#i like her a normal amount i promise (lying)

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 3

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (now skeptical!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: I’ve already outlined the entire thing–now it’s just a matter of writing it, so don’t worry! Even if some chapters take me longer to update, I’m gonna finish this one way or another. Promise. *fingers crossed* Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, reader thinks she’s losing her marbles because of a certain someone

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3

“Alright—okay, don’t be stupid,” You chant to yourself as you pace restlessly from the kitchen area of your studio, to the coffee table where you’ve set your phone lying facedown. “Just open the damn thing.” 

You’ve just arrived back at the condo a little past seven PM after a, frankly, productive–if not slightly distracted–day of running errands. You’re home, and you haven’t even got to unpacking the two paper bags (and a box) worth of groceries that were all but thrown carelessly on the kitchen counter, and already, you’re back to stressing over all the weird shit that's been happening lately.

Throughout the afternoon, you tried your hardest to resist the urge to check your phone, especially whenever you see the screen light up–whether it was in your hand or stashed away in your half-zipped fanny pack.

It’s at the most random times too, but always when you act on your unfortunate tendency to monologue your thoughts out loud. 

Sure, it could just be some random push app notifications. Text messages from the few people that hit you up on the weekends–invitations to hang out, maybe. A few newsletters you forgot to unsubscribe from, if you’re unlucky. 

But you think the timing’s far too deliberate to be purely coincidental. 

“Do I get a dozen eggs or just half? What do I even need a dozen for?” (Phone vibrates)

“Oh, hey, Indomie’s on sale if you buy in bulk. How much for a box?” (Screen flashes. Twice.)

“Who the hell is holding up the line, damn–oh, it’s an old lady. Better hurry the fuck up, grandma.” (Screen flashes) “...Sorry! I didn’t mean that.” 

“Ughhh… my tummy hurty…” (Phone vibrates) “What—” 

“Everything’s perfectly normal. Just your average, sunny Saturday! You are an independent, capable adult… who’s fucking losing it.” (Screen flashes–after a minute interval) 

Of course, you have an inkling as to what’s–or who’s–blowing your phone up; in fact, he’s never left your mind since this morning.

So presently, you’re in the middle of having a small existential crisis over what that means, for you and your sanity. No big deal. 

You puff out your cheeks for a couple of seconds before letting out a deep breath. Don’t be a pussy. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to all of this. You’re–you’re not crazy. 

Landing heavily down in front of the low table, you finally grab your phone, hand shaking with the teensiest amount of trepidation. Not giving yourself any more time to think and second-guess, you flip it over, switching it back to Ring mode as you swipe up to see—

—a barrage of notifications; one popping up after another. 

Some of them are what you’ve expected: plain, old push notifications from banking apps, others from varying socials. There’s one from your mom. A reminder to email her the flight tickets you still haven’t gotten around to booking yet. 

And. Six banner notifications from the game. From… from–him. It’s something you’ve already braced yourself for. It doesn’t prepare you, however, for what they actually said. 

A knot grows in your chest, spreading rapidly like slithering twine as your mind tries, and somewhat fails, to make sense of what your eyes are seeing. 

Grab a dozen, sweetie. It won’t add much to the total cost, and you need that protein every morning. Cereal’s not gonna cut it. 

You really ought to lessen your sodium intake, kitten. (and) Do NOT get the box. Stop. 

Haha. A feisty one, aren’t you? 

Mmm, poor baby.

I– we can talk about this later when you get home.

Each notification contains a completely unique dialogue you’ve never seen before. A play-by-play commentary specifically in response to you— to your personal remarks from earlier, spoken out loud— that there is absolutely no way anyone could still pass it off as simply being system-generated. 

A faint ringing echoes in your ears as you slowly draw back, putting some distance between the onslaught of text and… you. You can’t seem to tear your gaze away from the screen, though. Even if the back of your head bumps against the seat edge of the sofa behind you from how far you’ve already leaned back. 

Blinking in stunned silence, the only thing you could croak out is a strained “what the fuuuck.” 

... Ping!

Still mustering the courage to face me? Don’t keep me in suspense, darling. 

The sudden message jolts you back to reality. You suck in a deep breath.

… Despite everything, you can’t help but find his nonchalant response to your gradual spiral into hysterics–because he knows–a little amusing. Also rude. But mostly funny. 

(It’s also probably just your brain’s last-ditch effort to find some semblance of control, but whatever.)

At this point, you know that you’re merely delaying the inevitable. Swallowing, you press on one of Sylus’ messages and it immediately boots up the game. 

Instead of soothing your nerves like it usually does, the orchestral background music from the loading screen puts you more on edge; your anxiety builds up to a crescendo, harmonious to the heralding of what you know will undoubtedly change the trajectory of your life. 

Dramatic, but true. 

48%... 82%... 98%...

There’s a hollow drop in your stomach when the screen–finally–reveals the familiar sight of the café. The golden ambient light enters your field of vision for a split second before your eyes flit reflexively to the man standing in the middle of the screen, whose presence commandeered your full attention.

He’s wearing his motorcycle jacket–the black one with the red and white thorn(?) accents, paired along the pair of leather pants with the iconic double zipper. Aside from the black zircon studs, he’s not wearing anything out of the ordinary. Nothing is looking out of the ordinary, actually. 

Holding your breath, you wait for the other shoe to drop. 

“Are you waiting for me to say hello? Then–” Sylus muses with an amused lilt to his voice, sauntering closer to flick “my” forehead. There’s a beat before he continues: “That’s my way of saying hello.” 

… Huh? 

That’s—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. You… you don’t know what you were expecting, but this wasn’t it.

The man in front of you doesn’t look any different from how he usually does; the way that his… character animation (Should you call it that? It doesn’t seem right, given the circumstance, but you don’t know how best to describe anything anymore) flows is so–-so infuriatingly… normal. As if it’s just like any other day that you’ve logged in the game. 

Where did the sentience go? Why is he reciting lines he’s programmed to say? None of it adds up.

Your mouth tries to form words, but nothing comes out. With wide eyes, you helplessly gape at him. Speechless. For a moment, you feel like you’ve actually gone mad. 

A small “what’s happening?” slips past your lips. Your eyes dart across his face, trying to analyze every microexpression, any hint of sentience on him–in his eyes, in his movements. 

You find none. 

Mechanically, you exit the game.

“What the actual fuck?” You whisper-shout at nothing in particular, and maybe to the biggest cause of your current disconcertion; one who you thought… Who you were sure was—

-

-

Fuck it. It’s time to put your detective skills to work.

[heraldofsomething]

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

Linda Flynn-Fletcher

I think Linda Flynn-Fletcher is potentially one of the most misunderstood characters in the show.

It think comes from a natural enough place. Her role in the show is of course, to act as the potential threat to their summers of fun. While they boys never see her as a threat, narratively she's the big bad. If she sees it, its game over.

Here's the thing though. She's a not a bad mom. Her children LOVE her. Similarly to how Phineas and Ferb absolutely adore Candace and would do nearly anything she asked, Phineas, Ferb and Candace all love and respect their mother and don't disobey her. Now a bit of this is clearly Linda being a more permissive parent, but any rules that Linda has Phineas and Ferb never do anything to disobey their mother. While I wouldn't be surprised if there were one or two instances where Candace disobeyed her mother willfully, the closest I can think off off hand is Candace not doing a bunch of chores that she was supposed to do. Really, the fact that all her kids love her, shows how much all her kids feel loved in their household. And I think that's super important. Candace wrote a song about how much she feels loved by her mom, even if her mom is dismissive of Candace. But she still goes with Candace to see what the boys are up to even if she doesn't believe it. She sets boundaries on how often Candace can bust the boys sure. But she hasn't forbidden Candace from doing it altogether. Nor does she punish Candace for presumably lying?

At MOST Linda will say something like: "let's get you out of the sun" after a failed bust. The worst of it I think is probably the time Linda made her promise not to try or suffer the Pharaohs curse. Which, was just some guy in a Pharaoh costume telling Candace curse you. Linda goes out of her way to read books to try and deal with her daughter. She and Candace still clearly hold a lot of affection for each other and do spend a decent amount of mother daughter time together. Linda gives books to her daughter, tries to direct her to other activities, and finds her sleep busting cute, and sometimes goes out of her way to do activities her daughter wants to do with her. All things considered Linda is REALLY patient about Candace's busting. Could she be doing more to get to the bottom of why Candace is presumably acting out? Sure. But Doofensmirtz could also be doing a better job of listening to his daughter and not insulting her (or do we not remember why Vanessa wears earbuds around the house) but we all call him a really good dad.

A LOT of shows have kids hiding a secret from a parent for one reason of another. But while the crux of the show rests on Linda not knowing what her sons are doing, its not because its a secret. The boys aren't hiding it from her. The boys genuinely believe she knows. Lawrence genuinely believes she knows. Candace is the only one in the family who really grasps the situation.

Linda's ignorance, her disbelief of the wild shenanigans that her children get into is easily mistakable for normality. For representing the oppressive day to day. The same thematic antagonist as school. A mom who wants whats best for her kids, and thinks that whats best for them is them being normal, without realizing what's really best for them. After all why else we saw what would happen if she found out in Quantum Boogaloo. But the fact of the matter is aside from that one future (which also featured an effectively evil leader in Doofensmirtz, and therefore implies more factors at play than just Doofensmirtz and Linda's characters), we don't really know how it would play out in the long term. Future Linda even just kinda moves on after discovering the truth.

Linda is exactly like her kids. She just does the same things on a less physics breaking scale. The woman has like 37 different hobbies. She takes a cooking class, donated an art sculpture, is part of a jazz group. She has a background in astrophysics. She was a pop star. She won a meatloaf contest. She takes french lessons. The fact that Linda has several hobbies is part of the reason the formula works at all. Linda is constantly trying new things which gets her out of the house, while her sons are trying their own new things. Her absence is what prompts Candace to have to go looking for her. Also, What Do It Do when the moment Linda gets put in Candace's position she acts the exact same way.

Also it's why she and Lawrence are so compatible. They have a lot of weird hobbies they spend together. She likes Lawrence's history references. They watch car racing together. They went spelunking together. They go bowling regularly enough to have equipment. She has played the bagpipes while Lawrence danced (which sidenote: do you think she taught Candace how to play the bagpipes?).

Not to mention her extended family. Think about it. Her mom was a competitive roller derby skater who once bit a skate and shook it like a dog with a chew toy and pulls elaborate pranks with her identical twin. Really she's a lot like Candace with her aggressive passion. Her dad apparently won a balloon race, but tells the story in the most straightforward way possible, sometimes very oblivious, but is overall a lot like Phineas. Her sister is an adrenaline junky. And back to Quantum Boogaloo for a minute: Her granddaughter is just like Candace, Grown up Candace is a lot like Linda. Do you not see the implications!!?!?!? LIKE???? DO YOU NOT REALIZE THAT LINDA WAS PROBABLY A LOT LIKE CANDACE AND PHINEAS WHEN SHE WAS YOUNGER?!!?! YOU THINK IT SKIPPED A GENERATION OR SOMETHING???

Do you think Linda used to complain about Tiana??? Do you think Linda thought her family was weird and was embarrassed by them??? Do you think Linda ever called herself the only mature/normal member of her family?? LIKE CANDACE DOES????

Anyway, Linda is just like her family. Sure, she is RELATIVELY more normal, but that's relative, and probably simply because the universe bends itself around to keep her from knowing. Linda literally cannot find out about the real nature of her universe. Linda is just a grown up version of her children, seeking to make the most of each day, but within the bounds the universe has set upon her, both as an adult woman and mother, but also in the laws of physics expected of her. But she still makes the most of her life. You don't have to build a roller coaster to make the most of each day and all that.

I think if Linda is representing anything its that even parents can have rich fulfilling lives. Where they make the most out of each day. Having fun with your life doesn't stop with adulthood. Even if you have more responsibilities doesn't mean you can't have fun? Sure childhood is something you can't get back but growing up isn't inherently bad either?

[letsmyy]

i have a request!!! you should write a daughter of apollo x leo valdez fic but based on espresso by sabrina carpenter (idk i feel like that song gives children of apollo vibes!) it'd be leo obsessed with the apollo girl (like him being absolutely obsessed with her, having the biggest crush on her possible, he constantly thinks about her, him being an absolute loser bf) and finally getting the courage to ask her out on a date or something like that.

“she’s like a shot of espresso…”

leo valdez x duaghter of apollo!reader

warnings: use of yn! english isn’t my first language so it might be some errors!!

thank you so much for your request, it made me so happy!! idk if what i wrote it’s exactly what you want but i hope you like it 🤕 this is my first timing writing a real fic and I think it really shows lol, but i promise I’ll try to improve in the next one, I’m so sorry if it’s that bad, and this is really short too? omg im really bad at this lol, but anyways, ly anon tell me your opinions (honestly) abt this later, kisses to uuu!! 🫶💗 (btw anon, please request other things I feel like I didn’t did you justice with this one)

words: 850

“is it that sweet? I guess so…..”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ - ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Leo was sure he was going crazy.

He always had a pretty big amount of silly crushes on girls, but with you? It was getting way too serious. Of course, you're beautiful, incredibly kind, and too generous for your own good, and you treated him well, but that isn't enough reason to make him lose sleep; at least that's what he thought.

And he was extremely wrong. Being in your presence was the equivalent of being bathed in the sunlight, and gods, he felt like a prisoner who hadn't seen the sun in years.

He's completely obsessed with you; he just needs the courage to verbalize that, but being honest, Leo felt like a coward at the moment.

While being lost in his thoughts (the thoughts being the pretty daughter of Apollo that never leaves his mind), the boy finally falls asleep.

Leo doesn't mind waking up if that means spending the day with the people he loves, so after getting ready for the day, he searches for you.

And he found you, talking with a much younger camper, helping him. You're smiling like it's the best day of your life, and Leo could swear that you're almost glowing.

The boy makes its way to you the same moment you finish talking to the kid, now having your full attention on Hephaestus' son.

"Leo! Good morning!" Your voice to him had the same effect as listening to his favorite music, it made him happy in ways he couldn't explain, even if his life depended on it. 

"Yn! Good morning!" He mimics you, not in a bad way, just a teasing one. You roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

"Sooo, did you sleep well, Valdez?" You ask, seeming really interested in the answer, but he knows that you're like that for everything, being extremely kind.

"Not really, would be better if I dreamed about you," you laugh amusingly.

"You say that every day, y'know?"

"I know, I say because it's true. " You can't help but blush a little. You're used to Leo flirting with you, but it never gets past that, so you just learned to joke back.

"Hilarious, Valdez... fortunately, I slept very well today, and I'm more excited than normal! I think it's because it's so sunny today, that's awesome, was thinking about going to the lake later. I can't waste such a pretty day like this one painting inside my cabin..."

"Unfortunately, I'll be in the bunker today, I have lots of things to do."

"What? No! You're coming with me, you can't waste this wonderful day either!" You grab his hands, walking toward the lake.

Leo could swear he would pass out at that moment. He couldn't even think about denying your offer, he would prefer dying to doing that.

After a few seconds, you guys get to the lake.

"Look how pretty it is! You have to go swimming with me, it’s a need.”

"Look, sunshine, water and fire don't get along so well, so I might skip that one" he says, apologetic. You frown, thinking.

"We don't need to go swimming, we can just talk, i really don't care." You smile lovingly at him.

"I don't want to ruin your day! There are many people that can go with you, you'll find someone better to do that." He's so oblivious that it's getting concerning.

"I want to spend time with you, Valdez. I don't mind if it's swimming or just talking, I want to, you know..be with you."

"Oh." He's acting like a loser, he can't think straight anymore and is blushing like crazy, but who cares?

"Oh?" You tease him, smiling.

"Yeah, we can. Just talk, I'm happy with that. " His smile was so genuine that made your heart melt.

That's when you realize you're still holding his hand, and you don't want to change that. You can feel he notices too.

Something just snapped in his head, now it’s the time, now or never, right?

"Yn? Can I tell you something?" He says it in a quiet tone, and you just nod.

"When I'm around you, it's like constantly drinking a shot of espresso, it's like being bathed in sunlight, you're incredibly energetic and enthusiastic, and i just can't get enough of you, you're my sunrise and daylight....all I'm saying is, gods, I very much love you more than just friends" You're surprised, really surprised, so surprised that you can't even speak for a moment, which just makes Leo even more nervous.

"Please say something...like, anything, a no it's better than silence because it’s less-“ Before he yaps again, you interrupt him:

"I like you too." The boy almost squeals of pure excitement.

"Seriously? Oh gods, oh gods. What?" He's so happy, it's so sincere, so soft, it's amazing, you can feel your heart beating so fast, and you don't even care; seeing him like this because of you is the best feeling you ever felt.

