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natsheadrest · 10 days ago

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🥥 mixed feelings with white dresses

analysis. your mother breaks the news to you that you’re being wedded off to some heir to a jewelry company. you have no knowledge on who she is in person, only that she’s rich and rather cold to anyone who approaches her. but when she walks you down the aisle after the vows, you find out she’s more of a sweetheart than you thought.

pairing. natasha romanoff x fem!reader wordcount. 4k

no other way masterlist

warnings. angst, arranged marriage!au, mentions of family abandonment (Father abandonment), many mentions of missing said father, slightly mean steve (makes fun of readers issues and reason why she's marrying Nat), some fluff at the end.

taglist. @natashasmuse @dvrkhcld @im-lesbianics authors note. the wedding section of this might be very poorly done, especially considering I have only been to around 3 weddings in my life and two of them was when I was a little kid. 😓 -- I did do plenty of research though so..

Your phone was settled on the counter after you recently checked your moms location, you sparsely sat on it due to lack of data and internet. Not wanting to waste it in case you needed it. for emergencies as you settled to make yourself coffee. You never liked the bitter taste of just, black coffee but you and mama couldn’t waste a single penny just for creamer. You were never one to waste any of your hard earned money, you’d rather spend it on your brother or mother whenever you are able to.

The house you lived in was small, having to share a room with your twelve year old brother while your mother sleeps on her own. Freezing in the winter and so fucking hot in the summer. The AC and heater don’t work and your family just can’t get enough money to fix it. Rather paying the bills to have a roof to live under was enough. Your nose scrunched as you hesitantly nursed at the coffee, the bitterness taking over your tastebuds. The coffee shop that mama and you love to go to had offered you a position this morning after an incident with a trainee and you were offered to be trained starting as of tomorrow.

The front door wiggled, keys jingled as it was pushed open. The hinges were rusty and old, creaking in complaint at being opened like it usually does. The familiar slim figure of your mother showed up in the doorway, coffee in hand as she settled down, eyes soft as she turned to you, “Hey sweetheart, you sleep okay?”

You smiled, walking over to give her a hug like you would always do whenever she came home. The childish grin found your face as you hugged the woman, nose pressing into her shoulder as you breathed in her scent. Motherly. That’s all you remember, the woman who raised you since you were crawling, the woman who had stuck around with you forever.

“I slept okay mama, but I’d like to tell you something,” You hummed excitedly, it was good news. Really, the excitement and enjoyment of the news for your mother that you so eagerly wanted to share died down on your tongue as she gently pushed you down onto the chair, she gave a shaky smile. The familiar smile that you saw when you caught her wine-drunk on a Tuesday after you came home from school as she promised to not drink anymore, “let me tell you something first, okay?”

You nodded, feet kicking off the worn-down stool you had perched yourself in. What would she possibly have to tell you that made herself look covered in guilt, what was wrong? You were genuinely worried, suspicion and a bit of fear sunk into your gut. Waiting to rip you apart.

“I met someone today, very nice, she was very sweet,” Mama continued on, her hand settled atop of yours. Gently squeezing your hand, four times. The usual, ‘I love you, sorry’ that was known within your family, “And she offered me something, well proposed something now that you’re finally an adult,”

“Mama, what’s going on?” You cut her off, her hand found your cheek, gently reassuring you that everything was okay. You relaxed in her touch, settling yourself ever so slightly.

“She’s the current CEO of that company, the jewelry company, I think it’s something along the lines of The Red Room?” She seemed unsure, lost a little bit, but before you could cut her off her finger found your lips and shut you up so she could continue on, “Her eldest daughter is your age, the heir to the company and she offered me to give you her daughter’s hand in marriage to help with Bennett’s future, and our future,”

Your heart sunk at that, engaged? Is that what you would call it, after everything you went through together. The drawing with chalk on the driveway just to play hopscotch, the catching lightning bugs and pill bugs. The affirmation that you two would be best-friends, she was there when you got your first period, your first breakup. And now? She was handing you away to a stranger right after you claimed that you were scared about marriage?

“So you’re throwing me away?” You let out a sniffle, body shuddering as tremors made their way through. Your throat tightened, it felt hard to swallow all these emotions, and as she reached out to reassure you, you snapped.

“You’re throwing me away just like dad threw us away? That’s not fair, why would you do that?” The small hint of anger that wrapped around the fear and sadness lashed out. Like a bullet piercing the air as you mentioned the man that left after your brother was born, the man who you believed to be your hero.

“Do not go there,” She warned, tone growing firm as she took a sip of her coffee. Her brows pinched, she sighed. Adjusting herself, before adding on, “You are not only just a daughter I raised, you’re the woman I brought up into this world. As much as I want to be there for you, it cannot continue to work like this, the universe has given us a hard life Y/N and if this is our light to help us shine like we were meant to, we will take it. But do not think this is me throwing you away, I will always love you, you’re my only daughter and I will not let the world rip you apart like it did me,”

Her words hurt, you felt guilty for lashing out. For acting like that so suddenly, you stood up. Giving her another simple yet comforting hug, before she patted your back and stepped away.

“You need to get dressed though love, an appointment was already booked for your wedding dress, your soon to be mother-in-law will be paying for everything you need,” She informed you softly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before you were ushered into your room. You took in the silence, so many emotions raced through you as you rushed to get dressed. — Your phone was settled on the side table, you had tried on four different dresses by now. You didn’t even know what you wanted, especially with thinking a wedding wouldn’t be happening right now. The girl who was helping you with decisions had her eyes linger on you too long, as if she was jealous of whoever had your hand in marriage because you were rather gorgeous.

Yet, uncomfortable with her stares. It wasn’t like you knew who you were marrying either, you learned what she looked like. A quick google search of the company, the people who founded it and the upcoming heir. Her name was in bold letters, her age and appearance listed with a photo that made her look elegant. Her hair was curled, jawline sleek and eyes narrowed in an icy look that could kill. You couldn’t tell if you were afraid or about to go head over heels and blush over your soon-to-be wife. You read reviews, anything to gain knowledge on who this woman was. All that had come up was that your father-in-law to be is a jokester, a funny man and your mother-in-law to be was a sweetheart and very focused on the customers while Natasha? Natasha was focused on the company, not that interactive with the people but the user ‘StarkHasAHeart’ was very insistent that he had an interaction with the heir and that she was cold and unpleasant.

“Ms.L/N, what dress will you try on next?” The girl asked you, her voice soft but the hint of impatience was there. You thought quietly, back to your mother who was sitting in the front room. You used to want a specific dress, but that was when you were a kid. You thought quietly as you started to unzip the dress you were wearing. It was too big, too puffy for your liking and the zipper itched your back in an uncomfortable manner.

“How about a v-neck dress with bell sleeves?” You blurted out, the first direct ask from you yet from this appointment. The girl simply nodded and went back into the storage to find something similar to your request. When she came back and handed you it, you went into the dressing room and shut the curtain. Your movements were rough, but you precisely took off the current dress and gently put on the dress that was just grabbed for you. It was gorgeous, really. It sparkled and showed off your curves nicely, yet it matched the spark in your eyes. The softness that still remained in your face after childhood, you looked in the mirror. Admiring yourself, it reminded you of when you played dress-up with your father. Before he left. You would be in a blue ball-gown replicating Cinderella’s dress and he’d have messy ruined make-up over his face after you did it for him with plastic fairy wings on his back. You felt like crying now, the realization that your father wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle. He isn’t going to be the man to hand you away, your throat tightened. You and your mother had a tight bond, but with the time spent with your dada? Nothing could compete against that, he wasn’t the best at doing girly things. Hell, he didn’t even know how to put your hair in a ponytail when you were a kid but he tried his best. When your mama was at work, he’d let you stay up and sit on his lap while he sat on the couch with an xbox controller in hand while playing an old game of Call of Duty with friends. You exactly remembered the first time he let you play for him, touch the controller. When you grew old enough to play on your own, he’d play against you and every time he beat you a puff of rage went through your tiny little head as you stamped your feet before he let you win once. You honestly only played because you loved the dogs, and you would start bawling your eyes out every time one of your dogs died.

But you would remember the times where you sat atop of the stairs listening to your parents argue over the littlest things, the pure bouts of rage. The screaming at the top of their lungs and the front door slamming. It was usually your father that left the house during these arguments, you’d go hide in your room every time he left and cry into a pillow with the thought of him leaving. Although, you also remembered the time you went down the stairs early one morning, your old man was sitting at the counter with his phone in hand and a hand covering his face to hide the tears. He was hunched over and crying, that was the morning where your Pops died. You remember running into his arms to hug him, not knowing anything close to the grief he had about his father dying, but you tried your best as you snuggled into his chest for the rest of the morning.

After your brother was born, your father hardly showed up to the house after work. You would set up the xbox every night in hopes he’d come sit down with you to play and every night you sat there alone or playing a round by yourself. You were only ten, you still didn’t understand the concept of abandonment of a family member. Yet, you learned it the hard way when your mom broke it to you that your papa wasn’t coming back and he left you behind. Your mama wanted him to be seen as the bad guy in your eyes, and you never believed it. Before and after school you would sit at your window looking at the empty parking space where your fathers white Camry would sit. It took you two years to realize that the father you loved wasn’t coming back, and two more years to accept it and not think about where he is now.

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to laugh or cry, but this was the dress for you. “I’ll go for this dress Denise, thank you,”

You yelled out. Not wanting the woman to see the dress on you, or your mother. Not yet, you eased out of the dress as you settled back into the light grey sweater you wore with black leggings. You breathed out softly, adjusting yourself as you had the dress hung over your arm as you walked out of the dressing room.

Surprisingly Denise didn’t pout like you expected her to when you announced you were fine with it and didn’t bother to show. A sigh left your lips as she handled the payment that your soon to be mother-in-law did for you. Dress in a bag to prevent casualties from happening. Once you were given the signal to leave, you grasped your phone and went to the front door. Not waiting for your mother as you slid into the front seat, opening your phone to look at the picture of the woman you’ll be marrying. Your eyes bore into the green ones that didn’t seem to have a spark, pushing down the negative feelings to your gut as you looked out the window as the car began to drive. — It felt wrong. You, the dress that you wore, the fact that you were standing behind the foliage with the flowers of the pathway that would lead you down the aisle and towards the altar where the redheaded woman you had not seen at all in person. This shouldn’t be you walking down the aisle, it should be another girl with elegant features and a wealthy family. You already cried this morning into your mother’s abdomen, you couldn’t start crying now.

Your uncle stood beside you, he wasn’t tall for a man but he had the muscle. His hair was neat, his black suit fit him well. The only thing he was really missing to bring out his personality was the black glasses he wore inside or when reading. As a kid you remembered playing around with him, or taking a nap in his bed just to mess around with him sitting next to you while reading Lord of The Rings. He would turn his head to look over you, black glasses pushed down as his eyes peered at you over them and he would mock you for your bedhead. He tries his best to help you and your mom out, being a dentist isn’t a hard pay. But he lives out of state, caring for his pregnant wife and two year old toddler.

Your arm was looped into his, awaiting it to be your turn to walk on down. It wasn’t until a soft teasing voice interrupted your thoughts, “You know, you’re supposed to think about everything after the wedding,”

A soft nudge to your side had you letting out a small smile, the feeling felt weird. Why are you smiling? You’re about to be wed off to some stranger you never met, but, in the face of it all he was lightening you up a bit.

“It’s not that bad, I promise you that,” He started off, eyes turning to look over at you as his expression was soft. A hint of pride yet understanding met your fearful ones, “It may seem scary, for you especially since you don’t know her but all you gotta do is think on how life will be after that. Don’t let this catch you up on the freight train just yet, enjoy the peace now. You don’t know if she’ll end up being the nicest thing to happen to you or the meanest, and you will let me know how she treats you after a few months because I will not tolerate my eldest niece getting stuck in a marriage with a bully,”

“I’m your only niece,” You giggled out softly at his protectiveness, fingers squeezing the soft flesh of his bicep as the music shifted. Giving the indication for you both to start heading down, with a gentle movement you both started walking down the aisle. Everyone was standing, but it wasn’t a lot of people, only secluded for family and close friends. While you recognized a few familiar faces you kept your looks on the redhead standing down at the altar waiting for you. She was in a light-grey, collared, buttoned up vest with a notched lapel with a button down white blouse beneath it. Light gray trousers covered her legs and black boots, it matched the tight bun she had in her red hair as her green eyes met yours and you had to fight the blush rushing to your cheeks at her stare and appearance. Her outfit surprisingly matched yours well, you swallowed before you stopped at the end of the altar. Arm leaving your uncles before you took him into a tight hug, throat tightening before you whispered your delayed response, “You’ll be the first to know if anything goes wrong,”

You stood there for a second longer, before you let him go to his destined spot as you moved up to stand in front of Natasha. She was taking you in, did she think poorly of you? Was she angry she had to marry a low-life like you? Your hair neatly styled in a half-up half-down hairstyle, front pieces framed your face well enough as you took her in as well. She has a well-built stature, only a few inches taller than you and she was gorgeous. You started to believe that this woman could, in-fact hurt a fly but not only with her words but with her looks. It wasn’t until the officiant cleared his throat.

“Welcome friends, family, and loved ones. I am Steve, a friend of one of the partners here today that are joining together in marriage,” He announced, tone smooth and clean but all you could focus on was the woman standing in front of you.

“Yet, we are all gathered here today for the marriage of Natasha Romanoff, and Y/N L/N,” He continued on, her name sounding smooth coming off of his lips. Although you had never said it, you’d wish you had whispered it to yourself for the confidence boost before standing in front of such a powerful woman. Maybe she was the heir for a reason, breathing in as you finally settled on listening to Steve.

“Although these two lovely women had not had much of an experience together yet, we know that it is a great thing in the future for them to have. No matter the issues at home, the brave step to come into this marriage is a wonderful thing and who knows, maybe this relationship will bloom to be a lovely thing,” He added on, finishing his speech with that and it had not but only stressed you even more.You subtly flickered your eyes to your uncle, who didn’t look too pleased himself but you focused on Natasha after it was mentioned for you two to share your vows. You had stayed up most of the night planning yours, one to not be too romantic but enough to share your devotion.

It wasn’t until she said her vows first, and honestly? You might have melted, her voice was soft, sweet like honey, “On this day, I give you my heart, My promise, That I will walk with you, Hand in hand, Wherever our journey leads us, Living, learning, loving, Together, Forever,”

It was sweet, brows furrowing as you felt your stomach churn with an upcoming feeling of nervousness. You took a moment to process, were your vows good enough as hers? She executed it perfectly, it was just the right amount to give to someone that you’re marrying without even knowing them. You adjusted your stance to get more comfortable, before you finally shared your own vows, “I, Y/N, take you to be my wife. I promise to love you, support you, and cherish you through everything we will face together,”

Her eyes held yours as you said them, it wasn’t until your brother showed up to the altar with both of your wedding rings. Natasha had picked up yours, gently picking up your hand as her thumb brushed against your knuckles. Body leaning in close as you felt the warmth she was radiating, the cool metal of the ring slid onto your finger as you felt your eyes wander to the jewelry on your hand. Shakily, you lifted the only ring left in the hold of your brother before he was coaxed back to his spot. Your hand took Natasha’s, feeling the softness of her skin. The callouses in her fingers and you couldn’t help but let your fingers brush against hers before you slid the ring onto her finger. You felt like you were in a trance, not hearing Steve declare you both wife’s. You didn’t even feel her hand find your face as she leaned in, forehead brushing against yours at the close contact. It wasn’t until you felt her nose bump into yours that you snapped out of it right as her lips lightly pressed into your own. The kiss was sweet, soft, nurturing as she pulled back.

