so they’ll get to see her if they come.”

“Okay, I’ll let them know.” She agrees.

“Thanks for dinner.” Jake adds.

“Thanks for not telling me it was shit.” Coley replies, following him while he grabs his keys and heads to the door, letting out a quiet laugh at her words.

“Well, I hope your A/C gets fixed. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my clothes on next time if it doesn’t.” He sighs once they get onto the porch.

“There is no ‘next time’.” She shakes her head.

“…Right.” He shrugs, telling her what she wants to hear while holding an air of mischief in his words.

“Jake, seriously, no more visits.” She states while he unlocks his car.

“Okay.” He nods, his tone sarcastic.

“Jake, no more.” Coley warns and he cranks his car, rolling the window down after he shuts the door to call out, “So, same time next month! Got it!”

Giving up, she rolls her eyes and throws her two middle fingers up that he gladly returns while backing out of the drive.

There’s a sense of accomplishment he can’t but feel when the last thing he sees before pulling off is her smile.

That accomplishment lasts only so long before it’s taken over by the same overwhelming thought that she’s asking herself as well:

“What the hell are you doing?”

Tag List: @edgingthedarkness , @zooweemama555 , @lizzys-sunflower

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic

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unknowzs · 2 years ago

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CHOOSE ME !

☆ The Character's reaction when they found out that you're planning to skip their banner | Gender Neutral Reader | Self aware characters | Ooc (?) | Bad Grammar

( Character )ㅤㅤ5 Stars Hydro Electro Dendro Male

Anemo Version

Geo Version

CHILDE

He feels so offended, Very offended.

There's no way you actually planning to skip his banner.

Why aren't you wishing for him? He's a good and a popular DPS, so why did you skip his banner ?

You did not just skip his banner for that fox electro woman.. just what's so good about her ?

is it because he's human and she's a fox ? Is that why you skip his banner, huh ?

Maybe he has to become a fox so you will change your mind and wish for him instead.

" Mr. zhongli, I already told you I'm not jealous. "

" But childe, you look mad when you find out that they're planning to skip your banner.. I think you are jealous. "

" No Mr. zhongli, I'm not jealous- "

" Yes, you are. "

" No I'm not. "

" Oh please.. it's so obvious that you are jealous, just admit it already. " Yae miko crossed her arms as she glared at Childe, knowing that he was jealous because of his tone.

" Archons, just leave me alone please. "

AYATO

Okay, He didn't expect that.

But are you really going to skip his banner for the electro archon though ?

Why don't you try to wish for him instead, Hm ?

He's a nice, rich guy in Inazuma, unlike that woman who killed so many innocent people and doesn't even know how to cook. Plus, he's handsome and pretty too ! So that means you should wish for him.

it's not too late to change your mind so maybe you should try to skip that Electro archon's banner and wish for him instead.

CYNO

Unlike Childe and Ayato, He doesn't really care. Why should he care about it ? He'll get rerun in the future anyway, so it's fine if you're planning to skip his banner.

ALHAITHAM

Like cyno, He doesn't care about it much since he'll probably get a rerun in the future, and even if he doesn't get rerun, he still wouldn't care.

BAIZHU

" I've been living in the basement for a year, and they decided to skip my banner ? "

This is literally your chance to wish for him, so why are you planning to skip his banner ? Shouldn't you be happy at the fact that he finally got out of the basement ?

No he's not mad or jealous. He's just confused. But It's fine if you're going to skip his banner, and he's very calm about it too. ( That's a lie, he actually feels very offended. )

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oh-my-may · 7 months ago

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LET'S TALK HSR PENACONY 2.1 (or rather, have my impressions and thoughts on the main quest and some other stuff)

First of all, I went out of it with so many thoughts and emotions. This is not gonna be spoiler free (duh).