Then you see that one look, meant just for you, it's like time has frozen, and you're both thinking the same thing. Then, like all the stars aligned, you kissed him

[layraket]

guys. i could say that im very normal abt the update. but that would be a lie. and lying is bad. yeah. im nothing close to normal abt this whole thing im deranged.

theres so many details here.

Time seems to be more calm, the last update he was at the verge of screaming (to shut them all? to call for help to control all these links? who knows) now he looks very thoughtful, taking in every detail of the whole place to see if he can get some sort of puzzle solved

This question i feel like it has more impact that it looks at first, a lot of people are pointing out the little owl friend we saw at the first doodles of the AU, yeah the owl in oot was a yapper in all rule, but he was some sort of guidance during his journey

Twilight connects the owls to Shad, a guy who has a lot of knowledge and can help him at any moment if he needs some sort of information, Four remembers the owl that helped the colors during his second adventure, and Legend connects the owls to the statues in Koholint, together with the owl that gave him hints to where he had to go

Here it is made clear the point that i was talking before: Time recognizes that even if, for a kid, it was just an anoying bird, he helped him in some sort of way, and he should appreciated that small detail

beautiful art there's so many birds here im delighted so happy i've been staring at this for already 6 minutes beautiful

Owlan! as someone who also has slept during class so many times i dont blame Sky at all

also can we talk about how cool is Owlan's design??? like why i haven't seen anyone commenting abt it???? the yellow feather just makes me thing of the loftwing that we had to chase during the start of sksw, and i love that small detail so much

and Sun!! Finally she got a canon apparition, and of course it is with Sky sleeping during class lol

going back with what i was saying before, yeah he can thank Kaepora Gaebora all he wants, but man did that bird talk so much

love that expression 10/10 no more notes needed

EMO RULIE EMO RULI-

putting that joke aside, Hyrule seems to be more careful inside a dungeon, sure he can try and explore all he wants outside, but he knows very well the dangers of a dungeon, and he would like to no take any risk that could put them in danger while he can help it

I love the continuity of the comic, we all knew these were the same statues as the one that Twi used to separate them from Sky, but seeing it being portrayed in the comic is a detail that i think we all appreciate

Twilight my guy you cant go and look all that innocent we know your tricks

also Sky still remembers that time, seeing Legend as a bunny will not be easily forgotten. And Legends knows it

it doesn't mean that he likes that little fact

here i have things to say, it makes sense that the antifairy goes first for Legend, he's like. one of the most magic-based of them. Sure maybe Hyrule is our special wizard guy, but the vet uses a shit ton of magic weapons, he has to have a crazy amount of magic with him adding the rings he has

Also them all ready to defend their vet, yeah it might not be fully dangerous, but they will show no mercy to whatever dares to hurt one of them (a silent promise that they all made with the Twilight situation)

Time's attention is instantly gained with the mention of a Fairy, he doesn't sees too much of his friends in that thing, and that gives him a bad feeling of why the name

i could easily do a well thought comment on how he's magical girl material but i think with only that description enough was said

Only with the thought of one of his fairy friends having such destiny makes Time be disgusted, a Fairy turned into an enemy? Doesn't sound right, it isn't natural and just cruel for the poor fairy

also Wind was ready to catch her, he knows how valuable are fairies during a dungeon, you never know when you will need her help

Warriors during his adventure he made friends with the fairies, so he obviously will have something for her

he's like a mom who knows her children very well and will carry any treats for them, not beating up the mom/aunt of the group allegations

and Wind give the poor fairy some time before entering the bottle, she must be confused :(

this last pannel is everything to me, very cool very beautiful i love thsi comic so much

now my fav pannels as usual!

beautiful art as always every time i see a new update i get surprised by all the details

if you noticed a lot of Four in the last few images shushhh

as always, art credits goes towards @linkeduniverse!

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: As you prepare for the impending trial and attempt to find ways to relieve your stress, the biggest stressor in your life has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back after a little hiatus! This is a bit of a shorter chapter to get me back into writing after a few months. I’m hoping to be updating a bit more regularly but I’m (sadly) growing even more busy & stressed, so I promise to do the best I can! As always I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. My asks/dm’s are always open!

Tag List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @aggieslittleslut @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Present Day

The whooshing of the wind in your ears combined with the cool air filling your lungs fueled you to increase your pacing as you ran through the deserted park. It had been nearly a week since you reunited with Agatha, and your brain had been hellbent on torturing you ever since. Nothing could take your mind off the infuriating attorney, not even work. You had spent the past few days pouring over every word in the various documents Agatha presented during the pretrial conference, hoping to find something, anything really, to solidify your case.

It was times like this when you missed working in corporate law. Although you had only been a junior attorney at Stark & Strange, you had unlimited access to paralegals and attorneys at your disposal. Unfortunately, working for the government meant not only taking a significant pay cut, but also limiting your outsourcing. You didn’t regret your decision to leave the firm, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the perks.

Since burying yourself in piles of work proved useless, your only real escape from Agatha came from running. The familiar burning sensation began to fill your lungs as your body begged for a break, but you forced yourself to continue. Your legs felt heavier than when you first started, and as you rounded the corner of the trail you had to work twice as hard to not slow down. Even though you were growing tired, the rush of endorphins was a welcome change from the haunting memory of searing blue eyes burning holes into your own.

Agatha would be far too pleased to learn how much of your time and energy was being wasted trying to forget her. However, being the soul sucking succubus she was, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was already aware of the pain she was causing. A swell of anger suddenly overtook you, a feeling you had long grown familiar with when thinking of her, and you used it to finish the final stretch of your run. The thudding of your feet on the pavement along with the loud thumping of your heartbeat acting as a painful reminder of the woman you so desperately wanted to rid yourself of.

Swirls of scarlet, orange, and yellow painted the Manhattan skyline as the sun gradually rose over the city, and the quiet beeping of your phone from your back pocket signaled the end of your run. Nearing the end of the trail, you slowed your pace down to a steady walk, allowing yourself to do some breathing exercises in the process whilst checking your email. It was early enough in the morning that there wasn’t much for you to go through, but you knew it was bound to be yet another busy day.

You had timed your run to give yourself just enough time to head back to your apartment to get ready for the day and get to the office before the rest of your colleagues. The stress of the looming trial was becoming overwhelming, and you had to be prepared for whatever chaos Agatha would inevitably throw at you. Unfortunately that meant you were working nearly double the amount of hours than normal.

Luckily you were able to take a quick shower, find clean clothes in the back of your closet, and managed to get to work before anyone else had arrived. You would hopefully have an hour or two to yourself before you were eventually interrupted, and you intended to use every last possible second you could. As you strolled the corridor, you were tempted to stop to make yourself a coffee, but decided to get settled before adding caffeine to this situation.

Absentmindedly dropping your bag to the floor after you entered your office, you refocused your attention on reading a memo that one of your colleagues had left for you. Making mental notes of what needed to be addressed, you turned to open the blinds when you stopped dead in your tracks at what was in front of you.

Agatha Harkness sat in an armchair in the corner of your office, an amused expression painting her face. You nearly fell over at the sight of her, how did she get in here? The door was locked when you had arrived, wasn’t it?

Agatha, unaware of your current inner ramblings, took a sip of her coffee before repositioning herself, recrossing her legs as she gave you a disappointed look. “Your lack of situational awareness is truly astonishing. I could have been a murderer.”

Adrenaline continued to course through your body as your heart thumped loudly in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you ignored her sarcastic remarks as you leaned against your desk, attempting to calm down.

“What-what the hell are you doing in here?” You spluttered out, unsuccessfully trying to regain your composure.

The attorney frowned, as if that was an absurd question. “This is your office, is it not? I wasn’t sure at first, but the withering plants were a bit of a giveaway.”

Typical Agatha. They weren’t dying, were they? You made a mental note to ask your paralegal to water them a bit more.

Ignoring the jab, you took another deep breath, your body still on edge. “Do I even want to know how you got in here?”

Taking a moment to think over your words, she shook her head. “No. Now drink your coffee before the ice melts.”

It was then that you noticed the untouched cup of iced coffee on the edge of your desk. Narrowing your eyes at it, you gave her a suspicious glance. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, as if that was the most ridiculous thing to ask her and she didn’t just break into your office. “Honestly, dear. You’re far too paranoid this early in the morning. Drink. We both know how irritable you are without caffeine.”

When you refrained from grabbing the cup, Agatha huffed, her stormy blue eyes swirling in annoyance as she rose from her seat. Taking a step towards you until your legs were nearly touching, she snatched the cup, the silence in the room disrupted by the clanking sound of the ice swirling in the cup. Hovering over you, she used her free hand to grab yours, the soft feel of her touch briefly taking you back to a time where it would have been more welcomed.

Your breath hitched as the rich, musky scent of her expensive perfume washed over you, and you fought the temptation to look into her eyes. How many times had you found yourself in this exact same position with her, you mused lightly as your brain attempted to regain its ability to function. Agatha’s fingers intertwined with yours, as she leaned in even closer, her lips grazing your jawline and you closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to lean into her touch.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “No. This can’t happen again.”

Agatha pulled back, her eyebrows slightly raised. “What can’t happen again?”

Giving her a pointed look, you tried to ignore the feel of her fingers still interwoven with your own. “I don’t think we need to relive that mistake, do we?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Agatha replied, swishing the cup of iced coffee as she lifted it up. “I seem to recall you rather enjoying yourself during that mistake, or was that someone else who pulled me into a closet and jumped me?”

“I did not jump you! You’re the one who came onto me,” you hissed as your irritation grew exponentially.

“Easy, tiger,” Agatha teased, raising the cup until the straw was nearly touching your lips. “I see the caffeine withdrawal is already kicking in.”

“Agatha…” you trailed off, ignoring your brain protesting that this would hurt even more than your last encounter.

Dropping your hand, Agatha gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head upwards until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“Sip,” Agatha murmured, raising the cup once more to your lips.

Her words were soft, but you both knew it wasn’t a request as much as a command. A part of you knew this was a mistake, that you couldn’t give into her yet again after being strong for so long. But then you looked into her eyes and found yourself getting lost in the fiery intensity she always seemed to carry. Logic and reason held no weight against the pleasure that was being at the mercy of Agatha Harkness.

Wrapping your lips around the straw, you lightly sucked, savoring the creamy, cold taste of the iced coffee on your tongue. Agatha’s eyes darkened at the sight; using one hand to brush your hair behind your shoulders while the other remained glued to your jaw, fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“Good girl,” Agatha quietly praised, running her fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the loose strands.

As you released the straw from your mouth, Agatha set the cup down, tightening her grip on your hair before capturing your lips in a kiss. Her lips were warm and gentle against your own, but it wasn’t long before she began nipping on your lower lip, biting down harder when you let out a whine. Moving forward, she pressed herself fully against you, while you instinctively wrapped your arms around her waist. Her tongue expertly sought out your own, and it felt like she was trying to get every drop of coffee from your mouth.

Panting, you were the first to break the kiss, tilting your head as Agatha proceeded to pepper persistent kisses down your jawline, each leaving you more breathless than the last.

“Agatha…” you whimpered, the last bit of self control slipping away even as you tried to hold onto it. “We can’t do this again.”

The attorney chuckled softly against your skin, tickling you ever so slightly in the process. She took a moment to look up at you then, with her ever blue eyes hazy with want and perfectly swollen red lips, and you remembered a moment in time where this had been easier. It was almost too easy to forget the pain of the past when she looked at you in that special way; as if she saved those intimate, sweet glances just for you. You used to believe you were able to bring out a different side of her than the rest of the world saw; that you understood who she was at her core.

Having her here now made the whole situation even worse than you previously remembered. It complicated things, and if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was unnecessary complications. You found it difficult to remember the seemingly obvious reasons why you left her all those years ago when she was standing within your reach; the light that once dimmed in her eyes was once again ablaze. Gone were the demons of the past, in its place was the woman you had once fallen in love with.

Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard chatter from the hallway; your colleagues had arrived for the day. Agatha’s head tilted at the sound, and the moment was broken as she took a step back.

Clearing her throat, she folded her arms across her chest. “I was hoping you had given more thought to dropping the case, that’s why I dropped by.”

Annoyance took over any feelings of longing that had been threatening to emerge, and you frowned. “You do realize that this could be perceived as intimidation, right? That on top of trespassing could mean you potentially lose any upper hand in this trial that you believe you possess.”

Agatha fully cackled, which only served to enrage you further. She picked up a few files that she must have previously set on the desk. “You always were so full of pride and ambition, dear. I’m not surprised to see it still has a hand in clouding your judgment. It’s a pity. I always thought you had a lot of potential.”

Flabbergasted, you shook your head. You should have known better. Only Agatha would be capable of attempting to manipulate you over your shared past to better serve her motive. Shoving past her, you finally opened the blinds to your office, the once sunny morning replaced with dark gray skies as rain furiously poured down. As you turned around to tell Agatha to get out, you were unsurprised to find she was already gone. Typical.

Settling down at your desk, you opened your laptop and started going through your checklist for the day when you noticed something on the edge of your desk; a file folder. You quickly realized Agatha must have left it behind by accident, which was strange; it wasn’t like her to do something like that. It was unclear what drove you to opening the file, but looking back you’d blame it on your own morbid curiosity. Inside there were over a dozen pages of what appeared to be hospital records for two people, one being Wanda Maximoff.

As you settled in to read, your eyes drifted to the neglected iced coffee. A part of you wanted to throw it away, but the caffeine driven side of your brain led you to grab it. After all, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Flipping the page over as you sipped, you paused as you actually tasted the coffee for the first time without distraction.

This is your exact coffee order. Iced coffee, extra ice, one pump of vanilla and a splash of oatmilk. After all of these years she still remembered, remembered it perfectly.

You weren’t sure why you hated that as much as you did, but it burns in your mind as you keep reading and drinking, trying to wash her taste out of your mouth.

[opinated-user]

I feel like it's time to shine a light on MOs immigration again:

For the uninitiated: November 2022 is when LO asked her fans to donate money for this process. December 2023 is when one fan finally asked what happened to the money (they gave a good amount) and LO claimed they had at this point submitted all the necessary paperwork and are in the background stage. It is Now September 2024.

All the following information is taken directly from the official Canadian government page:

1. During the pandemic average waiting times spousal immigration was around 12 months, it has since gone down to ten. MOs immigration therefore should be going through within the year.

2. Once you've submitted your paperwork you are eligible to apply for a working visa, that is easier and quicker to get than normal if you link it to your immigration, and move to and work in Canada. This will also show the authorities that you are willing and able to support yourself in your new home, thus have a positive impact on your process.

While we don't know MOs circumstances, she very clearly loves LO and wants to be with her + her living conditions in the US are very bad. So I'd assume she'd want to move asap.

The fact that no further updates have been given to fans who gave them money is already suspicious. Best case scenario these two are not very good at navigating government sites, worst case scenario LO is stringing her along and pocketed the money raised. Also LO claims to have a lawyer on standby, who she could then theoretically consult about any questions about the process. Weird all that.

(while I do not necessarily think moving in with LO would be good for MO, I even more do not want her hopes and dreams crushed)

actually, that is not all. it's my belief that LO not only does not have any intention of moving MO with her, she also has already misused the money that she gained from her followers for her own gain without any disclosure.

in that post i showed, with evidence that i gathered myself and LO herself provided, that is highly likely that LO spend the money from that fundraising on a desk. not only that, at the same time that LO was bragging about getting this new desk (two days after making that fundraising, then lying about it), she was also talking about getting a another desk, a more expensive one, for MO. a desk that only LO would end up using because, again, they don't live together. all of this we were talking about at the start of this year and nothing has changed.

for the record, if LO had just said openly "guys, i need urgently a new desk, i need to use this money", nobody would have a problem with it. if LO had done a fundraising for a new desk in the first place, nobody would care. streamers and youtubers ask donations from their fanbase to get new equipment all the time, that is normal. the lack of transparency is the issue here.

the issue is that LO over two years now promised, both to her audience and to MO, that she'd be working on the immigration process. she used other people's money in order to do that. they deserve to know what happened to that money.

[bijouxcarys]

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

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: I know it's been a while; been dealing with some health issues and uni work. I shared a teaser of chapter 16, which I actually had to split into two chapters because it reached 20k words and that's just ridiculous for me personally lol. Hope you enjoy <3

CW/TW: Slight angst, mild mention of violence

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

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

@electronicwitchsandwich

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

Roman’s couch was far too soft for a mind that wouldn’t stop racing.

It wasn’t surprising that Nate couldn’t sleep, even though it had just passed 2am. Her leather jacket was bunched up at her lower back, some kind of feeble attempt at some comfort. But the ache of her body was too much, and her thoughts were circling like vultures around death as she stared at the screen of her phone, aimlessly swiping between apps and trying to lose herself in the virtual world. 