People were clapping, and it was getting overwhelming. You took everything in your might to not recoil back before a hand slithered around your back and rested on your waist. Natasha began to lead you down the aisle, and took a left instead of a right. You were confused until you saw the black car sitting in a parking lot as she opened the passenger door for you. Your bags were already packed and placed at her place to be ready to be unpacked, she buckled the seatbelt for you before she slid into her driver's seat.

“You’re visibly stressed love, I’m not going to put you through all that with the reception afterwards, we can go home and settle now,” Her voice smoothed out her plan, you felt a bit of gratitude for her consideration as the car pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the city. You leaned your chin into the palm of your hand as you looked out the window, breathing out softly into the tense silence afterwards. You couldn’t help but think back on the empty seat beside where your mother sat. You knew who that spot was for, Melina probably even handed the invite to the man you adored. He didn’t show up. He broke that promise of seeing you walk down the aisle in a pretty dress that he would love to see you in, and he didn’t even get to see you at all.

As you thought in your solitude the car pulled into a driveway into a decently sized house. It was unique, not a mansion but it was rather grand. You could tell that the redhead had money, the house was practically the queen of the subdivision. You watched her open the car door and leave, your fingers unbuckled the seatbelt before reaching to pull the handle before the door opened for you, Natasha helped you out of the car steadily. Her hand found your waist again to guide you up the steps. You had to admit she was rather polite, it was something you were beginning to adore as you looked at the front door as she started to unlock it.

Once it creaked open, no hinges complaining, no creaking. She led you inside as you noticed your bags settled at the bottom of the staircase in the house, it was huge inside. You couldn’t even believe you were standing here, it wasn’t until you snapped your head to look at Natasha when she spoke out with a soft rasp.

“Welcome home,”

#🍷no other way #💌lily's works #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #angst #light angst #fluff #creative writing #fanfic

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moonstruckme · 8 months ago

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hi i have an unhealthy attachment to your doctor!remus content…could i request a fic where reader is hiding some type of health problem from him or maybe ignoring it, and when something bad happens he finds out and is all stern with her and his usual worried self? i <3 this man, thank you truly for sharing your writing and doing it so well!!

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: description of vertigo, mention of nausea

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re sick of being miserable. You had a cold, which had turned out to be the flu, which had turned into a sinus infection, and your poor, sweet boyfriend had weathered it all with you. Remus had made you soup. He’d warmed damp towels for your sinuses. He’d stayed home from work a couple of days, and rubbed your back, and your chest, and your temples when they ached, and supplied you with name-brand medicines. He’d been so, so patient when you were whiny and awful to be around. So now, when your sinus infection has turned into this heinous ear pain, you’ve decided you’re done with it.

You won’t entertain your body with its miseries any more. You certainly won’t be making it Remus’ problem.

It’s easy not to feel miserable when you wake up before him on a slow Saturday morning. There’s a line of sunlight reaching across the room from the crack in your curtains, Remus’ face lovely even in shadow. He could use a haircut, you think fondly. It’s starting to cover the tops of his ears, which you think is a rather endearing look on him even if you have to agree when he says it’s not very professional.

Eventually his eyes blink open. He smiles when he finds you watching him, the stretch of his lips sleepy and content. You draw a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose.

“I think,” you say, “that we should stay here all day long.”

Remus’ smile widens, and it takes half a second after his mouth begins moving for you to realize you can’t hear him properly. You pick your good ear up off the pillow as subtly as you can, propping your chin on your hand. You ignore the wave of dizziness that follows.

“...what you really want? You’ve been home nearly all week,” says Remus. “What if we went on a walk today? We could go to that park you like, the one with the lake.”

You shove down the dread that rises in your chest. This is what you want. You want to get over being poorly and get back to your life.

“You’re right,” you say brightly. “That sounds great.”

Remus peers over you to check the time. “Oh. God, we slept in, didn’t we? We may have to go soon if we want it to still be nice out.”

“That’s alright,” you say easily. “I’ll be right after you, I just have to pick out what I’m going to wear.”

Remus leans forward to peck you on the forehead, getting out of bed with a sleepy groan. He stretches his neck this way and that, movements sluggish as he goes toward the bathroom.

Your movements are sluggish for different reasons. You sit up slowly, fighting through the vertigo that sloshes the room about you in protest. It wasn’t this bad yesterday.

You discover a series of new miseries as you get dressed with cautious, snail-like movements. Your ear hurts something awful. More than that, the pain has spread to most of your head. The constant dizziness quickly results in a low nausea. You’re genuinely uncertain whether the ringing in your ears is a symptom of your ear infection or a warning bell of your impending insanity.

Putting on your trousers is an ordeal. By the time you sit down on the bed to pull on socks, your resolve has spiderweb cracks spreading and threatening to unleash a meltdown.

But you’re stubborn. You can do this, you think. If you’re only walking on even ground in the park, and Remus’ hand is in yours, you’re sure you can manage. The internet said your symptoms wouldn’t last long anyway—maybe they’ll clear up as the day goes on.

“...ove? Dove?”

You look up as Remus comes to stand in front of you, swallowing when the world spins. In the center of the swirl, you think he’s smiling. His hand cups your face.

“You seemed off in your own world there,” he says fondly.

You smile and hum, keeping your head perfectly still so that the spinning slows. Remus’ eyebrows twitch towards each other.

“You alright?”

“Mhm, yeah.” You cup your hand over his, holding onto it as you stand. “Let’s go.”

“You’re ready?” he asks while you pull him towards the door. You sway a bit in your effort to walk at a normal pace, reaching for the doorframe.

The hallway in front of you looks like a funhouse horror. You put one foot in front of the other as surely as you can. “Yeah,” you say. “Aren’t you?”

Remus’ hand tightens on yours. You don’t understand why for a moment, but then you’re falling sideways, his hands catching you around the waist.

“Dove.” His stern voice is slightly alarmed and largely disembodied, your eyes unable to find his face in the whirling mass in front of you. “What’s going on?”

Like an overinflated balloon popping, you burst into tears.

Remus collects you to his chest, holding your head securely against him as he half carries you back to the bed. It doesn’t prevent your dizziness entirely, but it helps.

“What’s happening?” he asks more gently as you sniff and whimper. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”

“I think it’s an ear infection,” you say in a small voice. “It hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m so—” You take in a short breath. “—so dizzy I feel sick.”

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright.” Remus pets the back of your head, shushing you until you calm some.

“Sorry,” you whimper.

“What are you sorry for, love? For crying?”

Your sniffly silence is answer enough.

Remus sighs. “Why did you try to act like nothing was wrong?”

“Because,” you say thinly, “I’m tired of things being wrong. I just want—” You pause, pressing your lips together to avoid crying again. “I want to feel normal.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your boyfriend’s mix of disappointment and sympathy only brings you closer to tears. “You can’t will it, my love. And you can’t pretend this away. These are the sorts of things I need to know about.”

You blink away the blur of tears, grateful that your world has finally straightened out. You press your head closer to Remus’ chest. “I wanted to give you a break, too,” you admit. “The internet said it would go away in a couple of days, so I figured I’d just ride it out.”

“Mm, a middle ear infection would.”

You stiffen. “What does that mean?”

The kiss Remus drops to your head is heavy with compassion. “Vertigo like this comes with an inner ear infection, dove. They take longer to go away, sometimes weeks, but the process can be sped up with antibiotics.”

He pauses while you process this.

“You know, the sort prescribed by a doctor.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles fondly, kissing your head again. “This is why you tell me things. Understand?”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around his middle, clinging pathetically. “I’m sorry. Help me.”

“I will, sweetheart. Think you can lay down and be still while I nip to work and the pharmacy?”

You don’t think you’ll have any problems there.

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holylulusworld · 2 months ago

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Indifferent (11)

Summary: Your father wanted a bond between you and the Barnes Empire. No matter what.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, arguments, mafia au, strong reader, banter, idiots on love

Catch up here: Indifferent (10)

Indifferent Masterlist

“You think you’re funny, huh?” Bucky is not amused. The thought of someone else touching you—touching what’s his—makes him furious. “You better rethink your attitude, doll, or I’ll…”

“You’ll do what, Barnes?” You cock your head. Fuming Bucky is kind of hot, but you’d never tell him so. “You’ll do shit, or Mommy will come around and slap your ass again!”

You enjoy the struggle on his face. Bucky didn’t think you saw what his mother did to him. “This was all your fault! Mother believed it was my fault you ran away like an angry, spoiled child.”

Smirking, you step into Bucky’s personal space. You pat his cheek, smirking darkly.

“Aw, baby cakes,” you coo his name. “Who is the spoiled brat here? You are a grown man, and you call me one? Who threatens to kill a masseur only because he made me feel good? Who continuously hurts me with words and actions? Who does this to his wife?”

“You’re a brat only to be a brat,” he bites back, brows furrowed. He follows your gaze when you drop your eyes to his crotch.

“Unbelievable!” You exclaim, seeing the prominent bulge in his pants. “You’re getting off fighting with me?”

“What? No!” Bucky shakes his head. He’d never admit that your attitude gets him going. “You’re delusional!”

No woman before gave him a hard time. His mother and sister always adored him, just like every girl and later woman he met. Not you. Never you. You’re the thorn in his side.

You cock your head to look directly at his erection poorly hidden by his slacks. “I’m delusional?” You ask, while moving your hand to his crotch, cupping him roughly. “Well, this is not an erection, but a gun, and you should take it out. We don’t want you to shoot off your tiny dick.”

Squeezing tighter, you look him straight in the eyes. He pants heavily, eyes glued to your hand on his crotch. You cup him roughly, but he twitches in your hand, nonetheless. Bucky swallows thickly. He doesn’t want to, but he groans, and you heard it.

“Do not think for one second I would’ve come back to you if there was anyone else who held more power in this town than you.” He almost whines when you drop your hand and twirl around to walk away—leaving him once more, frustrated and horny.

“That woman!” Bucky barks into the phone. He called Steve in the middle of the night to complain about you once again. “I should’ve let her rot in the hole she dug herself.”

Steve sighs deeply. He’s fucking tired. Not only because his friend woke him at 2 am, but also because Bucky won’t stop nagging about you. For as long as you have been gone, Bucky wouldn’t stop looking for you. Now he’s back to being a whiny bitch.

“Did you just call me a whiny bitch?” He barks into the phone. “I’m not a bitch nor whiny. You’re a bad friend! You should support me!”

Steve tells his friend to get fucked and hangs up. He’s just done for today and will take any punishment tomorrow. For now, he’ll go back to sleep.

Bucky is still angry as fuck when he walks into the bedroom. Calling Steve wasn’t helpful at all. You already got comfortable on his side of the bed after a relaxing bath and dinner for yourself. “That’s my side,” he huffs, angrily glaring at you. “You know that.”

“How should I know?” You bite back. “I always slept alone. You were never around.” You turn your back on Bucky. He can sleep on the other side of the bed. You won’t move an inch.

“Do not tempt me to—” He grits his teeth and considers his options. If he puts his hands on you, his mother will get mad at him again. “Fine, have it your way.”

“I’ll always have it my way from now on,” you coo, pushing boundaries even more. You won’t give in. “I’m rather tired. Let me sleep now, Barnes.”

Bucky ignores the urge to fight with you. He turns to use the bathroom to cool down and not strangle you right away.

“What is your problem?” You huff when you wake from your slumber thanks to your grumpy husband. He’s tossing and turning on the bed, never lying still. “BUCKY! Stop wiggling!”

“I can’t sleep on this side. I must sleep near the door to…protect you,” he hisses as you switch the light on.

“Seriously? You are wiggling on the bed like a three-year-old because I’m sleeping on your side of the bed?” He nods and looks at you lying on his side of the bed. “Gosh, fine.”

You climb over Bucky, glaring at him as he inhales sharply when you are face-to-face with him. “Get on your side and shut up. I want to sleep.”

Bucky moves closer to his side, sighing as he finally can close his eyes and get some rest. “You always have to make things complicated,” he mutters and turns on his side. “If only you could be less…”

“I swear, if you don’t shut up, I’ll hit you with the lamp!” You angrily elbow Bucky when he moves closer. “And don’t even think about trying to touch me.”

“I’ll need handcuffs, a gag, and a full-body armor,” he jokes, but moves even closer to wrap his hand around your wrist.

“What are you doing?” You hiss when he wraps his arms around your middle. “Are you shitting me?”

“I need to prevent you from running away again. Tomorrow, I’ll put a tracker on you,” he laughs when you call him a jerk. “Sleep. You said you are tired…”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #mafia au #x reader #Indifferent (11)#mobster!bucky barnes

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mariusrenathyrs-crashout · 2 months ago

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Thinking about this post talking Sparrow verus Lark and the care and attention differences they both receive based off of how well or poorly they both are able to cope with their respective traumas and mental illnesses. Not to say it is Henry or Mercedes faults since I can't even imagine the situation the two were put in, especially with how viscerally and full heartedly Lark came to resent Henry due to the Rogue's Curse; but it meant that Sparrow in a way turned into somewhat of a Glass Child (idk if this term is still commonly used so forgive me if it's out dated).

I think this is something very sad about Sparrow when it's placed into the context of his actions and life. As a child he and Lark were pretty 50/50 when it came to feelings and experiences: they both experienced the kidnapping, Lark's homunculi body died which he experienced but Sparrow experienced watching his twin die and attempting to kill their grandfather for it, they both experienced the attack that happened to Walter resulting in his legs being cut off, and both experienced the last big battle. But Lark got cursed by that goddamn Rogue's Curse and Sparrow didn't, and because he did and because of Willy, he is the one that shed the blood of Henry releasing the end times.

Of course he had a lot to deal with with the guilt and self hatred and resentment he can to feel because of it, not only towards his father but himself and others. It just makes sense that Lark's change in behavior and his literal intentional reckless endangerment warrants Henry and Mercedes to shift focus to Lark; but I think this also leads to the neglect of Sparrow. Sparrow who originally was the one who saw this Eldritch deity in his dreams as a child and drew it, who saw his brother be "killed", was kidnapped and beaten to a literal bloody mess, who experienced much of the same things Lark did.