ACHERON IS SO FUN TO PLAY. Like, really really fun. Finally Simulated Universe is not an annoying pain anymore, and much quicker too. Thanks to a good friend of mine her relics aren't too bad either. She's already so fun to play with Black Swan, can't wait for a Kafka rerun now 💀

Aa for the story now: I FUCKING KNEW MIKHAIL WAS THE WATCHMAKER. I KNEW IT. Now to wait for them to confirm that Misha is connected to him, either as a ghost of his past self or a child or some sort. It's the only way.

It's also really refreshing to see that HSR is giving 4star characters significant roles in the story. First it was Tingyun, now it's Gallagher (and maybe Misha? I'll die on this hill).

Loved the pacing. Story was quite long and lots of gameplay but didn't feel overwhelming at all, probably because we didn't just stick to the MC the whole time. The characters split up and we didn't just follow the express crew but also Aventurine, I really loved that. It felt so dynamic and immersive.

WELT AND ACHERON INTERACTION. BRO. The way I gasped the whole time. We still don't have a canon confirmation of how Raiden Mei and Acheron or just generally HI3rd and HSR are connected but it's sp clear that Acheron is by far the closest connection yet. So sp excited to find out more about this. Raiden Mei, I'll love you in every universe.

Aventurine and Ratio are also very interesting to me. What does Ratio gain by involving himself in all of this? What does he get out of it? Anyway, their little journey through the mansion was nice. GIGANTIC RATIO. The kinda stuff my dreams are made of tbh.

Generally the whole Aventurine story got me right from the beginning. He's generally one of the most interesting characters to me (although this game has plenty of them). I gotta admit of course I was suspicious of him (as one should be of all Penacony characters) but I liked him nevertheless. This patch supported my feelings, my GOD HE xkdjjdjdjd. The way I cried. Since I played the story so late ofc I saw some spoilers/screenshots of his backstory but I never expected it to hit me this hard. Just wow. His ending, too. It's so bitter. Kinda hope we get to see him again, since he'a mot really dead, right? Just in some limbo.

His boss fight was really something. Not a lot of different patterns, but I still had to try a bunch of different teams, since you're kinda fucked even with just a single single target character in your party. Had to unbench Clara, and I gotta say, she came through for me. I might not have used the most meta team, but it worked soooo...

And just as I was glad I had managed the fight they hit you with that big cut scene, woah. AND THEN WITH THE FIREFLY SCENE? AND SUNDAY????

First of all, apparently it was common knowledge among the community since last patch that Sam was Firefly. Yeah, I gwt it bc of the leaks and stuff. But I'm just so confused as to HOW. Like HOW and WHY and just generally HUH. I can't wait for them to explain this connection (if you're reading this and you wanna spoil me with non-confirmed stuff then leave it, please, I might as well wait another 3 weeks).

And then Gallagher and Sunday... Just as I was admiring Sunday's beauty because he might legit just be one of the most gorgeous male character designs... THEY KILL HIM. When I tell ypu I was SHOOK. Mouth agape and all. Didn't know what to do. What a cliffhanger.

Now I don't have a real theory as to what I think will happen. If I remember correctly they said the main story will stretch until 2.3, right? I really wonder what else will happen, the story already seemed so huge this patch and I really wonder how it'll conclude. There's still so many questions and stories. Might add on to this post later when I have more thoughts.

Also Aventurine's banner just dropped but as of writing this I haven't pulled yet. Might add a little post later about it.

For now, have some screenshots I took during the story:

ALSO I GOT AVENTURINE. SECOND 50/50 WIN IN A ROW IN THIS GAME HAVE I FINALLY BROKEN THE CURSE. Now for the long and treacherous road of farming his trace mats and relics ... Since I never really prefarm 🥲

A pic I took in my excitement. Forgot the screenshot button exists.

