#next up on jam makes polls

[adarkandmagicalforest]

shout out who theyre patrons of

jaehaerys is almost definitely saeras just to watch out for her he swears

[laniidae-passerine]

lmaoooo IWTV rpf poll ended in a tie. I’d say something like peace and love on planet earth but y’all left corpses in your wake. and at the end of the day all them men tucked up in their beds unaware of the psychologically concerning things people saying about them and to other people over this poll because the f in rpf stands for fiction. bffr.

[cctinsleybaxter]

fisherman trent rezn-oar i wanna gut you like a mackerel

[covetyou]

stars and stripes

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: nipple play, novelty underwear, balls, anxiety, democracy, the pledge of allegiance, friendly brotherly contest, alcohol, prelude to oral sex (m! receiving) word count: 5k summary: Roles are reversed this Fourth of July when you surprise Joel with a little festive treat of your own.

A/N: happy 4th of July to folks in the US and happy general election day to my fellow UK pals! If you haven't exercised your right to vote yet, and you're registered, you have until 10pm BST tonight to get to your polling station - as long as you're in line by 10pm, you'll be able to vote. do dress up Joel proud, and go do a democracy.

I make absolutely no apologies for anything in this fic. not a single thing. especially not that thing. tis the season. happy ballidays, pals!

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As it turned out, Joel knew a guy who knew a guy who could fix your AC, and within two days your house was a safe haven from the burgeoning Texas summer.

Easy as that, apparently. Your desperate attempts to call around HVAC companies the week your AC busted seemed stupid now that it was all a matter of simply knowing a guy.

Not that it was all easy. Letting someone else into your house after everything that had gone on suddenly felt scary, and it took Joel promising you he'd dip from his own job for the afternoon to keep an eye on things for you to feel okay with any of it.

But, even that left an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You'd told him to let himself in, though this time you'd given him a key, and that felt like something. For as many times as he'd broken in, and for as long as you'd left your house open and vulnerable - and, by extension, yourself - handing over your spare keys to Joel for the day felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt with him wandering your house at unknown hours of the day and night.

It felt like something all over again when you handed them over to him the next week too - there was a jammed drawer he wanted to fix, and he said he could get in to see to it before work one day.

Even when you opened the door to him on the nights he didn't have Sarah - his daughter, you'd learned - it felt like something. Especially knowing that that spare key now sat attached to his own, jingling in his pocket each time he walked into your home, invited.

And the more somethings it felt like, the less you felt like figuring it out.

It continued the same way for weeks. Him moving back and forth the short distance between his home and yours, while you stayed safely cocooned in your own, cool, four walls.

Then, barely one month into this officially unofficial something that you were, it was finally time for you to make that short journey down the street to Joel's.

Being honest, the thought of it had terrified you, and you'd almost backed out multiple times.

Not because it was Joel, or Joel's house - at least, that's what you told yourself - but because a "the whole neighborhood is invited, bring snacks or beer" type of Fourth of July party wasn't the kind of way you'd envisioned your first time in Joel's home. You figured maybe it'd be dinner, or a movie, or a quick fuck against the stairs with Joel's balls trussed up in something. Normal things.

Not loud peopley things.

Still, you readjust your top once more, take the briefest of glances in the mirror, and head out the door anyway, nerves be damned. You can totally handle a Fourth of July BBQ at Joel's house.

You think you can all the way up to Joel's driveway, when the nerves come back with a vengeance and you stand there, feeling sick, listening to the sounds of people and music coming from the backyard.

You try to tell yourself it all makes sense. It's a new place, a place that should mean so much because it's his, but try as you might you can't fight back the panic rising as you think of the very many faces that are going to be in this new place too. Familiar faces, faces you'd seen most days as you went about your life down this street you called home, people you'd shared small talk with and said good morning to almost every day as you left for work.

Then there's this stupid outfit you're wearing. The you from weeks ago chose it the very same day you said yes to Joel's invitation, and the you of today didn't have the energy or inclination to think of anything else. Wear whatever, Joel had said, it's just a casual thing. So, you'd gone for casual.

Braless is casual, right?

Not that that was a specific choice, more a necessity. You'd chucked the third bra on the floor in a huff, cursing your shitty outfit choice and lack of bra to fit it, and instead decided to stick on some nipple pasties and be done with it.

All that's done now, and now here you are, still standing like an idiot in the driveway, closer to Joel's home than you have ever been, psyching yourself up to go inside.

With a deep breath of the dry Texas heat, you head for the open back gate, the soft sound of your shoes on the paving stones so loud in your ears as everything wooshes and fizzes in your head.

It's somehow both better and worse than your expectations.

You're immediately greeted by a sea of recognizable faces, the bottle of wine you forgot you were even holding whisked out of your hand and taken inside before you can even get your first round of hello's in. You don't have much of a chance to be nervous, or self conscious, or any of the things you'd worried about being in the days leading up to being here, because there's just so much of everything around you. Noises, smells, people.

Everything, except for Joel. You've not caught a single look at him since you got here - minutes ago - and you wonder if he's even here and not relaxing back at your place on the couch.

Then you see him. At least, you think it's him. His back is to you, locked into conversation so fierce he hasn't noticed the commotion about your entrance.

You think it's him, but you're also certain you don't know of anyone else who would dress head to toe in red, white, and blue candy stripes. The sight of it makes you forget your own outfit worries as a grin forms on your face, and that familiar rumbling of something in the pit of your stomach comes back all over again.

"Not eyein' the very slightly younger model, are you?" comes a gruff voice that has you twisting rapidly on the spot, the smile barely given chance to fall from your face when you spot the actual, real life Joel standing right there next to you, cold beer in hand.

In your own defence, real life Joel isn't dressed much better than the other Joel stood over the other side of the yard. He's probably dressed worse, actually. He's head to toe in stars, all the way from the novelty headband on his head to the flashing star lights clipped to his shoes. It's gaudy, and camp, and so perfectly Joel that the smile that dipped from your face for all of half a second is back, and you're grinning up at him, that feeling in your belly violently boiling away now that he's right there.

"Oh, him?" you say with a wave of your hand. "Nah. He's like a dollar store version of you."

"Really? I'll be sure to tell Tommy he's Dollar Store Joel from now on. He'll love that. Hey, Tommy!" he calls over the yard, before slipping his free hand behind your back. "C'mon. Let me introduce y'all."

He guides you over, hand never leaving the small of your back, touching you out here in front of all these people as if you are actually officially the kind of something that everyone should know about. And maybe you are.

But then, you're looking into familiar friendly eyes, so similar to the ones you've been staring into and dreaming of since Christmas, and watching this familiar strangers face light up so brightly you briefly wonder if his joy is misplaced until he's wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

"Shit, he weren't lying," says Tommy as he rocks on his feet with you in his arms before releasing and looking down at you. "You are real."

Before Joel can land a firm whack to Tommy's shoulder, Tommy's pulling you in for another hug, telling you how nice it is to finally meet you, because he's heard all about you, dropping in a few choice words about his asshole brother here and there as he chatters to you, and Joel, and even himself.

At some point, whether it's during the fourth hug or the eighteenth, you're not sure, Joel slips off to grab you a drink, leaving you with his bizarrely dressed brother.

"Ain't never seen him smile so much without Sarah around," he says, the moment Joel's out of earshot, giving you a nudge and another fond smile. "Y'know, I think he might like you."

"Mm, I think I might like him too."

Small talk with Tommy is easy - the man's a talker, if you ever met one. He's a charmer too, and if you met him in a bar you might think he'd be coming on to you with the way he so attentively talks to you, only directing his attention elsewhere for the briefest of moments.

"What's with the outfits?" you eventually ask, with a flick to his striped top hat. "Joel never said it was a dress up party."

"Oh it ain't, this is just a family tradition. Dad always used to dress up in dumb shit for the holidays, make us laugh, and it just sorta stuck. 'Course, added in some friendly competition over the years too, and then this," he says with a dramatic sweep down his body, "was born."

"Competition?"

"Mhm. Joel'll tell you, won't you brother?" Tommy says with a wink over your head before ducking sideways to raid the snack table.

"What am I s'posed to tell you?" he says, handing you your drink, letting his fingers linger near yours and stroke a trail of burning heat gently up your arm before falling back to his pocket.

"The competition."

"S'easy. Stars or stripes," Joel points to himself, decked out in stars and then to his brother where he stands loudly chatting to yet more guests in his candy stripes. "You gotta pick. Most votes, wins."

"I've got to pick?"

"'s the rules, darlin'."

"So you want me to pick between you, or some costumed guy I don't know - a practical stranger?" you say, with a glint in your eye, watching Joel's face drop in faux offence.

"You wouldn't."

"Don't underestimate me, Joel. I think you know exactly what I'm capable of."

Your eyes meet in a silent stalemate, the glint in your eye never leaving as Joel bites at his cheek to hold back a laugh. Tommy was right - you do like Joel, some days too much, and moments like right now, you think maybe it's reciprocated, and you like him just the right amount.

Poking him in the chest, finger pressed to the middle of one of the sea of stars decorating his body, you let yourself break first. "Stars, Joel. I pick stars."

With a roll of his eyes, and a kiss pressed lightning quick to the side of your head, Joel's hand winds back around your back.

"Thank fuck for that. Let's get you a votin' card so you can make that official."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

As the evening draws on, you think you've talked to just about everyone in your street several times over, and then some. It also turns out that Joel and Tommy take their little competition very seriously, and always have, if your neighbors are to be believed.

By the time the votes have been counted and Joel in his star spangled outfit is declared the winner, Tommy has sunk to his knees, his hat toppled off in his despair as he hangs his head in shame.

You're still listening to them bicker as you sneak off to use the bathroom, their voices only disappearing when you've slid the patio door shut and taken your first official step into Joel's house.

"The headband swung it."

"The headband is Sarah's, and your massive skull is breakin' it..."

Even through the mess of the party, you can see that this place is distinctly Joel, with hints of a 10 year old girl dotted around the place. From the pictures on the wall to the cushions on the sofa - mostly a rich navy, but one soft pink nestled in with the blue - through to small ornamental carvings on a side table and the drawings stuck on the refrigerator.

You're looking at one - not a masterpiece by any means, but very decent attempt at a bluebonnet - when the pressure inside the house changes again with the slide of the door.

It's Joel, arms laden with bottles, and the headband flopping forward pathetically on his head. "You snuck off quick," he says, dumping the bottles onto the counter. "Get lost findin' the bathroom?"

"Distracted. Never had chance to sneak around your house looking at your shit before," you quip with a smile, trying to get comfortable with the very uncomfortable thing that brought you two together in the first place.

"Then shoes off. Lemme take you upstairs, give you a little tour, and you can use the bathroom up there. Probably in a better state than the one down here now anyway."

He holds your hand in his all the way up the stairs. That something rears its head again, igniting your palm where it meets his, your brain not registering a single word he says as he points to various doors before dragging you through one, into his bedroom.

His lips are on yours immediately - or yours are on his. You can't quite work out who started it, you just know that you're a tangle as your hands roam each other, biting and licking kisses into each others mouths. His hand finds your ass, and you're moaning as he presses you forward, into him, and the soft lump in his pants. You want to grind yourself against him, but the angle isn't right, and a nagging forgotten thing is worming through your brain when Joel pushes your bodies together once more.

Oh. Right. You remember now.

"Joel - mmph - Joel," you say with urgency through his kisses. He pulls back, searching your face with panic and a pinched brow. "I really gotta pee."

With a kiss to your forehead he lets you go, pushing you toward his ensuite. When you exit a few minutes later, he's exactly where you left him, stood with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish as he possibly ever could.

"I'm glad you came," he says, looking at you and setting that something off roaring through your body again.

"Me too. I... I've had a nice time."

"Just wanted you to know I didn't invite you here just for, y'know," he says, with a gesture to his bed. "Didn't bring you in here for it either. Just, sorta missed you. Not used to not bein' alone with you. It's weird sharin' you."

You don't want to remind him you've barely left each others sides all night. You don't want to draw too much attention to the something, just in case you scare it away.

"Damn. Got nothing for me? Nothing at all?" you joke instead.

"Got nothin'. Nothin' planned anyway," he says with a look around the room, his eyes focussing briefly on a drawer before flicking back to you.

Really, you should be leaving space between you and Joel. Space for the something to flourish, space that is just enough to not magnetize your body to his, smashing yourselves together and turning the nothing into something. What you should do doesn't have the power to stop your feet from slowly pulling you toward him again though. And it doesn't stop you from putting both your hands on his chest when you finally reach him.

"No? Got no magic tricks up your sleeve? I was hoping for a wand or a rabbit or somethin', you do look like you ran away from the circus."

"I'll have you know this shirt is the finest polyester you can find at Party City."

"Mm, sounds sweaty."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"So you're sweaty and gross, and you have nothing to wow me with? I'm starting to wonder why you invited me." Which is a lie. You know why, and so does he, and you're glad for it, even if it still frightens you to think about it too much. You suspect he knows an awful lot more about you than you've told him. He's perceptive like that.

"Maybe I'm retractin' your invite."

"You wouldn't."

"No?"

"What if I've got a little something for you instead, am I still invited now?"

Joel's eyes light up and soften all at once, turning so bright and sparkling you think he might cry. It's not exactly that you've never done anything for him in the ways he has for you. When he mentioned his favorite snack, you got some in the house for nights you spend watching a movie before devolving into fucking on the floor. You bought new lingerie, which only ever stayed on if it was too difficult to get out of, and once or twice he'd caught you wearing the heart shaped butt plug before leaping on you and pounding you into whatever surface was nearest, thumb pressing down on the base and making you see stars.