But Sparrow experienced uniquely to Lark was being tasked with watching over Lark by Henry, "watch out for your brother, okay?". In that moment Sparrow became parentified, he put his issues on the back burner all for the sake of normalcy and so his parents didn't have to worry about 2 children rather than the 1. He did so much to take care of Lark to the point that this continued to adulthood. Where Sparrow let Lark live in his house with him and his wife, his wife who Lark slept with and never told Sparrow, Sparrow who knew but never said anything to disturb the peace and didn't want his brother feel more guilty so he played ignorant. Who helped Lark try and sit upon the throne by taking on his visage and through Lark's mouth pleaded how it was both of their faults, that it was the twins responsibility to fix this not just Lark, not only so Henry could hear it but so Lark could as well. Who wanted normalcy so badly he named his son Normal and named his daughter Hero for what he couldn't be. Who loves Normal but is so afraid that Normal will grow up to be like him and tells his son it scares him so bad that Normal doesn't have a mean bone in his body and is willing to get hurt for others happiness. Sparrow who did egregious things to preserve his family, only to be told by his parents that his brother was forgiven because his actions weren't his own but Sparrow in all his sacrifices and willing to be the bad guy or neglected child was at fault and they couldn't forgive him. Henry hated how he got treated by his father, yet here he is, having put those same standards on Sparrow. He loves Sparrow, but doesn't like Sparrow.

Rip baby girl. I'm sorry everything sucked so bad and then your wife got shot and your house was burned down. You really never stood a chance, huh.

#ik this means nothing to 99% of my followers but im rly rly on one today abt the Oak family #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads quest #dndads odyssey #sparrow oak #sparrow oak garcia #lark oak #lark oak garcia #henry oak #normal oak #normal oak swallows garcia #hero oak #hero oak swallows garcia #decrees #dndads s1 #dndads s2

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brattattack63 · 1 year ago

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Is This Off The Record? — Quinn Hughes⁴³

Chapter One

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n gets a job as a rinkside reporter for the Vancouver Canucks, befriending many of the roster members, but one player (who just so happens to wear the C on his chest) is rather against the idea of becoming friends with the girl.

Warnings: use of y/n, cursing, I think that’s it?

w/c: 3,198

a/n: I haven’t written anything in what feels like forever, so I hope this isn’t too bad. I started writing this at like 6 in the morning without sleep the previous night and finished it up after i finally slept so I apologize for any mistakes. I’m also not very educated in the world of reporting but I tried my best. I hope you enjoy!

You weren’t new to the world of reporting. Not in the slightest, actually. You had dreamt of being a big-time journalist since you were just a girl. You’d had it in your head for a while now that you wanted to be a sports reporter. It was kind of niche, sure, but you were going to do everything you could to achieve that goal.

Your dad originally fueled your love for sports, and while you never played any sports competitively, you loved watching them nonetheless. There were a few sports that you didn’t enjoy watching at all. You didn’t have a “favorite” sport per se, but if someone asked you what sport you pictured yourself covering, you would say football. Of course, he made it clear that no matter what you did, he would be infinitely proud, but once your dad had learned that you wanted to work in sports reporting, he brought up how cool it would be if you could be a sideline reporter one day. Since then, that was the picture you’d had in your head for what you’d be doing in sports. Things don’t always work out the way you want them to though.

When you’d gotten the call that you landed a job as a rinkside reporter for the Vancouver Canucks, you were beyond excited, but part of you felt a bit disappointed. It was the part of you that always wanted to be perfect at everything, the part that always demanded the best of yourself, and the part that never accepted failure or defeat. You had been dreaming about your future job for years, and it wasn’t working out exactly how you’d planned. It was fine though. Lots of people would kill to get a job like this, so it had to be fine.

You’d lived in the Seattle area for your entire life, so you’d been hoping to land a job with the Seahawks. It didn’t work out that way, but you still landed a job with a major sports franchise within five hours of most of your immediate family. You were glad about that. Family was one of the most important things to you. Well, your family and your job.

It didn’t take you long to pack up your things, preparing for your move to Vancouver. You’d lived in that small studio apartment for the last 4 years and it still didn’t feel like home. It still felt empty and barren. No marks on the floor from the constant dragging of kitchen table chairs. No residue of crayon low on the wall from where you and your brother had drawn on it and done a shitty job of wiping it off the wall afterward. No crack in the porcelain of the bathroom counter poorly covered by whatever the fuck kind of glue concoction your mom had tested out on it. It wasn’t home. And now it really would never be considered home.

You’d already found a place to rent in Vancouver, a one-bedroom apartment with suspiciously low rent, and even though you’d seen it in person once, you were still slightly skeptical because of the price. Despite the stress of trying to move and find a place quickly, you were happy. Stressed, but happy. And that’s what mattered.

You didn’t want to take a plane when you went to Vancouver, for obvious reasons, so you drove your car. Well, technically you didn’t drive your car, your brother, Brock, did. He insisted on driving up with you, even if it was only a two-and-a-half-hour drive. He had a friend who had moved up to Vancouver about a year ago who he hadn’t seen since. He came up with the idea that he’d drive you up to your new home and make sure you were settled in, and then he’d have his friend pick him up from your place so they could hang out for a few days before he took a bus or a train home or something. He didn’t really have a fully formulated plan. He often didn’t. It annoyed you to no end sometimes. It somehow always worked out okay for him though.

“I’m just a little worried about you is all,” Brock spoke from the driver’s seat, glancing over at you momentarily before turning his eyes back to the road ahead of him. You were sat in the passenger seat of your car, absentmindedly scrolling through social media to pass the time of the could-be-worse drive. Brock’s words broke the comfortable silence that had hung in the car for the past 30 minutes. You lifted your gaze up from your phone to look at your brother who was two years your junior, yet was protective of you nonetheless.

“I don’t know what you’re getting so worried about,” you said with a faint smile and a fond shake of your head. You turned your phone off and set it face down on your thigh as you heard him sigh at your words.

“You’re gonna be all on you’re own, Y/n/n,” Brock let out with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, not taking his eyes off the road this time. His words didn’t exactly make a whole lot of sense. You moved out over four years ago and here he was talking about you living on your own.

“I’ve been living on my own.” An exasperated chuckle escaped you before your sentence had even left your mouth. You found Brock to be a little funny sometimes, even when he wasn’t trying to be.

“Shut up, you know what I mean, dumbass,” he said, a little laughter making its way out of his throat as he spoke. He shoved at your shoulder lightly. It was kind of hard to have a serious conversation with a boy whom you once saw eat an entire pack of Oreos within five minutes, then vomit everywhere, and proceed to try again with a pack of Nutter Butters.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you said, giggling slightly at the random memory that entered your mind. The car fell silent after that, but the silence was short-lived as 10 minutes later, Brock decided to play any and every Kidz Bop song on Bluetooth to annoy the ever-living shit out of you. It worked tremendously. You flipped him off and popped your headphones in, curling up on the seat in a way that you knew would have your back hurting later. You somehow managed to fall asleep, even with Brock brake-checking you about 10 times.

Brock had helped you settle into your new apartment, staying there for a day to help you get your stuff unpacked. There was only a box or two left to unpack by the time his friend came to pick him up. You hugged him tightly, knowing it would probably be a little while until you saw him again.

That night, you’d wanted to go to bed early, since you had your first day on the job tomorrow, but, of course, you couldn’t stop tossing and turning until about three in the morning when your alarm was set to wake you up at 6:30. You were sure that snooze button would be pressed at least a few times the next morning, and you were right.

You’d finally gotten out of bed at around seven in the morning. Something like that. You weren’t entirely sure. It didn’t affect your morning schedule too much though. You’d given yourself extra time so you could unpack the rest of your stuff. That part of your schedule had been replaced by you lying in bed and repeatedly pressing the snooze button. You could always unpack your stuff when you got back to the apartment, so it wasn’t a huge deal.

The Canucks’ practice technically started at 11 AM, but most of the players arrived at ten, so that’s when you wanted to be there. That meant you had to leave your apartment around 9:30. You wanted to be punctual. No mistakes.

You walked into your very empty bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You cringed slightly at the barely noticeable dark circles under your eyes. You knew that they would go unnoticed for the most part and that concealer would probably cover it, but you were still pissy about it. You hadn’t gotten any quality sleep, after all. Well, that’s that, I suppose, you thought to yourself.

You stripped and stepped into the shower, grabbing the mini shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles you always kept in your toiletries bag, since you’d forgotten to buy some yesterday. Your family always teased you about carrying those bottles with you, but they actually came in handy so who’s laughing now? Probably still them. Eh, you can’t win every battle.

You took a long shower, washing away the drive from the day before and the shitty sleep you got last night. You closed your eyes and let the warm water hit your face, finding comfort in the feeling despite just barely being able to breathe through the stream of water.

You eventually turned the water off reluctantly and grabbed the towel off the rack that you’d put there just yesterday. You shivered as you opened the curtain and the cold air hit your wet skin. Warm showers were great until you had to get out.

You went through the rest of your routine, brushing your teeth, blowdrying your hair, finding an outfit to wear, etc. The morning felt like it passed by in slow motion. The suspense was killing you. You were restless as you waited for the clock to tell you it was time to leave. When it did, you practically bolted out the door.

The drive to the practice arena was anxious, to say the least. The excitement had turned into nervousness as soon as you put your key in the ignition. No music played through your speakers. The Bluetooth never connected to your phone, but even if it did, you wouldn’t have turned anything on anyway. Silence was what you needed to collect your thoughts and prepare yourself.

You got to the rink early, but you were glad you’d gotten there early. Better than being late. You sat in your car for a few minutes, before finally taking a deep breath and getting out. You must have made sure you locked your car at least ten times as you walked up to the arena, which was most definitely unnecessary.

Once inside, it was surreal looking at the environment. It was their practice arena, nothing incredibly special about it, but it was what the whole thing meant. It meant that you were doing what you loved, what you’d wanted to do for so long. You absolutely couldn’t wait.

It didn’t take long for all the players to arrive. Most of them arrived around the same time, pretty much all within a span of about five minutes. You had a few words with some of them, mainly just quick questions that didn’t really get you anywhere, but, hey, progress is progress. You actually had a relatively long chat with J.T. Miller, you know, considering the circumstances. The conversation didn’t last nearly as long as you would’ve liked but he spent longer talking to you than the others did.

The last one to arrive was none other than the newly-named Captain of the Canucks himself, a whole ten minutes after everyone else did. He wasn’t technically late, but still. It didn’t seem very Captain-like, but you guessed that you weren’t quite in the position to judge, seeing as you didn’t even play sports, let alone captain an NHL team.

“Hi, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask-” You began cheerfully but cut yourself off due to the fact he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. He just…walked right by. You couldn’t tell if he actually didn’t hear or see you, or if he was just really fucking shameless about ignoring people. You could hardly believe either one, but at least the former option would be a misunderstanding. The latter was just plain fucking rude.

You stood baffled for a moment but recovered as you saw him disappear into the locker room. You blinked a few times to clear your head of the weird interaction, before going over to take your seat next to the rest of the reporters and journalists.

The practice went smoothly from what you could tell. It didn’t seem like a whole lot was going on, just routine drills. You made sure to take lots of pictures anyway, essentially documenting the entire practice, sometimes focusing your camera lens on the fan favorites. You were certainly better with your words than with a camera, but they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so you tried. Your photography skills weren’t as good as you would’ve liked them to be, but you were getting better.

As their practice came to a close, most of the reporters and journalists gathered outside the door to the locker room, waiting for the okay to enter and ask their questions. Of course, they wanted their questions answered. It was the first official practice of the regular season, after all. You tried to wriggle your way to the front but to no avail. It seemed kind of counterproductive. Once the limited amount of media reps had begun filtering in, you certainly felt like a small fish in a big pond. Forget the pond, you were in the fucking Pacific Ocean. Everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing, exactly who to go to, and which questions to ask them, and you didn’t. You were sure you looked like a lost puppy in here.

Someone seemed to notice that too. The fellow you’d had a friendly chat with earlier. The 30-year-old center was already answering some questions from another reporter, but as he answered a question you hadn’t quite heard, he jerked his head to the side, inviting you over. You gladly went. You probably wouldn’t have been able to work up the courage to talk with anyone in here alone. You made your way over to where he stood, a microphone held in front of his face by the middle-aged male journalist who stood directly in front of him. You stood slightly off to the side, waiting for the other reporter to finish up with his questions.

Once he finished his questions, you made room for yourself in front of the man who had thankfully granted you his kindness. He chuckled as you awkwardly stood in front of him. His presence was somewhat comforting.

“Don’t sweat it, Kid,” He said, flashing you a comforting smile. The way he spoke the words reminded you of the cool teachers in school after you’d fucked up so badly that you’d just barely gotten by with a passing grade.

You laughed a little self-consciously at his comment, now knowing that your shortcomings were also apparent to others and not just you. You took a deep breath before speaking, attempting to calm your nerves.

“Would you wanna answer a few questions?” You managed to ask and it felt like a big step for you even though it was just a seven-word sentence. He nodded wordlessly, a reassuring smile on his face as he did so.

You actually shook off some nerves and asked him a few run-of-the-mill questions. Simple ones like, What aspect of play do you think your team has improved the most in over the off-season? What aspects of play have you improved in individually over the off-season?, and Do you think your team possesses the necessary chemistry between teammates to be a Stanley Cup contender this year? All of the questions either came with easy answers or came with no direct answer at all. You didn’t mind all that much though. Not right now anyway. You were asking the right questions, and knowing that made things just a little bit easier.

After you had finished your short interview with J.T., he led you over to where his Captain stood, stating that you just had to ask him some of your questions. You weren’t entirely keen on the idea after your, for lack of a better word, odd interaction with him before practice had even started, but you begrudgingly obliged.

“Are you sure he’s up for more questions?” You asked almost nervously as a sort of last-ditch effort to get out of talking to this guy. You knew it was a stupid question that wouldn’t get you anywhere. These people knew how to talk to the media and they knew that it was part of their job to do such, of course,, he’d answer some questions. No harm in at least trying to get out of it though, right?

J.T. just laughed at your question and the insistence in your tone at first. He either didn’t know or didn’t care that you didn’t want to talk to Quinn and you didn’t know which one made you more annoyed.

“He won’t mind,” He finally said said after a breath. You didn’t care if he minded, quite frankly, you did not want to go through another awkward interaction. You’d already gotten the answers that you’d needed anyway. You were screaming internally.

Quinn was finishing up some questions with some other journalist when you made it over to where he stood. He had an intense gaze as you could tell he carefully thought about each one of his answers. He glanced over at you as the woman in front of him asked what you simultaneously hoped would be her last question and her first question, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible but not even want it to start in the first place. His eyes weren’t on you long and you weren’t exactly sure what to make of the way he looked at you for that short time.

The question the woman had been asking had actually been her last question and you let out a breath when you realized such. With a smile on his face, J.T. nudged Quinn and it looked like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by the woman who had just been interviewing Quinn.

“Could I ask you a few questions as well?” She asked J.T. with a rather confident smile on her face and you didn’t know how one could even be that confident in a situation like this.

“Um, sure,” He said after a moment and you could see that he didn’t exactly want to, but he knew he kind of had to.

You silently begged him not to leave you alone, but it was part of his job and you knew that. You still let out a long sigh as he was led a little further away from you and Quinn as to not interfere with your interview.

You turned back to Quinn after a moment and he was also watching J.T. being virtually dragged away. It seemed that he saw you look back at him through his peripherals, and he turned to face you.

“Can you answer some questions for me?”