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soapssuds · 3 months ago

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reasons why i started playing the hoyo games (no one asked, but I'm telling you all anyway)

genshin: childe. yep, childe was so cool and amazing to me that the moment that genshin came onto playstation, I immediately installed it and started saving for him. (Diluc was my first five star and I was forced to wait for childe's rerun...) I ended up finally getting childe when he was having a rerun banner with yae miko. I also managed to get his five star weapon too hehe

hsr: jing yuan. I downloaded the mobile game just to get jing yuan. then I had to uninstall it cause my phone was dying. but anyway, fast forward to when hsr came to playstation I managed to get him on his first rerun!!! (Though, I, of course, went for dang heng il and blade while I was at it too)

zzz: lycaon. Literally the first time I ever wanted a standard character so bad. And he came to me instantly 😌

How about all of you? Why did you start playing these games? Was it because of a character? Were you forced by your friends? Were you bored? Or did you read such a mind blowing fanfic that you just had to check out the game the character was from?

#hsr #honkai star rail #genshin impact #genshin #zzz #zenless zone zero #lycaon #childe #jing yuan

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playmiya · 5 months ago

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ACADEMIC LIABILITY or ACADEMIC WEAPON?! — one piece in college

sanji is a hospitality major -> very obvious -> eventually wants to go to culinary school and open his own restaurant, but wants to get some work experience in and wouldn't mind working in a hotel for a year or two -> rooms with zoro; they both got randomly assigned based off signup sheets and they've been torturing the housing incharges to change ever since then -> the housing dept is so fed up with them that they're not budging just to spite them -> zoro regularly buys the wrong kinds of ingredients for him and sometimes messes with his schedules so he's late for classes -> did a semester abroad in france and is planning to do one in italy to intern under his favourite chefs -> watches and falls asleep to reruns of the great british bake off or masterchef jr. -> is a pleasure to generally have in class and submits his assignments on time except when there are any sorts of accounting/finance courses he needs to take ... pesters nami to help with those -> probably tied with chopper and robin as the people who're the most genuinely passionate about their major -> hosts sunday study sessions where everyone comes to his dorm and studies while he cooks lunch for them -> makes nami, vivi and robin bentos the days they have long classes and drops them off at their buildings -> will make people on his floor food if they ask for it -> actually not that big of a fan of huge parties but gets dragged along by luffy anyways -> 100% academic weapon

zoro is a kinesiology major -> him and ace are prolific nappers. will nap anywhere: under a tree in the quad, in the library, in classes, etc. -> that is, if zoro actually makes it to his classes in the first place, he's so directionally challenged -> took him months to figure out the campus layout, will still end up 10-15 minutes late cos he took the wrong staircase up -> mainly just spends his time sleeping in the dorm or at the gym -> very intimidating in the gym, loads of people mistake him for a varsity athlete cos he'll casually be bench pressing mad numbers -> will spot your weights and help you out if you ask tho <3 -> sanji gets back at him by playing ridiculously loud music while cooking and giving him the wrong directions -> he still has to admit that for what it's worth he keeps sanji around since he's practically memorised zoro's meal preferences and macros (sanji will sneak in some greens and sugar here and there) -> does not party often but when he does he goes beast mode, drunk zoro blushes like crazyyy -> he's a girlfailure academically though, does not keep track of his assignments, all his coursework leaves his head the minute he leaves the classroom -> gets law or chopper to help him with basic biology parts of his major -> at one point paid chopper to do his assignments but chopper was too nice and did them for free until law found out and started going on about "child labour" or something -> he's BARELY making the passing grade -> 100% academic liability nami is a business major -> IT girl!! on top of everything always -> dorms with robin, is literally living the pinterest girl aesthetic -> super organised, notes are color coded, always running around campus with her cup of coffee -> is the president of the campus's women in finance club -> summer internships, TA-ing, you name it she's doing it -> is debating going down the investment banker route because of the 6 figure salary or starting her own business -> invented office siren core. she walks into a class with pointed kitten heels bayonetta glasses and everyone loses their shit -> at the same time is a party MONSTER -> her tolerance is unlimited . got a matching tattoo with vivi and robin one night -> she ran an alcohol supplying racket in her freshman year for a quick buck but switched to more legitimate moneymaking methods in her sophmore year, she now connects students from her highschool with college mentors -> her profs love herrr she hates being called a nerd but she pre-reads all her syllabus, is ready with good questions but she's not a nerd guys!! -> is the campus cafe's best customer. will stop by at least twice a day for some sugar/coffee shot that keeps her sane -> her and robin have a wine night every week where they watch real housewives, do skincare, and catch up on each other's lives -> robin lowkey worries for her because she's very ambitious but she trusts that vivi keeps nami sane when she's not around