Everything felt… off. Unreal. It was like she was trapped in some kind of dream—the kind in which no matter how hard you try and wake yourself up, no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just a dream, you’re stuck in it. It’s real. And it’s not going away.

Katya: Alexei and Boris are staying at the house tonight. And I don’t know why, nobody will tell me anything.

Nate frowned, her thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. Alexei and Boris weren’t just hanging around for fun—they only showed up together at the house for either alcohol, or business. Either way, it meant something was happening; normally, Nate would be informed about meetings or visits, business endeavours… But the fact that she wasn’t this time, it didn’t sit right.

Katya: Where are u anyway??

With a sigh, she typed out a response.

Nate: Lana’s

Nate: And that’s weird. You didn’t overhear anything or…

Katya: No. It was all very… weird. They didn’t even see me standing there. They went into dad’s office.

Nate: Right… 

Nate: Lock your door and get some sleep if you can. If anything seems off or if you hear something, call me.

Nate: I mean it, you call me if something happens.

Nate: Promise me.

Katya: Ok

Katya: Nate, you’re my best friend, aside from my sister.

Katya: There’s nobody else I would call.

Katya: ily 🩷

Nate: Love you too x

A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach, but there wasn’t much she could do from here. Whatever was going on at the house, it would have to wait until she got back. She had business to take care of before then. And as guilty as it made Nate feel for lying to her sister about her whereabouts, she had to keep reminding herself that it was for Katya. For her future. Both of their futures. A dangerous life with dangerously high stakes had to be neutralised before chaos struck. Because once chaos strikes, one only has a certain amount of time before a complete implosion.

And chaos had, indeed, struck.

Switching over to her conversation thread with Boris, she thought about texting him to ask what was going on, but as soon as she opened the chat, her eyes were drawn to the unopened image attachment at the top of the screen.

Bloody hell, what now?

The second the photo loaded on her screen, she had the impulse to fling her phone to the other side of the room, far away from her eyes. A grotesque image of Boris in front of a mirror, flexing, his pale skin bare of any clothing. Completely nude. She groaned audibly, her face scrunching in disgust.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, immediately closing the chat and tossing her phone beside her. Of all the things she didn’t need to deal with right now, Boris and his misguided attempts at seduction were at the top of the list.

“I brought you a blanket.”

Nate turned around quickly to see Naomi standing in the doorway, holding a blanket in her arms. Tentative, as if she wasn’t sure how Nate would react to her showing up in the middle of the night. Everyone made the executive decision to stay at Roman’s house that night, considering the meet up occurring the day after. And for a minute, Nate forgot where she was exactly—a place she really shouldn’t be.

“Oh,” she exhaled, calming her nerves. “Uh, thanks.”

Naomi offered a small smile and walked over, holding the blanket out to Nate. “I figured you didn’t have anything with you… the big guy ain’t exactly stocked up on guest amenities.”

Nate couldn’t help but snort at that, taking the blanket and setting it in her lap. “Yeah, I noticed”

Lingering for a moment, Naomi shifted on her feet. “Mind if I sit?”

“Sure, whatever,” Nate shrugged, leaning back into the couch as Naomi sat next to her, tucking one leg under the other and glancing around the room before her gaze settled on Nate again.

“I, uh…” she started softly. “I just wanted to apologise about the whole engagement party thing. I didn’t mean for it to… well, I don’t want you to think I was there to start anything. I wasn’t spying or nothin’.”

Nate tilted her head slightly, her tired eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You weren’t?”

“No, not really. I mean, Roman asked me to be there, yeah, but I wasn’t tryna make trouble. I was just… watching, I guess. I don’t want you to think I, like… have it out for you or anything.”

Nate studied Naomi’s face for a moment, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but she found none. She seemed genuine, even back at the party. It was a strange contrast to the tension Nate usually felt in the presence of Roman’s inner circle.

“Okay,” Nate cautiously accepted. “Then what exactly were you doing there?”

Sighing, Naomi pulled her hands into her lap and played with the edges of her robe sleeves. “Honestly, just tryna keep an eye on things. I know how the big guy can be… how intense he can get. I think he’s just worried about… you bein’ around—about whether or not he can trust you. And I guess he thought I could give him some perspective. But I wasn’t there to judge you.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, her scepticism still evident, but she nodded slowly. “Right…”

“Look, I get why you’d be pissed about it. Hell, I’d be too. But for what it’s worth… I don’t see you as a threat. I don’t know the full story, but my ass has been around enough Roman Reignses in my life to know when someone’s got potential.”

“Potential for what?” Nate huffed through a low, humourless laugh.

“To be somebody Roman trusts,” Naomi said simply. “That ain’t something he gives lightly, y’know? But I think he sees something in you. He wouldn’t have let you stick around this long if he didn’t!”

The comment caught Nate off-guard, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Roman’s trust wasn’t something she’d ever considered herself earning at any point during any of this. And to be frank, he’d be wise to share that sentiment. Nate didn’t exactly trust easily either.

“I’m not really looking to be Roman’s most trusted ally here,” she muttered, trying to deflect.

“I know,” Naomi nodded. “Doesn’t mean it ain’t happening, though.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment as Nate pondered the words. Still unconvinced that Roman Reigns trusting her was on the horizon, in any universe. 

“I think you’re handling everything pretty well. Given that the boys are a bunch of barnyard animals.”

Nate scoffed, shaking her head. “If this is me handling things well, I’d hate to see what a disaster looks like.”

Naomi chuckled quietly. “Girl, you’re doing just fine.”

Nate let out a deep breath, feeling a little of the tension ease out of her shoulders. She wasn’t sure she believed Naomi, but it was nice to hear something other than suspicion for once. 

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, keeping her voice subdued.

Naomi smiled and gave her a small nod, standing up from the couch and stretching out her arms. “Well, I should let you get some rest. It’s been a long ass day.”

“Yeah,” Nate quietly agreed, watching out of her peripherals as Naomi took a step towards the door, paused, and glanced back at her.

“If you need anything whenever you’re here… just let me know, okay?”

Nate finally broke out a tiny smile. “Will do.”

With that, Naomi left the room, leaving Nate alone again in the quiet darkness.

On the plus side, Nate managed a fitful hour and a half of sleep before she jolted awake, her body stiff from the awkward position she’d fallen into on the couch. The blanket Naomi had brought her was tangled around her legs, offering little comfort. With an irritated sigh, she pushed it off and sat up, her head heavy, and the room thick with early-morning silence.

3:45am. She groaned as she read the time on her phone, running a hand through her hair. Honestly, she could have just gotten up and driven back to Tribeca, or to Lana’s place. Could have. But she didn’t. She put up with the discomfort of sleeping in Roman Reigns’ house, on the couch. God, if Dimitri could see her right now… No, she didn’t even want to entertain that possibility. 

Suddenly, the soft creak of footsteps caught her attention. Her eyes snapped toward the direction of the stairs, narrowing slightly as a dark figure emerged.

Roman.

In this low lighting, he looked even more imposing—which she didn’t think could be possible—with his black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and the fitted T-shirt stretched across his chest. It was clear he hadn’t exactly been asleep either.

Roman crossed the room without acknowledging her at first, his focus entirely on the bar in the corner. He wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet as he methodically poured himself a glass of whiskey with a slightly clumsy exterior. Something about his demeanour screamed stress, despite the carefully controlled facade he always maintained. The whiskey sloshed in the glass, the sound crisp in the otherwise silent space.

She watched him for a moment, wondering what the hell had brought him downstairs at this hour. Was he still riled up from earlier? Was something else gnawing at him? Nate didn’t have the energy to ask, but she couldn’t help but feel unnerved by it. Especially when he turned, one drink in each hand, and headed toward the couch—the couch she was on.

Instead of choosing any of the empty chairs scattered around the room, Roman sat down at the opposite end of the couch from her, his broad frame taking up more space than necessary. The leather creaked under his weight, and Nate tensed slightly, unsure of why he’d chosen to sit so close. She had expected him to stay aloof, maybe ignore her entirely like he just did moments ago. But here he was, settling in, clearly not in a hurry to go back to where he’d come from.

He held out one of the glasses in her direction, and she hesitated. Eyed the drink suspiciously.

“You look like you need it,” Roman muttered, his tone edged with something almost… defeated?

Nate blinked, caught off-guard. Roman wasn’t exactly the sympathetic type from what she’d witnessed, especially not with her, and the offer made her brow arch in confusion. Nevertheless, she took the glass from him, her fingers brushing the cold condensation, but she didn’t drink it. Instead, she just stared at it, trying to piece together what was going on in his head.

They sat in silence for a long, drawn-out moment. She took little intervals to glance over at him, the sharp lines of his profile barely softened by the modest light. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles tight around his own glass as he took a slow sip.

It was strange—seeing him like this. Roman was always so controlled, always in charge, but right now… something was off.

Nate wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the weariness etched into his face, but the usual tension between them felt muted, replaced by something entirely different. Heavier. It was almost like Roman was trying to drown himself in nothingness, the drink in his hand a poor substitute for whatever was really bothering him.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Who’s your contact?”

She snapped her head toward him, furrowing her eyebrows. “If I told you, you’d just have another thing to be mad at me for.”

Immediately, she regretted the sharpness of her tone. Her irritation, the bone-deep exhaustion, everything was making her more short-tempered than usual. She sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice softer this time. “I didn’t mean to… I’m just tired.”

Roman didn’t react to her apology, didn’t even flinch at the attitude—she was sure he had become accustomed to, or at the very least expectant of, her disposition by now. 

He simply took another drink, staring off into the distance, as if her words didn’t even register. She studied him carefully now, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the subtle slump in his usually rigid posture. It was clear—whatever had him in this state wasn’t about her.

The sight of him in this light, in this position at 4am… it stirred something in her. Roman was always so invincible, so unbreakable. Witnessing him this drained, this… human, pulled at her in a way she hadn’t expected.

She sighed again, this time not out of frustration, but pity. “Becky Lynch,” she said quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the glass. “That’s my contact.”

Roman finally turned to look at her, his brows narrowing. “Aiden’s daughter?”

Nate nodded, watching his expression closely. She could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out why she, of all people, would be reaching out to someone deep in the bloodline of the very people she’s trying to catch out, fully knowing that there was a low chance of her actually being truthful. Roman wasn’t the type to ask for clarification outright, but the question was written all over his face. Why Becky Lynch?

Her exhausted eyes met his. “There’s literally nobody else,” she said, barely above a whisper. “No information anywhere that you can find that’ll be more helpful, more valuable than what comes from Becky. She also…” she paused for a second, “never really had a great relationship with her dad, so…”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger. It was recognition. Maybe. He leaned back slightly, giving her a once over in that quiet, calculating manner he always had.

“So,” he murmured. “A bit like you then.”

Her heart gave an unexpected jolt, and for a moment, the silence between them felt more intimate, more charged than before. Roman wasn’t asking for more information, wasn’t pushing her for answers. He was simply… acknowledging something. Something they both understood but never talked about.

Nate leaned back into the couch, finally taking a sip of the whiskey Roman had handed her. It burned as it slid down her throat, and she grimaced slightly, setting the glass on the small table beside the couch. Her eyes drifted back to him, noticing how he hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything since his last comment. He just sat there, staring off into nothing.

It wasn’t hard to see that Roman’s mood had been exceptionally dark and volatile since she’d arrived—snapping at anyone and everyone who came near him. Whatever he was going through now was the comedown, the aftermath of exerting so much energy into being angry. Drained, like whatever had been pushing him to that edge had finally started to wear him down. 

And for some reason, it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

“So…” Nate started, crossing her arms and leaning forward, studying his expression. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you? Or are we just gonna sit here pretending that everything’s fine when you’ve been in a mood foul enough to scare off half your family?”

Roman’s eyes flitted in her direction, wordlessly contemplating whether or not to even bother with her question. She couldn’t blame him. Asking Roman to open up was probably more like trying to pry a locked door open with your bare hands—frustrating and usually pointless.

“I mean,” she continued, her tone more defensive, “It’s not because I care or anything. I just need you to be at one hundred percent. We need to figure out who’s responsible for the shipment. And whoever killed Priest isn’t gonna wait around while you throw temper tantrums.”

Nate expected him to snap back at her, to say something biting, but he just stared down at the whiskey in his glass, swirling the amber liquid around in slow, measured circles. The silence dragged on again, and she was starting to think he was going to ignore her completely when he finally spoke.

“I’m havin���... ex-wife issues,” Roman muttered, the words coming out like they’d been dragged from the back of his throat.

That was… unexpected. Nate raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Ex-wife issues? The words didn’t even sound like they belonged in the same sentence as Roman Reigns. He seemed too… detached for something like that.

“You? Married?” she asked, her tone laced with playful disbelief, though she didn’t push too hard. “Now that’s a twist. Never pegged you for the type.”

Roman let out a dry, humourless chuckle, still not looking directly at her. “Yeah, me neither. I try not to regret it. But it’s hard not to when you’re dealin’ with… shit like this.”

Nate couldn’t help but smirk, though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “Well, exes can be psychotic sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, this ex has filed a whole ass custody petition for our daughter,” Roman said, the words slipping out before he had a chance to catch them.

Nate blinked. And then blinked again.

Roman… had a daughter?

That was a hell of a thing to drop in the middle of the night like that.

“I didn’t realise you had a daughter,” she said softly, not teasing this time, just genuinely taken aback.

Roman finally looked at her, albeit with a mix of exhaustion and something else—maybe irritation, maybe resignation. “Yeah, well, you ain’t exactly someone I like to talk to.”

Void of venom, his words were just a blunt truth that Nate couldn’t argue with. They weren’t close, they weren’t even civil a majority of the time; why would they sit around and swap personal stories? 

She pursed her lips, an unexpected pang of empathy arising. She knew what it was like to have family issues drag you through the mud, even if her circumstances were different. “I’m sorry,” she said, surprising even herself with the sincerity of the words. She wasn’t one to apologise much, especially not to someone like Roman.

Roman’s jaw tightened, but after a beat, he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the tension. “Nah. That was outta line. You didn’t deserve that.”

Nate chewed at the drying skin on her lower lip, shifting uncomfortably—not because of Roman, but because of the realisation that she actually… cared. About Roman’s situation. About how all of this was clearly affecting him more than he was letting on.

“I take it she’s causing trouble,” she said just above a whisper, looking down at her lap. 

Roman huffed, leaning back and rubbing a hand across his jaw. “You could say that. Maria’s always been a problem. Thought I was done with her shit when we split, just had to deal with her when it was in Ava’s best interest. But… custody battles? That’s a whole different level of bullshit I ain’t ready for.”

“So, what does she want? Money?”

He shook his head, staring off into the distance again. “Nah, it ain’t about that. I think she just… wants control. Wants to prove I’m not a good father. That I’m too tied up in all this for shared custody.”

“I didn’t even know you had a kid,” she hummed, more to herself than to him. The thought of Roman’s stress being split between the business, the shipment, and the threat of losing his daughter to an ex-wife he clearly didn’t see eye-to-eye with—made her stomach twist a little. “Guess it makes sense, though. Why wouldn’t you want to keep that part of your life… separate?”

Roman’s gaze softened, just for a moment. “Yeah. You get it, right? Gotta protect what matters.”

Nate nodded slowly. She did understand. More than he knew. But there was no way she was going to spill her soul out to him. Even if he’d started to peel back a thin layer himself.

“Exes can be a real pain in the arse,” she said, her voice a little lighter now. “But it sounds like she’s going for the jugular with this one. Custody petitions? That’s not just a fight; that’s war.”

He let out a low grunt, tipping his head back and downing the rest of his whiskey in one smooth motion. “Yeah. And she ain’t exactly playin’ fair.”

With a small, almost menacing chuckle, she rested her arm on the back of the couch, leaning her head on her hand. “Well… it’s a good thing you don’t play fair either.”

That earned her a ghost of a smirk from Roman. “Damn straight.”

For the first time, the tension between them had eased enough that the conversation felt almost… normal. Almost.

Nate reached back to pick up her own glass, the burn of whiskey less harsh when she took another sip. “You gonna be alright with all this?”

Roman didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the empty glass in his hand. Contortions on his face mirrored his thoughts; twisted and sharp. “Yeah. I’ll handle it. Always do.”

She nodded, though a part of her wondered how much longer he could keep handling everything on his own without something giving way. But that wasn’t her problem to fix.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The car slowed to a halt a couple of blocks from their destination, a gritty, rundown coffee shop on the corner of Houston Street and Essex in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. It was one of those places that had clearly seen better days—faded signage, chipped paint, and a few patrons who looked like they’d been sitting in the same seats for years. The kind of joint where no one asked questions and fewer paid attention. Perfect for a low-key meeting.