Still, for all you had done, you never swapped positions in the little game you'd been playing with each other for over seven months. Each time, he was the one who came to you with some silly thing or trick or toy to tease you with, and each time you loved it. You hoped he would love this too.

"You do?"

"Mhm," you say as you put some distance between the two of you again. Space to breath, space to move, space to let the something calm back down into the pit of your stomach and curl in on itself like a cat settling down to sleep.

Your let your fingers glide up your body, gently pulling your skirt for a moment before they coast up your belly and reach your shirt, flirting with the hem before curling around it and tugging, letting your tits jiggle behind the fabric.

With a final soft tug, you peel the fabric up your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out the bottom of your top.

"Holy shit, baby," he says, a whisper of a moan on his lips. His eyes have been glued to you, wide and curious, ever since you suggested you may have something for him. And now, they're darting from your chest to your face then back down, taking in the sight of your covered nipples.

You had made some choices earlier today, in your nervous state. Going braless was only one of them. The pasties too, were another. And then, there was the shape. You has flowers, hearts, circles, straight tape and, finally, stars. It was a no brainer when you'd rifled through the packet for two that matched that white stars were the perfect choice for today. It'd only really occured to you when Joel had worn his own stars, that you were perhaps better matched today than you thought, that maybe you could have your own little game with him for once.

"Told you I was all in on the stars."

"Damn right you are," he says as he approaches, his hands finding their place on your waist, itching to move upward. "They don't hurt?"

"They're just pasties, Joel. They're soft. Feel."

And fuck, does he feel. His hands cup you, gently squeezing the softest part of your breast before letting his thumbs dance across where the pucker of your nipple should be. The sensation is muted, infuriatingly muffled by the feel of the pasties covering you.

"S'good?"

"Imagine I stroked your dick over your pants. It's good but it's not the same."

"Damn," he curses, thumbs still gently rubbing over your nipples, watching them slowly come to life and prickling beneath the coverings. "They come off easy?"

"Like a bandaid."

"Shit."

And you just know what he's thinking, because you're thinking it too. There's no real way you can take them off right now and let Joel have his way with your nipples like you're both desperate for, even if time and the swathe of people downstairs wasn't an issue. You have nothing else to cover up with and the soft breeze combined with the cold drinks and the age of some of the guests here means it's probably not a good idea to go without them.

That doesn't stop Joel from kissing you again though, more restrained than he has any right to be with your tits in his hands. You know from his frustrated groan when you bite at his bottom lip that he's two seconds away from telling everyone the parties over, only to come back up here and continue with a party for just two.

To your surprises, he pulls your top back down. Not before kissing one breast, then the other, then back to the first. You know he wants to sink his face into them, but he doesn't let himself, and he rises from his crouch with a groan and pulls you out of the room.

"Don't show Tommy," Joel whispers to you as you make your way back down the stairs. "He'll say the contest was rigged."

"Damn, I was so hoping to show your brother my nipples."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Joel's eyes keep flicking to your chest for the rest of the night. More than once he drags you away inside, either upstairs or into the garage, just to ask you to show him one more time. If you weren't covered, your nipples would have been rubbed and pinched raw by his eager fingers by now, just as your lips were swollen by his eager mouth.

By the time it's all over, you're positively exhausted, propping yourself up on the arm of a chair and talking to Tommy as Joel waves off the last of the guests and closes the back gate.

You had barely left his side all night, and if anyone had anything to say about it, you hadn't heard it. Neither had Joel. And Tommy, a clever man when he wanted to be, hadn't made a single joke about it either. All in all, it was as much of a successful day than you could hope for, initial nerves aside.

Tommy, continuing to be a clever man, doesn't put up much of a fight when you offer to be the one to stay behind and help clear up. Of course, he's already gone around and collected most of the trash, and put the leftover food inside, but he relents at your insistence he head home - you do only live down the street after all.

Neither you or Joel get much further with the cleaning. Once trash bags are dumped in the garage and you've both washed up, his hands are back under your top, damp fingers cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

"Stay?" he asks, as if there was any other ending to this night, as if Tommy hadn't left precisely for this reason.

You barely agree by the time his mouth is latched onto your neck, drawing unrestrained moans out of you right there in the kitchen now that you're finally alone.

His hands, of course, find their way back up to your top, stroking over the edge of the pasties once more.

"You really like 'em, huh?" you ask as his thumb brushes the edge of one, starting to curl and pull the point of one of the stars.

"Like that we match. Feel like you picked 'em for me," he mumbles into your neck, releasing one breast and tucking his hand into the waistband of your skirt. "Like that I've had somethin' to think about, somethin' to play with, even with all these people here."

Fuck, if you haven't liked that too. Letting him play had been one of the highlights of your night so far. Being manhandled into the garage, giggling and pushing Joel as he clasped his hands together in a plea to please see your tits. The souvenir love bite you'd let him suck into your left breast after dragging you back upstairs for a second time. You'd spent half the night flipping between Joels hands and mouth on your tits, to being dragged back out to socialize. Your pussy had given up trying to regulate itself after the third session of Joel's teasing, and you'd spent the rest of the evening wet and waiting.

This is a fact he finds out now, as he slides his hand down over your mound to cup you over your panties. You both let out the same curse as he presses and wiggles his fingers back and forth over you, rubbing your clit over your underwear. You had hoped to peel the pasties off before you fucked him, giving him full access to your nipples for the first time tonight, but you don't think you're going to make it that far, not now his hand is pulling your panties aside, feeling for the slick wetness between your lips and dragging it up, up, up to swirl around your clit.

Not a second later you're scaling the stairs for what you know will be the final time that day, this time you dragging Joel as you both kick of your shoes and stumble up the steps. You already ache from all the standing, and if you have it your way, your legs are going to be shaking and trembling too much for the rest of the night to possibly be of use to you.

With his door pushed open, left wide now the house is empty, you pull yourself back into him, only for him to slip his still wet finger between your lips, letting you taste yourself before he captures your mouth, licking your taste from your own tongue.

Then, your hands find his chest, that ridiculous shirt, and pull at it, tugging the fabric taught to his body, eager to get it off and tumble into his sheets with him.

You were right about how sweaty he'd be under the shirt when you finally get your fingers on the buttons, working your way down until you can pull it off. He's shining underneath it, the dark hair of his body slicked down as you drag your hands up over his chest, to his shoulders and then down to his belt.

He suddenly stops you, pulling your hands away, pressing kiss after kiss to your mouth as he fumbles with the buckle. In a huff, after a few failed, distracted, attempts, he pushes you away and pulls off his belt before unzipping his pants.

Joel has barely tugged them down his legs when you're staring wide eyed, howling with laughter, staring directly at his cock. Only, this time, it stares back.

At least, the bald eagle on the front of his boxers does.

"What are those?"

"Nothin'," Joel says, covering himself and trying to tug his boxers over his erection with one hand still trying to pull off his pants. Grabbing his hands, you stop him, pleading as you tug them away from his crotch.

"Show me."

"Look, s'nothin. Just another stupid thing Tommy got me and I thought it'd be funny but..."

"Sure looks like you got somethin' there for me. All this time you were sayin nothin'. Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now. C'mon. Please."

You pout, trying desperately to get him to give in when you have an idea and you're tugging your top off over your head and throwing it to the side, brandishing your star covered nipples to him once more.

"Pretty please," you say with a small shimmy, and Joel's hand immediately falls away, coming up instead to cover his eyes with a sigh.

It's a sight to behold. Really, it is. The eagle is staring back at you once again, still bolstered by Joel's solid length and the heft of his balls behind it. What you hadn't noticed before is it's sitting on a canvas of United States flag, stars and stripes covering his thighs, his hips, his ass.

"Oh wow. Joel those are -" you cough out a laugh "- those are amazing."

He's rolling his eyes. You can hear it in his voice and see it in his posture. "Yeah, real funny, I know."

"No, I like them. Very festive. And y'know what," you say, cupping his cock right over the eagle print of his boxers as you clear your throat. "I pledge allegiance -"

"No, don't you d-"

"- to these balls -"

"Stop."

"- and the cock they sit under -"

"Oh my god," he says, fighting through a laugh, your fingers squeezing and massaging as you pledge yourself, whole heartedly, to the appendage in your hand.

" - one - uh, cock and balls? Is there even a collective word for cock and balls? - under Joel -"

"It's just gettin' worse."

"- definitely indivisible, no divisible balls here - "

"You're killin' me."

"- say it with me now - with liberty and justice for balls."

You try to keep a straight face as you finish. Really you do. But as Joel's whole body shakes and ripples, his balls jiggling in your hand as laughter wracks through him, you can't help but fall into him, letting yourself be propped up by him as you crumple in on yourself in delight.

"You callin' my balls Liberty and Justice now?" Joel finally says through a laugh.

You slide a finger up the leg of his boxers, pulling gently on them as you stare down at the flag adorning his ass and balls.

"Yep. You're Star Spangled Joel with your side kicks, Liberty and Justice."

You give his balls a little squeeze again as you name them.

"Now that you pledged your allegiance, you gonna keep yappin' or you gonna prove it?"

But it's too late, because you're already sinking to your knees, right there in his bedroom, a place you both know you're going to wake up in the morning, wrapped in each other as the sunlight peeks through the curtains.

"Just try to stop me."

next part

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[pekoehoneyncream]

Colonel König Headcanons

Part One!

Words: 400~

TW: None (sfw)

Part Two

Same drill as with Price, bit too many headcanons to post in one go, so we're splitting it into two.

Enjoy!

König prefers coffee over tea. His favourite drink is “Kaffee Verkehrt” which means ‘upside-down’, it's a popular specialty coffee in Austria that has more milk than coffee and is served in a tall glass.

He takes his normal coffee with lots of cream, but no sugar. He likes the sweet rich taste that whole and heavy cream has over the more typical half-and-half, he also likes that he can use less of it and still make his coffee taste creamy.

When asked how tall he is König answers 208 centimetres, and if they ask what that is in feet, he lies and says 6’8. He did not like the way people snickered when he said 6’9, so he no longer says it. No one's called him on it yet and he prays that no one ever does. 

Carries around multiple handkerchiefs. He handwashes them and keeps them clean. His mother thinks one-use tissues are a rich-man’s idiocy, and so does he.

Doesn't like being asked about his past or his family, but he'll sometimes mention his mother or an ‘Uncle Alexi' when giving advice or talking about how he learned something.

Grew up poor. Not Charlie & Chocolate Factory ‘there's only one bed and we all share it’ poor, but needing to be mindful of money, and make everything last as long as it can, repurposing things, collecting coupons, trading with neighbours, paying with meals or labour where you can. That kinda thing.

Was raised as an only child by his widowed mother. Big Momma's boy. Or Mutter's boy, in König's case. And his mother raised him right! All the aunties around their neighbourhood knew him as “Annika’s polite young man”. Annika never had to worry what the neighbours would think.

König still calls his mother every week and gets Care-Packages from her frequently. Anytime Annika finds something she thinks he'll like she sends it over, alongside a bottle of his favourite jam, and some cookies, and a new handkerchief, and etc, and etc. Every phone call includes König being asked if he's taking care of himself, when he's getting married, and if he's sent back this or that container yet. 

König sends a good two-thirds of his paycheck back home to his mother. He doesn’t need much as he's often living out of a duffle bag when on missions, and he likes his mutter to be able to live a good life without worrying about money.

There we go! I hope you enjoyed it!

I was thinking I'd post part two of Price's headcanons tomorrow, then a poll for whose headcanons to post next the day after that, then part one the winner's headcanons, then part two of König's headcanons. Etc and so on. You see how I've planned this out.

As always if there's anything you want me to write about please let me know, my ask box is Open!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nikki McCann Ramírez at Rolling Stone:

Donald Trump lasted about two minutes into Vice President Kamala Harris’ nomination acceptance speech before launching into a full-blown public unraveling.  Moments after Harris took the stage Thursday at the Democratic National Convention, it became clear that the former president — and her 2024 opponent — was glued to the television in a hate-watch for the ages. 

“Here she comes into the Arena,” was the first of around furious 50 posts in a Truth Social meltdown that began when Harris entered the United Center in Chicago, Illinois, and continued long after she left the stage.  Notable reactions to Harris’ statements included:  “IS SHE TALKING ABOUT ME?”  “A lot of talk about childhood, we’ve got to get to the Border, Inflation, and Crime!” “Walz was an ASSISTANT Coach, not a COACH.”  “Too many ‘Thank yous,’ too rapidly said, what’s going on with her?”  “She caused the Attack of October 7th.” The former president was especially apoplectic about Harris’ description of he and his allies’ expansive plans to restrict reproductive rights. Harris said Trump “would limit access to birth control, ban medication abortion, and enact a nationwide abortion ban, with or without Congress.” She added that Trump “plans to create a national anti-abortion coordinator and force states to report on women’s miscarriages and abortions.” “Simply put, they are out of their minds,” Harris concluded. “One must ask: why exactly, is it that they don’t trust women?” Harris was describing components of Project 2025, the conservative personnel and policy program created to help the next GOP president (read: Trump) quickly impose a far-right agenda. 

Trump has actively tried to run away from the project in recent months, because its plans poll terribly. He was not pleased with being tied once again to its proposals. “I do not limit access to birth control … THAT IS A LIE, these are all false stories that she’s making up, that I’ve never even heard of. It’s just words coming out of her mouth,” Trump posted. “I TRUST WOMEN, ALSO, AND I WILL KEEP WOMEN SAFE! SHE WON’T, BECAUSE THE INVASION OF OUR COUNTRY AT HER OPEN BORDER IS DESTROYING THE LIVES OF WOMEN, AND THE FAMILIES AND JOBS OF AFRICAN AMERICANS AND HISPANICS.” Trump only stopped posting in order to call into Fox News, where he raged at anchors Bret Baier and Martha MacCallum. When MacCallum pointed out that Harris was gaining in several polls and key demographics, Trump countered that “she’s not having success. I’m having success.” 