#nhl fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks

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arealphrooblem · 1 year ago

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Kidnapped by the Boss Part 8

Synopsis: Val is a secretary to the Prime Minister. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

Part one here

Part seven here

Val could tell now Rook’s knocks from those of the servants. He rapped at the door in exactly three staccato beats — almost as a warning rather than an announcement because he would open the door anyway if she didn’t answer it within a few seconds. Thus, she didn’t bother rising from the edge of the bed where she sat.

The door swung open moments later and he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.

“My king has had breakfast sent for. You’re invited to join but he stresses that it’s optional,” he announced, sounding almost bored.

She snorted. “Is it now? That’s a first.”

Yesterday she spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in her room. The invitation to explore no longer tempted her. She wanted to hide instead. The irony of this was not lost on her. Rook had delivered her dinner, citing that the king was too busy to actually have a sit down meal.

Whether that was true or the king simply didn’t want to deal with her theatrics, Val would never know. Rook stayed long enough to ensure she ate a healthy portion before leaving. He didn’t bother her with small talk, which she was grateful for.

“If you decline, I’m to have it sent to your rooms and babysit your eating habits,” Rook added unhappily.

She almost wanted to make him do it out of sheer spite.

“I’ll come,” she said instead.

She couldn’t hide forever, as tempting as that could be sometimes. And she was tired of feeling afraid.

Rook raised his eyebrows at her, clearly surprised at her answer.

“After you,” he said with a little bow, gesturing past him.

“Such a gentleman,” she said as she walked past.

“It’s so I can shoot you in the back if you try anything.”

“Of course it is,” she muttered.

By the time they returned to the king’s study, breakfast was already spread out on the table. What mess she made on the carpet yesterday had disappeared, as if it had never happened. But judging from the cautious smile on Aris’s face, he hadn’t forgotten either.

“Good morning, Val,” he said, pulling her chair out for her. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” she replied with a side eye glance at him. As if she wouldn’t recognize his Politician Voice a mile away.

“I slept like shit,” Rook piped up. “Thanks for asking.”

Val choked on a laugh and covered it up in a bite of toast.

“You always sleep poorly,” said Aris. “It’s because you don’t shut both eyes.”

“The last time I slept with both eyes closed, someone nearly shot my hand off.”

“Well that’s what happens when you don’t shut your mouth before going to sleep,” Val added, taking an innocent sip of coffee.

“You’re fucking hilarious,” he snapped.

She smirked. “Thank you.”

“Is this going to be a pattern?” Aris asked, somewhat exasperated.

Val and Rook shrugged in unison and then shot each other wary looks. It was eerie how different they both were and yet could act in unison without a second thought.

Aris gave them both a speculative look. “I see,” he said, before settling his attention back on her.

For the rest of breakfast, they made painfully awkward small talk. Val refused to engage fully, giving Aris terse answers and not contributing anything in between digs at Rook. If he wasn’t such a bastard, she suspected he sniped at her for the distraction. She could almost muster up some gratitude for him.

“And what are your plans today, Val?” Aris asked.

By then they had eaten most of the spread. Rather than answer, she turned to Rook instead.

“Can I talk to him?” she asked.

He gestured to Aris. “Nothing is stopping you.”

“Alone,” she added.

He went still at that, his gaze sharpening, eyes roaming over her features. It felt like getting scanned with a laser.

“My king?” he asked, looking over her head.

“It’s fine, Rook. Meet us in the hallway, if you would.”

Rook slowly stood from his chair, the languid posture disappearing for something dangerous and predatory.

“Only because her right hook sucks,” he added, the joke at odds with a warning look in his eye. Almost like a professional courtesy.

The door shut with a soft click and just like that Val was alone with Aris for the first time since her kidnapping. The last time it happened, he had just been Eugene, her good-hearted, intelligent, disorganized and vaguely infuriating boss. The last time it happened she was chasing him out of his pajamas as he languished at the breakfast table.

That moment felt like years ago.

“Val,” he prompted softly.

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and held up her wrist, the tracker humming every so faintly against her pulse.

“Is this my life now, Eugene?”

He tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Is that what had you so angry yesterday? It’s only temporary.”

“Yeah, I know. I can earn my way off of it if I act like a good little girl and follow the rules. Because if I don’t you put me in time out until I learn my place to be more obedient.”

Bitterness oozed from her tone like venom. She couldn’t have stopped it even if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to.

All night those words looped around her head. The fucking audacity of him.

To his credit, he winced in response. “I — I didn’t mean it to sound so —“

“Condescending?” she offered. “Disrespectful? Infantalizing?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned over the table. “I had to pick out your socks for you so they would match. I had to remind you of your own birthday. I organized every fund-raising event you ever had and I made sure you didn’t mix up the donors’ names. You were a fucking mess without me and you think you can talk to me like that? After everything you have put me through in the last several days?”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even look at her. She knew prolonged eye contact made him uncomfortable sometimes and so she did not let up her laser focus on him until he could meet her gaze again.

“You’re right,” he said simply. “I have no defense, not really.”

“I’m not going to buy your lip service,” she warned. “I know when you’re bullshitting. You say that now, but I have to wonder if you really think so little of me when I’m not calling you out for it. I thought I had your respect.”

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, biting her cheek down to stop an errant tear. She would not cry in front of him.

A flash of pain crossed his face. “You do have my respect. . . . And my terror. I need to know if I can trust you or not and no way to get an honest answer.”

Her mouth fell open. “You are worried about trusting me? Are you fucking kidding me?”

His fingers tugged at a thick lock of hair — a compulsion driven by sudden discomfort or anxiety.

“I may have lied to you about where I came from, what my goals were, my past lives. But you know things about me no one else does,” he admitted softly. “Not even Rook. You have seen me when I had no mask on. You know my quirks, my mannerisms, my fears, my faults. You can read me like a book. I could be glamored to look like someone else and I bet my entire treasury you would still be able to clock it was me in minutes or less.”

Val had to roll her eyes. “You make me sound like I can read your mind. I was just your assistant, Eugene. I’m not that important in the grand scheme of things, especially since you have literally hundreds of servants at your disposal for the kind of stuff I did for you.”

He let out a bark of harsh laughter. “You have no idea. I was a mess without you. I’m disorganized with a horribly unreliable memory. I can’t focus my full attention on something for more than five seconds at a time. I get overwhelmed at tasks with more than two steps and you have to put a gun to my head to start my own laundry. And yes, I have servants that can take care of some of those things, but no assistant has ever compared to what you could do.”

“Now you’re just kissing my ass,” she said, leaning back with her arms crossed.

And gods help her, it was working, if only a little. Eugene had never been ungrateful when she worked for him, but never had he acknowledged her skills to such a degree.

“I’m being honest,” he countered. “I am in the most crucial and potentially vulnerable part of my plans. And you are the one person who could bring about its downfall. You know the most important leaders in every category. You have their personal contact information, for Gods’ sake. You know exactly who to go first to warn of an invasion, you know exactly how to organize against it, and you have enough information about me and how I think to give them everything they needed to stop me. If you were to escape it would ruin everything.”

He dragged a hand over his face, another tick that showed his worries. Maybe he was on to something.

“You’re so dangerous, in fact, Rook had been nagging at me to execute you since you dove into the car,” he continued. “And in all honesty, it’s the smartest choice to make. But I can’t do it. Not to you.”

“So this is your solution?” She shook the tracker at him. “Imprisonment for crimes that I could do instead of anything I have done?”

He pinned her with his gaze. “Would you stay if I took it off? Or would you leave for home at the first opportunity?”

Of course she would run. She would give anything to be far far away from him and this whole mess. Not that she could.

“You’ve made it impossible for me to go home,” she spat.

This time he leaned over the table, eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t force you into that car, Val. You can blame me for a great many things, but not for that. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a choice that you made.”

Val chewed at her lip, unable to argue this and hating it. Her choice was based on her feelings and he wasn’t responsible for either. That was on here alone.

Godsdamnit.

“What would you do if our roles were reversed?” he asked, head tilted. “What other solution is there?”

She snorted. “Have you thought about moving on? It’s been a century. This is the way things are now.”

Aris stood from the table so suddenly it shuddered, the vase of flowers nearly tipping over. She jerked back reflexively as he slammed his hands on the table. Fury sparked in his eyes, more than she had ever seen, running hot enough to make her gaze flinch away.

“They murdered me, Val!” he shouted. “They murdered me and stole my home from me and then they’ve systematically destroyed it for their own gain.”

She had never seen him raise his voice before. His fingers dug into the table cloth, his gaze a brand upon her, as he continued in a softer voice that shook.

“The Coalition is in shambles. You saw it when we worked together. The bribes from lobbyists are what drives laws. Family ties rule the senate and parliaments just as iron clad as a dynasty. The wealth disparity is a chasm while trade stagnates in Three and roads are impassable in Two and we’ve sat through three drinking crises alone in One in my first term alone. You can accept it because you have no conception of what things were like before. But I cannot stand by and accept that this is the way things are now.”

His words finished in a growl, his breaths heavy. Val swallowed, trying to calm her own racing heartbeat. He had never shown any signs of violence in the time she’s known him, but neither did she ever witness a loss of temper like this.

Could she have taken him on in a fight? Maybe. If he didn’t have a gun on him. But not Rook, who waited just outside and undoubtedly heard all of this.

“And you think you can fix all that?” she finally dared to ask.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Which she also hated.

He stood up and took a few deep, calming breaths, fingers combing his hair back. Putting himself back together as if he had never lost his temper.

“I know that I can,” he said as he sat back down, his voice even again. “Those sorts of problems don’t exist here.”

“That’s because your political infrastructure never really changed,” she pointed out and if he threw another fit, oh fucking well. “You have to change a hundred years of laws and politics to model it after here.”

He nodded. “I am aware. I’m under no delusion that it would be fast or easy. But it can be done. And I will do it. Even if it takes me ten lifetimes.”

“You know, there’s a certain kind of word for someone who starts running a country and then never steps down.”

He rolled his eyes at that.

“I’m going to give you grace for the conclusions you’re drawing out of ignorance and youth. But if you are so concerned about what I’m going to do to our home, then why don’t you help me?”

From prisoner back to assistant? Her suspicions rose like hackles.

“Help you how? Match your socks again?”

“I’m the king. If I were mismatched socks no one would dare comment on it save for Rook. And now you. I’m more interested in your mind. Your organizational skills. Your guidance. Your knowledge and experience.”

“I thought I was young and ignorant.”

She would not be tempted by this, she would not.

“I am going to unite the Coalition back under my rule, Val. It is not a hope but a certainty. You have the choice to watch helplessly from the sidelines or help me create an end result we can all live with.”

“I . . .” A cocktail of complicated feelings twisted and writhed in her gut.

He was right about so many things. But he also knew how to twist the truth with his own ideas. She’d seen him do it countless times, to run circles around lobbyists and constituents and other politicians. It was impossible to know what she could trust.

“I would have to think about it,” she said finally.

He smiled then, a small quirk of his mouth. “You have some time. Now, is there anything else you would like to rightfully scold me for or can I call back in Rook before he has a stroke?”

“I’m done for now.”

“Excellent. And — one more thing, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“What?”

He gave her that crooked smile again. “Call me Aris.”

Let me know in a comment if you want added to the taglist!

Taglist:

@rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @tobeornottobeateacher @burningkittypoet @kurai-hono-blog @clover-sage @astr0-mj @littleduckies @adenafolly @ladyathenawisdom @ughhhhhsstuff @urmyhopeeee

#villain x civilian #hero x villain #my writing #enemies to lovers #original fiction #named characters #kidnapped by the boss

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angelicized-d0ll · 3 months ago

Text

Neville Longbottom x Slytherin!Reader Headcanons (Friends to lovers)

tags : fluff, friends to lovers, pining, confessions, no beta reader

a/n : i’m really sorry if theres any weird formatting or discrepancies !! i wrote this on my phone at 4 in the morning with no beta reader and started getting carried away and wrote a oneshot at the end…. woops lol :P also why is neville so criminally slept on in the hp fandom ?? :c im pretty sure ive already read all of his x reader fics available online.. anywho, enjoy !!

• The whole castle was rather shocked when they first saw the two of you walking about the castle's hallways. Your own Slytherin friends questioned you relentlessly as to why on earth you were hanging out with Longbottom of all people??

• To others, you come across as quite intimidating-a young woman with a sharp tongue and ambition, unafraid to engage in a confrontation when necessary. Yet, the moment you're with Neville, you seem like a completely different person.

• It doesn't go unnoticed how you're always craning up to look up at him with that lopsided, goofy smile plastered on your face, the way you always find some excuse to get an invisible piece of fuzz out of his hair so you have a reason to touch him, the way you always ask him for tutoring for Herbology despite being one of the brighter students in the course.

• You guys have become each other's personal protectors. The moment anyone dares to speak poorly of Neville, you're already striding around the corner with purpose.

• "Care to repeat that?" you challenge, your voice steady and dark, sending the terrified third-years scurrying away in a panic.

• You know Neville would do the same for you without hesitation, The instant someone utters a word against you or your house, Neville is right there, swift to silence the rumors and passionately defend his best friend. His loyalty is unwavering, and his determination to stand by you is fierce.

• After a few months, pretty much everyone in the castle knows you two are a thing, except you and Neville. Snape and McGonagall have secretly been placing bets at this point.

• It finally reaches its tipping point one night when you're having a sleepover with Neville in his dorm, the two of you were sitting on opposite sides of his bed, just talking and laughing like you always did. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you while you both grinned like idiots. Your smile suddenly drops though, as you shift around nervously on your side of the bed.

"Neville.. could I um... Ask you about something?"

"Of course Y/N, what's on your mind?" he inquired softly, tilting his head ever so slightly as he smiled dorkily, your heart skipped a beat. You began to fidget with the hem of your jumper as you nervously looked down.

"I just... I can't keep acting like... Like" you paused, your voice catching in your throat. You felt the weight of your unspoken words pressing down on you, a storm of emotions swirling within. With a sudden resolve, you snapped your head back up, locking eyes with Neville, your heart pounding in your chest.

"...Like I'm not in love with you, Neville."

Neville stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise as his cheeks turned a bright scarlet and he closed and opened his jaw repeatedly

"W-What!?" he finally managed to sputter out.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the overwhelming urge to disappear. "I'm sorry, I just-I couldn't hold it in any longer," you stammered, your voice quivering just above a whisper. "I understand if you don't feel the same, but I had to let you know, Neville... I'm really sorry."

When you dared to peek back up at him, Neville was still frozen, his mouth slightly agape. For a split second, you thought you'd ruined everything. This was the end of yours and Nevilles friendship. He might be friends with a Slytherin but sweet, precious, kind Neville would never date one.

But then, slowly, he moved closer, His face just a few inches from yours.

"You... love me?" he repeated, his voice softer now, as if he were testing the words on his tongue. You nodded, unable to speak, the nerves tying your voice into knots.

His calloused hands, roughened by years of work in the greenhouse, gently enveloped your softer ones, and he began to trace soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. His eyes met yours, a gentle warmth radiating from their depths, and a soft smile spread across his lips.