Nate shuffled awkwardly in the backseat, casting a sidelong glance at Tamina, who was silently checking over the small wire she was about to strap to Nate. Roman sat in the passenger seat, one hand draped lazily over the console while his gaze was fixed out the window, unreadable as usual. Paul was behind the wheel, ever the silent observer, but as always, his presence loomed large.

“I still don’t get why this is necessary,” Nate muttered under her breath in mild annoyance. “I could just tell you what Becky says afterwards.”

Roman responded with a small quirk of his mouth that suggested he was enjoying her discomfort far more than he should be. Tamina, on the other hand, was all business.

“You know the deal,” she said firmly, but not entirely unkind as she clipped the wire to Nate’s jacket. “We don’t trust anyone’s word, especially not when we don’t know them too well. We need to hear it in real-time.”

Nate rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. It was pointless. Ever since she agreed to work with Roman, nothing had been straightforward, and they’d had her under more scrutiny than her father as of late. It came with strings, thick ones, and this was just one of them. If she was to talk to someone, it would be documented. Period. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she sighed, glancing down at the wire now attached to the inside of her jacket. “But what, you think I’ll just forget a key detail? I’m not exactly an amateur with this kinda stuff.”

Roman’s low chuckle filled the car, breaking the quiet tension. “This ain’t about you being an amateur. It’s about making sure there ain’t any surprises. And trust me,” he added, his tone dripping with that familiar arrogant charm, “This’ll help you way more than you think. You’d rather us hear it now than grill you later, right?”

She shot him a look, unimpressed but also knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong. He had a way of bending the truth just enough to make it sound like he was doing her a favour. Typical Roman. She huffed, leaning back against the seat.

“I still don’t think it’s necessary.”

The smirk on his face grew slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You’ll get over it.”

Tamina finished adjusting the wire and sat back, satisfied with her work. She gave Nate a nod, signalling she was good to go. Paul shifted in the driver’s seat, speaking up for the first time since they’d gotten there.

“So,” he began, “Ms. Volkov. Where does your father think you are?”

Nate paused, her hand brushing over her leather-clad arm, smoothing out any folds. “A friend’s house,” she replied with a shrug, so nonchalantly.

“And that friend will back you up? Be your alibi?” Roman asked.

“Yep.” Nate didn’t look at him when she answered, her focus instead on the street outside. The wind moved the few sparse trees, a gust here and there, and she had a moment to breathe in the quiet before the meeting.

However, Roman wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her properly from the front seat. “You’re sure?”

Nate snapped her head to him, a flash of agitation sparking in her eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Roman, yes. I’ve done this before, my friend will back me up.���

He raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze for a beat longer before giving a slight nod. Tamina and Paul exchanged glances, their silent communication not lost on Nate. But before anyone could push further, Roman waved his hand dismissively. “Fine. I’m just making sure you don’t fuck this up.”

Nate rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to shield the little smirk on her face. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be.”

With everything set, Tamina gave Nate one last lok, almost a silent check to see if she was truly ready. Nate exhaled, her confidence steady, and nodded.

“Alright,” Tamina said. “You’re good to go. Just keep it cool, Zayn and the twins are a few blocks down in case anythin’ goes wrong.”

The younger woman gave her a quick hum of understanding before she opened the door and stepped out of the car. The midday sun was still muted, casting long shadows across the pavement. The streets were busier now, people going about their day unaware of the underworld dealings happening just a few feet away. Nate glanced back at the car for a moment, catching Roman’s gaze through the tinted window. He watched her like a hawk, and though she couldn’t see his expression fully, she could most definitely feel the weight of his eyes tracking her every move.

The silence stretched for a minute or so as Roman watched Nate walk away, disappearing and blending into the small spurts of people along the sidewalk. Paul cleared his throat, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel.

“She didn’t want to wear the wire, boss,” he commented cautiously, as if he were testing the waters.

Roman leaned back in his seat, his eyes still on the direction Nate had gone. “Yeah. I know.”

Tamina turned in her seat, her sharp cat-eyed gaze landing on Roman. “You think she’ll leave it on?”

With a slow exhale, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face hardened, the lines of mild wisdom and fatigue strengthening in his expression. “I don’t know. But I guess we’re about to find out if our… Euro-Asian ally can really be trusted,” he muttered.

Nate had on her game face as she approached the small café where she was set to meet Becky, her pacing in line with the other pedestrians. Scanning every detail of her surroundings without looking like she was; she was experienced—did this more times than she could count—but this time felt a little more… personal. The last time she’d seen Becky, tensions had been at an all-time high, and the years of silence between them hadn’t dulled the edge of that old bitterness. If anything, it made the situation more volatile. 

As she neared the entrance, she stopped for a second, adjusting her jacket just enough to make sure the wire stayed hidden. She ran her hands over her hair in an attempt to look more presentable, catching sight of unmistakable red hair from inside, standing out like a flare in the low light of the dim interior.

The bell on the door tinkled softly as she stepped inside. It was quiet, save for a few patrons scattered across the room, either lost in their laptops or deep in conversation. Nate clocked every exit, took note of where people were seated, and scanned the staff in the unlikely case that one of them was a plant. Old habits.

Becky didn’t look up immediately. She was seated at a corner table, nursing what looked like a coffee, her posture relaxed. You could feel the tension pulled taut between them, and when their eyes finally met, there was a brief flicker of recognition—more distant than familiar. 

Nate approached cautiously, her boots making soft thuds against the hardwood floor, and took a seat across from Becky without a word.

“Long time,” Nate said, keeping her voice low and steady.

Becky smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee before resting back. “Lucky you,” she began, her voice carrying that signature Irish lilt, “That I’m even here. Thought about telling you to fuck off, but… I wanted to see you. See how much like your father you’ve become.”

It appeared as though Nate kept her composure, but her hands balled up into tight fists under the table, bristling at such an insinuation. She could tell Becky meant every word. “He doesn’t even know I’m here, so…”

Becky raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “So what, you’re goin’ behind your da’s back now?” She scoffed, clearly not buying it. “You were always the loyal one. One hundred and ten percent Volkov, through and through. What’s changed?”

Nate hesitated for only a second, quickly catching herself. “It’s complicated. And none of your business.”

“Everything’s complicated with your family,” Becky eyed her carefully, her fingers tapping idly on her cup.

There was a pause, and the insinuation of their shared history hung over the two of them like a massive, dark cloud. 

“I’m not here to talk about my dad,” Nate said, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a situation. A shipment stolen. Damian Priest, dead in the process. Bad Bunny’s compound was ambushed. Irish flag on the car. I need answers, Becky.”

The redhead across from her didn’t betray much conclusion on her face, but she did display a brief flicker of familiarity at the mention of Priest. Letting the information sink in, she lowered her gaze to the table.

After what felt like an eternity, she shrugged.

That simple gesture made Nate’s chest tighten in rage. “A shrug?” Her voice rose a little. “That’s all you’ve got for me? A fucking shrug?”

Becky met Nate’s anger with cool indifference, drinking more of her coffee before answering. “I don’t know what to tell you, Nate.”

“You can tell me why your family is still fucking with us after all this time. Because I swear to God, if this is about some old gru—”

“My family didn’t do shit.”

“Sure as hell looks like it.”

Becky’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, her icy demeanour cracked. “My family isn’t even in the States anymore.”

Nate froze, her brows knitting. “What?”

“You heard me,” Becky said, dropping her voice an octave. “We left. After what your da pulled… my father hasn’t been the same. You want to know why you haven’t heard from us? It’s because we haven’t been here. My family’s been in Ireland for years. My da’s in a fuckin’ wheelchair. And believe me, we ain’t coming back.”

This wasn’t adding up.

“No,” Nate shook her head. “You… They have to be here. None of this makes sense otherwise.”

Becky shook her head, exasperation etched all over. “After your da took over X, mine was done. He’s been out of the game since then. It’s a round-the-clock job for whoever looks after him now, there’s no fuckin’ way my family’s involved in whatever bullshit you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“My father is not to blame for that,” Nate found herself defending her dad, hating that her family was being blamed period. “He did what he had to do. If it hadn’t been him, it would’ve been someone else. That’s how this business works, Becky, you know that.”

Gaze hardening, Becky leaned forward as her voice dropped to a growl. “His moves, his ‘business’ nearly killed my dad. He had a stroke after his blood pressure got too high. You want to defend him? Fine. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch your da waste away. Good relationship, or not.” She took a deep, shaky breath, calming herself. “It would’ve been more dignified to put a bullet in his head than to let him end up like this.”

The brutal honesty of Becky’s statement momentarily stunned Nate. But she wasn’t here to dwell on the past or the people they’d lost along the way, nor was she here to play catch-up, to offer her sympathy. She had a job to do.

“Why are you here then?” she asked more curiously than accusatory. “If your family’s back home, why are you still in the States?”

“That’s none of your business.” Becky crossed her arms.

But Nate wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed the small details—the subtle changes in Becky’s appearance, the way she carried herself. Most importantly, the ring on her left hand.

“You’re married,” Nate casually commented, observing Becky’s face closely. “Congratulations.”

“Don’t make it sound like it matters to you.”

“It must be someone important if nobody can find anything about you anymore. Must have taken a lot to disappear so cleanly.”

And there it was. She had the upper hand. 

“So,” she continued insistently, “You’re telling me that whoever ambushed us, whoever killed Damian Priest, and whoever stole our shipment… it wasn’t the Irish?”

Becky met her gaze head-on, her eyes clear and resolute. “My family hasn’t returned since they were chased out. I’m the only one left because I don’t want anything to do with it anymore.”

Nate sat back, letting Becky’s words settle. For all the hostility, all the unresolved history between them, she believed her. It was in her tone. The inflictions. The way her eyes stayed confidently locked onto Nate’s as she pleaded her case. 

“I’m sorry, Nate,” Becky sighed, looking away for the first time. “I wish I had more for you, but I don’t. My family’s outta this. And so am I.”

Tensions were rising back in the SUV. How could the Irish not be involved? It was their flag, for fuck’s sake! It seemed like everytime they got closer to an answer, it was ripped out from under them. And Roman just wanted to know where his half was—where his weaponry ended up! Who the fuck would be so audacious as to fuck with The Bloodline, and the Volkovs. 

Paul leaned closer to the speakers. “What do you think, boss? You buy what Lynch is saying?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, nose flaring a little. “I don’t know yet. But Nate’s got history with her. She’ll know if it’s bullshit.”

“You trust her?” Tamina asked, raising her brows.

“I trust that she’s as desperate as we are right now. That’s good enough—for now.”

It seemed as though Nate and Becky’s conversation was coming to a close, and just as Tamina was readying the boxes that had contained the wire, Becky spoke again.

“How have you been holding up since…”

Her voice trailed off, and Roman furrowed his eyebrows. He exchanged a glance with Paul, who was equally puzzled. They didn’t know what Becky was referring to, but it was clear that whatever it was, it struck a nerve with Nate.

“Fine,” Nate’s voice responded, but even through the static, Roman could hear the lie; he’d grown used to hearing when someone was holding back on the truth.

“Lyin’ ass,” he muttered under his breath.

“Are you sure about that?” Becky pressed on, not letting Nate slip away so easily.

The pause between question and response felt like it lasted forever, and Roman picked up on the uneven rhythm of Nate’s breathing.

“Yeah,” she finally said, albeit rather flat. Clearly wanting to end this conversation. But Becky wasn’t done.

“Did you find out who did it?”

Roman shot Paul a glance. “Who did what?”

Paul shook his head, indicating he had no idea what the fuck they were talking about either.

Nate’s response was barely audible. “No.”

“You haven’t tried?” Becky asked again, her tone betraying a sense of disbelief.

“Dad tried in the beginning,” Nate admitted. “But I think it got too much for him. And now… it’s like she never even existed.”

Roman’s frown deepened. She? Whoever they were talking about, whatever they were talking about, they were way past the topic of the Irish, the shipment, and the ambush. It was personal. He tried to piece together what was going on, thinking back to the limited conversations he and Nate had shared since agreeing to work with each other. The only one that came to mind was the way her disposition switched entirely at the mention of her mother, back when they paid Bunny’s men a visit.

“Are you still trying?”

There was a long silence, causing Roman to impatiently lean forward as though it was going to drag the answer from the speakers. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling out of control, and right now, that’s exactly what this conversation was doing to him. He hated it.

Finally, there was an answer. “Yes….”

“And how’s that going?” Becky’s question felt like a final blow, digging into an old wound.

Nate let out a bitter laugh. “A load of bollocks.”

The sound of her frustration was so familiar by this point, so raw, that her accent tickled him in a way it hadn’t in the past. He smirked, despite the severity of the task at hand, mumbling, “Love how she says that shit…”

Paul raised an eyebrow at Roman’s sudden amusement but said nothing. The humour quickly faded, and Roman’s expression returned to its more guarded state.

As the conversation continued, there was a sudden long pause. The crackling of the wire grew louder, and for a moment, the car was drowned in absolute silence. Roman squinted at the speakers.

“You think the wire’s been cut?” Paul asked, looking between the speakers and Roman.

Tamina leaned forward, tense concern taking over her features. “Shit, maybe she took it off. Didn’t want us hearing the rest.”

“Nah,” Roman quickly shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that. Not after what’s already been said.”

The silence dragged on. Roman’s fingers drummed against the dashboard, his patience thinning. But then, the Irish lilt cut through the quiet with a soft sigh.

“If you get stuck, truly stuck,” she began, “Contact me. I think I know someone who might be able to help you with… all that.”

Narrowing his brows, Roman’s attention was once again fully captured.

“No guarantees, though,” Becky added cautiously. “But there’s a possibility.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tamina huffed, holding her hands up in an open gesture, as if the answer would fall into her lap.

“Take care of yourself, Nate. And please… don’t end up like Dimitri.”

The static crackled again with the sound of rustling, movement, and muffled farewells.

“The hell was that?” Tamina asked.

“The hell do I know?” Roman bit back, just as frustrated and puzzled as his cousin.

“Not exactly the intel we were looking for, but… i-it could be useful,” Paul reasoned.

Tamina glanced between Roman and Paul. “You think she’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Roman took a deep breath, “But she doesn’t like talkin’ about it. It’s personal. And I need to know everything if I’m gonna trust her.”

“Sir,” Paul cleared his throat, “Ms Lynch didn’t seem deceitful.”

“I’m not disagreeing with that, Wise Man.” He turned his head to look at his special counsel. “But the less we know about Volkov’s situation, the more at risk we are at gettin’ fucked by it.”

Heyman paused, trying to hold back the smile on his face at Roman’s mindset. He’d seen this man grow up. Knew his family for decades. He always knew that he’d be a smart, head-strong leader, just following in the footsteps of those who came before him, and to have been even a tiny part of that… It was his greatest achievement. Roman was his greatest achievement.

The sound of one of the car doors opening startled the silence that had taken over the space, and Roman’s eyes snapped over to Nate sliding back in the car, her face set on neutral—as if she hadn’t just been through a conversation that had rattled her to the core.

Roman waited until she’d closed the door and the tension simmered. “How’d it go?” he asked calmly.

Her eyes only met his for a millisecond, before settling back out the window. “It went.”

“That’s all you got?” He raised an eyebrow.

Nate sighed, leaning back. “She gave me what she could. It’s not much, but it’s more than we had before.” Even though her confidence had been shaken by the unexpected topic brought up by Becky, it was still gnawing at her just how wrong she was about the whole thing. The Irish. It wasn’t them. She was so sure of it, too. So entirely set on her theory, which she saw as anything but.

And she was wrong.

“You don’t look too convinced,” Roman probed, shooting his cousin and Paul a glance.

Nate shrugged. “Becky’s out. It’s not her or her family.”

Her nonchalance grated against Roman’s patience like nails on a chalkboard. “And this other stuff you were talkin’ about with her?” 

“It’s personal,” she answered perhaps a little too quickly. Too insistent. The two word substitution for a much harsher two word command: shut up.

Roman’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally turned back around, letting it go—for now. “Fine.”

But he’d get it out of her. One way or another.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The ride back to Roman’s house had been mostly quiet. Nate was lost in thought, processing everything that had just transpired with Becky. Roman, Paul, and Tamina sensed the shift in her mood—not like she was doing much to hide it, though.

As soon as the car stopped, Nate stepped out, honestly wanting to just get back home and go to sleep. This was supposed to be a quick meeting the day before, and it had turned into a twenty-four hour affair. It was time to head back—back to the life she’d been trying to balance alongside this chaos. She instantly moved toward the borrowed car she drove here, ready to leave, but unlike the others, Roman stayed outside.

He leaned casually against the side of the car, arms folded, watching Nate as she fished for the keys from her pocket. She stood with her back to the house, car behind her, mind anywhere else.