[...] The hosts eventually cut him off, ostensibly because it was time for a special edition of Fox’s cringiest show: Gutfeld! Trump, however, was nowhere near done, and within minutes was calling into Newsmax’s live DNC coverage. There, the former president complained that Harris hadn’t addressed “woman trafficking” in her speech, and suggested he and the hosts take a trip to Caracas, Venezuela.  He was still accidentally jamming the buttons on his phone during the call. “He is uhh, he’s a very special man,” host Greg Kelly said when the former president finally hung up. 

During Kamala Harris’s DNC speech last night, Donald Trump had an unhinged hissy fit on multiple outlets: TRUTH Social, Faux “News”, and Newsmax.

Let that be a reminder that this unhinged jerk cannot be allowed another term in office.

See Also:

Daily Kos: After days of near silence on the DNC, Trump ‘reviews’ Harris’ speech

The Guardian: Harris’s convention speech sparks live rant from outraged Trump

[theinfinitedivides]

Regarding your recent post, I'm not even shocked that a certain section of this fandom are still trying to pretend Assad fans are any more anti black than Sam fans. I've seen plenty of anti blackness from all corners of this fandom, from both Lestat and Armand fans. But somehow weirdos think Sam fans are woke and progressive in comparison? there were Samstat fans who wrote disgusting fanfic of Louis calling other black people 'gorillas' for fuck's sake and specifically to prop up Lestat. There were Loustaters who thought it was a brilliant idea to go to a slave plantation so they can pose for their OTP photos. The Lestat fans who gloated about Claudia finally getting what she deserved, until they decided to use her as a prop for lestat sympathy post s2. But it's convenient for them to focus all that energy and blame solely on Assad and all his fans, because it suits the narrative they've already developed in their minds.

When people were making rape jokes about Assad's character, I recognized some of those blogs. One of them was a Loustater who I distinctly remember talking about Assad derisively. Because according to this fan, he's supposedly replacing Jacob next season. Which is an insane take like these people do know who next season about right? It's supposed to be a TVL adaptation and Armand does have appearances in that story. But here's the thing, they don't mention Sam at all. Now why would they claim Assad (a brown actor who has already has been sidelined repeatedly in marketing and nominations) has more potential to replace Jacob and not Sam, who Rolin already stated was going to be the lead in s3? When AMC has already pushed for more samstat presence in s2?

Let's be real here, some of these people live vicariously through the Jacob/Sam dynamic and the validation they feel from it that they are resentful of obstacles to that. Even if it's another actor of color potentially sharing more scenes with Sam in the future. This is also why they took that rpf poll so seriously ("if you don't vote for my preferred coworker ship, you're anti black") It wasn't just this blog, literally other people who were downplaying the racism for the awards snubs were very similar in that they are very invested in jam conspiracies and/or more lenient towards Sam and other white actors on the show. This bias has been called out by several black fans who I follow.

IWTV fandom directs a very noticable amount of vitriol towards the cast of color on this show. And yes, this includes the Muslim brown actor who fans see as the source of all their problems apparently. Fans behave like they can pick or choose what is racism or not with the marketing and nominations. Jacob, Delainey and Assad have all been subjected to all kinds of nasty remarks that are racist and colorist before this season even began.

It is possible to care about both anti blackness and racism against South Asians. It's absolutely important that both are addressed. But I guess these fans think that only one of these issues matter while continuing to bootlick a white corporation. It's sad and transparent what's really going on here.

A SECOND IWTV FANDOM READ HAS HIT MY INBOX. I REPEAT A SECOND IWTV FANDOM READ HAS HIT MY INBOX. someone call the fire department y'all trying to burn down my house with this one hold on

first off. idk where all of you are coming from with these good good takes but keep making them and keep reading the hypocritical fuckers in this fandom for filth while you're at it bc you are right and true and correct. we have seen shit on all sides bc having your pet character to hide behind doesn't change the fact that your ass is racist, but there's something about the racism from so-called Sam fans that is like. how do you even come up with that. how do you look at what you just said and think that's ok to post. and most times it is about making the South Asian Muslim actor the big bad, just like how here in the US racist pasty ass motherfuckers hear 'terrorist' and immediately conjure up images of folks from the SWANA region/South Asian subcontinent. it's othering. he's not like us so we can use him as a punching bag and pin everything we think is wrong in the fandom on him

living vicariously through the Jam dynamic................................ anon truer words have never been spoken. i get it. maybe they latched on too hard to the unholy trinity of the Loustat + Claudia family in the early days of s1 before that went down the drain and mother and daughter headed off to Paris and so they love seeing Jacob and Sam interact for promos irl. for those Jam fans who might see this listen to me. i am holding y'all very gently rn. go outside and touch grass there is no fucking reason whatsoever for you to get so delusional about two coworkers/work besties that you will use that to give the corporation propping up the white half in content he is not meant to be submitted for over the other members of the cast a free-for-all pass. no. it's like using fly swatters in this place the amount of messages i've had to delete from my inbox this week bc they all start with some variant of 'but Sam' and i do not have the spoons to answer that foolishness again

jumping all around your ask in terms of the order in which i make these points so i apologize but heading back to the Loustat blogs that have it out for Assad for whatever reason (specifically the ones making SA jokes about Armand)—i remember seeing that post and just being instantly horrified. i'm talking cold sweats level of freaked the fuck out. just bc you think AMC is going to use the shift in main vamp focus to possibly give Armand slightly more screentime that means he's going to replace Louis and therefore you can now wish things i wouldn't wish on my worst enemy on him. what the actual fuck. in my mind there is a spectrum and this shit is on one end and the rabid Marius stans are on the other and they are both equivalently bad. those two are shaking hands in the center over ways to violate and overlook Brown bodies and ykw i'm tired of not naming names so i'll name the ones who made these statements in the first place (note: i'm putting them below the cut at the very end of this ask bc i don't want anyone to be triggered by that kind of vileness as a jumpscare when i still have things left to say. not worth it.)

ykw honestly the obvious attempt to get Black and South Asian IWTV fans to split down the middle over whose blorbo/actor experiences more racism is disgusting. it's just like when they're always trying to get the diaspora (mainly African-Americans + Caribbean people of African descent, although i have seen them get the West African brethren involved) to start infighting over stupid shit bitch when the cops pull us both over they're not going to ask for a geography lesson. they won't ask us if we immigrated or if our family's been here since before the fucking Civil War. they'll shoot us both and call it an encounter where the two of us were resisting and they feared for their fucking life, like they always do. kicking Assad to the curb to lift up Jacob or vice-versa is not going to get you brownie points with the other infinite amount of racists on this hellsite it'll just buy you time until they decide to kick you to the curb when you open your mouth (if you open your mouth) and point out anything about their blorbo + the way AMC is choosing to promote said blorbo. frankly not even bootlicking anymore we're deepthroating that shit all the way to the back no gag reflex. get up. your Islamophobic xenophobic posting and 'pick a side' propaganda is not the slay you think it is

(note: the Armand SA post in question is below this marker. if you think a trigger warning applies, it probably does. stay safe. don't open this shit if you can't handle it. i'll drop the usernames in the comments for extra precaution regardless)

i had to unblock their asses to get this and then i blocked them right back. fuck me for even having to see this again but i did it for a good cause

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 10

Source for pic

Firestarter 10

Word Count: 6335

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: This chapter was a rollercoaster of emotions! But now we're only missing the epilogue with our happy ending 😊 I will be posting the new poll (for voting on the next story of the meet-cute series) this week! Also, if you want to check out my 100 followers event, feel free to do it! Full disclosure, answers to requests may take a while! Thank you for reading this! ❤️

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Previous Chapter| | |Final Chapter|

Ace sets his phone down but keeps staring at it. He has a silly little grin on his lips though his eyes are furrowed with apprehension. They're enjoying a tiny break at the fire station, after helping clear the gutters that were blocking the water from flowing freely. 

All the firemen are on standby, waiting for the storm to pass and hoping for a calmer evening. 

Luffy pats Ace on the shoulder with a small smile curling his lips. “What's with the face?”

Ace sighs as he whispers your name, his fingers tousling his hair. “She managed to get a call through and though I barely heard her, she said she was coming over. And that she loves me.”

Ace can't stop a grin from pulling the ends of his lips and Luffy is smiling with him. “But that's good, right? Why do you look worried?”

“I really didn't want her driving in this weather.”

Luffy hums and nods, his eyes darting to the large windows where fat drops of rain pound incessantly. “She'll be fine, Ace! Don't worry!” He pats Ace on the back again while getting up. “Want the last slice of pizza?

And suddenly they're both fighting for the slice, Ace trying to forget that you're driving along dangerous roads and Luffy helping him do it.

-*-

The ring from the station’s phone is shrill and piercing. Ace jumps before picking it up. He's been watching the time and you were supposed to have arrived already. He can't stop the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

“Hello, go for Ace.” Even his normal greeting seems strained. 

“Ace, hi! It's Marco.” The older man has an urgency in his tone and Ace snaps in his seat, nudging Luffy as he sets the call on speaker. The connection still feels broken and with a lot of static, but he can make out the words. “There's been an accident at the intersection before the turn to the road that leads to the fire station. I don't know how long, but the car seems to have rolled over at least once. There's a girl inside and she's unresponsive. I didn't touch her but there's a lot of blood-...”

Ace scrapes his chair against the floor as he gets up, not even letting Marco finish the call. His heart is pounding against his chest relentlessly. In his head an unending litany set on repeat: no, no, no, please God, no! 

He feels cold and numb and he doesn't wait for his fellow fireman nor for the truck. He grabs his jeep keys and slides down the pole, running, not answering Luffy’s calls, not hearing anything else but the pounding of his heart in his ears. 

No, no, no, please God, no! 

-*-

When you entered Shanks’ house, a smile on your lips, calling for daddy, he felt a pang in his heart. You had grown up into a fine, beautiful woman. The burn of desire tingled and Ace knew he wanted you. 

He wanted you badly. 

But you were Shanks’ daughter, Luffy’s friend. Off-limits for his little one-night stands. It was okay, he could admire you from afar. 

It got a little harder when you stopped on the stairs and his nose rubbed against your ass. It got even harder once he found your vibrator. God, not even ten minutes had passed since you had entered your home and already he knew you would be the death of him. 

Learning that you were cheated on was like a punch to the gut. After what had happened to you and, as soon as you heard of his reputation, you would never trust him enough to let him get close to you. 

But it was fine. He just wanted to be friends. You were off-limits. 

-*- 

Ace closes the jeep door with a bang and turns the ignition, the windshield wipers swiping into action instantly as the rain keeps its downpour. It's not supposed to be dark yet, but the storm makes everything bleak and grey. 

And he's so afraid. 

It can't be you. It's not you. He's going to help whoever this person is and then he's going to find out that you never left home because your car didn't start. And you just couldn't contact him because of the lines. 

That is it. It isn't you. It can't be you. 

No, no, no, please God, no!

-*-

When you called Shanks because your car wouldn't start, Ace immediately offered to pick you up. Shanks looked at him with a sidelong glance, especially after the battery remark he made to you. As if an older man wasn't aware of toys. 

“Freaking kids think they know everything.” 

But then he agreed, simply because he had a lot of work to do on the property and picking you up would interfere with his plans. 

And the sight of you bending over the hood of your car in that little dress, leaving the lowest part of your butt cheeks exposed, almost gave him a heart attack. Damn, how could you be so cute without even trying? That was what made you even more alluring to him. He couldn't stop the flirty remarks from slipping out of his mouth and seeing you flustered was just the icing on the cake. 

That car almost hitting you had made his heart jump into his throat. What a freaking reckless driver. He barely noticed that he had pulled you into a tight hug, gripping you as if he were about to lose you. 

Except Ace, true to his nature, couldn't help but flirt with the girls who called for his attention. He thrived on attention, he knew that it was a terrible fault. 

One of many. 

And if at first he didn't realise why you had suddenly become so pissed at him and his behaviour, as soon as you snapped it hit him. And you were right. He gave those nicknames to girls because it was easier. He wouldn't get attached this way. He never meant to get attached. 

But you… 

Damn you were built differently. And he had to stop thinking about you like that. Because you deserved much better than a good-for-nothing man like him. 

-*-

He knows he can't go over the limit. He's a firefighter. He knows the risks and the roads are like butter. 

Yet he can't stop his foot from pressing on the accelerator. Even though he knows it can't be you. It really can't. 

You said you loved him. He needs to let you know he feels the same. 

It can't be you.

“Fuck!” He growls as his hand hits the steering wheel and his foot presses down further. 

As soon as his eyes spot the crashed car, his heart sinks and his breath catches in his throat. 

It's your car. 

-*-

The first time you exchanged messages he had the silliest grin pulling at his lips. You were actually responding to his flirts and, for some otherworldly reason, you apologised to him. 

He didn't really think you needed to apologise, but if you were being nice to him, he wasn't going to deny you anything. 

He craved to see you, to hear you, to touch you. 

You wouldn't believe how happily surprised he was when he saw you on your morning run. Obviously he had to tease you, taunt you into a little bet. 

Winning a kiss was a long shot. He made the pitch but didn't expect you to accept at all. When you did, he almost wanted to sprint so he could win right away. But he managed to keep his cool. 

Barely. 

When you tripped and Ace grabbed you, he felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was the way you smelled. Like some sort of flowers - from your shampoo, probably - and the natural tanginess of your sweat. It beckoned to him, leaving him breathless and dazed. 

It also didn't help that you were flush against him, your breasts heaving as your chest pressed against his. It filled his head with lewd thoughts and suddenly all he wanted was to have you squirming beneath him, panting for a whole different reason, sweating from ecstasy and not effort. 