robin is an archaeology and history double major -> why is she even in college (is a question her professors keep asking her) -> she could teach the class! (she's assistant in every department she's taken) -> definitely taking the academia route after college, also because she's genuinely passionate about teaching -> is overqualified to even sit in introductory level courses -> has been published as an undergraduate in multiple prestigious journals for papers that she wrote because she was "just curious" -> is a part of student government -> is also a part of the campus debate union, but is not as proactive as other members (eg. luffy) -> double majoring is a breeze for her. her assignments make her professors question their ability to grade -> singlehandedly carries the class average on her back -> is idolised by underclassmen because she's very sweet and patient -> got invited to join a lot of secret societies and sororities during her freshman year but politely declined -> could honestly be successful in any major since she has a general academic knack -> wants to take a year off after college to gain on-site archaeological experience in egypt -> is the mother of the group; everyone comes to her for advice whenever they're struggling to pick classes or feeling down -> her guilty pleasure is a good matcha latte. has bought a full matcha station to perfect her own lattemaking skills -> nami took her thrifting once and now she spends hours on her weekend in shops -> doesn't like partying so is often the designated sober one along with sanji and law, will occasionally smoke with him depending on how tolerable he is -> 100% an academic weapon

a/n: i'm a big yapper so ima do ace luffy chopper and law in the pt 2 for this ⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece scenarios #one piece fluff #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #nami one piece #zoro #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #nico robin #sanji fluff #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece x reader #[ tracklisted ]#sobsobs sorry about no readmore my post editor isn't working :(

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rosemariad · 2 months ago

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SUPERNATURAL SEASON 15 - final season - bitter end part 2

See p1 here | https://www.tumblr.com/rosemariad/761290454081929216/supernatural-season-15-final-season-part-1-i

OH MY LORD – FINALLY – a FUCKING APOLOGY, from Dean. Winchester.

And it happened in purgaytory 😉 lol. Moment of silence for dead Benny :/

I wish we could've gotten a shot of Cas listening to him. We've always seen Dean pray to Cas but we never see Cas hear them on his end, like when Jack was hearing Sam's prayer. I think that would've been dope as fuck to see Castiel's reaction. When Cas & Dean finally do catch up to one another, Cas seems so...reserved. I feel like He knew DAMN well (like 90%) what Dean might say (or maybe he's so in denial about the possibility that Dean could return his affections in that way)

How are we almost halfway to the end and this is the first time we’ve seen Jack at all during this FINAL season? You introduce him in episode 12.23, you kill him (twice) and we don’t even get to see how he’s doing? We know he’s in the empty from 14x20’s closing montage.

15x10 was a pretty decent episode since we got to see Garth again ☺️ & he's settled into the domestic life with his wife Bessie - they had twins and a older daughter & neither child is named after Dean (🤣 Serves him right these days, since he's being such a douche!) wonder why Garth chose to name his baby after Cas though…did they ever interact? I don't recall…Watching Sam meet baby Sam is precious

(also how wild is it that the Garth & Benny actors are a married couple now? SPN man, they should've had a dating show given how many relationships came outta 1 production that lasted 15 yrs!)

Watching Sam sniff and cough & sneeze post-COVID is wild!

Taking on that giant monster was Hilarious - this was what SPN was missing - definitely peak content! Look at those hunter guys get reduced to regular chumps 🤣 fantastic!

Was Dean scared of the dentist? Had he ever BEEN to a dentist? Wow John, you couldn't take your son to a damn dentist - with all the junk food that boy eats? Even so, you want him running around without teeth?

Watching Sam writhe around with some cure all Bessie learned from her dad (he's dead I guess?) was equally hilarious!