“So your contact was useless,” Roman said with a steady edge, as if he already knew which direction the conversation would go.

Nate glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. “She wasn’t useless.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Then you only heard what you wanted to hear. She knows someone that could help, does she not?”

The firmness in her tone halted further instigating by Roman. It wasn’t the first time she’d stood her ground with him, but this was a little more intense here. Sure, she felt she was losing control over her life. But this was the first time, in that life, that she felt she was losing control over an investigation. Such an unfamiliar feeling. Usually, her father was there, his plans guiding her actions. Usually, she’d be in control of what her role was. Now, she wasn’t sure what her role was, or if control even existed anymore.

Roman narrowed his eyes at her, reading the strain in her body, the square in her shoulders. “So what, you think this someone that Becky mentioned is gonna solve all of this?”

Nate huffed. “No. But it’s something. And right now, we don’t have a lot of ‘something,’ do we?” 

She wasn’t backing down, and he could sense it—the way he, too, was losing control. He was no longer steering things. Standing here, listening to Nate, something shifted, however. It wasn’t a power struggle, not anymore. The harsh reality hit him—she wasn’t Dimitri Volkov. Not cut from the same cloth. And part of her seemed almost relieved about that.

Roman saw it. She wasn’t just standing up to him; she was holding herself together, barely.

“Whoever she mentioned,” Nate began softly, “Might be worth having a look at.”

His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath, running his hand over his beard. He hated the idea of relying on people outside the Bloodline, of being forced to put an ounce of trust in someone he didn’t know. It was bad enough with Nate. “You’re sayin’ we should?”

“Well, it’s either that,” she jumped in bluntly, holding his gaze, “Or accept the fact we got fucked over and deal with knowing we didn’t try our hardest to get to the bottom of it.”

Roman stared at her, taking in the truth behind her words. He hated it, but she wasn’t wrong. They had been hit from all sides, and every lead had dried up before they could act. Nate was standing there, pushing him—yet there was something else in her expression. Something he hadn’t really seen in her before.

Defeat.

Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were dulled by it. Her stance, usually confident and controlled, seemed to sag ever so slightly. The misery etched in her features struck him harder than expected. Was this what he looked like earlier that morning? Did he look this… pathetic?

Nate broke the silence, her tone lighter but laced with finality. “Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

She took a step toward the car, her hand reaching for the door handle, but Roman continued.

“Ah, back to being the perfect daughter, perfect fiancée…” His voice was smoother, more teasing than he probably intended, and for the first time in their tumultuous back-and-forth, he wasn’t doing it to bait her. He didn’t even realise he was doing it at all.

She paused, turning her head toward him, her lips twitching into a small smile despite herself. “Perfect? You’re really pushing it, Reigns.”

“Well, isn’t that the story?” he chuckled. “Y’know… white dress, fairytale ending? Every ‘lil girl’s dream?”

Her smirk cracked into a proper smile. “Don’t tell me you’re that naive, Mr. Head of the Table. Besides, I highly doubt your version of a fairytale has anything in common with mine.”

Roman tilted his head, the charming grin of his slipping into place. “Maybe not. But who knows? Could surprise you, Volkov.”

Nate rolled her eyes but found herself stalling, her hand resting on the car’s handle without pulling it open. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, bol’shoy chelovek.”

She could see the bob of his Adam’s apple, rippling as he swallowed. It sent a little rush of excitement through her to see his unrestrained reaction to her Russian. She’d suspected his enjoyment before, but it was like he wasn’t even hiding it now. 

Opening the car door, she hesitated once more. Roman’s eyes were absolutely glued to her, and before she could get in and close the door completely, he leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a serious tone.

“Get in contact if you hear anything else,” he said. “We’ll figure out our next moves.”

Nate nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Will do.”

She slid into the driver’s seat, her movements slow, and Roman stepped back, watching as she settled behind the wheel. For a second, neither of them moved, neither willing to break the strange, new rhythm they’d found themselves in. Roman’s arms crossed over his chest as he gave her one final look, a more pliable glimmer behind his otherwise cold, empty eyes. 

Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, Nate pulled the door shut. But when it came time to start the engine and actually pull away… she couldn’t do it. Held back by… something. Not exhaustion, no… It wasn’t even the idea of going back home to her father.

It was the fact that leaving here felt harder than it should have.

As she pulled away, she swore she heard him tell her to “drive safe.” Like he cares what happens… 

But Roman had seen it. The reluctance in her eyes, the same hesitation that had started to creep into his own thoughts. And instantaneously, he realised something else. Something he never thought would push itself to the forefront of his thoughts.

He didn’t like watching her leave, either.

[heich0e]

the heart is but a winding road p.2 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (1.8k) fluff, pro-hero shouto todoroki is not good with kids (lying), natsuo is the most big brother that ever big brothered, someone pls give the poor assistant a raise, i truly believe that shouto hyperfixates on random things for a few weeks at a time and you cannot change my mind, also i promise the 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 is coming.. i just need to set the mood first.

p.1 - YOU ARE HERE - p.3 - p.4 (upcoming)

“What was I like when I was five?” 

“Uh, dunno? Guess you were kinda—hey!” Natsuo doesn’t even manage to finish his thought before something (apparently very pressing) on his end of their phone call distracts him. “Aoi! You little—get down from there! Motherf—“

Shouto listens to the chaos unfold with a completely unchanging expression.

“Tou! Talk to your uncle for a second. Your brother's gonna break his neck!”

There’s a scuffle, and before Shouto can so much as protest there’s a little voice greeting him on the other end of the line.

“Hi Oji-chan!” Touma, Natsuo’s 7-year-old, says cheerfully after having evidently been handed the phone.

He hears a little giggle and the sound of his brother squawking incoherently somewhere in the distant background on their side of the call. This is immediately followed by a series of very loud crashes and a panicked string of words which, even in his limited knowledge of childrearing, Shouto's fairly certain kids are not supposed to hear.

“Hello,” he greets his nephew curtly. “If your father’s busy, I can—”

There’s a bit more shuffling, some disgruntled grumbling and laboured panting, and then Natsuo is taking the phone again.

“Sorry, sorry,” the older man says breathlessly, and Shouto stares up at the ceiling over his sofa blankly. “Oh, okay, what were you asking about?”

“Me. When I was five.”

“Oh, yeah!” Shouto’s brother laughs. “Dunno. You were round, I guess? And pretty squishy.”

Shouto rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

Natsuo laughs, loud and carefree like he always does. “Well, what did you mean, then?”

“What kind of stuff did I like?”

There’s a thread hanging from Shouto’s sleeve, and he fiddles with it while he speaks with his brother. It’s distracting, but he can’t quite grip the troublesome string to pluck it loose since he’s using his other hand to hold the phone to his ear.

Natuso hems and haws as he mulls Shouto's question over for a bit. “Soba and chewing on things, mostly.”

“I liked chewing on things when I was five?” Shouto’s reply is flat and unamused. He shifts to hold his cellphone between his shoulder and his ear as he lays back against the cushions of his sofa, snapping the string off easily once he has the use of both his hands.

“Yeah, you were always bite-y,” Natsuo replies simply.

The youngest Todoroki sighs. He rolls the thin bit of thread between his fingers for a moment, watching how the ends split and fray, then flicks it away disinterestedly.

“What’s all this about, anyway?”

There’s a significant amount of racket on Natsuo’s end of the call, but Shouto suspects that’s a fairly normal thing for his older brother’s home. What with two kids and more pets that Shouto can keep track of, there’s always pandemonium happening whenever he stops by to visit. He can’t help but think it’s a miracle that Natsuo managed to find anyone who would willingly subject themselves to that, let alone a partner as normal as the one he married.

“Nothing really,” Shouto mumbles. “Just curious.”

“Well, Yumi would remember that stuff better than I do anyway,” Natsuo chirps. “You could always ask her!” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Shouto nods even though he knows his brother can’t see the gesture. 

They end the call with vague plans to meet up for dinner the following week, though these plans often end up getting rescheduled or completely forgotten about in the stir of their busy adult lives. Once the line disconnects, Shouto is once more left staring up at the boring beige ceiling of his living room.

His apartment is always just a bit too cold. It’s been that way since the day he moved in. His hope in choosing such an upscale domicile had been that he wouldn’t run into issues like this one; it was newly constructed after all, and cost enough that things as simple as climate control shouldn’t be a problem. But no matter how much he fiddles with the thermostat, no matter the time of year, there’s always a chill that seems to linger in his quiet home.

He blinks up at the ceiling and listens to the pitter patter of rain outside.

It’s been raining for days now, with only the occasional break in the downpour that never lasts more than a few hours. His last four patrols have ended with him towelling off in the changing room at his agency, using his quirk to warm the terrycloth before he ruffles it through his drenched hair. His costume is fairly well-insulated, and repels the rain, but he still always feels so soggy by the time he gets home.

Suddenly, he thinks about a little yellow raincoat, and the thump of rubber boots.

Truthfully, Shouto’s not sure why he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that strange encounter from a few days prior. The little boy in the yellow raincoat and the ill-fated, crumpled receipt.

Maybe it’s because he can’t remember the last time a kid was less excited to meet him. 

Maybe it’s something else.

Shouto’s expensive sofa creaks as he pitches himself upwards, reaching out towards the tablet he’d left resting on the edge of his coffee table. He unlocks the device, and realizes he’d left it open to a news article about the Recycling Hero he'd been reading earlier in the day.

He’s been reading a lot about Reductro lately—just about any resource he can find. News articles online, press releases, pamphlets that environmental activists are handing out on street corners. Hell, half the hits on the the guy's Heropedia page from the past week were probably thanks to Shouto.

Just earlier that very day he’d even placed an order online for a copy of the Recycling Hero's newest book.

Reductro, Shouto recently learned, has dedicated his life’s work to inspiring meaningful environmental changes around Japan; he uses his quirk that is capable of breaking down plastics and other complex carbon compounds (as well as his doctorate in Ecology and Environmental Science) to make significant improvements to the climate and the country. The man has a way of speaking that’s neither overly sanitized nor pedantic and inaccessible; kids love him for his exciting way of talking about the environment and why they should care about it, but he's equally capable of putting on a suit and addressing a crowd of adults. Above all else, he seems to be truly passionate about the work that he’s doing–a conclusion Shouto has inarguably come to through his extensive research, and by watching just about every video he's managed to track down online.

He hates to admit it, but the guy is kind of… really cool.

He gets why Naoyuki was so obsessed with him.

Shouto taps around the surface of the tablet for a moment, pulling up an article about a documentary that Reductro is in the process of producing about microplastics. He scans through the article—making a mental note to look up when it will be coming out and see if his secretary can get him an early cut of it—when an image at the bottom of the article makes him pause. It’s a recent photograph that, according to the caption underneath, was taken only a few weeks prior when Reductro was giving a presentation at a local elementary school.

A little voice rings in the back of Shouto's mind, from a rainy day not unlike this one.

“He came to my school last week and he helps to get plastic outta the ocean!”

Naoyuki may have been a bit of a menace, but he was well-intended. And ultimately Shouto has him to thank for opening his eyes to the prestige of the Recycling Hero.

He stares at the image lighting up the screen in his hands for a moment, his eyes scanning over the name of the elementary school a few times as an idea begins to take shape.

He reaches instinctively for his cellphone.

“Good evening, Shouto-sama,” Shoto’s assistant and secretary, Takahashi, answers on the second ring—just like he always does. “Are you well?”

“Hi,” Shouto greets the man in a relatively abrupt manner, brushing off pleasantries for the sake of saving time. “How hard is it to find a kid?” 

There’s a few beats of silence as Shouto’s question lingers over the line.

“Such as a missing person’s case?” Takahashi-san finally responds, though the usually proper and eloquent man sounds uncharacteristically baffled. 

“No,” Shouto shakes his head. He thinks about his next words carefully. “If i know where a kid goes to school and his first name, could you track him down?”

“Track… him down?”

For all the hard-fought takedowns Shouto has made in his career as a hero, he sure is losing this battle.

“He’s not a criminal or anything,” Shouto explains, and Takahashi hums understandingly, but it sounds sort of like when an adult is placating a child. “I met him in the street the other day."

"I see."

Shouto knows he still doesn't get it, and he wracks his brain for a way to make this whole situation make sense, even though it doesn't.

"He’s… a fan.”

Lying is bad. Shouto knows this. He happens to pride himself on knowing the difference between good and bad, as a matter of professionalism. But Naoyuki is a fan, for all intents and purposes.

Just not his.

“Oh,” Takahashi-san sounds more at ease now with this half-truthful revelation, “very well. I don’t suppose it would be all too difficult to find the child’s information. I'm sure the school would be willing to forward contact information for a legal guardian if your office were to reach out on official business.”

“His mother," Shouto replies immediately.

“Pardon?”

“He, uh..."—Shouto fiddles with the tablet in his left hand—"The little boy. He was with his mother when I met him. She’ll remember me.”

“I see. Please forward me the name of the institution and I’ll reach out to the school administration first thing in the morning.” Takahashi has always been exceedingly competent, since the first day Shouto hired him. He’s a bit stuffy, and Shouto’s pretty sure he’s never seen him smile, but the young hero strangely admires the man's no-nonsense sort of antiquated way of doing things. “I assume you’re looking to send some sort of gift. Perhaps a signed poster? Some merchandise?” 

“Yes,” Shouto says, nodding. Then he pauses. “But not mine.”

“Oh?” the man on the other end of the line—who Shouto now realizes is likely at home during his off-hours that he rudely interrupted—sounds puzzled again. 

“Takahashi-san…” Shouto stares down at the tablet in his hands, still open to the article he’d been reading before he picked up his phone to make this call. “Have you ever heard of the Recycling Hero?”

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

100 FOLLOWER!??!?!

Through the grapevine, through the phone line.

HOLY SHIT!!!! 100 FOLLOWER!!!!!!!!!!! I was not expecting to hit that in like.. a little over a month, that is genuinely insane. Thank you so much for following my hate filled journey 🎉

This art was for my friend because they’ve converted me into a voxelette enjoyer so this is their fault btw/j

The Analysis on this one won’t be too long because I don’t think many people are as nuts about longform content as I am so lets see how normal I can be

First of all, I wanted to give Velvette her natural hair and have fun with puffs and braids and twists and stuff instead of just straightening it and putting it in ponytails. She actually went through 5 hairstyles before I landed on this one and I’m fully convinced she’s responsible for making this art take 9 hours but its okay because shes cute ^w^ also I have made her into a silicone BJD doll with plastic hands for better posability and a little hole for holding accessories and stuff like how G5 LPS did. The lighter strands of hair are also supposed to look a little bit like yarn because I think I was subconsciously thinking about Lala Loopsies and it led to the button eyes and all that. Her shirt was based off Fluttershy’s colours and that is 1 because they look good and 2 my friend likes fluttershy. The stitches in silicone also might not make sense to some but to that i say. uh go look up a suture pad

Here is her little Colour analysis 🩷

Now for Vox (and technically still Velvette), his colour scheme is mostly purple actually, the blue light turns a lot of it .. well. Blue. So you cant see it much but im not lying I promise. I feel like Vox is very insecure but still being prideful at the same time while Vevlette is more sure of herself, hence the significantly less amount of blue. The only blue accents on her are her beads, eyeshadow and scrunchies and the “sloth” aspect of that is mostly just how little she cares about others opinions which kind if intern turns back to pride. Meanwhile Vox has a lot more blue, not because he doesn’t work hard, but the methods in which he does things. His employees do a LOT of managing and he doesn’t have to do much for marketing because yknow. brainwashing. It also correlates to his personal grudges and grievances getting in the way of his work like how he had a public meltdown over Alastor. His body is blue but his purple suit covers it, ie masking insecurity with self assurance. People wear clothes, Im very smart I know you can hold the applause./j Hes also buffer because where the hell else is all the wiring gonna go

Here is Vox’s colour chart (note the use of bisexual flag colours/j/j)

It’s kind of obvious but their eyes are both yellow in sections because capitalism and all that. Also I thought making Vox’s eye change into the screen recording symbol was clever because yea he is watching everything and also he is technically recording visuals into his brain and processing them so !

I didn’t know where to squeeze this in but theres a very faint tint of green in his screenlight for the envy aspect so do with that what you will. Oh and his buttons are little outlet plugs :3c

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 8

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: I need him biblically

let me know your thoughts x

Word Count: 3.289k

You got one lazy day. That was it before you had to throw yourself back into work. You and Roman both stand at your bathroom sink, his head tucked into the crook of your neck. You press a light kiss to his forehead, and surprisingly, he doesn’t run off after the fact. He winces, but he stays.

“Connor’s bank statements should be handed to you when you walk in today,” he murmurs.

“You’re a godsend.”

“I know, right?” He takes you by the chin and presses an obnoxiously sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Kendall and I are looking into that politician thing today. Maybe we can go out to dinner today?”