"I-I love you too, Y/N," he confessed, his voice trembling with sincerity, "I have for ages."

The two of you locked eyes, a comfortable silence settling between you. Neville's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, and his voice trembled slightly as he finally broke the quiet.

"M-May I kiss you? Please?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course you can, Nev," you replied. He leaned in, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, and pressed his lips softly against yours, as if you were made of fragile glass. His touch was tentative, like he feared he might shatter you with a single misstep. You lifted a hand, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers, and gently threaded your fingers through the strands, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss, your heart beating in synchrony with his.

You both eventually break apart to catch your breath, faces flushed with color Neville smiles at you and says, "l, uh... don't think I got it quite right the first time.

Should we give it another shot?" he asked sheepishly

“Well… practice does make perfect,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck, ready for more kisses.

This was the best sleepover ever.

#neville longbottom #neville longbotton x reader #neville longbottom x you #harry potter fandom #harry potter #x reader #x you #fluff #friends to lovers

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intothefairiesland · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter VII ― cowboy like me

Eyes full of stars Hustling for the good life Never thought I'd meet you here It could be love We could be the way forward And I know I'll pay for it

Masterlist

Previous Chapter — Next Chapter 💋

I don't know how tags work, but if you want to be tagged, leave me a message. - Abby xx

————————————————————

The next morning unfolded in an almost complete haze for Emma. The tears shed during the night had left her with a persistent headache, which only exacerbated her irritability and gloom. When she crossed paths with William in the hallway that morning, she had noted his complete absence of acknowledgment, as if he were incapable of granting her the slightest attention. This gesture—or rather, this non-gesture—only added to her unease.

Louise, who was set to go for a walk with her mother, was the first to notice Emma’s restlessness and foul mood. Emma was supposed to attend to the young girl before dedicating herself to household tasks—mending some of the family’s undergarments, a far cry from any form of excitement. She also had to begin preparations for the family’s departure to Kent, where they would be staying for a few weeks. She had neither the intention nor the desire to go to the Academy that day.

Despite the daily concerns awaiting her, Emma’s mind kept drifting back to the previous evening. She was almost more moved by the soft kiss placed upon her forehead than by the more ardent, passionate one he had given her just moments before. She had found his gesture profoundly endearing and protective, as if, through that simple kiss, he sought to shield her from anything that might trouble her soul. There was something in the gentleness of that movement that, far from embarrassing her, awakened within her a new sensation—sweet yet uncertain. She did not feel uncomfortable about what had happened, but the emotions overwhelming her were a mystery to her.

How could she begin to understand what she was feeling when it was already so difficult to grasp the nature of the emotions of a man who moved in a social circle so distant from her own? She knew so little about him, apart from a few scattered fragments of information—fragile and incomplete: his artistic tastes, his favorite colors, the bonds he shared with his sisters, and, more trivially, his penchant for strong spirits. Yet perhaps she knew more about him than many married couples knew about each other after years of union. But was that enough to truly grasp the depth of his being, to unravel the secret of his soul? Emma doubted it. Her mind drifted in these thoughts, oscillating between her own emotional confusion and the uncertainty of what this man, so far removed from her world, might truly feel.

Emma was pulled from her reverie by the soft yet somewhat reproachful voice of Louise.

"Emma, I’ve been speaking to you for a while, and you have not granted me the slightest bit of attention this morning."

"Forgive me, what were you saying?" Emma responded, slightly taken aback.

Louise observed her attentively in the mirror as Emma busied herself with arranging her hair—though with a mechanical application that betrayed her distraction.

"Are you all right?" she inquired, making an effort to adopt a light tone, aware that even the faintest hint of concern might cause her friend to withdraw. She absentmindedly played with her bracelet, waiting for Emma’s answer.

"Yes, perfectly fine."

"Your eyes tell me an entirely different story," Louise replied gently.

Emma lifted her gaze for a brief moment from the ribbon she was tying and met her friend’s in the mirror.

"I simply slept very poorly, nothing more."

"In that case, our upcoming stay in the countryside could not be more perfectly timed. You will have all the leisure to rest, and I will ensure that you are not disturbed." Louise ended her sentence with a compassionate smile, to which Emma responded with an uncertain one, as hesitant as it was feigned. "But in the meantime, the azure sky and the summer breeze will surely do you good. I shall tell my mother, who is quite occupied this morning, that you will accompany me to the park."

Emma had little inclination for a walk, she enjoyed the feeling of fresh air and knew that Louise would inevitably run into acquaintances, allowing her to slip away for a moment and surrender to her thoughts.

When Louise and Emma walked together, they strolled side by side, conversing lightly, with Louise especially sharing the countless tidbits of gossip she had gathered. Today was no exception—on the contrary, she was even more animated, multiplying jokes and anecdotes in the hope of brightening Emma’s mood.

As soon as they passed through the gates of Hyde Park, Louise was quickly engaged by several acquaintances, and Emma decided to remain in the background, assuming the role of a discreet chaperone.

While Louise was conversing with Miss Clara Livingston, Miss Eloise Bridgerton and her brother Benedict made their appearance. Emma would be lying if she claimed not to have seen him coming from afar—his tall stature and the brilliance of his hair never went unnoticed. The moment she caught sight of him, she instinctively lowered her gaze beneath the brim of her hat. The past hours had been consumed by a single thought: the kiss stolen the night before. No remorse had touched her heart then, but as he drew nearer, an undefinable turmoil settled within her.

Miss Bridgerton made the introductions with the usual lightness of young ladies her age. Benedict greeted Louise and Miss Livingston with a measured bow, and Emma briefly wondered what her friend might think of him. Louise was quick to share her opinions; had she formed a firm one, she would undoubtedly have expressed it by now. Once the formalities were completed, Emma felt Benedict’s gaze settle upon her, and immediately, her cheeks flushed. It was an inevitable effect—a sudden warmth that rooted her to the spot.

As the young ladies expressed a desire to continue their conversation while walking, Benedict should have withdrawn with gallantry, but instead, he bowed with an irresistibly mischievous smile.

"In that case, I shall keep your lady-in-waiting company, Miss Louise."

Louise, absorbed in her discussion, merely waved a vague hand in response, leaving him free to join Emma, who, though troubled, found no heart to protest.

They walked in silence—one with quiet confidence, the other with her eyes stubbornly lowered. After a few moments of palpable tension, they both attempted to speak at once.

"I—"

"How are—"

A hesitant glance, then a brief laugh, betraying their shared embarrassment. Benedict took the lead.

"We are quite the fools, aren’t we?" he said, his smile unmistakably meant to summon back Emma’s memory of the previous night.

Then, in a more serious tone, he continued, "About last night, I—"

But Emma interrupted him quickly.

"You have no reason to apologize for a moment of misjudgment. It is forgotten."

Benedict imperceptibly slowed his pace, visibly unsettled. He seemed on the verge of replying, but his sister called for him, urging him to return home. He turned back, caught between Eloise’s questioning gaze and Emma’s composed expression. Before leaving, he leaned slightly toward her.

"Come tonight to Sir Granville’s," he murmured, his insistence tinged with silent pleading. "Please."

Then he walked away, leaving Emma speechless, her heart beating in unison with this unspoken secret.

————————————————————

The truth was, Emma felt far too drained to endure another evening—both emotionally and physically. The thought of encountering William upon returning home did not appeal to her, and she had planned to leave as early as possible, just after dinner. Fortune was on her side, as Louise retired earlier than expected, allowing her to slip away without further delay.

Upon arriving at Sir Granville’s, she wandered through the apartment several times, but Benedict remained nowhere to be found. As she stepped into one of the salons, scanning the room with a faint glimmer of hope, a voice behind her interrupted her.

"He isn’t here."

Emma turned abruptly and found Henry Granville, a gentle smile lighting his features. Embarrassment washed over her. So, he had immediately understood whom she was looking for, and she had no idea how to respond. Instinctively, she clasped her hands before her, beginning to absentmindedly pick at the skin around her nails—a telltale sign of the anxiety she had failed to suppress. Henry, ever observant, regarded her with quiet kindness.

She did not know this man well, yet strangely, she trusted him. When she had had the opportunity to converse with him and his wife, she had found them measured, cultured, and sincerely kind.

"He shouldn’t be long, I doubt it," Henry added as he stepped closer. He placed a light hand on her back, gently guiding her toward a more comfortable seat in the room. "In the meantime, allow me to offer you a glass of wine."

Emma accepted, and once the wine was served, Henry raised his glass in a playful toast.

"To tortured artists."

A smile escaped her almost instantly.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked, half-amused, half-resigned.

"Hm… I fear that every artist is, deep down. Our torments inevitably seep into our hands, our brushes, our strokes upon the canvas."

Emma, piqued by the provocation, replied with a defiant air,

"And what if I told you I paint only blue skies?"

Henry raised an eyebrow, teasing. "I wouldn’t believe you. Besides, Benedict has confided in me that your specialty lies rather in portraits."

This revelation momentarily silenced Emma. So, Benedict had spoken of her to his friend? The mere thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Her mind clouded with questions she dared not articulate, and she absentmindedly brought her glass to her lips, momentarily forgetting to respond.

Henry, perceptive as ever, was quick to break the silence.

"Are you all right?"

Emma shook her head slightly, forcing a smile.

"Yes, thank you. It seems everyone is concerned about me today."

"You see," Henry said with a shrug, "I told you—every artist carries their share of torment."

At that moment, Emma’s gaze was drawn toward the entrance of the room. Benedict had just appeared on the threshold. A flicker passed through her eyes, immediately noticed by Henry, who followed her gaze. With a knowing smile, he cast a last glance at Emma, then at Benedict, before murmuring,

"He is perhaps the most tortured of us all."

The words sent a shiver through Emma, but she had no time to dwell on them. Benedict was already before her. His hair was slightly disheveled, his deep green jacket left open, revealing the pristine white of his shirt. He had that familiar air—both charming and slightly unsteady—that made any turning back impossible.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting."

Emma greeted these words with a simple smile before moving away at his side from the center of the room. They soon found themselves in a small, intimate space where the dim lighting revealed the tangled chaos of an artist’s studio—a carefully neglected mess. The air was thick with the scent of pigments and polished wood, an intoxicating aroma that seemed to suspend time itself.

Emma and Benedict stood still for a moment, facing each other—she with her arms hanging limply at her sides, he with his hands occupied by a bottle of brandy and two glasses he had grabbed on the way. He lifted the bottle slightly in silent inquiry. She nodded.

With a measured gesture, he poured the amber liquid, handed a glass to Emma, and raised his own in a toast. The crystal chimed softly before she brought the drink to her lips and downed it in one go—an audacity that sent her into a coughing fit under Benedict’s amused gaze.

"Bad day?" he inquired, his tone light but knowing.

"Bad week," she blurted out before realizing her blunder. "I mean... an exhausting week, that’s all."

He responded only with a brief click of his tongue, a sound tinged with understanding, and without a word, refilled her glass. Placing the bottle on the mantelpiece, he turned slightly away. Only after a brief silence did he let out, in a barely audible breath:

"I don't regret what I did yesterday."

A shiver ran down Emma’s spine. Her body tensed imperceptibly, her heart pounded a little harder. She remained silent, waiting for him to turn back to her. He didn’t—at least, not immediately.

"Perhaps you do," he continued with a caution she had never known in him. "And if that is the case, know that I am sincerely sorry. It was never my intention to hurt or offend you."

Her hands trembled slightly as she found the courage to reply.

"No, I don’t regret it either."

At these words, Benedict finally seemed to release the tension in his shoulders. He slowly pivoted, his glass still in hand, and stepped toward her with a newfound gravity. As he stood before her, the flickering candlelight revealed every detail of his features, far more distinctly than the night before in the shadows.

Emma had always found his beauty striking, but tonight, bathed in the golden glow, he appeared even more resplendent. She had admired him before—when he painted at the Academy, when he spoke passionately of Rembrandt’s work, when he laughed, his deep voice resonating in his chest. But at this precise moment, he was almost unreal in his beauty.

His sculpted features seemed carved from ancient marble, symmetrical and harmonious, reminiscent of those Greek statues where every line is an ode to balance. For a fleeting instant, she thought of the perfection of his proportions, and a slow heat crept through her, staining her cheeks with the faintest blush. But more than the geometry of his face, it was his gaze that held her, that wrapped around her entirely. That deep blue—sometimes soft, sometimes sharp as steel—possessed a disarming intensity. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the world, as if nothing else mattered. Was it an illusion? Was he like this with everyone, or was she the only one to receive this searing attention?

Without a word, Benedict gently took Emma’s glass and set it on a nearby dresser. Now, they stood face to face, so close she could feel the warmth radiating from his body through their clothing.

He was the first to break the silence.

"Last night..." he murmured. "It felt as if my body, my heart, my entire soul were pushing me to kiss you. As if it were inevitable."

A glimmer of mischief danced in Emma’s eyes. A playful smile ghosted her lips.

"And what do your body, your heart, and your soul tell you at this precise moment?" she whispered, her gaze locked onto his.

She bit her lower lip ever so slightly. A small, almost innocent gesture—yet it hit Benedict like a blow to the chest. He visibly faltered but quickly regained composure. With steady confidence, he answered:

"To do it again."

And, just as the night before, he kissed her.

But this time, there was no hesitation, no restraint. This kiss was no longer a question—it was a statement, a claim. The moment their breaths mingled, Emma felt a wave of heat surge through her, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Every fiber of her being was swept up in the intensity of it.

Last night had been an offering—gentle and uncertain.

Tonight was a fire.

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, rising onto the tips of her toes, eager to prolong the sweetness of his kiss. Understanding her unspoken wish, Benedict tightened his hold, his broad hands resting on her waist with a possessive tenderness, drawing her closer. Against his chest, she felt small, almost delicate—but utterly safe.

He hadn’t been drinking tonight, and his lips had a pure taste, slightly salty, a taste that was uniquely his—one she already adored.

When he deepened the kiss, brushing against her lips before seeking to meld his tongue with hers, Emma let herself be carried away, savoring every shiver he ignited within her. In that blazing embrace, everything else faded away, leaving only the undeniable certainty of their shared desire.

Breathless, they finally pulled apart, their gazes clashing in a new kind of dizziness. Their pupils, dark and dilated, betrayed an unfamiliar intoxication—not from wine, but from the thrill of the forbidden. A soft laugh escaped their lips—not to dispel the tension, but to tame the electrifying sensation that now bound them with an invisible thread.

"I'm not sure it's entirely appropriate to kiss one’s teacher," Benedict murmured, teasing.

Emma, a smile playing at her lips, felt a peculiar warmth spread through her. Was this how ladies of the ton felt when unsettled by the fiery glances of charming gentlemen? If so, she must have looked utterly ridiculous…

She arched an eyebrow, trying to regain her composure. "I fear our agreement is not quite fair. I still don't know what I gain in return for my precious guidance... and my evident talent." Her voice was soft.

He took a second to consider, eyes flicking upward in mock contemplation. Then, with disarming simplicity, he declared:

"This."

And without another word, he framed her face with his hands and kissed her. A light kiss, but one laden with the promise of something deeper. His arms slid down to her back, pulling her even closer.