It was a good thing you were distracted and didn't notice the hunger in his eyes, because he would have devoured you right there. 

When the time for the kiss neared and he had you pinned against the fence, his eyes darkened at the sight of your parted lips and the way you gasped slightly as he lifted your chin with two fingers. It took all the self-control he possessed to turn his face at the last possible second so that his kiss landed mostly on your cheek. 

His heart thumped like a drum against his chest and, for once, he was glad he listened to his brain instead of his urges. Otherwise it would have been very hard to stop at just a kiss. 

And he had to keep reminding himself that you were off-limits. That he couldn't treat you as a one-night stand. 

Even though he was starting to realise that you might be more than just a one-night stand. 

-*-

Ace has enough judgement to park the car on the side of the road with the blinkers on to prevent further accidents, yet he sprints out in a rush, completely ignoring Marco as he approaches you. 

The unending litany of ‘No, no, no, please God, no!’ keeps leaving his lips as if it were a prayer. 

As soon as his eyes meet your face, tears start to mingle with the heavy rain pouring down. Through the broken window he realises that the airbags have deployed and are now deflated and you are slumped over the steering wheel. Your face is covered in blood from a cut on your forehead and there are shards of glass on your arms. Your side of the car is crumpled from the impact and, as he tries the door, he finds that it's jammed. 

Worse, you're unconscious. 

His hand reaches in as he checks you and he almost freezes in place. You're not breathing. 

“I'm here, babe. I've got you. I've got you.” He murmurs the words to you and keeps repeating another set in his head:

No, no, no, please God, no!

-*-

Ace couldn't get you out of his head. He tried to distract himself with music, movies, even a book! Yet he kept thinking about your body close to his, your parted, panting lips and the way your eyes fluttered closed before he approached you. His body betrayed him and he kept thinking about the way your lips would feel against his, or how your skin would mould so well against his fingers. 

He needed to be with you. 

Even if it was just to see you, talk with you and spend time breathing the same air as you. He felt as if he was going crazy. He knew how desire felt, he had wanted other girls before - normally fulfilling that need quickly - but with you, he began to understand that it was deeper than just urges that needed to be met. 

So when you knocked on the fire station door, he was set on talking with you, opening himself up and listening to what you had to say. Create a friendship. A steady base to build trust upon. He could do that. He knew he was a good friend. 

He just wasn't expecting to see you looking like that when he opened the door. Thighs exposed, just a little, a cheeky grin on your lips and your smell, God, your smell. It had been years since he had been this nervous around a girl. 

You did something to him that he couldn't quite explain. 

Especially to his heart. Should he see Law at the clinic about it? It had been beating strangely for a while. 

Deuce behaved like an idiot, as usual, and insisted on seeing you, which made Ace jealous. Curious. He was not usually the jealous type. Mainly because he was never with a girl long enough to be jealous of her being around other guys, or because, even if she did, he wasn't interested enough to be jealous. 

Except with you… Damn… he felt a strange burning flame inside him roar to life. It was as if he wanted to keep you forever, to make you his. 

-*-

Ace runs to the passenger’s side of the car and tries the door, cursing loudly when it doesn't budge. Using his elbow and not caring one bit about getting cut, he shatters the glass, taking care to do it gently so as not to hit you with more shards. Reaching in with trembling hands, he unlocks the door and climbs inside. 

“I'm here love. I'm here. You're going to be fine. I'll get you out.” He keeps murmuring. 

His fireman training does not fail him as removes the seat belt and carefully manoeuvres you out of the car, gentle hands supporting your head and neck, trying to hurry, but doing everything in his power to be careful. 

“There, see, we're out. Come on baby. Breathe for me.”

He sets you down on the wet, muddy road and tilts your head back to clear your airways, his fingers pressing gently against your face. Your skin feels cold and clammy to the touch and his tears keep falling and mingling helplessly with the rain. 

No, no, no, please God, no!

“Breathe, baby!” He pinches your nose as he leans down and huffs two breaths into your unmoving lungs. 

Nothing. 

A ragged sob makes his shoulders heave before he places his hands against your chest and starts CPR. 

“You can't leave me now!” He whispers your name. “Fight!”

No, no, no, please God, no!

-*-

The day after your visit to the fire station had Ace walking on cloud nine. When he took girls to the station, it was not just for talking. Never just for that. 

Let alone speak about his worries and how he feels regarding his grandfather. Yet, with you, it felt natural, easy, nice. He wanted to get to know you and wanted you to get to know all of him. 

So he couldn't stop his silly grin from making his freckles dance. 

Not even when his grandfather asked him why he was behaving so foolishly. He kept raving about you, how you'd grown up, how interesting you were, how happy you made him feel. 

Garp was grinning and shaking his head by the end of lunch, calling him a lovesick fool, and it took him a while to realise that he might be becoming just that. Because he didn't remember feeling this way about any girl. Ever. 

Even Garp’s cleaning lady noticed the way he was acting when she was cleaning his room, a mocking smile on her face as she closed the curtains of his room, to keep the afternoon sun out, after finishing. 

He kept wanting to talk to you, but you took so long to answer his texts that he thought he had done something wrong. Again. When you finally reached out, he had to hear your voice. And he ended up talking with you until dinner time. Time flew when he was spending it with you. And he'd be damned if he wanted it to end. 

At the party he was very excited to see you. His heart kept thrumming against his chest as if he were some lovesick teenager and he had to ask Sanji to make him an extra strong drink because he was nervous to see you. 

As it turned out, you ended up drinking his drink and a whole bottle by yourself, as if you were trying hard to get wasted, only he didn't know why. But you looked wonderful in that tight red dress. More than wonderful, actually. You were breathtaking. And he had to keep telling his and Luffy's friends that you were off-limits.

Even to himself. 

He needed a constant reminder of that important fact as well. But it was damn hard to restrain himself once he took you away from the party to nurse your drunken self, and you sat on his lap and told him to kiss you. To have you. To fuck you. 

He didn't know how he managed to do it or where he found the strength or willpower, but he pushed you away from him. With his heart hammering, cock twitching and lips tingling to taste every inch of you. 

But not like this. 

He wanted to have you, he couldn't wait to hear your pretty voice moaning his name or how melodic your mewls and sighs would sound in the throes of pleasure. How you'd writhe and squirm under his touch or how you'd beg for him when he teased you. 

But you were drunk. It wasn’t okay. 

And after he put you to sleep and the party lulled and ended in the wee hours of the night, he returned to his room, having declined advances from many pretty girls, like he had been doing since you had crashed into his life unannounced but not at all unwanted. He watched your sleeping form for who knew how long, before his eyes grew drowsy and he fell asleep on the floor, close to you. Hearing you breathe, sensing your presence and smelling your scent. A scent you'd leave on his sheets for days that were bound to give him the best and most tortuous dreams of his life. 

How he wished he could wrap his arms around you. 

The harsh reality came crashing down - literally - on him in the morning and with you straddling him. Barely having a sense of what was going on, having just woken up, the first thing he realised was that you were squirming and grinding against his cock which was hard already because he couldn't quite discern if this was a dream or reality. 

Begging you to stop squirming and digging his fingers deep into the flesh of your hips grounded him. It was reality. And by heaven above, you on top of him, looking all flustered and dishevelled, as if you'd just ended a steamy makeout session, had him seeing white as he gripped you hard to avoid losing control and kissing you. You were so fucking perfect. 

And then you told him: ‘don't do that’, which he immediately thought that you were talking about the kiss that he wanted to give you, so he got up. Upset, frustrated and hit hard by the reality of the situation. 

You'd never think of him as more than a friend. You'd never trust him enough to realise you were special to him. 

More than just any girl. 

You were the girl. 

-*-

Ace keeps counting aloud, forcing the words out of his mouth to stay in control. Begging for his training to ground him, before he loses himself in agony and pain. 

“One, two, three…”

Two breaths of air straight into your lungs, another moment to see if your chest moves. 

Nothing. 

Desperation sinks in and makes his hands tremble. The cold rain is relentless against his skin and yours, turning everything bleak and sorrowful. 

“Baby, please, please! Breathe!”

He continues administering CPR, his own breath coming in short gasps as tears and ragged sobs make his shoulders heave and shake. 

“Come back to me…” He mutters to the wind, hoping that, wherever you are, his words can reach you.

-*-

Ace's day hadn't started well after that debacle, but that all changed when he saw you by the window, clad in nothing but a very small towel. You apologised for your behaviour over the phone and his heart sank further. 

As if it could be any more obvious that you did not want to be with him. You had the perfect excuse: alcohol. 

Yet, he could hardly be upset with you when you spoke in your sweet voice telling him you liked that he called you Firestarter. It made his stomach somersault and his heart skip a beat. So much so that he decided to make plans to meet at the Jubilee. Because he couldn't wait to see you again. 

He needed to be near you. That much he had made peace with. 

Now he just needed to prove that he could be good for you, that he could help you heal, and that you two could work as a couple. 

Easier said than done, really.

He had been selling calendars for a while at the Jubilee, making small talk with girls who approached the stand giggling, interacting with friends and acquaintances and even entertaining some kids who wanted to try on the fireman’s equipment. 

Yet, his peripheral vision had been on alert since dinner time - the time you told him you would come by - and, as soon as he spotted you, he grinned and told Luffy and his coworkers that he was going on his break.

The opportunity to show you how he felt about you presented itself earlier than expected. As he held you in his arms, faces inching closer together and his heart beating relentlessly, creating a savage rhythm against his chest, he knew his kiss would show you just how perfect you could be together.

Except the kiss never happened. And Ace wanted to kill Deuce for ruining a perfect moment. Because when you both settled down by the swings and he opened up his heart a little bit, you shut him down by repeating that you’re good friends and that your friendship was important, coldly and harshly reminding him that that’s all you’ll ever be.

Friends.

He was ready to call it a night and didn't want to bother you with his presence anymore because he was being a sourpuss. And it wasn’t your fault! If you were not ready to commit - or didn't want to commit to him - he needed to understand that. And fucking move on.

Yet even if he was done with the night, the night was not done with him, and duty called as he saved a girl from a falling stand. She thanked him, flirted with him, and even slipped him her number with an offer to buy him a drink. 

But you made such a ruckus that his eyes wandered to you and he found himself smiling and realising that if you just wanted to be friends, he was fine with it. He would much rather have that, than not have you at all.

So he politely declined the invitation for a drink by the beautiful lady - told her that they definitely should do that, but some other time - and sauntered over to your clumsy side, seeing you try and pick up the mess you made out of Makino’s jewellery stand.

Your playful banter was back on track and it was like your miscommunication issues had never really happened. He was fine with you just being friends. Perfectly fine. Even if he had to repeat it to himself over and over again. 

The matching bracelets were just a nice addition to your friendship, even if Makino was making it look like it was something more. And, to be truthful, he found your embarrassed smile and demeanour quite endearing and adorable. 

Until the beautiful girl from earlier approached with that drink offer again. 

And you bolted out of there as quickly as lightning, giving all sorts of mixed signals, because if you just wanted to be friends, why would you be saddened by him hanging out with another girl?

He saw your tears. 

And they troubled him.

-*-

Ace faintly hears the sirens of the fire truck approaching. The storm feeds a distant roar of noise to his eardrums, but the ringing from the shock and despair is what prevails above the noise.

He just wants to hear you breathing.

That’s the sound he wants - needs! - to hear the most. A gasp, a sigh, a cough… he’ll take anything! As long as you come back to him.

“One… two… three…”

Another two breaths of air to revive your lungs, more compressions, more prayers, more whispers, more tears…

He would give all of himself - everything! - if it got you to come back.

“Don’t leave me, love. Don’t leave me…”

-*-

Ace always enjoyed beach parties in the summer. Spirits were high, people were cheerful, and there was always more than one girl willing to go somewhere else with him. Somewhere away from the party where they could have fun.

This party, though, he expected to be different. 

He couldn't help but try his luck with you again. Maybe if he kept hanging around you, you could start to see him as more than just a friend. Heaven knew that you two shared the sexual tension of an uncut red wire in a spy movie: just ready to explode at any given moment. 

He knew he could be smooth, suave, and charm his way into your heart. Even if it took you a while, he was willing to wait. Now that he'd found you, he was not so willing to lose you.

But none of the smoothness of the universe, nor all the charm in the world, could have prepared him for the vision of loveliness that you provided. Lulled by the soft splashes of the waves and the echoing calls of gulls, you stood at the edge of the ocean, sunbathed and glowing as if you were something out of a myth. Your hair blew in the wind and your eyes were closed, keeping out all the chaos of the outside world and losing yourself inside your mind.

A silent tear escaped your closed eyelids and a soft smile plastered upon your lips. He would take this sight with him to the grave because he had never seen anything - or anyone - so perfect.

He almost felt out of place as he called your name, slowly waking you to the reality of the party and his company. But he felt entirely whole when you grabbed his hand and watched the sunset by his side.

You belonged together. He knew that. And he fought hard against the urge to pull you close.

The perfect moment ended too soon and the party continued. He kept being requested by friends, and girls and more friends and once he made his way back to you, he was already a bit tipsy and you seemed more than upset with him.

Plus, you didn’t even have the matching bracelet he bought you.

Not only was he jealous of Sanji and the smiles you shared with the blonde, but he was once again reminded that he meant nothing to you, as you slithered out of his embrace, albeit with a lot of rubbing and sinful looks, but not one single sympathetic glance his way. You were pissed.

At him.

And that was perfectly clear once he saw that bastard Lucci rubbing against you at the dance floor. Jealousy took over, and he decided to pay you back in kind, not knowing if you would really care, but he couldn’t sit still and watch another guy flirt with you.

It was driving him insane.