“You’d better show up today,” you warn. He playfully pinches your hip.

“I promise.” He moves away, pulling his shirt off and disappearing into the closet. “If I don’t, put a bullet through my head.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Rome?”

“Mm.”

“What’re you gonna do with that… thing with Marcia?”

“We wait until we can use it,” he calls back. “Thank god it’s on your phone and not mine.” You sigh. You both manage to get dressed and feed yourselves breakfast, and Roman hails you a cab and sees you off with a hesitant kiss to your lips.

You steel yourself as you stare up at the building containing your firm. You love your job- just not what you were doing with it now.

Before entering your office, you subtly slip a jewelry box onto your assistant’s desk. You’d gotten her a necklace and set of earrings while abroad as a thank-you for fighting Connor off with a stick. Roman was right, too. You give her the box and she slides you a manila file with a grin on her face, mouthing ‘thank you’.

You settle into your desk chair, leafing through the papers. It’s normal the first ten years, but starting another ten, his spending became erratic, and lo and behold, he stopped paying his taxes. You wonder how Connor has made it this far in life without getting killed by someone.

You can piece together the puzzle pretty easily. Connor thinks he’s too high and mighty to be taxed, he stopped paying them, the interest racked up an outrageous amount, and now he’s committing fraud to get money to pay everything off.

You take a moment to think.

If Logan bailed Connor out before, would he do it again?

You think you want to find out.

You could catch Logan with his pants down. You were closer to a solution to get him out of your- and Roman, and Kendall, and Shiv’s -life. You were lucky that he was the vote that would’ve won him the vote of no confidence- if he’d legally won, he would’ve dropped the guillotine on you and ousted the fact that you’d kept Connor innocent from fraud. Since he hadn’t, and he’d stayed, if he’d tried ruining your image, he’d look like a child throwing a tantrum.

Satisfied with your mental acrobatics, you toss the file into a lockable compartment of your desk. While you wanted nothing more than to serve Connor right that second, you knew taking him and Logan down at the same time would be much more satisfying. So you decide you’ll wait.

You make a small list on a post-it note of what you have so far. Kendall and Roman had begun to investigate Logan’s suspicious activity around the failed politician, Greg and Roman had gotten you the finances, you’d found more than one hard piece of evidence that Connor was lying on the suit. You also have the issue with Marcia, which you don’t really want to think about. Ever.

If you wait long enough, you think you’ll be able to find your way out of this mess.

Having gotten yourself into a good mood, you decide to pick up some pro-bono cases from junior associates in the bullpen to lighten their load. You spend the rest of your day doing paperwork, but you don’t mind.

You’re in your office for so long you eventually need to flick on your desk lamp. You’re not feeling as tired as you usually would at this point, and you’re thankful for it. When your phone rings, and you find Roman on the other end, you pick it up with a smile.

“Asshole. Why do you work so late?”

“Aw, I miss you too, Roman.” You jot something down in the margins of one of your documents. “Besides, it’s only dark out because it’s winter.”

“Are you almost done? I made a reservation for six.”

You glance over at your watch, sitting on the inside of your wrist. Five-thirty.

“Can you come get me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, we have stuff to talk about. Involving my big, happy, functional family.”

“We do,” you muse. “I thought this was a date.”

“It is, swear. I just have to tell you because I’m a good fiance.”

You laugh. “Whatever you say. Call when you’re here.”

“I’m already outside, bitch.”

“You’re so romantic.”

You clean up in your office, bid your assistant goodbye(even though you’d given her permission to leave ages ago), and find him parked in front of the complex.

“You drive? How many people have you hit?” you ask, climbing into the passenger seat. He rolls his eyes at you, waiting until you buckle your seat belt to pull away.

“Only two old ladies and their dog that looked like Kendall.”

You snort. “How was work?”

“Glorious. Felt like a superhero fucking shitting on my dad like that.”

“Go on.”

”We did some digging, found a few paper trails. I didn’t know the old man was stupid. Kendall thinks we’re on track to find people that have the ability to testimony.”

“If you even have an inkling that someone could, send them to me. Like immediately. We can’t have them blab to the wrong people. I can legally keep them safe from Logan if they disclose to the firm.”

“You’re the boss.” He honks at the car that missed the green light in front of you. “Fucking dick.”

“Of course you have road rage.”

“I don’t have road rage.”

You sit in comfortable silence the rest of the way, interrupted by the occasional expletive from Roman at bad drivers. He’s surprisingly level-headed behind the wheel, keeping calm regardless of the ‘idiots around him’.

At the restaurant, you take the inside of his elbow as you walk. He flexes his arm, trying to suppress a grin, setting his hand on his stomach. You can tell, despite his slowly dissipating disdain for your physical affection towards him, he fucking loved showing you off in public.

He’d warm up to you eventually. You didn’t want to force him into anything you didn’t want, so most of the time, you let him initiate physical contact. And even though neither of you ever spoke about it, you got the feeling that he appreciated it immensely.

You both sit in a secluded corner of the restaurant, and his legs press up against yours from his seat across from you.

“You should tell me more about yourself,” you begin, setting your head in your hands, balancing your elbows on the table.

“What is there to say?” Roman mirrors your pose.

“I dunno. What’s your favorite color, Romulus?”

“Green. The color of money. Next.”

“Oh, that’s so bullshit.” You lean back, laughing. He pushes off his elbows, instead crossing his arms over his chest. “Your favorite show?”

“I don’t watch television, Miss Attorney-at-Law. Eat, sleep, corporate fucking, repeat.”

“That’s kind of vile.” You take a sip of the water at your hand. “We should watch garbage reality TV together. You’d enjoy it.”

“Why watch on a screen when it’s my real life?”

“You boring piece of shit.”

Roman takes your hand from across the table, hooking your fingers together. “That I am.”

“What about movies? Or are you allergic to rainbows, fun, and joy?”

“Oh no, my throat’s itching,” he says sarcastically, pouting. “I don’t have time for any of that. And when I do, it feels… weird. I never was into movies or TV shows or video games when I was younger. I was always on eggshells with Dad, so…”

You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “So… we can do all of that stuff together after we give ourselves a week off of work.”

“We just got back from Norway…”

“Roman. You’re really saying you’re not going to give yourself a week off for shits and gigs?”

He has trouble pushing down his smile. “Of course I will. You know me so well already.”

“We should do it after we serve your dad the papers. So he has to wait even longer to go to court.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re evil. So perfect for me.”

You both laugh.

You both begin your meals, Roman surprisingly attentive the entire time. You both ask questions, answer them, and giggle like schoolchildren.

By the end of it, his chair is pulled all the way around the table, sitting next to yours as he tries to explain a business venture.

“So if pervs won’t disappear completely,” he says, gesturing with his hands, dead serious, “we appeal to the ones who like feet. Because who’s going to fucking know they’re your feet if they one, haven’t bought them, and two, inspect your toes in real life?”

You can’t help the ugly laugh that rips from your stomach. “Why have you thought about this in so much depth?”

“It’s infallible.”

”I didn’t know you knew what that word meant.”

He taps the side of his temple. “I’m learning. From you, specifically. Kendall’s fucking dumb.”

Back at home, Roman’s reclined into you, his head set lopsidedly on your shoulder. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly, glancing up at you every so often, as if making sure you’re still there. You catch his eyes, and you both smile at each other.

Without thinking, you give him a peck on the lips. He lets you.

“It was hard,” he says quietly. “But it’s getting easier.”

“And so goes life.” You let your head rest on top of his. “I think you’re doing great.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Thanks.”

He hums, satisfied, when your nails begin raking through his hair. You stay like that, for a long while. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing regulating as time passes. You think he’s asleep when his phone rings, loud and obnoxious.

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill whoever’s calling,” he mutters, shifting so that his head is in your lap. You see Connor’s name. “I’m putting him on speaker.”

He does, and starts the conversation with, “What is it, asshole?”

“Hey, Rome. I know it’s a little late, but your fiance hasn’t been returning my calls. Or texts.”

“She thinks you’re ugly. Not interested. Stop trying.”

“Roman.”

“Just being honest.”

“Well, be serious. We need to hurry things along. I’m starting to go into the red.”

“What the fuck are you buying? Oh, wait, your gir-”

“Shut the fuck up. That douchebag of an accountant. He’s doing some shady shit, I know it.”

“Or, shocker, you need to stop spending money. Batshit crazy idea, man.”

“You’re giving me financial advice? Remember when you spend twenty grand on a watch in high school and then lost it the day of?”

“At least I had the twenty thousand to spend.”

You have to suppress a laugh.

“This isn’t what I called for. Just forward the word, okay? I don’t want Willa to have to miss anything important at the theater.”

”What’s that have to do with my girl?”

“She can speed up proceedings.”

Roman looks up at you, and you shrug. You could, but you definitely wouldn’t. Not for Connor. “Yeah, come back later.”

“Nice talking to you, too.”

☾𖤓

The next time you’re at Waystar, it’s a ���family’ meeting in Kendall’s office. You sit on the couch, Shiv sunken into the seat next to you.

“I say you take that nasty-ass video straight to Marcia and get the good shit from her,” Shiv says. “No beating around the bush. Surely she’ll spill.”

“You’re certainly free to do that. I can’t keep it on my phone anymore- I’m prone to vomiting,” you respond.

“Anyone know about that prick from the party? The one balding in all the weird spots?” Roman asks, leaning against the wall.

“What, Peirce? That’s the dick that was sucking the life out of Dad’s bank account. He was taking money pretending to be paying taxes.”

You turn and glance at Roman. “He’s actually not that stupid, is he?” you ask incredulously.

“I feel like we’re saying that a lot,” he mutters back. “You know that that guy is Con’s accountant now? And he has literally no money left?”

“He’s never been the brightest,” Shiv says without hesitation. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“How can he miss that, though?” Kendall asks, dragging a hand over his face.

“Desperate times,” Roman supplies.

“His firm name’s Thompson & Thompson, right?” you ask.

“Fucking banger name,” Shiv says. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“They have a consultation with me tomorrow. I don’t think it’s anything good, given Connor’s recent history.”

“Lock them out,” is all Roman says.

“This is all such a headache,” Kendall mutters. “Has anyone heard from Dad recently?”

“Surprisingly, no. He’s been suspiciously quiet,” Shiv replies. “You think he’s in the hospital again?"

“Wouldn’t he say something?” you ask.

“I guess not,” Shiv says. “Makes him look weak. Someone will notice, anyway. We’re in the States, we’ll know where he is soon enough.”

“He’s scheming,” Kendall states. “He’s trying to find a loophole back into the company.”

“He wishes,” you retort. “Vote of no confidence. Can’t come back on without making a big deal about it.”

“What if he wants that? He could use it to distract us,” Shiv suggests.

“But from what?” Kendall asks, staring at his feet, boring a hole through the floor.

“You’re overthinking it,” Roman clarifies. “What does he have that he can do right now?”

“God, I don’t even want to know.” You push yourself to your feet. “I’d better head out.”

Kendall grunts a goodbye, Shiv gives you a hug. Roman walks you, and as soon as you turn the corner and nobody’s around, he takes your hand in his.

“Is this what having a crush feels like?” he asks as you wait for the elevator.

“What do you mean?”

“I never stop thinking about you. I get all giddy talking to you- just looking at you. I’m always trying to make you laugh, smile. And look at your fucking face. I don’t need to keep telling you how fucking pretty you are.”

“Hm, maybe you do,” you say, grinning.

“But really.” He lets go of your hand in the elevator, instead winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Is this how normal people feel? All… sappy and shit?”

“I guess. I don’t think I can be considered normal, either.”

“Why not?”

“I’m into you, aren’t I?”

“Asshole. I take back what I said. You’re repulsive,” he says, lips on your jaw. When you’re in the lobby, he tells you, “Call me when you’re done,” and leaves you with a squeeze of your shoulder.

At your firm, you give your assistant a wave, gather some files, and head to a conference room. Peirce is there, waiting for you.

“Mr. Thompson,” you say politely, ignoring his outstretched hand. You wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. “Please tell me tax fraud isn’t why you asked to see me and refused to disclose why over the phone.” You both take your seats.

“I’m afraid it is. Rather, not that I committed it, because I wouldn’t be here if I did.” He takes his handkerchief and wipes away a bit of sweat from his chin. He’s a horrible liar. “Rather, some accusations that are being made. I was wondering if anything could be done. And since you’re already handling my client…”

You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “If you can prove it, we can sue for defamation. That’s really it.”

Peirce straightens. “I can prove it, actually. Tax returns, receipts.”

While you don’t take cases you don’t want to(Peirce makes you want to vomit), you know that this could lead to something useful. So you tell him, “Have them faxed by tomorrow,” and he’s on his feet, thanking you profusely as you push past him.

To your surprise, however, he follows you to your office. “Can I help you?” you ask, miffed.

“I just, ah, thought that since I was here, I’d check on how my client’s suit was going.”

“It’s going,” is all you say back. “Last time I checked, I’m the J.D. between the two of us. I can handle my business like a big girl, while it disappoints me to say that you can’t do the same.” You gesture in the direction of the exit. “If you would.”

“Are you sure I can’t just-”

“Quite sure.”

“But-”

“But nothing. Take no for an answer and go before I have you removed.”

Dismayed, Peirce shuffles off.

“And tell Connor to get off my fucking ass,” you say under your breath, heading into your office. You drop your notepad, pickingup your cell and dialing Roman.

He picks up on the first ring. “What’d the weasel do?”

“Was creepy. He said he’s being accused of tax fraud and that he can prove it.”

He scoffs. “He’s going to send you a ‘get out of jail free’ card from a Monopoly game. Does he really expect anybody to buy it?”

“If he’s still in business, people have before.”

He sighs on the other end. “Come home.”

“I have some paperwork to do. Then I’ll hail a cab or something.”

“Boo fucking hoo. I want to see you.”

“You saw me an hour ago.”

“I want to see you again.” Roman pauses. “Pretty please?”

“You can wait another hour. I believe in you.”

“Aw, come on. I’m warming up to you and everything.”

You laugh. “I appreciate that, Rome,” you say sincerely. “But-”

“I’ll do your laundry for a month if you just bring the paperwork home.”

You take a moment to consider it. “You know how to work a laundry machine?”

“I’m going to murder you. Come home so I can stab you.”

☾𖤓

The minute you’re home, he pulls you into bed with him and curls up against you.

“You okay?” you murmur.

“Peachy,” he says into your shoulder. “Shiv talked to Marcia. It worked.”

“At least that bullshit was worth something.” You shudder. “Why are you going to bed so early?” He’s dressed entirely in pajamas, his shirt a soft cotton that clings to every muscle in just the right way.

“Early day. Stockholder drama.”

“I thought Kendall did that.”

“He does. I’m going because I know they’re going to fight.” You feel him smile into your skin. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“Never mind. I’m not so good with words.”

Roman’s hand finds your chin, bringing your mouth to his. When your lips meet, his hand slips up your jaw and buries in your hair. You kiss back fervently, and he matches your vigor. He kisses you like he needs your taste to breathe.

Your hand finds the fabric of his shirt and glides across the panels of his chest, and he groans into your mouth. You feel the soft, oddly satisfying scrape of his stubble against your face. He pulls away only to dot kisses on the corners of your mouth, then unevenly again on your lips.

“I think what I meant was good night,” he says cheekily.

“Jackass,” you murmur giddily into his lips. “Fuck you, Roman.”

[russolover]

My Girls

Bean.

Thats how you and Alessia called your future daughter as you didn't agree on a name yet. The blonde was currently 3 months pregnant and the cravings were taking over your sleep schedule.

You swore to yourself that you'd do anything to make the pregnancy easier for Alessia, since she was the one carrying the baby. This included getting her weird snacks and an unlimited amount of massages and back rubs.

It was currently 2 am in the morning and you had a grumpy italian waking you up demanding donuts. Your eyes weren't even fully opened before she started speaking again.

"Y/n I want donuts"

She whined pressing her face into your neck. You placed your hand underneath her shirt, slowly rubbing her back as she relaxed into your body.

"What donuts do you want baby?"

You mumbled tiredly as she wrapped her arms around your torso.

"The pink sprinkled ones with jam filling please"

"Alright, anything else?"

You finally opened your eyes to Alessia already looking at you. She thought about your question for a second before replying.

"Hmm.. no I just want don- or maybe those pickles from a few days ago, they were really good"

You chuckled softly as you got out of bed and put on a hoodie and some sweatpants.

"Okay amore I'll go get it"

"Wait I want to go with you"

The blonde replied, putting on one of your hoodies before intertwining your hand with hers.

Mood swings and clinginess were also making appearances the last few days but it didn't phase you. Especially the clinginess since you loved spending time with the italian.