WTF was with Dean's hallucination? These writers are trippin - out of all the things you could've done, you make Dean & Garth tap dance? What was the point? And some oldies shit? Sure Dean would've been exposed to reruns of the good ol' days but that’s never really been his interest before? And the lamp at the end? TF? I've read some posts about what others thinking it all means but I say the artistic direction is wack. But all aside the dentist Garth bit is awesome!

Garth couldn't have said it better - being the hero/protagonist is a drag - more so for comic book heroes cuz of the tragic backstory but in the Winchesters' case - it suuuuuuuuuucks.

I'm all for some Winchester humble pie. SPN should be normal people problems show mixed with cooky supernatural shenanigans. It would never get old 😂

Dean why did you think you could gobble down 7 grilled cheese sandwiches - all that dairy - oh man. So I guess that's normal for him…bad, real bad. Normal Dean would be dead in a week 🤣🤣

Anyway Garth swooping in to save the day for a change, is a welcome change ☺️ [is this the last time we'll see him in the show though? 😥]

Interesting how they seem to keep switching back & forth between how hopeless the odds are in going against the big G.O.D. to no we're gonna find a way cuz we're the Winchesters & that’s what we do. Yeah okay 🤣

Jack's been hunting & eating Grigori hearts - damn. Not looking forward to why…

Meanwhile we get more backstory on all the other gods in human history through Fortuna, goddess of luck/fortune? Interesting, it seems like God allowed others to be worshipped so they could suffer the bad PR when things when wrong for people & they would get the blame (pretty sure plenty people still blame God for bad stuff all the time — like Dean 😅).

Good for Sam fighting for those people stuck under Fortuna's thumb. Small victories though…

Kaia survived, but I know we'll never see her again now. No reunion w/ Claire, or the others…wah 😔 meanwhile Alt!Kaia is definitely dead, we saw her face her end - way to take out that plot device writers 🙄

Dean seems pretty gung-ho on taking out God & Amara - buddy I know you feel helpless but there is no cosmic entity that is gonna be on your side all the time. The control freak inside him is going rabid y'all he's convinced that it’s the only way out but neglects to answer the question - if God (and Amara - cold by the way - is he punishing her for Mary? Amara was the one who brought her back in the first place) is taken out, what happens to the universe?

Jack is still giving me those intern vibes - Cas WTF were you thinking? I know you didn't forget about that deal…but damn if he ain't a team player, always willing to risk it all to help his precious Dean bean & the baby bro Sam.

I love how the brothers took Jo/Anael at her word - like really? There was no other way to investigate the veracity of her story than by simply going to hell? Really? Also they couldn't squeeze in Rowena for 1 final appearance? Boo!

And what was Anael's last line about? What friends could she possibly be talking about? Did God have her set this up? Lead the guys on a wild goose chase to waste time? Who fucking knows anymore, but I guess it doesn't matter as this is technically Anael (& Ruby's) final scene in the show.

Ruby you're screwed - there's no way she got out and no way to know - anyway onto the plot!

Look at this family shot - precious!

So between this episode & 12x07 Sam's superpower is handling doors - keeps them open when he needs to & closed when he has to. Sam, keeper of the doors!

The Empty & Death Billie teamed up? Oh shit, that's gonna backfire fast!

Classic Dean Winchester move to call your beloved an idiot when you almost lost him….again. I can't keep track of the various close calls this angel had over the years.

Best gem of 15x13 - the Alternate Sam & Dean - affluent dudes who were raised by a successful business savvy John Winchester who raised his sons with a modicum of respect & some fashion sense it seems all the while building a supernatural hunting empire spanning the entire globe (damn). And at the end they went to Brazil? So canonically there's 2 sets of Sams & Deans running around - too bad nothing else will come out of that…they should've stolen the Impala - that shit would've been hilarious.

After all these years we finally got to see THE Garden of Eden. It would've been cool to see it sooner in the show but oh well. The trip seems to have given Jack the ability to feel again, get his soul back. And he is wracked with guilt over Mary as if we didn’t have enough of that to deal with…

The words you're looking for guys is I FORGIVE YOU! Like he's a kid, it was an accident & he's clearly fucking sorry for it, the guilt is tearing him apart, you're not blind you can see it but God forbid either Winchester just says the magic words.