Obviously Nami knew all the right ways to rile people up, and soon enough he was kissing one of the girls at a game of truth or dare. She was annoying, clingy, had a shrill voice, smelled of tobacco and felt so wrong against him. But you were busy as Lucci was whispering into your ear, so he had to keep up the facade. 

Until he couldn’t any more. Because when Nami dared you to kiss Lucci and you acquiesced - oh, look at that, you actually had the bracelet, it was just him that wasn't good enough to touch you - the fire in his belly roared and ignited into a hellish flame and he couldn’t take it anymore.

So he left to vent. He didn’t even care if you went home with Lucci.

Liar. 

He cared, obviously. It would kill him and tear his heart into tiny, irreplaceable pieces. But he was just a friend to you. Right?

Maybe not, because you came after him, arguing as if you were two crossed lovers, seeing who could scream louder and who was pettier. Until he spoke aloud about the desire he felt to kiss you. And you dared him to.

Time stood still and there was only you and him. You in his arms and his lips on yours. Tongues swirling as hot kisses ignited the embers of passion. Fuck, he had never felt like this. You were consuming his very being and he wanted to burst into ashes and disappear into your kisses. 

This was perfect. You were perfect. You and him together were perfect.

And how he hoped nothing could ruin it. 

Until it did.

-*-

As soon as the fire truck stops, its sirens blaring, and lights casting reflections against the puddles on the floor, Luffy rushes to Ace’s side, his expression turning into pained surprise once he sees you breathless and looking quite frail in his brother’s arms.

“Ace!” He manages to sputter, a distressed wail escaping his lips.

“One… two… three…” Two breaths. Nothing. “Luffy! The EMTs?” He doesn’t stop. He never stops.

“They were right behind, they should be here any second… Ace…”

Luffy sets a hand on Ace’s shoulder and squeezes. But Ace doesn’t want to stop. He won’t give up on you. Not now, not ever! You were so hard to win over, he’s not a quitter! He will never quit on you. Ever!

“Come back, Firestarter. I need you…”

-*-

He was never a quitter, so he didn’t stop calling and texting you, trying to reach you after that disaster at the beach party. He didn’t want to be with any other girl. He just wanted you. Always you.

So he didn’t quit.

He called Shanks and asked about you, if you were alright, if you could call him back, but when Shanks told him that you didn’t want to speak with him and told him to go to hell, he faltered. He thought about quitting.

You were so pissed at him.

Would you even listen to what he wanted to say? He knew apologies wouldn’t cut it, but he had to try. He couldn’t bear the thought of you hating him, or shutting him out. Of never wanting to speak to him again, for how could he live without your voice, your smile, your laughter?

He’d had a taste of you. He was addicted. He would never give you up.

Going by Shanks’ house might not have been his brightest idea, but it was the best he could come up with since you didn’t want to talk to him and had been avoiding him all day. When Shanks told him you still didn’t want to see him, he saw red. How could he make it up to you?

To help with the racking guilt and despair, Shanks was also pissed at him for hurting his babygirl. Like he would ever do that willingly. It took Ace a while, but he managed to clear the facts with Shanks and to assure him that his intentions towards you were the most honourable ones. 

He loved you. And he told Shanks that. He told him he had never, ever, felt this way about a girl before and, after some coaxing, Shanks finally believed his words. He even said he would try to plead his case. 

Which was true, because after a few hours he called Ace saying you were stranded in the middle of nowhere and you needed a ride. Then he gave Ace a full speech on responsibility and treating his little girl right and a bunch of other stuff Ace didn’t really listen to.

All he knew was that he had his chance to apologise. To make it right. To win you over.

And he’d be damned if he let that go.

So you talked, he apologised, you heard him and asked questions and he could feel you softening to him and getting closer to him. He had his shot at you. He wouldn’t miss it. 

And he didn’t. The night was perfect, you were perfect and, once again, he was reminded that together you were perfect. You made him promise not to break your heart. Hell, he didn’t even think about that. He never wanted to let you away from his arms, from his lips or from his touch. Let alone drive you away for something random. 

He was yours and you were his, in the sense that he knew he couldn’t live without you by his side, nor did he want to spend a day without your voice, or your smile or hearing your breath. 

Eternity. That’s what he would like. An eternity with you.

Was it possible?

-*-

“No, no, no! This is impossible, it can’t be happening! Loof, where are the EMTs!?” Ace’s desperate voice is charged with agony and despair, rubbing it off on his brother who has kneeled down next to you and taken over chest compressions for Ace.

As if answering his own question, an ambulance screeches to a halt next to the fire truck, and two EMTs rush out, gear in hand, and make their way to your side. 

“Ace, she’s drenched. They can’t use the defibrillator like this. We need to move her inside the ambulance.”

“Fuck!” Ace curses, his frustration palpable as he continues performing CPR. He never stops, he can’t stop.

-*-

Your voice was so sweet beneath him, asking him not to stop, to go harder, to give you more, please, please, please.

Your mewls and pleas, your body writhing with passion and desire, your little gasps and beads of sweat glistening between your breasts.

God.

He couldn't get enough of you. You were so addictive.

He didn't want to let you go. Ever. 

-*-

The EMTs transfer you to a gurney with the help of Ace and Luffy and quickly move you inside the ambulance. Ace feels an icy chill, and he knows it’s not from the relentless pouring rain.

He’s scared. He’s terrified. 

He doesn’t want to lose you. He never wants to let you go.

-*-

Somehow the bliss that had surrounded you both fell apart quickly and Ace’s left to wonder what happened. You were having the sweetest of dates and the ending would promise so much more. He was ready to tell you he loved you.

He didn’t even care if it was too soon.

All he knew was that he was bursting at the seams with feelings of yearning, longing, passion, desire and so much love. He needed to tell you. Even if you didn’t feel the same yet. He was willing to wait.

He would move mountains for you.

You were worth the wait.

-*-

The wait seems endless. The EMTs are cleaning your chest as best as they can before applying the defibrillator. Seconds tick by relentlessly.

Realistically, Ace knows that he’s only been performing CPR on you for around five minutes before the EMTs arrived. He knows it seems like it was much longer, but it wasn’t. 

What he doesn’t know, however, is how long you stood without breathing in your wrecked car. And that can improve or impair your odds significantly.

And Ace, despite his name, has never had much luck with gambling.

-*-

He hated games of chance. Whatever he betted on, he always ended up losing more than he gained. And now he was so afraid that his loss would be the biggest one yet. And the hardest one to recover from. 

You needed time to process. 

The girl you spoke with planted the seeds of doubt deep in your mind and you were watering them with your thoughts and past traumas. Despite anything Ace told you, any demonstration of feelings, you were out of his reach for now.

Time to process.

What did that mean? Were you going to ghost him again? For how long? Could he endure it?

He could barely hold back tears as you climbed the steps to your porch and disappeared inside the house. How could he convince you that you were the one he wanted? No matter how many girls from his past came back claiming him?

None of them ever meant anything.

You were the one. 

The only one.

-*-

“Clear!”

Your chest heaves and your back arches as the jolt of electricity courses through you. Ace holds his breath the entire time. Silent tears framing his face, his freckles almost invisible against his pale skin. 

The EMTs carry on with the CPR and Ace climbs by your side, taking care to steer away from his colleagues, not wanting to hinder your rescue. 

His hand brushes your wet hair away from your face and he can’t help but notice how cold you feel. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers your name, jaw clenching, fighting back tears, holding onto hope as if it’s the only lifeline pulling him through the void of despair and uncertainty. 

“I love you.” He whispers into your hair. 

He can’t lose you.

It’s too much to bear and his heart's already breaking apart. He can almost hear it shattering: a fragile sound like crystal, delicate and sharp, splintering into countless irretrievable pieces.

He won’t give up.

Not now.

“You’re the one. The only one. You always have been.”

His words seem final but he isn’t resigned. He can’t live a life without you. It’s too much. Too painful, too meaningless. 

His eyes close, and a distressed wail escapes his lips as an eternal silence surrounds you both.

Until you gasp, inhaling a deep breath, your hands flailing as you blink, adjusting to the light and the sounds. Life breathing back into your lungs, you begin to feel the slow but unmistakable return of awareness, each breath bringing clarity to the fog of unconsciousness.

But you’re not alone.

Ace is there. Ace is with you. 

He will always be with you.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Time for the June Summary! And we've got some WILD results!

Lullah

For the first time EVER, Richarlyson has been dethroned!! Lullah won 11/60 polls, and tied in 2 more polls.

Lullah has been voted most likely to:

Love to sing when she's alone, but hate it when there's people around

Stay up way too late to watch the stars

Have a Hamilton phase

Make paper fortune tellers

Be obsessed with crafts to the point almost everything in their room is homemade

Try to go foraging for mushrooms

Make flower crowns for her siblings

Make Warrior Cats AMV's

Be a fiber artist

Host her birthday party at a "Paint Your Own Pottery" place

Win the talent show

Richarlyson

Despite being dethroned, I'm pretty sure that Richas will never be below top 3. Richas has won 12/60 polls this month, and tied for another one. Richas has been voted most likely to:

Put an object in his tooth gap

Be banned from the kitchen for causing a fire

WILLINGLY put his head in Freddy Fazbear's mouth

Be the first to jump into the pool

Not realise that straight people exist

Dye his sibling's hair in the middle of the night

Sneak out of bed to secretly watch whatever late night TV their parents have on

Be the goalkeeper in a football/soccer team

Eat his shed skins like a leopard gecko

Play dirty in Marco Polo

Play on Roblox

Sneak into the kitchen to eat butter straight from the butter dish

Dapper, Pepito & Sunny

With 7/60 polls won each (Well, technically Dapper won 6 and tied for one), Dapper has been voted most likely to:

Convince her siblings that he has magical powers

Collect trading cards

Perform a science experiment that forces the class to evacuate

Play scary games at a sleepover just to scare everyone

Tell their parent bedtime stories

Have strong opinions about classical music composers

Pepito has been voted most likely to:

Not recognize a parent after they got a haircut, and start crying because Pepito thinks they are a stranger

Get lost in an airport

Crawl into Pepito's parent's bed after a nightmare

Play on Club Penguin

Parallel play with a sibling by watching them play videogames

Accidentally trip on the graduation stage

Be tricked by Pepito's sibling giving Pepito an unplugged controller

Sunny has been voted most likely to:

Win a fashion contest

Cry crocodile tears

Have imaginary family members

Write exclusively in sparkly gel pens

Have a new playground boyfriend/girlfriend every day

Be a picky eater

Host a sleepover

Chayanne

With 5/60 polls won, Chayanne has been voted most likely to:

Be really into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Be super into greek mythology

Be a natural leader in a Lord Of The Flies -like story

Jump on the stage of a talent show to help a sibling with stage fright

Get really competitive at the Splat-A-Lot course

Ramón & Pomme

With 3/60 polls won each, Ramón has been voted most likely to:

Make dioramas

Eat instant ramen at LEAST twice a day

Start a stick blacksmith shop

Pomme has been voted most likey to:

Be at the library every day if she could

Offer free face painting of pride flags at a pride event

Go all out for pride month

Leonarda & Empanada

With 1/60 polls won, and tied for 1 more, Leo has been voted most likely to:

Play on Neopets

Empanada has been voted most likely to:

Embroider in her spare time

Chunsik

With 1/60 polls won, Chunsik has been voted most likely to:

Step outside for 10 minutes and somehow get sunburnt

Now, onto the ties!

Lullah & Empanada

have tied for being most likely to have a sticker journal!

Lullah & Leonarda

Have tied for being most likely to play on Animal Jam!

Dapper & Richarlyson

Have tied for being most likely to try to scare their sibling while they're playing a horror game!

I'll see you all next month! o/

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ii

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

During his morning meditation on the mountain side, Anakin faces a new enemy

part one | part three

a choose your own outcome story !

weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter !

hope you enjoy ! 💌

Cliffs

Anakin didn’t like very many people.

Not since forming a close bond with Obi Wan, and certainly not since falling in love with Padme.

The idea of love never even crossed his mind in the last few years living out his existence on this planet. Monotony, and isolation compounded all of that for him. It was no longer on his radar.

Wherever he ended up in life, he didn’t feel it necessary to speak to anyone, let alone form a friendship with them if he absolutely didn’t have to.

He kept his head down. Stayed quiet. Tended to his field everyday. Watched as his crops and trees took on shape and beauty. That was something he could relate to - hard work, and discipline. Doing his best, and making sure that he was absolutely ‘better’ than everyone.

they don’t know what I’m capable of…

But when his neighbor moved in on the plot of land next to his, everything started to change. A man who once lost his sense of humanity, started to become whole again. 

Her smile did that for him.

And the sound of her voice alone, seemed to have made things the slightest bit better again.

So, when she told him of her troubles the day before involving that lowly fisherman, he got angry. Even more so when he heard more about this from the villagers in town.

It took everything in him just to speak with the modest shopkeepers, and the elders. Going against staying silent in order just to help her.

what do you know about him?

he’s a defector! a scoundrel!

fled fighting in the war?

I don’t know where from, but yes. took off during the clone wars.

how did he end up here?

bar fight, ended badly.

what do you mean?

stole from someone, then killed them. had a bounty on his head but escaped, somehow ended up here.

he won’t be here for long…

we’re good people, lars, none of us asked for thieves and criminals to infiltrate our home…

If only they knew…

As he begins to feel one with all of his thoughts, a light breeze begins to pass through all of the trees behind him. The sweet melodic song birds, delivering their peace to all of the mountainside. Everything is green here. The water, freshest just from falling. All that was once jagged is now made smooth again; the river, freely flowing over all of the stones and rock.