When he finally drew back, his eyes gleamed with playful mischief.

"What do you say?"

Emma pretended to ponder, though the answer was already burning on her lips.

"I think that can be negotiated," she whispered, a dreamy smile lingering on her face.

She let herself linger for a moment, savoring the comforting warmth of his arms. But Benedict was the first to pull away, leaving a cruel emptiness in the space he had occupied just seconds ago.

With forced cheer, he declared, "Very well, then—let’s get to work!"

Emma blinked, momentarily thrown.

"Now?" she asked, uncertain.

Benedict shot her a roguish, mischievous look and, with a fluid motion, made room on the sofa.

"Did you have something else in mind?"

A shiver ran along Emma’s skin. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking her head gently, trying to clear her thoughts.

"No... of course not," she finally breathed.

And yet, another thought persisted at the back of her mind.

The lesson was brief, lacking proper materials, and before long, they found themselves seated side by side, sketching in silence. Now and then, their eyes met, exchanged in a knowing smile, as they shared a glass of brandy, savoring the quiet. Emma had no real desire to leave now.

She felt Benedict's gaze linger a moment too long on her low-cut neckline. Looking up at him with a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, she said in feigned innocence:

"I'm not entirely familiar with the customs of the ton, but I do believe staring at a lady’s neckline so intently is rather improper, Mr. Bridgerton."

Benedict froze, caught in the act, before offering her a sheepish grin. With a sheepish gesture, he scratched the back of his head, as if to mask his embarrassment.

"Pardon, I was curious about your rings."

Emma blinked, caught off guard. Her smile vanished instantly. Her fingers brushed instinctively against the fine chain hanging around her neck, where two intertwined rings gleamed. A sudden nausea knotted her stomach, chasing away the playfulness that had animated her all evening.

"Oh..." she merely whispered.

Benedict, attentive, noticed the immediate change in her expression. Instinctively, he placed a light hand on her thigh—a gesture as spontaneous as it was clumsy. Emma lowered her eyes to that hand without moving before abruptly saying:

"I lied to you."

Her gaze met Benedict’s, pinning him in place. A shadow of concern flickered in the young man's clear eyes.

"About what?" he asked gently.

She inhaled, gathering the strength to force the words from her throat.

"I was married."

Silence fell, thick and heavy. Benedict’s gaze wavered, shifting between surprise and a kind of tenderness she couldn’t quite name.

"The ring around my neck… they are mine and my husband's."

Her fingers tightened around the cold metal. She then felt Benedict’s hand leave her thigh, almost timidly, and watched as he straightened up, assuming a more formal posture, his hands now resting on his own knees.

"Oh..." he said, at a loss for words.

Emma abruptly averted her gaze and stood up. She needed to move, to escape the invisible grip tightening around her chest. Striding across the room, she poured herself a glass of brandy from the mantel. Her hands trembled slightly as she brought the crystal to her lips.

Benedict watched her in silence, his brow slightly furrowed.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to hide the truth," she finally admitted. "I... I just didn’t think we would get here..."

"Here?"

She tightened her grip on her glass.

"You. Me. These moments together."

Benedict rose slowly and approached her with measured steps. Once beside her, he gently took the glass from her hands and took a sip, never breaking eye contact. Then, he offered her a small, sincere smile.

"You don’t have to justify yourself. Not to me."

Emma immediately lowered her eyes, unable to hold his gaze. For a fleeting moment, the weight pressing on her shoulders seemed to lighten.

Benedict sat back down, but his eyes remained fixed on her. Then, after a pause, he cautiously asked:

"May I at least ask… where is your husband now?"

She didn’t hesitate.

"Dead."

The effect was immediate. Benedict’s expression froze, a shadow of compassion dimming the usual mischief in his eyes.

"Oh… I'm so sorry..."

She shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

"Don't be."

Without another word, she scanned the room, searching for her belongings. When she found them, she busied herself gathering them, carefully avoiding Benedict’s gaze.

He straightened up, watching her, an unfamiliar discomfort settling over him. He suddenly felt like a stranger in this room, an intruder in a story that wasn’t his.

Emma hesitated. Should she kiss him before leaving or simply disappear into the night?

She left the choice to him.

But Benedict didn’t move. Not an inch.

Just as she reached the door, he called out hastily:

"When will I see you again?"

Emma paused, turning slightly toward him, a barely perceptible smile on her lips.

"Tomorrow, Mr. Bridgerton."

Then she disappeared into the night.

————————————————————

Emma spent another restless night. But this time, there were no tears, no anger. She hadn't seen anyone—and it was better that way.

At breakfast, she remained silent, which was unlike her. In truth, she was simply exhausted. The physical, mental, and emotional intensity of the past few days made her want to spend the entire day in bed. A desire she couldn't afford.

She accompanied Lady Alice on errands, helped Emily carry household linens to the laundry, then, after lunch, had to prepare Louise for an afternoon tea with friends.

As she carefully laid out dresses on the young girl’s bed, Louise, seated at her vanity, broke the silence in a soft yet firm voice:

"You need to tell me what's going on, Emma."

Emma looked up, a dress still draped over her arm, feigning incomprehension. But Louise wasn’t fooled.

"Oh, don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. I know you as well as I know my own sister—if not better."

Emma opened her mouth, but Louise pressed on before she could speak:

"You’ve barely spoken for two days. Even Emily is worried. Are you ill? I can tell Mother; she’ll know what to do."

Emma abruptly laid the dress on the bed.

"No, absolutely not."

She hesitated. She couldn’t bear this alone anymore. Ever since she had met Benedict’s gaze, her mind had been in a perpetual haze, a whirlwind of contradictory emotions engulfing her at every moment. She, usually so pragmatic, no longer recognized herself. A strange, new feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach.

And when she was with him, that feeling wavered between the fiery heat of a blaze when he kissed her and the peaceful softness of the sea when he was simply by her side.

Louise watched her with growing curiosity. Emma bit her lip.

"Oh, Louise… I…"

Her voice broke. A tear of relief rolled down her cheek. She sat beside Louise and murmured:

"I kissed someone."

Louise gasped, her face lighting up instantly. A devoted lover of romance novels, she lived for this kind of revelation.

"But that’s wonderful news, Emma! Oh, I’m so happy for you!"

She sprang from her seat and paced excitedly before kneeling in front of Emma, taking her hands in hers. But her enthusiasm dimmed when she saw her friend’s worried expression.

"It is good news… isn’t it?"

Emma looked away.

"Louise…"

The tears fell before she could stop them.

"I kissed someone I shouldn’t have kissed."

Because deep down, she knew. She knew this was a mistake. The realization hit her even harder as she sat in this luxurious bedroom, beside a young woman of high society, still so naive to the world around her. Louise wouldn’t see anything wrong with this story, Emma was certain. But she didn’t have that luxury.

Her gaze swept the room: the refined furniture, the lavish decorations, the sumptuous fabrics. Louise should have been the one to kiss a man like Benedict. Not her.

As thrilling as this story was, it carried a weight—a demon perched on her shoulder, whispering that she didn’t belong in this world.

Louise wrapped her arms around her. They were the same height, and in that embrace, they looked like two children seeking comfort.

"Oh, my dear Emma…" Louise whispered, gentle and protective.

She hesitated for a moment before cautiously asking:

"Who was it?"

Emma sniffled, then answered through a sob:

"Benedict Bridgerton."

Louise let out a small gasp. Her eyes sparkled, and with a conspiratorial grin, she exclaimed:

"Well, that’s a surprise…!"

Emma let out a weak laugh.

"Please, don’t tell anyone."

"Of course not…" Louise took on a mock-thoughtful look.

Emma frowned.

"What?"

"Well… you must tell me if he kisses well, or I’ll spill everything!"

Emma shook her head, wiping her tears.

"That’s not something a young lady should hear."

"Oh, nonsense! You’ve told me far worse!"

Louise, feigning outrage, crossed her arms in a pout.

"Yes, but that was to prevent you from panicking on your wedding night!"

Louise rolled her eyes.

"At this rate, my wedding night will never come! Tell me, Emma, please!"

She stomped her foot like a spoiled child, making Emma burst into laughter.

Emma sighed dramatically before relenting.

"Fine… yes, he kisses very well."

Louise squealed, bouncing excitedly.

"Ah! I knew it! The Bridgertons are a good match!"

Emma gave a fond smile.

Then, in a rare moment of seriousness, Louise stood before her, took her hands, and declared gravely: "Listen to me carefully. I know nothing about love." Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Louise immediately corrected herself: "Sorry, about... I don’t know, attraction? Desire? Whatever. I know nothing, except what novels tell me."

She tightened her fingers around Emma’s. "But please... enjoy it. Forget that he is a Bridgerton. Take what life is offering you. But don’t forget who you are, you are a remarkable young woman, full of talent. Alright?"

Emma smiled at her.

It was perhaps the wisest thing Louise had ever said to her. To take happiness while it lasted. Before it disappeared. Because sooner or later, it had to disappear.

#benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton #benedict x sophie #the bridgertons #bridgerton s4

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fluhfish · 1 month ago

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smth smth first meeting or whateva

this took me so long for no reason. might make more parts about their misadventures idk lmk

(also i have no clue why the paragraph spacing is like that and im too lazy to fix it ok bai)

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Jace D’Amore is, to keep it short, a man with a lot of regrets. First and foremost being his tiring and frankly ridiculous damn job considering it has him doing dumb shit like this.

The dumb shit in question being watching his target – who's wearing the most cliche action movie esque outfit Jace has ever seen – poorly scale a building in some sad attempt at being stealthy.

When the client described this guy as the states most wanted, he was expecting to have to come in guns blazing and probably fighting for his life or something, he definitely wasn't expecting whatever this sad sack was.

He sighs, pinching his nose bridge, the beginnings of a headache coming along. For god's sake, Jace could probably do better than this guy at 12 with a snapped femur. He's just going to assume this guy watched mission impossible once and thought ‘why the fuck not?’.

‘The hell is this guy doing’ he screams internally, really wanting to scream it out loud too.

“Hey!” Jace hollers instead, immediately catching the other man's attention.

A little too well it seems because the guy startles suddenly and flails, losing his footing and promptly tumbling very gracelessly down the building's deck roof, smacking face first into the ground.

Jace stands there, a little taken aback, before approaching the guy. Nudging him with his foot, he turns the other onto his back and crouches next to him. He feels the others pulse, just to be sure the dude didn't fucking die on the way down.

It's not that he cares but rather Jace doesn't think his horse would appreciate dragging a dead dude around and he is not getting his agreed payment docked because this rando has the spatial awareness of a fucking pineapple.

Thankfully, the guy just knocked himself unconscious. Like a dumbass.

“Well, that solves that problem.” Jace muses to himself, admittedly a little pleased.

His horse in question – aka Applesauce – huffs indignantly next to him.

Jace turns his head and deadpans at her. “What? Not my fault this dumbass probably learned all his shit from Tom Cruise.”

She huffs again and this time he does it back, though quickly realises he probably looks insane to anyone overlooking this shit show.

Jace turns back to the guy, suddenly stumped.

New problem: how on earth is he gonna get this dude all the way back. The trip here was a very hectic and annoying month thanks to this idiot constantly moving around and Jace having to chase him like a chicken missing its damn head.

He gets up and looks around, it's far too late for them to be moving now so- ugh- he's gonna just have to find a place to sleep for the night instead.

Jace secures Applesauce outside, hauls them inside the dingy motel, slams a couple tens on the front desk and mutters some excuse of his “friend” drinking too much when the receptionist stares at the rando a little too long.

He stops and takes a brief moment to look around the room. It's nothing exceptional, pretty much the same rundown dingy shit he's used to these days.

The general area is pretty spacious. Upon walking in, there's a small table and two ornate looking chairs to his right with a window opening up to a view of the front patio and parking lot. His designated bed for the night looks very.. slept on. The sheets are quite honestly the most unfortunate looking ones he’s ever seen and would probably send his late grandmother into heart failure.

That and it looks more uneven and unstable than his life right now. Along with an .. odd looking stain that he's just gonna put a towel over and pretend isn't there.

Jace isn't too thrilled to have to try and sleep in that later.

It's settled in the far left of the room and is surrounded on both sides by dark wood bedside tables, which are adorned with two tiffany lamps with what he thinks are rose patterns on them.

On the right side, there's a door leading to what Jace hopes is a bathroom. Hopefully filled with medical supplies.

Turns out, falling 10 feet doesn't go without consequence and the guy split his forehead open. Like a dumbass. Jace isn't looking forward to wasting his own supplies if this bathroom doesn't have what he needs.

He isn't looking forward to a lot of things regarding this situation.

Sighing, Jace drags rando all the way in the room, closes the door and unceremoniously flops the guy on the bed, face up. He checks the bathroom and, thank god, it has a first aid kit. Grabbing it, he saunters back out to the bed and stops in front of the guy, considering.

‘What's the least awkward way ta do this?’ Jace thinks to himself, quickly realising he and rando are in the same boat, floating around in a sea of dumbassery tonight.

He inwardly groans, feeling his annoyance flare through the crumbling roof of the motel.

Pushing the oncoming migraine aside, he awkwardly props rando up against the headboard and gets to work on his forehead. Jace figures the fall got him pretty good so he's in safe water to at least get a decent look at the guy. He gives randos face a generous once over, noting the small details as he works.

Admittedly, the guy’s not totally unfortunate looking. His hair is a warm blonde, a sort of wolfcut-muttlet hybrid that barely brushes his collarbones, with bangs framing his face. Rando isn't as tan as the regulars he sees around these parts but rather, he has a sort of soft honey tone to his skin. Not too pale but tan enough that you can tell he at least sees the sun more than once a millennium.

‘So, not from around here then’ Jace muses, still stitching the guy's forehead.

The guy's face itself is adorned with a scar on his right cheek, just near his jawline, and freckles running across his nose bridge and under his eyes.

Jace notes that they seem to be a full body thing, judging by what skin he can see of randos arms. Speaking of which, the guy clearly either works out or does a smack ton of physical activity considering the well built muscles.

Not- that he's deliberately looking there- or anything.

Randos outfit is just as ridiculously cliche up close as it was from where he was standing before. It's all black, aside from the bandages winded around his biceps and hands. His torso is covered in a black turtleneck that's been obviously ripped by hand at the shoulders to give it a sleeveless look and he's got on standard black pants with boots that reach just above his ankles.

Jace can’t tell with the limited angle if the guy is packing or not, though he’d guess – or well hope for lack of a better word – that rando is at least smart enough to carry a knife. A knife which he should try and locate before the guy wakes up and turns Jace into finely chopped pieces so impressive it’d put the average michelin star chef to shame.

Jace hesitates before deciding to at least tie randos wrists to the bed before going on the manhunt for the knife. If he were to guess, it'd probably be in one of the many pockets and straps the guy weirdly has on him.

‘Great.’ he inwardly sighs.

Before Jace can even pat rando down properly, the guy decides to finally join the land of the conscious.

Though he doesn't immediately start thrashing violently like and trying to attack Jace expected. Instead, rando just kinda tugs groggily at his restraints before trying – and very much failing – to focus his eyes on Jace.