Now Mrs. Butters - I'm not cool with that shit at all. I peeped immediately based on the 1st scene that she wasn't there willingly. Why would she? She's a fucking wood nymph and while there's a bunch of trees outside, the bunker sure as shit ain't no forest. Someone forced her to work in that bunker & the fact that imagery of Cuthbert Sinclair keeps coming up confirms it.

She was probably their slave - that's so fucked. And Sinclair tortured her into obedience. That poor creature…she deserved so much better. shame on Sam & Dean for using that poor woman - you can't find the time to cook & clean up after yourselves? - I know Dean is good at it. But no, SPN had to set women back decades and force Mrs. Butters into waiting on them hand and foot. Shame, damn shame. Thankfully they eventually let her go, but only cuz Jack's life was in jeopardy and god forbid the Winchesters lose their handy ace in the hole when their maid/slave gets murderous. Really Dean, ‘just start over’?!, she threatened your kid you dumbass, do you really want someone to take care of you that fucking bad? WTF?!?!

All those feasts & Cas never showed up once -- bullshit!!!! Bullshit I say!

Apparently when Cas does eventually return to the screen & wraps up some trouble w/ Jack (aww he wanted to wear matching ties! And he has a teddy bear? Did Cas give him one? He gave one to Claire a couple of seasons ago) jack spills that he's meant to die & sacrifice himself to take out God & Amara. I know you're not on board Cas but speak up. Why is everyone so afraid to stand up to Dean Jesus Christ. He's just a man, sure he'll punch you but that just means you hit back or you know, don't let him punch you!

We get 1 final glimpse into Sam & Dean's childhood. Pro tip Dean: if you want your baby bro to stick around, don't ridicule his goals or call him stupid. Just a thought (I know he's a kid himself but that's what I would've said to the kid) but hey ultimately none of it matters right, jeez 😒

The lady lied to the brothers to get them to show up, did you ever think to incentivize them with money? It wouldn't take much, they probably wouldn't even take it or you know just tell them the truth, they're hunters it's what they do.

It's the baba yaga? It almost got to Dean but thankfully Sam was conveniently there to break the spell or whatever was gonna try to make Dean kill himself. The vic, Travis, apparently had the entity's ring all this time so it's back for revenge? And to eat ofc it's hungry. Too bad she failed cuz she's dead as one of the final MOTW ever on SPN. And just when we thought Dean made progress he ruins it by being supremely committed to Billie's plan -- cuz God forbid Sam bring up ethical questions into plotting someone's murder Dean, even if it is about cosmic entities and you know, your kid, Jack. Will the real Dean Winchester stand up cuz I think he wouldn't do this under any other circumstances. If I were Sam I would've jumped out of that car in pure disgust. Sam seemed inclined to do that.

Anyway the Jack suicide bomb plan ultimately didn't matter either cuz Amara ends up siding w/ Chuck after he makes her see that Dean was actually planning on killing her along w/ her brother.

Side bar - I love how she just had a whole season's long vacation just enjoying what the planet had to offer before her end. Can't say she didn't try to work things out - with the Winchesters or God. But hey, I know what's up - it's all about the men in this show 🙄

Saying Jack's not family - how fucking dare you! but also another example of inconsistent behavior from Dean - 1 minute he's concerned, the next he's dismissive & neglectful, then the next he cares (emotional whiplash), then he sees Jack as nothing more than a loose-end for fuck's sake Dean pick a lane & make up your damn mind, fuck!

Anyways, Sam should've smacked the shit outta Dean. He deserves it. But I get it Dean, you can't live w/o Sam or Cas but watching Jack die is no big since he took your mommy away, whatever asshole. Then he feels bad, but I feel it's only cuz he can't sit pretty on his high horse knowing the kid heard how little Dean cares for him right now.

Why did Sam & Cas let Jack run off w/ Dean? I sure wouldn't have 😡.