It reminds him of a time when everything made more sense. At least, that is what he settles with during his daily meditation. Breathing like this with his eyes closed makes him feel as though he has some sort of purpose, a reminder that, yes, perhaps I can in fact be whole again. 

But, it’s this one fight that’s been holding him back from all of it.

A kind face, that no matter how hard he tries, can never be forgotten.

Frankly, it’s become somewhat of an annoyance…

A beautiful, and persistent, growing sort of distraction…

you’re nice to me.

I try.

“Ha! Would you get a load of this! Tough guy seems to be one with nature! I know what you really are!”

there he is, perfect timing. 

“And what’s that? I’m just dying for you to tell me…”

With his eyes closed, Anakin smirks, where instinctually he feels the vagrant in question pacing back and forth behind him. 

his steps make the grass fold.

a few twigs have snapped.

“You’re soft! Defending some disgusting woman! What’d you think I wouldn’t hear about where you are?”

“That was my plan all along, not my fault you fell for it.”

there goes a splash into the water.

an echo of a floating basket behind him.

Anakin stands, turning to see what the sound was, only to find broken stems, and dirt, clouding the bottom of a nearby waterfall.

Rose petals. Scattered thorns...

Sunflowers, and broken glass jars.

Stolen garden tools.

Homemade favors, and jam, wrapped in woven cloth of all colors, strewn about the neighboring rocks. 

“You’re nothing, Lars, just like the rest of us! Who knows if that’s even who you really are!”

He smirks, all while lifting the palm of his hand, and controlling the air around them. Watching as his newfound enemy begins to choke on his own breath.

“Perhaps it is best that you address me from the floor.”

Anakin circles him, all while tightening his grip around his neck through the force.

“I was…right…you are…”

With a sharp and instant motion, all at once, he slams him toward the ground.

“Enough.”

Then, he continues with his onslaught.

“It seems you know exactly who I am, and what I’ve done. So the rest is only inevitable…”

His enemy’s eyes are ruthless, but there is only silence. A quiet he can not withhold.

“You’ve led a kind woman into great distress. Destroying her livelihood. And for what? Because she denied you?”

Anakin backhands him, a hardened blow to the face that manages to break the force’s hold.

“Coward.”

He then lands a strengthened kick to his stomach, before stepping on his throat.

Through the grit of teeth, the fisherman snarls.

“You’re…no General…”

“How would you know? You never fought in my war.”

he’s been spreading falsehoods about me and my family throughout the village…

“All you’ve done is harass an innocent girl. Do you take pride in that? What makes you so miserable?”

Releasing his boot, Anakin slowly walks toward the wildflowers. For a second he thinks about collecting some of them when he’s done here. And…the possibility of how they would look on her, worn as a pretty crown.

“She’s nothing but a whore!”

With his back turned, so viciously, he smiles.

“So unfortunate…”

As the nameless vagrant begins to rise to his feet, the entire mountain begins to rumble, causing him to stumble and fall.

“...that now you will be no more than a pile of dust.”

With a menacing crack, Anakin’s wrath lays claim to all of the Earth, forcing his enemy over the ridge ahead of him; listening to his screams ring out from the shattered edges of the cliffs.

what have I done?

why should I feel remorse?

I did nothing wrong...

he deserved it...

“He won’t be a problem anymore.” 

The words come easily, but they are only above a whisper now.

Everything is strangely quiet, where the trees no longer move.

It reminds him of the calm that happens right before a powerful storm.

Except, the carnage has already happened…

And he feels all the more alone.

… ❤️

thanks so much for reading & sharing this story ! I hope you are enjoying the choose your own outcome polls. it has definitely been a lot of fun getting to write these short scenes. sometimes I don't even know what will happen next until I am actually writing them ! I would love to know what you think. 💌😊 xo A

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Happy WIP Wednesday, lovelies! Cassian's POV won my little poll, so please enjoy this snippet of the next chapter of When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower 😌 I'm hoping to have it finished to post this weekend but it's sort of run away from me a bit (already over 3k words and I still have the smut to write)

“Who knew you could actually clean up so well,” Nesta comments, raising her gaze back to his own.

“I even bathed and everything,” Cassian offers back. He doesn’t bother biting back the smirk that tugs up his lips, making a big show of sketching into a dramatic bow. “Just for you, princess.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at the gesture, the reaction sparking a flame in Cassian’s chest. “Cute.”

“I thought you’d appreciate that, looking down from your little witchy, Archeron throne.”

“Fuck you,” Nesta snaps, stepping forward until they’re toe to toe, until she has to tilt her chin higher to hold eye contact with him.

Her lips curl back in a snarl, a fire of her own beginning to blaze through her eyes like a stormy, churning sea. He can see her magic beginning to creep into the corners, wisps of silver swirling like tendrils. Can see the way her pulse has started to jump like a raging beat just beneath her skin. It has that fire flickering in Cassian’s own veins roaring higher, rising to meet her.

Witches, including the Archerons, are always so prim, so proper. So boring and pretentious. Cassian wonders how far he can push her now, how much he can tug on those fraying edges on display now until she’s fully unraveling before him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cassian drawls easily. “It’s me that will be fucking you soon. Wife.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Nesta seethes, jamming a finger into the center of his chest. “I know this marriage is a sham. You know this marriage is a sham. We’re both doing this out of duty and nothing more, so there’s no use pretending otherwise.”

“Don’t worry. There's no pretending here. I know exactly how you witches feel about wolves.”

“Is that so?”

“And I can assure you,” Cassian continues, leaning in until he and Nesta are practically face to face. “The feeling is mutual.”

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 29 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2563 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

✦ summary: After reuniting with her friends, Nore is compelled to confront the conflicting feelings she still harbors for James.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle

✦ a/n: Hello! I've talked about this previously on my blog, but as we're headed into the last stretch of the story, I would like everyone to know: while the next few chapters are gonna dive into James and Nore's feelings a bit more, Dave will be back! His story with Nore isn't over yet. Also, we'll have an epilogue that is still on the works. I've wrapped up the main part of the story and I'm hosting a poll to see if you guys prefer I keep posting new chapters once a week or if you're up for me posting them twice a week. If anyone wants to vote, here's the link. Hope you enjoyed the read, any feedback is welcome! 🖤

✧ There's something hanging in the air, I won't say shit 'cause I'm too scared / I'll just pretend we're two lovers not destroying each other / And you don't want me to go, and I just can't say no ✧

I met with Cliff and the guys at Los Angeles airport a few days later. I have to admit, the idea of reuniting with my friends after all those weeks left me a bit on edge, and not fully in a good way. However, catching up with Cliff and Leanne, and then with Kirk and Lars, did ease some of that tension. On the flip side, seeing Pat and James hanging out together didn't really help my state of mind. I couldn't help but wonder how, in just two months, they had become so close that she got an invitation to join the tour. Then it hit me with a pang in my heart that I hadn't needed much more than that to fall completely in love with Dave after meeting him.

I didn't really chat it up much with James. Seeing him with Pat kinda brought back all the wounds from that rainy weekend a few months back. But, he did give me a hug the moment he spotted me, holding onto me for maybe a beat longer than needed before whispering, his lips right by my ear:

"Missed you so much."

Hearing that sure didn't make things easier.

Seeing the guys all pumped up about the trip gave my mood a little boost. None of them, except Lars and me, had done the whole international travel thing before. The flight to Amsterdam was gonna be a marathon, so I had plenty of time to catch up with Leanne, who picked the seat next to mine. We mainly talked about everything that had happened in San Francisco during my absence; Leanne didn't ask much about me, which I was genuinely thankful for. It was nice having her around, but I wasn't really up for diving into how the last few months had been a rough ride. We kept the chatter going deep into the night until fatigue finally caught up with us, and we crashed.

We rolled into Amsterdam about twelve hours later, and man, we were wiped. Headed straight to the hotel, and lucky for us, the producers only snagged double rooms. Since we had an odd number and sharing a bed with Kirk or Lars wasn't my jam, I lucked out with a double bed all to myself. Honestly, better than I thought it'd be.

When night crept in, the guys and Leanne hit the town for some drinks and city exploring. Pat and I, though, opted for a chill night in, catching a few movies on the TV. Not that I wasn't up for hitting the streets, but all the hours spent on the plane did a number on me, more than I expected. Pat called it a night and went back to her room early, but I left the TV humming in the background, not really paying much attention to what was on.

It was well past midnight when I heard some heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. My curiosity kicked in as a few deliberate knocks hit my door, and I pondered for a moment, debating whether I should bother answering. But the knocks persisted, and my curiosity won out. With a sigh, I rose from my spot and opened the door. My heart quickened when I found James leaning casually against the door frame.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his voice betrayed a touch of uncertainty. I sighed, feeling warmth spread across my face. Having him so close made my heart flutter in a way I hadn't experienced in a while.

"This isn't your room," I mumbled, stupidly, my ability to think straight suddenly on vacation. He chuckled softly, a quick, dry laugh.

"If you hadn't said anything, I would never have guessed. Can I come in or not?"

I hesitated but eventually stepped aside, letting him in and closing the door. He stretched, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it on my bed before settling down, kicking off his shoes. I furrowed my brow.

"You should head back to your room. Pat's probably waiting for you."

"She can wait," he said, finishing up with his shoes and pulling out a hair tie from his pocket, using it to secure his hair into a ponytail. Oddly, the sight made him even more attractive. I couldn't help but wonder if the hair tie belonged to Pat, who would often wear her hair tied up, and if he was picking up some habits from his new girlfriend. He stood up, seeming totally oblivious to my thoughts, and casually opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a Coke and popping it open. Then, he lifted his serious blue eyes to me. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" I questioned, feeling my face warm up and my heart race, a million butterflies in my stomach going wild at his words. He sighed, a faint bitter smile playing on his lips.

"I missed you," he said, his voice low. "Last time we met, everything went south. I thought you hated me. Yet, when I saw you today, Nore..."

"James, please stop," I murmured, my voice trembling. He furrowed his brow, looking away, seeming hurt by my words, and I felt my heart squeeze uncomfortably in my chest. "You shouldn't be saying that."

"Oh, really?" He stood up, placing the can he was holding on the table before coming closer. I took a step back, feeling my face burn as I caught the storm brewing in his blue eyes. "And why’s that?"

"You have a girlfriend, don’t you?" I questioned, my voice holding accusation and hurt. "You brought your fucking girlfriend, so maybe you should just head back to her..."

"You make it sound so simple," he growled, taking another step closer, prompting me to lift my head to meet his gaze.

"And isn’t it?" I shot back, my tone bitter. "How aren't you ashamed of this?"

"Ashamed of what? Of bringing the girl I started dating to try forgetting about you?" he scoffed, clearly pissed now. "Tell me, Nore, what was I supposed to do? Just watch you reject me, again, and again, and again, and then act like you loved me just to mess with my head?"

"This isn’t fair to her!" I blurted out, all worked up, my voice getting louder. "This isn’t fair to me!"

"And what about me? Is it fair what you're pulling on me?"

"I don't get why you thought bringing her along was a genius move..."

"It didn't have to be genius. When you bailed on LA, I called you for days. You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me."

"You're such a jerk!" I spat out, my irritation cranking my voice up more than would be okay for past midnight, but honestly, I'd stopped caring about that ages ago.

James growled, getting suddenly closer, gripping my waist with one hand and pulling me against his body, forcing me to look deep into his eyes as he pressed his forehead against mine, his breathing erratic. His other hand cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip. All the anger I had seemed to spill over at that moment; I wanted to punch him, to kick him out, to yell I never wanted to see him again, but I couldn't. Not when his lips were inches away from mine, his blue eyes locking onto mine with a fiery passion that made my whole body warm and vibrate inside.

"You fucking love me," he murmured, a smug smile slowly creeping across his lips. "Things would be so much easier if you just admitted it."

"Shut up, James," I growled, my heart doing a sprint in my chest, blood pulsing with fury in my ears, my hands clutching the front of his shirt and yanking him towards me. I needed him to split; I didn't know how much longer I could trust my anger to hold back the temptation of surrendering to his arms.

"Tell me you don't love me, then," he said, throwing in a sarcastic laugh. "Say you don't love me, and I’ll forget all this and leave you alone. You can't, can you? Because you fucking love me, damn it," His words buzzed with almost unrestrained joy, his grip on my waist tightening enough for me to let out a muffled moan from between my lips. Damn, I wanted him to kiss me. For the first time since all that mess had started, I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, to make me forget my own name.

"Leave," I shot back, the defiance in my voice wavering as I sensed his body against mine. He let out a low chuckle but stepped back, his eyes ablaze, a smug smile on his face. I rested one of my hands on my chest, feeling my heart thudding against my fingertips, and noticed I was shaking. Gripping the doorknob with my other hand, I turned it but hesitated to open the door. "Just... Go, James. Please," I whispered, the adrenaline of the moment wearing off, and the old pain flooding back to fill my chest as my eyes welled up with tears.

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

James seemed to catch onto my shift in mood, the triumph in his eyes giving way to pity when he noticed my tears building up. That sparked a rage in my chest; I didn't need his pity. I didn't need anyone's pity.

He made a move to come closer, but I just shook my head, turning away as I opened the door. After he left, I leaned against the closed door, letting myself slide down to sit on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling more alone, confused, and guilty than ever.

I woke up the next morning, feeling like I hadn't caught a wink of sleep. I groaned my way out of bed, pausing only to wash my face, brush my teeth, and swap outfits before heading down to the hotel's restaurant. There, I spotted Kirk, Lars, Cliff and Leanne already posted up at a table, digging into breakfast. I snagged a plate and plopped down next to Lars.

“After breakfast, we'll pack our bags and grab a shower. We're hitting the road after the show for the next city, so tonight, we’re all gonna be sleeping on the bus,” Cliff was laying out the plan when I rolled in.