But you were lying if you said you'd enjoy the mood swings, especially when you don't know how to cheer her up when the reasoning behind her crying was that the she already ate all the ice cream before she could put sprinkles on it

However, this was all worth it because in 6 months you and Alessia would be welcoming bean.

You told your wife to wait in the car as you got the donuts for you. To your dismay they didn’t have jam filled ones anymore, you took them since those were better than having no donuts at all.

When you got back to your car the Italians eyes light up as she saw the box.

„Thank you my love“

She said excitedly as she kissed your cheek before taking the box from you.

„Baby they didn’t have the jam filled ones so I just took the normal ones“

You could see her face dropping and immediately knew what that meant.

„Wha- no jam?“

„we can get jam at tesco and I’ll put them inside if you want“

„I just wanted jam filled ones“

„Less-

She started sniffling and tears were covering her eyes. You took the box from her hands and put them on the backseat before pulling the Italian on your lap.

You cupped her cheeks as you wiped away the remaining tears.

„Baby I’m sorry they didn’t have jam filled ones but I promise I’ll make them taste exactly like the ones we usually get, okay?“

„Okay“

She whispered as you gave her one proper kiss before she went back to her seat. Filling jam into donuts at 3am, just a normal Thursday night right?

After the quick trip to Tesco you finally had everything the blonde wanted.

Now you stood at the counter, with a piping bag full of jam trying to fill the donuts. Alessia was sitting on the countertop happily snacking on her pickles.

Your first attempt was pretty bad but from there on it actually worked out.

„Here you go, jam filled donuts“

You presented proudly to the girl in front of you. Alessia couldn’t contain her smile as she looked at the treats in front of her. It was the fact you put so much effort into satisfying her cravings that made her happy.

She took one of the donuts and had a big bite tasting the strawberry goodness.

„Y/n they’re amazing“

She moaned at the sweet flavour.

„I’m glad you like them less“

You kissed her temple before crouching down so you were facing her stomach.

„Your mommy is having your favourite sweets bean, enjoy it bubba“

You said as you placed another kiss on Alessias little bump. The blonde looking at you sweetly before pulling you into a hug.

„Thank you baby, I really appreciate it“

She mumbled into your shoulder as she played with the babyhairs on your neck.

„Everything for my girls“

You said as you placed your lips on hers.

[dark-elf-writes]

Okay, I love good husband/father Sarek, but just imagine him running out to get whatever it is that Amanda craves while pregnant with Spock.

It’s three am and Sarek is logically bribing the Andorian place by their home to open back up after hours for the third time that week because it’s all Amanda has been able to keep down for days. He pays them ten times the normal amount every time it happens. They become far more agreeable to keeping later hours when he does.

Sarek’s control being put to the test when he sees Amanda dip pickles in her shake.

It’s two am and Sarek is making plomeek soup because “Your baby thinks it sounds good, Sarek!” (He will not admit the illogical thrill that runs through him when she says his baby. He will have to meditate on it later.)

Hearing Amanda crying while he’s meditating and sprinting to her side only to find she is holding an empty box she had mistakenly put back in the cabinet and she wants that particular snack right now.

The clerk that works the night shift at the convenience store by their home knows him by name. They keep a collection of Amanda’s preferred snacks behind the counter just in case.

The Andorian couple give him their personal number and promise to make all of Amanda’s favorites is he just calls ahead first. He tips them generously.

Sarek using his touch telepathy to know what Amanda is craving before she does and taking the worst of her nausea/pain away. She pouts at him, not liking that he is feeling discomfort for her. He tells her it is only logical as she is the one carrying their child.

The clerk at the convenience store calls him “Mr. S” now. It seems illogical to correct them when they are the only two people in the store in the dead of the night and Sarek is still in his sleeping robe.

He often comes up behind her and holds the weight of their child for her. It is the least he can do. The faint almost thoughts of their son that he can feel through the thrum of Amanda’s relief and joy and love indicate that he wants plomeek soup.

Amanda gives birth to their child and he is perfect. She has never looked more radiant than she does lying there exhausted but smiling as she holds their son, their Spock.

The Andorian couple ask when they are planning their second child.

[foolish-clown]

All eyes on me

A/N: I’m not even gonna deny the fact that I sound biased because it’s Jisoo but honest to god her solo debut was my favorite.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.3k 

The way she moved screamed elegant and formal, sprinkled in with an underlying tone of humility that became more apparent with each kind gesture. 

One look was all it took for you to be a goner, trapped in the abyss of bright eyes and tender smiles. 

The white marbled walls of some of the buildings seemed almost blinding as you transverse the semi-empty streets of Paris.

The sun sat heavy in the air; golden rays of excellence brought a glorious display of light, and with it, the gentle warmth that was neither overwhelming nor undetectable.

You were beginning to understand why Jennie enjoys coming here so much, but then again, Paris did just fit her vibes perfectly.

She had dragged you with her on this occasion with a certain goal in mind however – and that was to introduce you to someone she had met by chance during a vacation.

“You have to meet her,” she had said, your eyes immediately narrowing in suspicion at the amount of enthusiasm that was enriched with every syllable.

“Why?” You had asked in turn, genuinely surprised when your friend actually began ranting.

Looking back, you’re not even entirely sure about everything she even said when she began listing some of the qualities of this stranger, but there was one particular word that demanded attention in the fog of word vomit.

Model.

Why Jennie wanted you to meet this woman was completely beyond you, but to deny the curiosity perking up from within would be lying to yourself.

And so here you were; a suitcase filled with enough clothes for a long weekend in Paris.

You look back down at the address on your phone before looking back to the surrounding buildings.

One of the few… encouragements Jennie had enticed you with was the fact she had already paid for a room for you both. Something you would have playfully argued against under normal circumstances, as you always liked to at least go halves.

Not that you would have been able to add much, the quadruple digits of just a single night in the hotel she had chosen making you slightly ill.

As it were though, your mind had been distracted by meeting this woman. Kim Jisoo.

Jennie had even made you promise to not look her up, as she wanted your first impression to be the actual first one when you’re introduced in person.

All in all, very sus, especially by Jennie’s standards.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -

Locating the hotel takes a little longer than expected, but once you do you ping a quick message to Jennie to let her know you’re outside.

You watch people come and go as you wait; fancy sports cars drive by every now and then.

Almost made you feel like a simple peasant amongst nobles, but one call of your name from Jennie Kim and those kind of thoughts are banished by her adoring smile.

She wraps you in a hug as soon as she closes in, and simply having her near makes any of the anxiety disappear in almost an instant.

“So glad you made it,” she greets, taking your free hand and dragging you inside.

The lobby is just as lavish and stylish as one could imagine for how much it costs to rent a room; occupants walk about in their expensive suits and designer dresses.

To say you didn’t fit in would be an understatement, but you don’t particularly care once Jennie has you both in the hotel room. Your eyes immediately widen at the sheer size of it alone.

“Are you feeling tired at all?” She asks once you leave your suitcase to scope out the literal apartment, giddy like a little excited child.

You stick your head out from the bedroom at her question, “not really,” you reply, having slept the majority of the plane ride over. “More hungry than anything.”

“Good,” she grins, and you fully exit back into the foyer when she unzips your case and begins rummaging through, “because we’re meeting Jisoo today.”

You suddenly pause, the sudden action almost making you stumble. “Wait,” you force out, slightly panicked, slightly stunned, “what do you mean today?”

“Well, tonight,” she clarifies, like that makes it any better. “So if you needed to rest I would do it now, or we can go and get something to eat.”

Your response comes with a single blink in her direction.

She doesn’t react to your non-verbal reply, having found what she was apparently looking for and holding it up for appraisal. Nodding after but a moment.

“I’m glad I bought you this.”

It was a piece of clothing, an expensive piece of clothing, that she had bought you for a birthday one year.

“You know,” you sigh out, forcing yourself through the shock, “have I ever told you that you act like my mother at times? Like what? You going to cook me dinner next?”

Her smile would look innocent to the many, but after years of friendship you know the difference by now. “Don’t you dare.”

Her laughter is quick and infectious. “Do you not like my cooking?”

“It’s more of the fact that we’re on holiday, so I’m expecting you to wine and dine me… with takeaway.”

Her wink is of friendly banter, and you can’t help but feel extremely lucky to have her in your life.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -

Evening fast approaches, and with it, so too does your anxiety.

You’re not even entirely sure why. Jennie has introduced you to people before, this wasn’t exactly a new experience.

But there was something that was just… different, this time.

You had never seen your friend so excited before, and the way she spoke about this woman was nothing short of childlike glee.

The city lights of Paris come and go as the taxi drives past, buildings both old and new catching your attention all the same.

Entering the restaurant is a rather easy affair, a member of staff guiding you passed many tables as you head towards the large floor-to-ceiling windows that have a spectacular view of the city.

Your lost in the view before another steals your attention.

A woman stands from the table she had been sitting at, and with it you could swear your heart actually stops at the very sight of her.

She brings Jennie into an embrace once they’re close, but you’re too preoccupied trying to restart your systems that you stutter when they break away and Jennie begins introductions.

“Hello,” she greets, bowing, “I’m Kim Jisoo.”

“H-hi,” is all you manage to squeak out, failing to notice the devilish twinkle in Jennie’s eyes as she leaves you floundering for steady footing.

Jisoo blessedly does not comment on your clear nervousness, but the kind smile she sends you does absolutely nothing with helping you out either.

Holy shit, you internally scream, she’s a goddess.

Your unbalanced legs do manage to get you to your seat, the one opposite Jisoo, and so your eyes begin darting everywhere but forwards.

“So Jisoo,” you hear Jennie begin talking, and you use the distraction to hopefully regain any of the fraying bits of sanity you had left.

Thankfully, albeit eerily, Jisoo’s disposition makes it easy for you to calm yourself down as the evening progresses into the night.

She was just so down to earth and easy to talk with.

You learn of her modeling career, and the way she talks about her job with passion has you grasping on to each and every word.

You can tell that she was a humble person who worked hard for what she believed in, and it becomes clear as to why Jennie seemed so infatuated.

Because you were starting to become the same.

Dinner finishes far, far too soon.

But just before goodbyes could be shared, Jisoo turns to you with the slightest bit of hesitance. “Would you like to come and see me at work tomorrow? We could get to know each other better once I’m done.”

The faltered step of your heart halters you from responding; Jennie throwing a casual arm around your shoulder as she answers for you. “They would love to.”

Jisoo’s smile is soft and understanding, “Jennie can give you my number if you would like.”

Another arrow to your heart, another step fallen.

The 3 of you part ways with tender goodbyes and an air of excitement.

Jennie also uncharacteristically first bumps you on the way back.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -

Hours pass by in a blur.

Jennie watches you leave the hotel room with an encouraging smile after she had served you up some breakfast to help with the nerves.

You’re grateful for her actions, but you doubt there was much she could do to squander the deep chasm filling your chest.

She had given you Jisoo’s number the night prior, and after a serious pep talk you had managed to send off a text before chucking your phone on the opposite end of the bed and burying your face into your pillow as a wide nervous smile ignites your features.

Her reply was almost instantaneous, but you had to work up the courage before you could even pick up your phone to read it.

One message led to another, and then another.

You felt light and giddy throughout the entire exchange, which was mainly filled with the initial politeness shared between acquaintances. Subtle bits of personal information hidden with compliments and words of thanks.

You had fallen asleep feeling… just really, really happy.  

The feeling didn’t go away in the morning, but the knowledge of actually seeing Jisoo again did bring back the nervousness of yesterday.

Finding the studio she was at actually proved easier than finding the hotel, the security taking one look at you before they ask you your name.

They hand you a pass to wear once doing a quick check and list off some things you were not permitted to do, allowing you to enter shortly after.

Jisoo is actually waiting for you at the entrance, her bright smile still rendering you weak in the knees.

She ushers you in with great enthusiasm, linking her arm with yours as she asks you how your morning had gone.

You obviously forgo the minor details of being really eager to see her again.

You’re not left a whole lot of time to talk, as her photographer is calling her back on set with quick hand movements.

You watch in awe from the sidelines.

It’s easy to see, even with your untrained eye, that Jisoo has a mixture of natural talent and hard work backing her movements.

The expressions, the way she moves, all of it just seems so fluid and easy.

Not to mention hypnotizing.

You’re not sure if you even blink once during the entire ordeal, too fixated on the model in her element, but once it’s done it’s like a switch has been flipped.

As soon as it’s finished Jisoo goes and thanks everyone for all of their hard work, and you can feel your expression softening as you watch her do so.

She returns to you after quickly getting changed, “thank you for waiting for me.”

Your smile feels tender against your lips, “no worries,” you reply, enjoying the way she once again links her arm with yours. “So where are we going by the way?”

Her smile turns slightly wicked, looking at you from the corner of her eyes. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

You are left little time to find out just what exactly that means, because she is gently tugging on your arm for you to follow.

The pair of you exit the studio after one quick word with her manager, entering a car that was waiting just outside the front.

Once again you find yourself watching the Parisian streets come and go, the daylight giving off a whole different atmosphere to the night prior.

Unbeknownst to you, Jisoo does cast subtle glances at you every now and then. A smile curving her lips when she notices the awed look in the reflection on the window.

And then the building breaks away, and once you turn you catch the glimpse of France’s most famous landmark standing tall.

You turn to Jisoo with wide eyes, and that smirk from earlier returns in full force as she silently gets out of the car before you can say anything, your own hands scrambling with the seatbelt before you quickly join her.

“Jennie mentioned you had never been here before,” she states. “And I thought it would be a good view to get to know each other better at least.”

You’re kind of left for words if you were being honest, eyes managing to tear themselves away from the Eiffel Tower back to the woman beside you.

“I am actually struggling to believe I’m here.” You blurt out, and she laughs with affection.

The grounds surrounding the Tower have small groups of people, both tourists and locals alike.

It almost looks like a scene from a movie.

Accessing the top only makes it more so.

You both stand there, watching the city in comfortable silence.

“Can I confess something?” Jisoo asks after a while.

You turn to her in curiosity, but it would seem like it’s her turn to be unable to meet your eyes.

“I, um, I was the one to ask Jennie to introduce us,” she admits, and you watch in shock at the way her cheeks redden slightly, “the way she spoke about you was so full of affection, I was curious at what kind of person you were.”

She turns to you then, “and this is going to seem sudden, and for that I truly apologize. But I am leaving for South Korea tomorrow and I feel like if I don’t ask this now I will regret it.”

Your heart races from where it lies within your chest, and you can feel some kind of hope begin filling the gaps.

The question is almost lost within the wind, fleeting and timid.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -

10 years have passed since that day, and you find yourself once again standing upon the Eiffel Tower, alone, during the quiet dusk hours.

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice call from behind, and you smile when a hand covers your own, a pair of wedding rings lying next to each other.  

[analogwriting]

Childhood Crush

Chapter 14: Magnesium

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.3k a/n: ayeo fuck kese amirite???? this isn't the chapter i was crying over btw also i definitely have this queued to post at like 2am bc i feel like that's my brand so i'm deffo passed out rn cause i open LMFAO next

Dead? He told everyone you were dead? Now you were even more confused than before. Why the hell would he say something like that? It only drove the question more - why the hell did he want you out of the picture? Is that why Eustass seemed to go off the deep end? Cause his level of recklessness did just suddenly spike out of nowhere. Was that when he received the false news? 

Your head was spinning but you had to focus on the task at hand. While you were running, you felt something land on your shoulder and you stopped. It was a bird - not any bird, but Myra’s bird. One she sent when she had urgent news. You couldn’t help but be nervous.

You untied the letter attached to its foot, opening it carefully and reading it. As the words sunk in, you started laughing. Was she fucking joking? “C’mon, My. You could’ve told me that from the beginning.” 

Dear y/n,

I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this in person - I just didn’t know how. So, I set up a fake mission to get you to find your brother. You always seemed hesitant to leave our island - to leave Lily and I, so I figured this was the only way to get you to reunite with him. I knew you would keep putting it off, claiming that you needed to get stronger. I hope you forgive me for lying to you.

There is no flower that we need for a breakthrough - there’s nothing in Wano that we need. I just knew your brother was there and knew you were missing him. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

My sincerest apologies,

Myra.

At the very bottom was Lily’s name written as well. You were sure she just wanted to feel included. You smiled fondly at the letter. “Oh, My. I could never be mad at you.” You pulled a pen pad and pen out of your pocket, writing a quick response before sending the bird off again. Impressive it was able to find you in all this chaos, honestly.

You made sure to let her know you weren’t mad and thanked her for everything. The whole thing was just hysterical. Myra was terrible at talking about feelings of any kind. A lot of people claimed she couldn’t feel normal emotions like a normal human, but she just couldn’t express them. She was rigid and came off cold, but you knew better. She had her own way of caring.