He mumbles something incoherent before trying to tug again, a confused expression washing over his features.

Jace blinks, for the first time since waking up that morning, he feels a bit.. awkward under the other mans strong yet mildly befuddled gaze.

‘Should he hold his fuckin’ hand out and introduce himself or what?’

Before Jace can decide if he wants to sabotage his dignity in being friendly, rando beats him to it.

“Damn, not even dinner?” he says groggily, a tinge of snark in his voice as he looks from the makeshift cuffs back to Jace’s face, a ghost of a smirk taking over any previous confusion.

Jace just stares, unamused. “I take it that mouth of yours is what landed you in this shithole to begin with?” he mutters in response.

Rando chuckles, “Well nice to meet you too, beautiful.”

Jace scoffs at the pet name, rolling his eyes and promptly getting up from the bed. He puts all the medical supplies back in the first aid kit, returning it back to its original spot in the bathroom cabinet and washing his hands.

‘Jesus, this guy bleeds like a damn faucet.’

“So,” He hears rando say on the other side of the door, “you this forward with all your dates?”

Jace finishes up, dries his hands and walks back out. “No." he pauses. "Do all your dates kidnap you?”

Rando smirks, “Also no.” he drawls. “But if it gets me good lookers like you, I might have to add it as a requirement on my grindr profile.”

Jace bites the inside of his cheek, unwilling to show his amusement.

Instead, he deadpans at the guy. “Charming.”

He expects rando to give another flirty retort, but the guys just staring at him with a sort of calculating look, like he's staring right into Jace’s soul. It's a little unnerving and he shuffles a little under the gaze.

Finally, the guy speaks.

“You're a tough nut to crack huh?” Jace can’t place his tone, but it sounds something akin to curiosity, “Normally they let me go by now.”

Jace lets out an amused huff, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. “I can't imagine why.” he retorts, voice laced with sarcasm.

He starts undoing his shoes, zoning out, completely unaware of the other man still staring at him.

Okay, so, the guy isn't that bad. He can probably manage a whole month. Probably. Admittedly, he feels a little bad. The guy doesn't seem like he’s done much to earn that high of a damn bounty– Jace curses at himself internally and squashes the feeling. The last thing he needs right now is another person to care about. He has a job to do. He should know that by now.

“I’m Ryder, by the way.”

Jace snaps his head up. “What?”

Rand- Ryder continues. “Figured you should know since I've heard you refer to me as ‘rando’ under your breath at least 6 times now.” There's a tinge of teasing in his voice that makes Jace frown at him.

“I’m still calling you rando.”

“Fine. I’m sure the receptionist – who you assured I was your friend, by the way – won't find that weird at all.”

‘He was conscious during that?’ Jace thinks, brows furrowed.

He mentally shakes off his surprise.

He deadpans at the other for what feels like the 50th time in this entire conversation. Ryder just grins back a shit eating grin that screams ‘you know i'm right’.

Jace sighs. “Okay, Ryder.” he says between clenched teeth, kicking his shoes off with more force than necessary.

“My name sounds even better coming from your mouth.”

He doesn't grace the idiot with an answer, instead opting for climbing over and making sure the restraints are secured enough for Jace to actually get some damn sleep.

He tugs at one, deeming it safe enough and moves onto the other. Jace can feel Ryder’s eyes boring into his skull. He sighs, pausing his work and looking down at the other man.

“What.”

Ryder doesn't answer immediately, letting his eyes travel over Jace’s face before finally speaking.

“You're prettier up close.” A genuine small smile on his lips, starkly contrasting the previous teasing smirk he’d had before.

Jace blinks, the smallest bit of color making it’s way to his cheeks. He mentally shakes it off and finishes what he was doing. “Must've hit your head pretty damn hard.” he remarks, keeping his tone neutral. Though he doesn't miss the slight frown that embeds the other mans face.

He clambers back to his side of the bed and removes the rest of his gear, grabbing his gun out of its holster and setting it on the bedside table.

“You're just gonna leave it out in the open?”

“It's far enough from you but close enough for me to reach and shoot you square in the back of your nice hair if you try to escape.” he says, not looking at the other.

Though he has a feeling the other man won't.

After a beat of silence, Ryder pipes up again. “You think my hair is nice?”

Jace turns to him, exasperated. “Just go to sleep.” he pauses, remembering the man's uncomfortable position. “Or try at least.” It's said with a tone of finality that has the other man actually shutting up for once.

Flopping back on the bed, Jace turns very pointedly away from Ryder. He turns the tiffany lamp off, casting the room in complete darkness and closes his eyes.

There's a long minute of silence before Ryder speaks, again. “Can I at least get a goodnight?”

“No.”

The room goes silent again.

“Y’know I think I changed my mind,” Ryder says, tone filled with something like mild annoyance. “I don't think I like you very much.”

“Well would you look at that, finally something we have in common.” Jace scoffs sarcastically.

He can practically feel Ryder’s frown from where he's laying. Jace tries to ignore the other man's constant shifting as he lets sleep claim him, silently dreading the next few weeks he's going to have to spend with this absolute moron.

Just his luck, he guesses.

#mads oc posting☆#my shaylasss #the dialogue was so fucking difficult and for what

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hackedmotionsensors · 1 year ago

Text

I went to library con (lol its not called library con but thats what i called it. Its American Library Association Annual which is funny bc they call it ALA and I was like...that shitty anime con???) this week in san diego to promote the comic I worked with Terry on "Eat your Heart Out"

I got jumpscared seeing the big banner. My art has never been on anything bigger than art center presentations lmao

We handed out signed copies and it was honestly pretty fun. I have a ton of bookmarks as well if anyone wants one.....if you can find me in real life LMAO

I also got to be on a PANEL like a big professional lmao And met Josie Campbell an animation brethren and we were like "LETS GO TAG! LETS GET THOSE NEGOTIATIONS!!!!" (Reminder that The Animation Guild is due to negotiate with studios in August so please support us!!!)

Downside was is that some of my sunburns are still really fresh (most of them are in gross peeling stage and some are...kinda painful) so I was a bit sweaty and uncomfortable...and now I'm paying for it bc i feel really under the weather.

BUT. lol my issues aside (it was my own damned fault getting burned the weekend before)

It was really fun!

Librarians are really cool lol Especially since I tried to get into that field during my unemployment last year and a half it was interesting hearing what they had to deal with as Librarians for children or teens (The teen librarians kept talking to me about Slam Dunk and One Piece *u*)

There's also this huge emphasis for book sellers in getting your books IN libraries. Books in actual physical libraries does so much for the value of payments of the book (which in turn pays the authors and artists that work on those books).

And how much librarians and libraries do for the industry as a WHOLE. I learned that back in the day when english manga was coming out they were binding the books REALLY SHITTY and its funny bc I DO remember that. The quality was really bad. And because librarians complained about it, because a book circulates through a lot of people rather than if you buy a volume for yourself, the book will get damaged really fast if the book is made poorly. So Viz had to change HOW they bound their books and you can definitely tell now how the quality is so much nicer.

Anyway it was really cool lol And also since it took place at the San Diego Convention center it was really cool to see what SDCC looks like when its not an absolute cluster fuck of people and noise lol I saw where I slept on the ground outside to get into Hall H and we were treated to a dinner at Roys which I'd only ever seen in passing lol (ALSO ROYS WAS SO EXPENSIVE!?!? And I thought the onigiri was like...the salmon went INTO the onigiri....so that was the dish. but it was...a ball of rice onigiri shaped with some salmon ...and it was REALLY good salmon and the misoyaki was good too but.....i was expecting really expensive onigiri and was oddly disappointed it wasn't....that.......anyway)

ANYWAY ANYWAY lmao. Our comic comes out in August 13! I've finally seen the finished product and it came out so well. Yknow that thing where you see your art from a few years ago and you want to crawl into a hole and die? Well lol I still feel that but also I don't because it honestly looks so good and its nice seeing it all in one whole place! The coloring came out really nice ! And I can't wait to see what Claudia did in the second half of the book

Oh yeah I also got a comped train ticket to get me down there and I got to ride the Amtrak which was pretty cool! I ...was EXHAUSTED on both trips down and back so I slept most of the way lmao But look at this guy!

Lol ALTHO I was genuinely surprised that when we came back from san diego the train just goes in reverse.

On shinkansen the seats on the train are able to turn around so you're always facing forwards. So it was a little disorienting at first. I also wished I had an ekiben on the way down.

Its cool I can get an ekiben in august when i go to japan lmao

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erzherzog-von-edelstein · 7 months ago

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slides in/ hiiiiii it's me again eheheheeee

so the kiss prompt....

"Another kiss like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions." + SpAus ? 👉👈 💜✨

Spain heard the music before he saw Austria, filling the empty halls. Spain had never been particularly good at guessing his husband’s mood from the piece he was playing. To him it all sounded pleasant, even when it was up tempo or moody.

He followed the sound and was not surprised to see Austria in the sitting room, at the piano forte. He looked beautiful bathed in the evening sunlight.

Spain loved seeing the look of concentration on his face. He had taken off his glasses, which he often did when he played so that he could focus on playing by sound rather than sight. He had learned music by ear before he had glasses, and it showed.

Spain quietly moved closer, trying not to break Austria’s concentration. He sat next to his husband on the bench and took a moment to stare at him.

He didn’t know what the song was, but it was remarkably pleasant. It had been a long day, and he had slept poorly the night before. He wanted nothing more than to enjoy the calm.

He closed his eyes and listened to the music. Without thinking much, he leaned over and rested his head on Austria’s shoulder. It felt like such a natural position.

However, it caused the music to stop. Austria said, only slightly tersely, “You broke my cadence.”

Spain said, keeping his eyes closed and refusing to move, “I’m sorry. It was just so nice.”

He was completely sincere, but he also knew that Austria could not resist a compliment, especially when it was a richly deserved one about his music. It was one of his more irritating traits. His vanity was usually justified.

Spain felt Austria’s hand rest softly on his hair. His voice was surprisingly sweet as he said, “Oh, did I calm my Spanish bull?” Spain opened his eyes and answered, “You did.”

He lifted his head so that he could meet Austria’s gaze. He knew that he was close enough that Austria could see him clearly even without the glasses. He said, keeping his eyes locked on the other, “You’re so talented, Rodrigo.”

He practically purred the name, and he could see the way that Austria’s face immediately softened. He looked so beautiful, and Spain could not help himself. He leaned in, gently put his hand on Austria’s cheek, and kissed him.

He tried to put all of the tender emotions that he was feeling into the touch, keeping it soft instead of lusty. Austria seemed receptive. He leaned into the kiss and deepened it of his own accord.

Spain stroked his cheek to express his gratitude for the returned affection. When he pulled away, Austria chuckled and said, “Why must you be like this?”

Spain tilted his head slightly and said, “I don’t know what you mean.” Austria shook his head ever so slightly. He took a moment before he explained, “I woke up this morning so angry at you.”

Spain didn’t have to ask why. They’d had another argument that had gotten ugly. It had been about the usual issues: the empire, the colonies, the amount of time he spent away, fidelity. As usual, they had solved nothing, and Spain knew that he had said things he did not mean.

Austria continued, “I was determined to tell you that you are not welcome in my bedroom and that you can go back to Madrid for all I care.”

He didn’t sound angry, so Spain assumed that his temper had leveled out. He replied, “Ah, so that was angry music?” Austria sighed, “Of course you can’t tell the difference. No, it wasn't. I was trying to soothe myself.”

Spain tested if he was still mad by putting his hand back on his face and noted that Austria did not pull away. He said, honestly, “I just think everything you play is beautiful.”

Austria didn’t look annoyed, so Spain pressed his advantage, “So, are you still going to tell me to leave?”

Austria looked at him, and bit his lower lip. He met Spain’s gaze again and said, “I promised myself that I would. But another kiss like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions.”

Spain said, as he leaned in to kiss him again, “I will take that.”

#hws austria #spaus #hws spain

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loonylodestone · 1 month ago

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wait, no scrap that previous one. I’ll send this in a few parts. 😭

take your time to answer this because I feel like it’s one of those heavy questions that can be interpreted in many ways, but to what extent do you think Shauna liked and cared for Melissa, and how much do you think Melissa liked Shauna?

I think it’s obvious Melissa liked Shauna so much more, but that she was mostly infatuated. How much of “true love” there was, was conflated with her subconscious journey for power, validation, and affection, but she desperately wanted them as a couple to be real since she was just poorly-adapted and most likely a loner pre-crash — and they seemed to both play into the roles for 5-6 months pretty well, which is surprising even for Shauna. That might’ve been her “healthiest” relationship up until the breakup.

as for Shauna, there’s a lot of controversy for saying that she did care for Melissa (?), but it confuses me because there’s a lot of complexity to it factoring in dominance, subconsciously enforcing the inverse of jackieshauna, needing affection, etc. I think those are all things that prevent it from being real love, but in a way, some of those are also why she might care for Mel. The thing about Shauna is that she’s so broken and traumatized that she’s not really capable of functional and traditional love. Also, being closer and loved by Shauna on her terms is more likely to get you hurt than not because she clings on so tightly, but her “love” is still real. Even with Jackie, she loved her but still slept with Jeff multiple times, although I’m not sure if that’s comparable. (More)

First of all I'm honored that you would want my insights on this. I took all your q's and answered them all in this post if that's alright; just want it to sound more like a conversation rather than an essay. I'm not great at organizing my thoughts lol I’d argue that a damaged kind of love is still love, just filtered through trauma and ran through other intense emotions. But it is still real love. Perhaps, Mel’s feelings started out as infatuation, but I think we’ve seen in those 5 months how intensely it grew into a genuine bond (how healthy that is is subject to debate)- she has her needs met by Shauna (not just sexual mind you) she gets validation, protection, she has someone to talk to, and I think that’s all she really wanted out of a relationship. Same thing on Shauna's end, yes, I do think it is still real love. Some may argue that Shauna is a sociopath incapable of loving- I won’t get into that because I am not qualified to speak on sociopathic behavior- instead, we can maybe examine how Shauna honors her attachments. Does she love Callie? Arguable, but she does fulfill her role as her Mother to the best of her ability…until she enables her bad behavior. Does she love Jackie? Probably, and the way she honors that is to be accommodating and compliant…until she couldn’t handle it anymore. Does she love Mel? Perhaps; she is protective and intimate like a girlfriend should be…until Mel challenges her social standing. I think Shauna is capable of love, and she performs love with the parameters she learned from society until she realizes that’s not how she operates but she’s dug herself in this hole now and she doesn’t have the endurance for it to last so it all ends up exploding.

I say this all the time, but Melissa does have some kind of immunity to Shauna’s rage. Shauna exhibits a lot of restraint when dealing with Mel. If anyone else tried to do what Mel did in the finale, they’d have a second dinner. I do think this indicates that Shauna does still love her, seeing that she is still performing the thing she promised Mel: protection.