“Great. Even crashing on a bus is cozier than sharing a bed with Lars,” Kirk griped, ignoring Lars' offended expression before shooting me a grin. “Hey, Nore, fancy bunking with me next time?”

"As if," I scoffed, and Lars burst into laughter.

"Hey, where's James?" Kirk asked, and I shrugged. Leanne bounced up to snag a hot cup of coffee, and Cliff sparked up a cigarette.

"Bet he's sleeping with Pat. Ever since they got together, she's been glued to him," Lars remarked, not looking too thrilled. Cliff snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Jealous, Lars?" I jokingly tossed the question while slathering butter on a piece of toast. He shot me a look, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

"Hmm, not me. Can't say the same for you, though, huh?" His ironic smile lingered. I let out a frustrated huff, rolling my eyes, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. Okay, maybe I walked right into that one.

A few minutes later, James and Pat finally strolled in. James, much like me, seemed to have had a rough night, evident in the dark circles under his tired blue eyes. On the flip side, Pat appeared to be the poster child for joy, easy smiles appearing on her lips as she talked to James, occasionally hugging his arm or intertwining her fingers with his. It was like she exuded confidence, as if she knew this was exactly where she belonged. Kind of got on my nerves, but I wasn't ready to dig into why.

The hustle for the show kicked off right after breakfast. We only had a short break to change and pack before heading back to the hotel lobby. A producer-arranged bus was set to pick us up, transporting everyone to a studio for the guys to rehearse the setlist during the day, and later to the venue for the shows. This leg of the journey got us all pumped. It wasn't just the band's inaugural international gig; we were also looking forward to meeting Venom and, naturally, enjoying some complimentary drinks. I must admit, even I was feeling a twinge of excitement and anxiety about the upcoming events.

I sparked up a cigarette while we hung out in front of the hotel, checking out the guys in action. They were teamed up with a couple of roadies, hauling gear that had been lugged up to the rooms the day before. Leanne strolled over.

"Got a light?" she asked, flashing a grin. I nodded, fished out my lighter, and passed it her way. She sparked up her cigarette, taking a few drags till it glowed. "Can I ask you something, Nore?"

"Sure thing, Lea," I replied, all curious. She shot me a look, her usual relaxed vibe getting a bit serious. Her eyes narrowed, like she was attempting to peek into my brain. "Spill it, what's on your mind?"

"How's it all sitting with you? You know, this whole James situation?" she asked, making me feel like there was a spotlight on me. 

"James? What do you mean?" I stammered, feeling the heat hit my face. She let out a soft chuckle at my reaction.

"I'm seriously wondering how she hasn't picked up on it yet." Leanne nodded toward Pat; she was holding James’ hand and talking to Lars, who seemed bored out of his mind, like he'd rather be doing anything else. "The way he looks at you. And the way you look at him."

"What are you getting at?" I whispered, my heart doing a somersault of sorts in my chest.

"You're into him, right? And it's crystal he's into you. Maybe you two should ditch the pride act and just… Allow yourselves to be happy."

"But Pat likes him too," I mumbled, letting a touch of annoyance creep into my voice. And I still don't know if I can allow myself to like anyone again.

"Honestly? I think she's crushing harder on James Hetfield, the Metallica frontman, than our James," she said with a chuckle. "Babe, you and James always clicked so easy. You seriously gonna let that slip away like this?"

I was kind of stumped for a response; right then, the bus rolled up, stealing everyone's focus. Lea crushed her cigarette and shot me a smile, then sauntered over to Cliff, offering a hand with carrying an amp. I took a minute to soak in the sight before joining them, attempting to shove aside the tornado of feelings Leanne's words had kicked up in me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9

[iboatedhere]

Thank you @jmagnabo92 @suseagull04 @lemonlyman-dotcom @liminalmemories21 @fullsunsets @cha-melodius for the tags ♥️

A little bit from my neighbor AU.

—

“I should’ve known you’ve been here before. Why would I think you haven’t been?”

“It’s all right,” Henry says as he pulls another book off the shelf. “I always enjoy stopping by.” He turns to Alex with a smile that Alex is slow to look away from.

They’ve hung out a few times since they finally introduced themselves.

Alex came home late from work a few weeks afterwards with take out and saw Henry’s light on. They shared a meal together, sitting on Henry’s living room floor in front of the TV, watching The Food Network.

It was nice to focus on something other than CNN or MSNBC and poll numbers or some bullshit manufactured controversy about Rafael Luna smoking pot in college.

A few weeks after that, the power went out during a wind storm and Henry knocked on his door with a box of Cornettos, sent from a friend in London. He said he’d rather die than let them melt so he and Alex split the box before Alex sent him into a defensive frenzy when he said that Drumsticks are basically the same thing.

This is the first time they’re hanging out on purpose, where Alex set aside a block of time in his jam-packed schedule to walk around the National Mall with Henry and David.

They saw the cherry blossoms in bloom around the Tidal Basin and toured the monuments, where Henry stopped to read every inscription and Alex stopped to admire Henry.

“I’m sorry,” Henry apologized in front of the statues of Fala and FDR. “I know I’m slow.”

“I like it,” Alex had said and Henry had raised his brows. “I mean I like that you want to know more about this stuff. Our history definitely isn’t pretty but I think it’s still important.”

“Important enough to be cast in bronze,” Henry said as he nodded toward the statue of Roosevelt’s Scottish Terrier.

“You know Fala is the only presidential pet to be honored like this. He loved Roosevelt and Roosevelt loved him. They’re practically buried right next to each other.”

“That’s nice,” Henry said softly, “and I’m afraid if I think too long about it I’ll start to cry so perhaps we should keep moving.”

Alex was charmed and he thought the best place to end their day was at The Lantern, a rare and used bookshop just down the street from their place.

He thought it was his chance to charm Henry by appealing to his interests as both a writer and a reader. That he’d be taken by the shop's homey atmosphere. He thought he could show Henry something new.

But now David is being held like a baby by one of the clerks up front and Henry is picking through the shelves with a familiarity that makes it seem like he stocked them himself.

—

I did have a little cry over Fala while I was at work today.

Tagging: Tagging: @cricketnationrise @magicandarchery @porcelainmortal @inexplicablymine @accol-fics @oxfordslutphase @anincompletelist @youcancallmekathyp @sunshinestrand

[tmntxthings]

∑一Heart to Heart Pt. 2。・゜・

author’s note: it was a close race in the polls but here we are ladies and gents! the sequel :D it has been awhile so i suggest rereading the first part if anyone’s confused, alsoooo i feel like this chapter is kinda all over the place but we posting it anywayssss here’s to hoping y’all enjoy xD

warnings: impending angst, multiple povs, fluff, female reader, cloaking brooch au, unedited, cursing

previous - next?

—————————————————————————

Previously. . .

“Now give me back my cloaking brooch!! NOW!!” Missiles were firing as Leo finally undid the necklace. It was a miracle he could do so while in a full on sprint. His true form shifted back into view and Leo clenched the chain in his left fist as he pulled out an odachi with his right, slashing for a portal and shooting a wink at his enraged twin. “Buhbyeee~~” he cackled. Watching as everyone lunged for the portal. He wondered how the turtle pile felt without him as they all fell short to the pavement.

One week and a few days had passed by since then. You had almost forgotten about the encounter entirely. Though dark green eyes like those were hard to dismiss completely from your thoughts. It was your day off, Saturday, and you had plans. These plans had been months in the making. College was hectic, so getting a volleyball intramural team together was pretty tough. Everyone had different class schedules. Everyone worked whether it was internships or part-times. This was one of the first games of the season! It was imperative that all of your teammates showed up. Everyone had said they would. But they said the same thing for all the practices too. And let’s just say there was never a full attendance during any of those.

Your hopes were high despite what the past indicated. You were optimistic! It was two hours ‘til the game and you were out on a quick trip to a sports store. In your experience as captain for the past two years, one thing remained the same. Someone always, always forgot their knee pads. Literally the only thing they needed to remember. It was kind of ridiculous so you made sure to keep a spare. That was one of the reasons you were going, another was because your pair was getting a bit tattered. They had lasted through the practices but with the first game of the season coming up, you rather just get a new set while you were buying the spare anyways. Two birds, one stone.

Keeping your pace as a quickened step, you got off the bus and made your way down the street. It wasn’t that far of a walk, New York was jam-packed with stores. And rats. You thought as one scurried in front of you. Holding back a scream, you continued on your journey. The mental clock in your head ticking as you finally reached your destination. The sliding doors whisked open for you, the cool air from the a/c immediately making your shoulders relax. “Alright, knee pads, knee pads..” you muttered to yourself. Most all-inclusive sport stores had a very small section for volleyball. It just wasn’t as popular. Football/soccer? Rows upon rows. Basketball? Baseball? Same thing. Little space was left for the rest of the odds balls. Including in your humble opinion, volleyball, golf, swimming, rugby, and ping pong! You knew this store well enough so you went for the quickest route. Straight through the four basketball isles and then—

You sped-walked right into someone. With a resounding smack as your nose collided into a chest. “Ow, shitttt! I’m sorry!” You apologized, super embarrassed and already trying to escape the situation. Just get the damn knee pads and get the fuck out! “That’s alright, are you okay? Sounded like you took the brunt of it!” Now you had only sidestepped to move out of the way. So when you heard his voice it was one that you faintly recognized. Which led to you lifting your head, turning it to the side and meeting those deep green eyes. “It’s you!” You stated in shock, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Ahhhh lookie here is this fate or what!”

Two rows deep in the basketball area, the bus stranger you had practically forgotten was here! “Something like that I guess,” you couldn’t help but agree. Out of all the stores in New York. Out of all the people and just the sheer luck of timing!? “Looking for more Hamato gear?” You questioned though you weren’t planning on sticking around for the answer. You didn’t have the time! Though the encounter was neat you had plans and the captain could not be late. “You remembered my favorite too? Have I been occupying your mind?” He sounded like he was following you with a smug expression. You kept your back to him, making your way out of the basketball section and into the small row for volleyball. “Hardly! I just have good memory,”

“Uh huh,” he hummed. Then he was walking right beside you. Stopping when you stopped as you gave him an inquisitive look. “Well I too seem to remember that night and some sort of a deal?? That pertained to..” he pointed a finger out to the sign that hung above them. ‘Volleyball’ That was right, you had said something along the lines of playing a match with him. “I don’t even know your name!” You started with your first excuse. “Easy, Leo’s the name, and you?” You shook your head. Walking ahead to the knee pads and looking at the sizes as you replied. “Pretty,” he said smoothly, continuing by your side and picking out a pair of knee pads. “Ah, look, todays not a good day I’ve-“

Your second excuse was interrupted by a vibration in your pocket. You grabbed for it, answering on the third ring. “Hello?” The phone call was one that you were hoping not to receive. One of your teammates canceling, and apologizing profusely. “It’s alright, thanks for letting me know,” you sighed. It seemed they weren’t feeling good, something about a headache or a stomach ache? You had tuned most of it out because you were watching as the bus stranger kicked off his shoes. He was trying to pull up the knee pads he selected but they were wayyy too small for him. The phone call ended and you couldn’t stop your laugh. “Too small dude,” and you handed him a larger size for him to try. The pair had hardly went up his calves.

“Thanks!” He smiled as he traded you. You put the small pair back on the shelf. Then it struck you. “So as you were saying? Todays..?” You cleared your throat as you kept staring at the pads. “Todays actually perfect, I’m down one player so if you’re free-“ he cut you off excitedly, “Heck yes!!! I’m totally free!! So this is like an official match?!?” He wanted all the details and he forgot all about pulling up the knee pads. You told him about intramurals, how it was a official game, one of the first this season. He was practically buzzing! You grabbed another pair for yourself and headed for the checkout. “But we gotta head there like now if we wanna be on time!” Leo had quickly shucked the pads off, put his shoes back on, and was bounding after you. “Can’t be late to my first game ever!!” He beamed and easily passed you, grabbing your free hand and tugging you along.

He let go once the two of you had reached the registers. He sure was forward, or maybe he was just easygoing? Both of you paid for your gear and then you were back out on the sweltering sidewalks. “Thank god this sport is inside,” Leo spoke up, swinging his bag that contained his purchase to and fro. “Yeah, the college gym has a pretty big facility. They have four courts altogether so we’ll have plenty of room!” The bus ride to said gym was filled with questions. He wanted to know the positions. Which position would he be playing? Who was the enemy team and were they any good? Among many other questions…

[🐢 Leo’s pov.💙 ]

Talk about coincidence! Now this was.. what his sixth time sneaking out with the cloaking chain? Yeah we’ll go with sixth, because honestly he lost count after the second time. Leo had convinced Donnie he had lost the cloaking device, and the purple brother had almost drilled him. Thankfully Raph didn’t condone murder so he was safe for now. Probably until Donnie finally figured out that the cloaking chain wasn’t lost and that it was in fact around Leo’s neck right now as he stretched out around a bunch of other college students. You had introduced him quite quickly before telling everyone to start warmups. Yeah. Donnie would probably choke him with said chain. Oh well, Leo planned on never being found out!

That lasted all but two days if you wanted to count the fact that Mikey knew… BUT he was swore to secrecy. Anddddd Leo was also sharing the chain with him when he wasn’t using it. So there! Anywayyys Leo was chatting it up with his fellow teammates, practicing bumping the ball among other volleyball techniques that he didn’t know the name of. All he knew was that he was good. Damn good. Because everyone caught oohing and ahhing which in turn inflated his ego so much that he could probably float all the way back to the lair later. But the compliments that mattered most came from her. From you. Because as he watched everyone else practice he could tell you were better than them all. Now it was Leo’s first day and all, but he liked to think he was right behind you skill wise.