So because Billie's plan went tits up (big surprise there & really Billie you were expecting them not to fuck up, really?) God escaped & in the next, infamous episode of 15x18 people start getting Thanos'd. Endgamed. Disappeared.

Alt!Charlie & her girlfriend Stevie - gone. Eileen, Sam's current GF, gone. Alt!Bobby, gone. The other folks from Apocalypse World - gone.

But Donna gets got too - because Sam & Dean intervened all the way back in her premiere episode (was that season 8? I forget). Did everyone just get disappeared - like everyone Sam, Dean & John saved (that's my headcanon anyhow)? But it doesn’t even stop there…

Hold up - wait a minute - I’m gonna talk about the Destiel moment in 15x18 but I’m gonna save it for a separate post cuz I got to get all that stuff off my chest…https://www.tumblr.com/rosemariad/761296693532803072/the-bitter-end-spn-15x18-despair-about-that

Anywho:

Everyone gets disappeared. I see they were inspired by that Avengers movie 😅 I wonder if they went through the same experience the Marvel folk did canonically…(its that no one remembers what happened to them if they got blipped right?)

15x19 felt so rushed to me did anyone else feel that way?

Jack asks what happened to Cas (RIP you beautiful angel 😭) but Dean just offers a simple explanation. After countless days of misery and drinking, Jack prompts the brothers to drive around and Dean finds a dog only to have it disappear like everyone else - there's no way Chuck missed the dog, he just wanted Dean to bond with her so he could feel her loss too. Damn. So vengeful.

The Winchesters say they surrender but at this point I wouldn't believe them and apparently it was all part of their master plan. They ran into Michael (who's lost Adam at this point RIP Adam, again) and Dean calls Michael out as a daddy's boy but you would know wouldn't you Dean 🤣 game recognize game

When Dean got that phone call & ran up those steps, oh Dean you poor miserable bastard.

The devil, conveniently back from the void from whence he came, scrounges up a reaper - why are there reapers at this point (isn’t everyone gone anyways?) was she brought from the Empty? Kill her so she can be Death # 3 and open up the mysterious book that describes God's imminent demise but the devil killed her one more time before she could finish cuz he's God's favorite now (so he says Chuck says 🙄) pissing off Michael but as the brothers explained later this would all work in their favor but RIP Jessica - last female figure to be killed off on SPN? She basically died for nothing as Sam & dean came up w/ a new plan.

While the archangels squab, Michael gets the upper hand and finally kills Lucifer (so how was this fight going to devastate the planet cuz the bunker didn't even get messed up or nothing - very underwhelming since this is technically the last we’ll see of the devil in the show) & later Michael snitches to God when everyone drives out to summon Chuck to try killing him off once and for all. Then Michael dies cuz God is tired of him I guess (sure he said it’s cuz Michael dique betrayed him but I mean do you even care about that?) sucks for Mike I guess 🤷🏽‍♀️

All the celestial fighting was apparently powering up Jack after he juiced himself up for that bomb & couldn't kill off God sooner. by the end of the episode Jack siphons the remaining energy out of Chuck and instead of squashing him like a bug they all just decide to walk away, leaving Chuck Shurley a mortal, ordinary man to die off on his own (omg the way he squealed as he ditched him, geez 🤦🏾‍♀️).

This is why you should've just destroyed them Chuck! You'd think he'd know better than to savor their doom. Tsk tsk.

I would've shot him, burned him and had Jack disintegrate the ashes to nothing. But fuck being thorough I guess 🤣

Jack brings everyone back & leaves the brothers (I would've done the same, fuck those Winchesters, Sam's alright but Dean is just ugh at this point) & Aside from Rowena I can't think of anyone else who ends up with a win like Jack. He was born the Nephilim of Lucifer but ended up becoming a noble God.

I also gotta vent about that last episode - https://www.tumblr.com/rosemariad/761299089485889536/supernatural-season-15-the-bitter-end-series

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel #jack kline #supernatural season 15 #bobby singer #jody mills #donna hanscum #garth fitzgerald iv #spn final season #chuck shurley #rowena macleod

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