Shauna’s just a touch starved little baby :( She's has a weird complex about Skin and Touch and Space and Territory. Deeply aggressive and maintains hard boundaries but also in severe need of physical comfort. I think touching Shauna actually does make her "better" as Tai puts it. I mean yeah, scientifically, touch does actually calm the nervous system. It's not just about intimacy, it's about feeling safe enough to let down your physical defenses. But regarding that chase, she also has a really messed up moral compass and the mind of a predator. Her running to get Kodi was probably just her hyperfocusing in the moment like THREAT DETECTED - THIS IS WHAT I HAVE TO DO NOW. She realizes after the fact that she messed up and goes into manipulator mode, fluffs her feathers, highlighting her role as Mel’s Protector, maintaining the connection by activating the I Do All This For You card.

So this interesting right because it shows that they really are kinda the same with their approaches to being in a relationship. They both have an idea of how a Girlfriend should be- maybe Mel has seen it on TV and from other high schoolers she likes to spy on, and Shauna has observed the way Jackie (or Jeff) acts- and they do just That, but they soon realize that they’d rather do it some other way. In a no-crash scenario I think they would’ve still started out this way. Maybe. it’s all just made worse in the Wilderness because it’s literally life or death out there, so you have to be very careful with your connections. Mel made a bet, won big, and is trying not to fumble the bag.

Yes, yes exactly. Had it been any other girl, they would’ve been dead. I know I say this a lot, but I wish in S4 Melissa can see that she does actually have this advantage. Shauna permits her to do these things. Shauna is now Lottie in this situation, she sees that Mel is hurting and is allowing Mel to beat her the fuck up (shaunahat also confirming butcherqueen ??). Do I want to see Shauna be Mel’s punching bag in s4? Hell yeah.

In conclusion, Shauna’s idea of loving is putting herself in Roles that she doesn’t want to be in: Mother, Queen, Hero...unfortunately she doesn’t have enough emotional endurance to sustain that for prolonged periods of time.

I'll leave you with an Orla Gartland song because I'm still in my Every Orla Gartland Song is a Shauna Shipman Song agenda:

Who Am I?

#thanks for this anon #massive ask #but I enjoyed the chat #shaunahat #shauna shipman #melissa hat #asks

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 year ago

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hello sex witch! this may or may not be something you can answer, but I was wondering if you had any advice on kind of disentangling the emotional aspect to sex? I’ve only slept with one person, and tbh I really psyched myself out bc I didn’t want to be the stereotype who gets way too obsessed with the person who took their virginity. I’ve never felt comfy doing casual sex to get more experience and a lot of that hang up is mental, and my friends advice has always been to meet guys on apps until something clicks, which to be fair I haven’t tried but idk. it seems like the wrong order of operations? like I need to sort out my emotional shit before dragging other people into it, even if I never see them again. it’s also not like an anti sex positive thing, I know Logically casual sex is fun and normal I just can’t seem to untie all that. I hope this was coherent lol, thank you so much for answering questions on this, it’s very helpful to have an objective take!

hi anon,

I think a crucial addition to everything you just said is the almighty "for some people." for instance, "casual sex is fun and normal... for some people." this isn't to suggest that sex between people who aren't in a committed romantic relationship is ever abnormal, of course, only that everyone's individual norms are different. frisbee golf is fun and normal, but that doesn't mean I personally get anything out of it. keep your frisbee away from me.

if casual sex isn't comfortable to you (a thing that you said, I'm not putting any words in your mouth) just. don't do that.

it's fine to save sex for a relationship where you're a little more attached. wanting a more substantial relationship with your sexual partner(s) doesn't make you obsessive, and it doesn't make you sex negative; sex negativity is what happens when you want everyone to have sex exactly the way you do and make up justifications about why the other ways are amoral and dangerous. what you have is, like, a preference, and an extremely harmless one at that.

you've made some allusions here to having some "emotional shit" to sort out before having sex with someone else. if you're referring to your disinterest in casual sex, that's not actually a problem. if there's a different flavor of emotional baggage that you feel would make you poorly positioned to be a responsible sexual partner then sure, by all means work on that first and good on you for recognizing it. but if the entirety of this perceived issue is that you'd rather go out a bit first and get to know someone before you have sex with them, that's nothing. that's something easily resolved by just talking to prospective partners about exactly what flavor of relationship they're seeking to make sure your goals align.

I prescribe you this chill pill, to be taken immediately, and assure you there's nothing about what you're doing that sounds like it needs to change.

#sex edventures 2024

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rebelliouswhirlpool · 1 year ago

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I wrote this earlier instead of getting out of bed in my phone's notes =D though I've now edited and polished it.

Arthur and John's first (brief) conversation after Arthur wakes up from dying

To return from death is…well, it’s certainly not unlike waking from a deep sleep where the position you slept in meant one of your limbs went numb and you have to move it carefully while the feeling returns to it.

That is, if you also happened to have fallen asleep on a bed of nails that dig into you with every movement you make.

The dream of it is quickly fading from Arthur’s mind. He knows he should grasp on to the lingering wisps of its memory. It could be useful to hold onto that knowledge.

He doesn’t. He won’t? The thought is honestly rather foggy.

Arthur is on his back. He can feel the harsh ground beneath him. There’s a rock under him, uncomfortably digging into his shoulder. He should probably do something about that. But that would require moving, and he only has control over one hand, and the rock is under the shoulder that hand belongs to, and—

“Arthur? ARTHUR! Arthur, answer me, damn it!”

Arthur inhales, and pointedly does not consider the pain that shoots through his stomach as he does. Regretfully, his brain perfectly recalls he ended up in this situation by being stabbed through, the specific location on his person where the blade pierced him, and it now informs him of multiple other places where his nervous system is indicating pain.

He has a feeling that he doesn’t really want to know what happened to his body during his absence from it. Arthur will ask John about it, later, because, despite that feeling, he also truly does want to know.

He just wishes he didn’t.

It takes a couple swallows for him to croak out, “What, John?”

“You—you weren’t responding. I—you need to answer me! We need to work together, Arthur. To—"

“I just died, John,” In volume, Arthur’s voice isn’t loud enough to be heard over John’s, but John still silences himself as Arthur speaks.

Momentarily. His immediate response to Arthur’s words is very loud.

“I KNOW!”

Despite being burdened with two entities, Arthur’s mind is remarkably resistant to shooting headaches. Or there’s simply too much pain elsewhere in Arthur’s body that there was none left to allot that much to it.

John softens his voice to a tone that doesn’t make Arthur’s mind throb. “I know. I know.” He hesitates. “But that’s why you have to respond to me. I…”

Arthur waits. Raising his hand is impossible due to how heavy feels, but he manages to twitch it in the direction of John’s.

“I need to know you haven’t done it again,” is what John finally, quietly, says. “You—Arthur, you can’t do it again! If you do, I’ll take over your body! I’ll—”

“Kill me yourself?"

John’s silence indicates the attempt at a joke went over extremely poorly.

“Sorry.” Arthur coughs, which turns into a hacking fit. He heaves himself onto his side, scattering blood droplets around. He feels the tatters of his clothes move with him. There are more tears in them than he cares to count. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Good.” John sounds not content, but at least satisfied with his answer.

Arthur lays back down. His head rests against a soft lump that he hopes is their pack and not something else. “I think I need a minute. To rest.”

“Alright. Rest, Arthur,” is spoken gently.

It makes no difference if Arthur’s eyes are closed or not for him to sleep, but he feels that they are anyway. Before he drifts away, a vague memory floats across his mind. He mumbles, “There was music, John.”

“Music?”

John’s question feels like it’s coming from very far away, or Arthur is wandering very far away from it.

“Arthur, what music?!”

“It was nice,” Arthur whispers.

Before he fully gives into the rest, the last thing Arthur hears is Yorick’s distant voice, “It is only sleep, my king. To return to one’s body from death is a difficult ordeal. He will wake again.” The fleshy clacking of the jaw bones pauses. “Will you tell him, then, when he wakes, what you spoke earlier?”

Arthur doesn’t remain awake long enough to hear John’s response. Nor will he remember to ask about it when he does wake back up again.

#malevolent podcast #malevolent spoilers #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #private eyes #jarthur #a little cactus wrote this #malevolent part 43

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 2 years ago

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Always There - Chapter Thirteen: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, food consumption, Umbridge, not proofread

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: My favorite character has finally been introduced in this chapter! As a Ravenclaw myself, I find so much joy in Luna's character so I'm very excited to write her into this series!

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1573

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

After Y/N had a good crying session with Harry by her side, she felt much better and more prepared for the year to start. It had taken her some time to work her way into going back downstairs and apologizing to both Severus and Remus who of course both held no grudge and forgave the woman rather quickly. Severus had made her sit down and gave her a plate of only her favorite foods, chatting with her as she ate. She hadn’t realized how hungry she actually was until she had finished her whole plate and still wanted more, so Severus refilled it and handed it back to her.

“You have a good talk with Harry then?” Severus finally asked her after she finished her second plate of food.

“Yeah, I told him a story about my days back at Hogwarts and how Sirius and I had that bet, do you remember that?” She replied, finally looking her partner in the eye.

“I do, you were going to let that dog take you out on a date before I ever did,” Severus replied in a sour tone.

“You know Pads and I never went on that date. They were all too busy teasing me about my crush on you that Sirius had forgotten. And by the time he remembered he had dropped the straight act and started going out with Remus,” She rambled.

“Back it up a minute. You had a crush on me in your fourth year? And you never thought to tell me?”

“Well no, I thought you had a crush on Lily so I just kinda left you alone with that and kept it to myself until my brother found out and in turn told all of our friends about it.”

Severus took to teasing her stating that he too had a crush on her during their time at Hogwarts together but he thought she had a thing for Remus. The couple shared a laugh over their shared obliviousness before going off to bed, where for the first time in a while, Y/N had slept through the whole night without waking up once. The next morning, the two professors had to leave for Hogwarts, they were both needed at the castle the day before the year began. As they bid their goodbyes, Y/N pulled her best friend aside.

“Look, I know it’s only one day, but can you please keep a close eye on Harry? Even send Sirius to tell him stories about Jamie or something, just keep him occupied until tomorrow where he can be with me again. Please, Rem?” She asked the werewolf.

“Of course Dove. Don’t even worry about it, I will keep an eye on him and so will Sirius and Molly and Arthur. All of us will keep him safe until he is on the express on his way to you. I promise,” Remus replied.

“Thank you Remmy. You truly are the best. Love you.”

“Love you too, dove. Now go before you guys are late. I’ll send an owl in a few days.” Remus sent her off with a kiss to the head and watched as her and Severus left the Black residence hand in hand.

The pair had gone to the nearest floo network and flooed into the Hogwarts castle. There were a couple new professors starting for this school year and Dumbledore had wanted them to get acquainted with the returning professors before the students arrived. Y/N and Severus walked into the headmaster’s office where a majority of the other professors were waiting. The two stood towards the front with McGonagall.

“Have a nice summer Miss Potter, Severus?” Dumbledore asked the pair.

“Just fine, how was yours, Albus?” Y/N replied.

“Wonderful, thank you. We are just waiting on one more and then we can proceed.”

And so they waited, all of the professors that were punctual talked amongst themselves, some sitting on the floor, others finding an empty spot to sit. This went on for nearly 2 hours before the last professor showed up, a short woman dressed in all pink. She looked like a toad in Y/N’s opinion. Finally, Albus could start his usual spiel, telling the professors what to expect for the year and introducing them to the new professor for defense against the dark arts.

“This is Professor Umbridge, she will be the new defense against the dark arts teacher. I wish everyone to give her a warm welcome. Good luck this year, it will be a great year,” Albus explained before releasing all of the professors. Y/N and Severus officially shared their quarters this year so both of their belongings were in Severus’ quarters.

Y/N wished it was her quarters from the year before but because Severus was the head of the Slytherin house, he had to be close to the Slytherin common room. She had been in the dungeons before and had stayed in his quarters but she couldn’t get used to the constant darkness and cold that ran through the air. It would take her some time to get used to but as long as she had Severus she would gladly go anywhere with him.

It took them no time to get unpacked and settled, going to the Minerva’s office when they were done to catch up. They’re first night back at Hogwarts was uneventful, spending most of the day catching up with the professors they liked and considered friends. Y/N even taking time out of her day to chat with Professor Binns who droned on about the history of magic and Hogwarts itself. She had willingly and actively listened to the ghost drone on until she checked her watch. It was nearing midnight.

“Oh my, would you look at the time? It was lovely talking with you professor but I should go to bed. Have a lovely night!” She excused herself before rushing to the dungeons and back to her quarters. Severus was fast asleep on the bed, hugging her pillow tight to his chest. She tiptoed her way to the bathroom where she changed into pajamas consisting of one of Severus’ shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. She made her way back inside the room and to the bed where she had to gently pry her pillow from his grasp and replace the pillow with herself.

The second her body hit the bed, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her straight to his chest. “Where were you?” He mumbled sleepily in her ear.

“Got carried away with Binns. I forgot how much that man could talk,” She whispered back.

“He’s a ghost, not a man,” He corrected.

“Whatever, goodnight, honey. I love you.”

“G’night, love you too darlin’.”

The couple slept rather soundly that night, both ending up sleeping in later than usual, waking up close to noon the next day. Y/N rushing to get ready so she could see her nephew again even though it had been only a day and Severus taking his sweet time getting ready. “I’ll meet you in the great hall for the sorting. I want to make sure Harry was okay last night,” Y/N told Severus as he was getting dressed and she was putting on her olive green cloak.

“I’m sure he was fine but go. I’ll meet you there,” Severus replied, walking over to plant a kiss on her cheek before going back to getting himself dressed. She made her way to the great hall to greet the returning and the new students. She was extra excited when she saw her nephew rushing towards her with a smile on his face.

“Aunt Y/N, they’re amazing! I never thought the carriages were pulled by anything but wow! Can you see them too? The thestrals?” Harry rambled as he hugged his aunt tight.

“I can see them too, they’re pretty cool huh?”

“Hello professor Potter, have a good summer?” An airy voice asked from behind Harry.

“It was okay, Luna. How was yours, dear?” She smiled at the blonde.

“It was magical, I’ll see you later professor.” Y/N giggled a bit at the girl as she skipped into the great hall. She held a deep appreciation for the girl, no matter how much she was picked on or how much she had gone through, she was still such a positive person. Someone she wanted Harry to be around and hoped that the two would become friends at some point. “Okay love, you go in, I’ll see you in a few.” Harry walked into the great hall and took a seat with the rest of his house. Y/N going in once Severus had met her by the door, both going in together and sitting together.

It was the beginning of another year at Hogwarts. Yet another new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the rest of the professors staying the same except for an interim Care of Mythical Creatures professor filling in for Hagrid until he returned from his mission. She was looking forward to this year, hoping that it would be better than the last few. That Harry would be safe for once this year but she knew deep down that it was another typical year. It was going to be another year of trials and tribulations, another year of hardships, she just hoped that they would be able to power through them.

taglist (if your user is crossed out it means I can't tag you)

@acupnoodle @chxelsxaa @fluffyrat365 @fanficwriter5 @atanukileaf @v3lv3tvampir3 @jspidey5 @mija-novella @leo4242564 @crazyunsexycool @livillain00

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