Obviously. She arranged a whole fake mission just to reunite you with your brother. You tucked away the letter, knowing you’d probably end up just keeping it. A keepsake along with the knife. Huh, maybe you were getting sentimental. Eh, whatever.

Well, now what? You spend a considerable amount of time looking for this damn flower that didn’t exist. And your brother is probably long gone from the place that he was at. 

You suddenly felt something jump on to you from up above, yelping as you tumbled to the ground with whatever it was. After a moment of rolling around and a few scrapes with something sharp, you pinned it to the ground.

“Dive!?” Your eyes widened as you saw the small woman struggling against your grip. “Get fucking off of me!” She cried. Confusion took over your features. “Dive! It’s me!” 

“No, it can’t be! You’re dead!” She eventually stopped struggling. That’s when you noticed her lip quivering and the tears in her eyes. “Who are you and why do you have their face?” 

You stared at her for a long moment, processing. Right. Kese told all of them that you were dead. You let out a small sigh, sitting back and letting her go. “It’s me, Dive. I don’t know why Kese told everyone I died.” She sniffled, glaring at you.

“I don’t believe you.” She slowly sat up, wincing. You noticed a cut on her arm. “Here, let me tend to it.” You reached out and she pulled away suddenly, seemingly to distrust you. You frowned. 

“Dive. I promise you. It’s me.” You tried to think of something to help your case, then you remembered. You lifted up your pant leg, showing her a clear bite mark scar. “When we met, I startled you so bad that you bit the shit out of me. I couldn’t walk right for a week.”

Dive’s eyes widened and tears started falling. “It really is you!” She threw herself into your arms as she sobbed, burying her face in your chest. You held her there, comforting her. Fuck, why did Kese do this? What the hell was his angle? 

After Dive calmed down enough, she pulled away. “So, are you coming back with us?” A soft smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Of course.” She grinned widely. “Good. Everyone is going to be so fucking happy you’re alive.”

You stood up with Dive, looking around. “I heard the captain is fighting Big Mom with that other pirate captain - we should go find them!” She pulled you down the hallway and you followed behind her. 

“Dive?” The both of you stop as you see Heat and Wire coming out of one of the many hallways that seemed to be in this maze of a place. They both tensed when they saw you. “Dive…get away from them.” You groaned, rolling your eyes. This was getting old fast. Sure, you understood why everyone was cautious but you were getting annoyed and honestly you couldn’t wait to kick some ass. Well, specifically Kese’s ass.

“No! It’s really them! The-”

“For all we know, they could be some kind of devil fruit user.”

You looked at Wire as he spoke, thinking for a moment. “Remember when we were kids? There was the snapping turtle incident? You know? The one where it bi-”

They were both over in moments, covering your mouth with their hands. “Okay! Okay!” You couldn’t help but start cackling behind their hands. They let you go, staring at you for a moment. They took you in and you sighed. “You’re making me uncomfortable,” you grumbled.

You suddenly felt them both wrap their arms around you and you yelped, almost taking a tumble to the ground, but catching yourself at the last moment. You patted their backs, keeping your own tears back. Mostly because you just missed the shit out of everyone. Besides, you knew these two for such a long time and now seeing them after being gone…

“Alright, alright,” you said, sniffling and pulling away from them. Now wasn’t the time to be sentimental - there was a wholeass war going on.

“We don’t understand…” Heat said, shaking his head. “Why would Kese tell everyone you’re dead?” Wire was just as confused. You shook your own head. “That’s what I’m going to try to figure out.” You sighed, putting your hands on your hips. You supposed you understood getting you off the ship…actually…no you fucking didn’t. Why has he been out to get you since the fucking get go?

“When the captain received that letter…” Wire frowned. You blinked. “Letter? What letter?” He looked at you. “Kese gave it to him. Apparently there was a letter sent by the lab you were at, saying that you had died on a mission. It included some newspaper clipping as well. There was a picture of you and everything.” 

Your eyes widened. A picture? How the fuck did he pull that off? Why was he going through such lengths to do such a thing? Nothing was making any fucking sense. 

“The captain went on a rampage after that,” Dive chimed in with a frown. “That’s when he ended up fighting Shanks. Shanks had tried to stop his rampage and the captain lashed out at him and…well…” She shrugged, assuming you knew the rest. You frowned, indicating that you did, in fact, know the outcome.

“Killer also seemed to change quite a bit. He wasn’t the level headed vice captain we all grew up with. Seemed to not have much care for what happened to him. It grew reckless… He kinda stopped cooking too. It was…” Heat shook his head. “Bad.”

You stood there, shocked. Bewildered. Dumbfounded. So, your guess was right. When your brother started to grow more reckless, that’s when he received the fake news. Also, you weren’t expecting to hear all this about Killer. Stopped cooking? You just couldn’t imagine it. But…you just couldn’t fucking figure out why. It was so weird, so confusing. What would Kese gain from all this?

“It’s so fucking good to see you,” Heat said with a large smile, hugging you again. You patted his back and smiled. “It’s good to see you guys too. I just wish you all didn’t think I died. That’s definitely making everything much harder.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you pulled away from Heat.

“Well, let’s head to wherever Tungsten is now. I saw him earlier, but at this point I’m not sure if he’s fully convinced what he saw was real - same with Killer.” Their expressions were bored into your skull. Well, Eustass’. But you knew that Killer must’ve felt the same way. You could just feel it.

Wire nods. “Follow me.” And you do. You slowly find more and more crew members on the way, all of them absolutely overjoyed to see you. Gig nearly crushed you when he picked you up, sobbing as he hugged you. You almost died for real. That would’ve been incredibly awkward - surviving death allegations only to die by affection.

The only people you were missing at this point were Killer, Bubblegum, and Pomp. And the man of the hour - Kese. Though, someone mentioned he was watching the ship. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that they weren’t going to say anything to him and just let you and Eustass deal with his ass.

Eventually, you made it to the room where Eustass was fighting Big Mom. You arrived just in time to see him summon a behemoth of some kind of a machine. Your eyes widened as you watched the scene unfold before you. You’d never really watched your brother fight before, but you knew it wasn’t to this calibur. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you mumbled. “Impressive, right?” You looked over to Heat and nodded. “Yeah. When the fuck did that happen?” He shrugged. “This is definitely a newer one, but this was the only good thing that came out of…everything that happened. Awakened his devil fruit n’ all.” Your own face darkened. You still couldn’t believe that Kese just…lied to everyone. About something of that caliber too.

You needed to see this letter. To see this…picture.

While Eustass was fighting, you started patching everyone up. The lot of you stayed out of the way and you figured there was a better way to pass the time besides just sitting and watching. The fight seemed to be almost over anyway. With the amount of yelling and big attacks happening, you knew the fight was drawing to a close. 

“Aren’t you worried, y/n? You seem rather calm about the fight right now,” Wire said. You looked at him, shaking your head. “Says the man who never shows any kind expression.” You snorted before answering his question. “I’m not worried in the slightest though. I have faith in my brother. They’ll win.” 

It wasn’t long after that that he had done just that. They won. You head over to your brother with the rest of the crew, cries and shouts to be heard. You stop next to him, kneeling down and smiling. “Good job, Tungsten.” You started to patch him up quickly. He just stared at you. “You…really are back, Bigs? It wasn’t a sick delusion earlier?” You shook your head. He let out a breathless chuckle as he seemed to process it, staring up at the ceiling.

“They’re really back, captain!” Dive chimed in. You saw as tears welled in Eustass’ eyes and he covered his face with his arm. “I can’t fucking believe it,” he mumbled in a hoarse voice. You didn’t say much, just working on patching him up. You knew he was more than likely crying, but he wasn’t about to display that kind of emotion. You let him be.

Suddenly, you heard a command come from a large dragon that came crashing from above. Was that Kaido? He was a fucking dragon? An order came to attack your brother and the other captain from the other crew. You stood up, pulling out your own blades as people began to run towards the lot of you.

“Like fucking hell I’ll let them hurt you.” 

Though, not much was able to happen before a large hand came down, grabbing Kaido and yoinking him right back out of the ceiling. You blinked, looking back at your brother who was sitting up. He looked just as confused as you, shaking his head and shrugging. “Luffy - I’m assuming.” You blinked. The Strawhat guy? Man, you really were missing a lot of important pieces of information right now, but you weren’t about to dwell on it.

It seemed everyone was distracted after that. A few people tried to come after Eustass, but you took them down with ease. You saw him stand up at the corner of your eye. “You better sit the fuck back down, Tungsten!” You turned around and glared at him and he returned the sentiment. “I’m fucking fine - chill out!”

“You just took a fuckin’ beating. You don’t need to be standing!” You marched back over to him, letting the others worry about what stragglers tried to attack. 

“But I won!”

“Well, that’s not what I fucking said is it?”

“What the fuck are you getting on about?”

“I’m here to patch you up, no matter the damage. Now just accept my generosity before I let you bleed out!”

“Why are you fucking yelling at me?!”

“I’m not yelling!”

Just like that - the two of you are back to your old ways of arguing. To anyone else but the crew, it probably looked like yet another fight was about to break out, but to your crew members, they couldn’t have been happier to see the sight before their eyes. They all had smiles on their faces and some of them were even laughing about it. “Finds out y/n is alive and the first thing they do is argue. They’re really related,” you heard Wire muse.

“Why the hell are you mad at me!” You shouted, drowning out background noise.

“I’m not mad - I’m just shocked!”

“Well-”

“Well what? What could you possibly have to say now? More yelling? You’ve done enough of that!”

“I’ve got two years’ worth of scoldings to catch up on!”

“What the fuck does that mean!”

“It means-”

“Alright.” A third party interjects as you suddenly feel yourself being lifted off the ground. “Killer!” you shouted, immediately beginning to squirm. Eustass just laughed at you. “Ha! Serves you right for yelling for no reason!”

“Just ‘cause ass is in your name don’t mean you gotta act like one!” you shout from over Killer’s shoulder as he carries you away from your brother.

“Oh my fucking god - there are two of them,” you hear a voice say. Your eyes land on Trafalgar Law who looks absolutely horrified at the scene before him. You flip him off. “Mind ya business, asshole.” 

“Real threatening coming from the person being lugged around like a sack of potatoes.”

“Why you fuckin- Killer let me at him!” You start struggling only to feel his grip on you tighten and you immediately give up.

“Absolutely not.” 

He does, however, finally put you down once there’s distance in between you and your brother. You dust yourself off and straighten yourself out with a sigh before folding your arms. You looked at Killer with a small glare. “I was just trying to help,” you grumbled. 

Then you heard it. You fucking heard what haunted you from your encounter in the snow. You tensed as the laugh rang through the air and your head snapped up, looking around for that deranged swordsman.

It fucking hit you like a fucking freight train.

Your eyes widened as you slowly looked at Killer, whose shoulders were shaking along with the haunting laughter. “Killi?” Your voice was soft as you slowly walked towards him. He stepped back and you paused for a moment. You looked over to your brother whose attention had also been grabbed by the sound of Killer’s new haunting laughter. It seemed to reverberate in a way that stuck with you.

It was hollow and emotionless. Not like the genuine laughter that it used to be. This was not the laugh you had fallen in love with. It was a twisted ghost of something you once enjoyed.

“Killer, what happened?” Before really thinking, you outstretched your arm towards his helmet but he quickly grabbed your arm - which happened to be the bandaged one and you hissed softly, pulling your arm away. He paused in his own movements as well.

His own hand reached out and took your arm gently, looking at your bandages. “Did I do this?” You looked at him, confused. Wait…was that shot in the dark theory you had true? You assumed he was just affected by whatever that swordsman was infected with. Was Killer and that swordsman the same person?

“No? It was some crazy swordsman in-”

“I did this…” You could hear the realization in his voice as it also hit you, but you’re still in denial. There was no way they were the same person. The dead look in his eyes. The look of bloodlust and just…

“Killer, no-”

“I did.” He ripped off his helmet and you gasped - mostly just out of shock from his sudden movements. You looked up at him with wide eyes. The bandages were gone, yes. But that smile, that haunting, empty smile stretched across his face. It looked absolutely painful. You reached your hands up towards his face and he pulled back, that damn cackle ringing out from him.

You caught his face in your hands anyway, brushing his hair out of his face to get a whole view of him. “What did they do to you?” Your voice was soft as you looked up at him. You watched as he cackled, the smile and the noise not matching the pure sadness his eyes were portraying. You saw the tears forming in his eyes. He was clearly in pain. Surely it wasn’t comfortable to have your face stretched and contorted in such a way permanently.

There had to be something someone could do about this.

Before you could say much more, Killer pulls away, putting his helmet back on his head. Eustass joins the two of you and you look at him. “What the fuck happened?” Your brother blinks as the blame of your conversation was pointed at him. He just holds up his hands in a surrender-like way.

“It wasn’t his fault, y/n…” You look back at Killer. “I’ll…explain later.” You stare at him for a moment before looking at your brother who also has a dark expression on his face. You nod, looking back at Killer. “Fine. I’ll let it be - for now.” “We have something to take care of anyway.” The two of them nod, knowing exactly what, or who you are referring to.

[felonytaxevasion]

For the record here are my other Undersider drunken karaoke night picks I think about this situation a normal amount (lie)

Round 1 - No One Has Added Underage Drinking To Their Daily Crime Journal Yet

Lisa - Lisa starts everyone off with California Girls because she is, in her heart, A California Girl She's Undeniable Daisy Dukes Bikinis on Top. Lisa is probably the closest thing the Undersiders have to a good singer but she's totally hamming it up here to break the ice in hopes Taylor will participate

Aisha - Every single Rihanna album has gone platinum in Aisha Laborn's bedroom and she will take any opportunity to make this fact known. I think she would pick Only Girl In The World because Aisha really feels like Rihanna made that one just for her specifically. Not a singer with technical expertise but she brings the most passion and joy to her performances

Brian - As stated in an earlier post he picks Bruno Mars Beautiful Girls All Over The World, possibly Just The Way You Are. He did not pick them to serenade Taylor specifically but at one point he does make eye contact with Taylor during the chorus and it embarrasses them both. Aisha pretends to vomit.

Alec - picks the exact same song as Brian and does it worse in every way. Intentionally makes eye contact with each of the Undersiders making sure to really draw out Brian's turn

Taylor - Peer pressured enough to participate but not enough to choose a song she actually likes and listens to in fear of being judged. She performs Fireflies by Owl City with real fireflies and it's equal parts charming and horrifying. Lisa cheers too loudly and Alec hides behind Brian and Rachel from the bugs. Taylor vows to never perform at karaoke again

Rachel - refuses to participate

Round 2 - Everyone is Slightly Tipsy

Lisa - Lisa performs Girls Just Want To Have Fun and gets really into it. She only hits half of the high notes but she tries really hard to hit all of them. It's the closest thing to an impressive performance any of them achieve all night

Brian - cuts in front of Aisha to perform Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Performs all nine minutes even while Aisha boos him and also sings the guitar solos. Experiences joy and whimsy for the first time in months

Aisha - Don't Trust Me by 3OH3. While singing the line "I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him" she gets too excited and flings a bracelet off knocking a glass off a table and shattering it. This does not slow her performance for even a second

Alec - Friday by Rebecca Black. Very pleased with the negative reaction this inspires. Aisha tries to chase him off the stage and the latter half of the song is just them wrestling for the microphone

Taylor and Rachel decline to participate and instead sit in the corner and whisper gay things the whole round

Round 3 - Completely Lost In The Sauce Wasted

Lisa - Incredibly Solemn and Serious rendition of Video Games by Lana Del Rey. Alec dims the lights and everyone sans Rachel wave their cellphone flashlights for her

Alec - Alec has spent the entire night lying and telling Aisha he can sing all the words to Rap God by Eminem. He messes up the words in the first verse immediately. Laughs through the rest of the performance and accidentally makes up a new word that becomes he and Aisha's new terrible "inside joke" they insist on saying every five minutes for the next month

Brian - Low by Flo Rida. Does a whole dance routine to go along with it. Everyone except Aisha has a GREAT time

Aisha - Super Bass by Nicki Minaj. High off the excitement of his last performance Brian performs along and completely steals the show. This leads to the first bout of drunken crying (Aisha. Immediately followed by Brian) followed by drunken declarations of love and affirmation

Eventually the affirmations lead to Taylor agreeing to singing one more song so long as every Undersider individually promises her they won't make fun of her. She picks This Is War by Thirty Seconds to Mars because she is a terrible angsty teenager in 2011 and she sings it very badly. Everyone stills cheers for her though and it is a very good finale

On the way home they get Rachel to agree to do the barks if the rest of them sing Who Let The Dogs Out acapella. This footage is captured by street cams and the footage of the teenage warlords walking down the street barking is presented as a "twisted intimidation tactic" by the PRT for the next three years