That may just be his inflated ego talking though. Insert metaphorical shrug here. Now Leo would loveee to go into detail about the game. But let’s just say they won. He won. And sure he got a volleyball to the face more than once, but that didn’t matter! Nope a win is a win in his book. The rest of the team dispersed after celebrating, talks about the next game and when the next practice was. Leo had the dates in his mental calendar. He was totally on the team now. “Hey thanks for filling in!! You were great out there!” Ending your sentence with a smile. Leo beamed back, “No problemo, I’ll be your fill-in anytime!” Giving you a smirk and a quick wink.

Leo watched as you shook your head, completely unfazed by his antics by now. He had upped his game during the actual volleyball game. Once the team had a pretty big lead he had quite blatantly flirted with you. Who could blame him?! You looked absolutely divine with your hair up. Cheeks flushed from doing your best during the game. “I told you they didn’t quit! This was just a one time thing!” Rightttt, Leo wasn’t actually on the team. Though he felt like he fitted right in! Leo made a face, pouting, “So what happens when someone else bails hmmm?” You chose to ignore him, pulling down your knee pads to your ankles. Leo took this opportunity to creep forward silently, and when your frame moved to upright itself he watched as you jolted backwards. He closed the distance again, “C’monnn Captain, you know I’m the best player you got!! My skills slayed on the court, add me to the team! Please? Pretty please??”

Leo wasn’t above begging. And he kept up the charade until he watched your eye twitch, then you blew out a long winded breath before holding out your hand reluctantly. “Alright gimme your-“

Of course Leo wouldn’t let you finish! He grabbed your hand shaking it vigorously whilst saying you wouldn’t regret your decision. And thanking you in abundance. Then going a step further, pulling the hand he held to him, smiling brightly as you stumbled forward into him. Squeezing you into a hug and picking you up off the ground to swiftly twirl you with limitless excitement. “Woah, WOAH! Hold up- Wait- LEO!” He released you seconds later smiling sheepishly. “I was asking for your phone you dummy!!” Your face was a darker flush than before, hand still outstretched for his phone but you were no longer looking at him. Cute. Were you embarrassed? Leo thought so. Hehe. Cute. You were absolutely adorable.

“Ohhhh rightttt my number huh? Couldn’t wait?” He teased further. Enjoying himself throughly as you turned a shade darker. “I swear to god I’ll change my mind rig-“ Leo was quick to place his phone in your hand. Still smiling more to himself but decided he wouldn’t push his luck any further. The game has definitely brought the two of you closer. The whole team had to work together but with Leo’s skill level almost to yours, the two of you played really well with one another. It had bolstered his pride and confidence, making him a bit more insufferable than usual. “Here,” you handed him back his phone. He checked the screen, noting your contact was added with a volleyball emoji. He’d have to change that later. It was fitting but maybe something more blue?

“So what’s the plan now? Wanna go grab something to eat? I know this great pizza place!” You made a face and he almost did a double take. How could someone not like pizza?!? Until he remembered you worked at a pizza place. Rightttttt. “Or you know whatever you feel up to eat!” He amended. He wasn’t a picky eater. You were slipping off your knee pads finally, stuffing them in the bag that carried the spare. “Uhhh yeah I know a place, it’s pretty good do you like Mediterranean?” Leo blinked. That was a big word. A Donnie word. He just nodded along, he’d figure it out eventually! Turns out he did like Medtiranean-whatever-its-called!

From that point on Leo spent more time with you. He messaged you often, and saw you at least twice a week. The perks of looking human were immense. Leo found himself not wanting to share the cloaking chain with Mikey, but he was threatened on more than one occasion that said brother would snitch. Luckily Donnie was building another one, and the nerd definitely made sure it was known that Leo was not allowed to use it. Which was fine since he had his own. Leo felt like he was being conspicuous with how much time he was spending with you. Whether it be checking his phone at random or giving odd excuses to leave the lair. He thought he was being pretty smooth but Mikey had informed him that Raph and Donnie were getting suspicious.

He’d have to get them off his trail somehow. And no, he would not be spilling the beans or telling the truth. That was not an option. Lest he be choked to death remember?? Other than that things were going well for the blue turtle. He enjoyed the competitions and the practices. He enjoyed being able to go out topside and not worry about ninja-stealthing. Or wearing layers upon layers of clothes. Or acting like he was a cosplayer. But what he enjoyed most was you. And he was starting to think you liked him too.

.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: July Wrap-Up.

This month, I picked my knitting back up with a vengeance, started a Three Sentences Writing Challenge, AND participated in several work-adjacent Social Events (who am I, even), On Top Of accidentally nerfing myself with several brick-like books, so! This little stack isn't half bad. Photos and/or reviews linked below:

ORDINARY MONSTERS - ★★ This was a miss for me, y'all, AND it was a brick, so it took a hot minute to read. I wanted it to be better than it was, but it rambled and wandered Too Much (which, coming from me, you KNOW is bad). Salty also-rambly 1.5k review linked.

IF FOUND, RETURN TO HELL - ★★★½ Way cuter than I was expecting!! I had a good time with the second person. Hugely relatable (which. wild. all things considered.).

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE - ★★★½ Funnier than anticipated, and very readable for something out of the '50s! I see why it's a cornerstone of the (sub)genre. Glad I have a copy on hand now.

THE ACTOR AND THE TARGET - ★★★★★ This Rewired My Brain. It took me three (3) weeks to get through. It was so good. If you're a writer, definitely check this out, 10/10 recommend.

WHEN AMONG CROWS - ★★★½ I checked this out from the library because hardback novellas are Expensive if you're not sure you vibe with the author's style, but I had a good time! Witcher fans should descend on this, I think.

ALWAYS COMING HOME - 76*/618 pages read; will report back later. I asked the People about this one, and the People have Spoken (read: this won my What Do I Read Next Poll), but I may or may not have miscalcuated how many brain cells I have available lately between work and writing, so I may or may not be cutting this with library books. I'll finish it. Eventually. (*asterisk because she keeps referencing Other Pages In Line, and every time she does I jump ahead to read those pages instead and then come back to where I was. I'm dual wielding bookmarks through this tome, it's an Experience™ so far!)

Under the Cut: A Note About ~*★Stars★*~

Historically, I have been Very Bad™ about assigning things Star Ratings, because it's so Vibes Heavy for me and therefore Contingent Upon my Whims. I am refining this as I figure out my wrap up posts (epiphany of this month: I don't like that stars are Odd, because that makes three the midpoint and things are rarely so truly mid for me)(I have hacked my way around this with a ½). Here is, generally, how I conceptualize stars:

★ - This was Bad. I would actively recommend that you do NOT read this one, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not worth the slog. Save Yourself, It's Too Late For Me. Book goes in the garbage (donate bin).

★★ - This was Not Good. I would not recommend it, but it wasn't a total waste or wash--something in here held my interest/kept my attention/sparked some joy. I will not be rereading this ever. Save Yourself (Or Join Me In Suffering, That Seems Like A Cool Bonding Activity).

★★★ - This was Good/Fine/Okay/Meh. I don't care about this enough to recommend it one way or another. Perfectly serviceable book, held my interest, I probably enjoyed myself (or at least didn't actively loathe the reading). I don't have especially strong feelings. You probably don't need to save yourself from this one--if it sounds like your jam, give it a shot! Just didn't resonate with me particularly powerfully. I probably won't reread this unless I'm after something in particular.

★★★½ - I liked this! I'll probably recommend it if I know it matches someone's vibes or specific requests, but I didn't commit to a star rating on Goodreads. More likely to reread, but not guaranteed.

★★★★ - I really enjoyed this!! I would recommend it (sometimes with caveats about content warnings or such--I tend to like weird fucked up funny shit, and I don't have many hard readerly NO's). Not a perfect book for me by any means, but Very Good. This is something I would reread! Join me!!

★★★★★ - I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS, IT REWIRED MY BRAIN, WILL RECOMMEND TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE AT THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION (content warning caveats still apply--see 4-star disclaimer). Excellent book, I'll reread it regularly, I'll buy copies for all my friends, I'll try to convince all of Booklr to read it, PLEASE join me!!

[what-plant-metaphor-am-i]

Mysteries and Migraines, the Third (part)

A continuation of an AnS poll story where your votes influence what happens next!

✨Feel free to skip to the poll at the end of the chapter!✨ Even if you don't want to read the whole thing, I'd appreciate any votes to help the story move forward! <3

Part 1 , Part 2

After a far more sinister discussion than Shirayuki had been expecting, and in turn a far tamer one than Obi had been expecting they finally settle on...something of a collaboration.

---

It’s not been long since Rata’s opened the shop and it’s quiet, that peaceful time of morning when the streets are still smooth with a crystalline dusting of snow, before the many ignorant boots of Lilias have made their mark.

Although he is not one for gazing at picturesque scenery, Rata makes an exception for mornings such as these. He has a good view from the window by his desk. Something about the way the sunlight glints off each perfect crystal formation covering the ground casts a feeling of contentedness over him while he sips his coffee. Nothing quite compares to the world before people wake up.

Rata indulges in his usual morning fantasy of living in a mountain somewhere in complete isolation, surrounded by rocks to study and harness in various ways, inventing marvellous things and documenting it all in journals that are to be discovered after his death, when he will be revered posthumously as a misunderstood genius and his inventions used to make the world a better place, then he turns away from the window to put his mug down and hears a Thunk.

Rata turns sharply. There is now an arrow sticking out of the wall by the bookshelf opposite the window. 

“What the-?” A chill runs through him but it’s quickly replaced by hot rage. He thrusts his head out the window, glaring around for any signs of the culprit but finding only the scene from earlier, snow still undisturbed and bird song complementing the serene atmosphere.

“ALRIGHT COWARD,” he bellows, “EITHER YOU COME AND COLLECT YOUR ARROW OR THE GUARDS WILL BE COLLECTING YOU.” He slams the window shut.

There is a note attached to the arrow on a thin strip of paper. Rata has half a mind to ignore it and not play along with this ridiculousness, but in the end curiosity gets the  better of him.

“Enjoying that coffee, plant thief?”

A knock on the door interrupts his puzzling over the message and he goes to open it, wearing one of his fiercer expressions.

Shirayuki and Obi are standing on his doorstep. This is not an unusual occurrence, in fact they are pretty much the only people who ever visit him by choice apart from Suzu, but Rata had been expecting some foolish youth coming for their arrow so his guests get the full brunt of his death glare.

Shirayuki flinches slightly, her hands gripping the handle of her basket a little tighter. Obi is unaffected.

“Morning!” he sings, “Guess who brought breakfast~?”

Rata’s eyes scan behind Obi’s jazz hands but the street is still empty, save the usual vendors setting up their stalls and chatting.

His customary door slam is prevented by Obi’s quick foot work. Rata looks down, unimpressed, at the boot caught in his doorway. Obi’s face presses up to the remaining gap between door and wall.

“Freshly. Baked. Rock. Cakes.” Rata sighs.

“Get in here, don’t make a scene.”

---

They are ushered unceremoniously inside and Shirayuki places the basket on the counter. The scent of baked goods fills the air and, despite himself, Rata approaches to examine what they’d brought.

Shirayuki proudly folds back the cloth covering, revealing a treasure trove of breakfast delights. Breads, cakes, jars of jam, a selection of fruits, and containers holding a pat of butter, smoked meats and cheeses.

The fragrant steam caresses Rata’s face, filling him with a longing that could only be rivalled by the seductive call of an isolated mountain cabin.

10 minutes, two rock cakes, a slab of buttered bread slathered with raspberry jam and a wedge of cheese later, Rata finds himself explaining the strange arrow message to his companions.

“How peculiar,” Obi muses, reading the message and rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Whatever could you have done to provoke this?”

“I’ve done nothing, of course,” Rata scoffs, “This is just some punk pulling a prank.”

Obi shakes his head, sucking his teeth. “I dunno Rata, I’ve seen some threats in my time and this looks pretty threaten-y to me.”

“Threatening. The word is ‘threatening’,” Rata grunts.

“Well yeah, I’d say all the words here are threatening, Rata, not just the one,”

“Rata,” Shirayuki cuts in to prevent said man from lunging at Obi with the butter knife,

“’Plant thief’ sounds quite specific. Have you taken any plants, or something relating to plants, away from someone recently?”

Rata rolls his eyes “What interest have I in plants?! Damn the things! I had to hear enough about them last night from Yuzuri and now the nightmare continues-“

“What was that?” Obi interjects, “Yuzuri? Whatever are you talking about?”

“You know, you were there! Yuzuri and her damn precious plant sample-“

“Aha! So you took it did you?!”

Rata stares at the finger pointed in his face and slowly looks up to Obi’s triumphant expression, eyes narrowing.

“…why would I take something that I have negative interest in?”

“I-I’m sure Obi just means, if you really hated hearing about it so much, maybe you took it to stop the talk from…happening…?”

Shirayuki feels her face growing hotter under Rata’s flat, steady gaze. He leans one elbow on the arm of his chair and idly rests his chin in his hand as he studies her. The corner of his mouth quirks into something almost resembling a smile.

“I guess you were too…preoccupied last night to pay much attention to Yuzuri and her incessant rambling.”

Shirayuki blinks at him, all but cocking her head in confusion. Obi quick-steps between her and Rata.

“You’re avoiding the question, old man!” Rata’s face snaps back into his trademark scowl.

“Did you, or did you not take Yuzuri’s plant sample last night?”

“I did not take it!” Rata says hotly. “I merely deposited it in a nearby plant pot.”

The wall clock ticks loudly in the silence that follows.

“I just wanted some peace, don’t look at me like I killed someone,” Rata grumbles, getting to his feet. “Now, I’m opening shop, so either buy something or be on your merry way.”

“Ah - what did the plant pot look like? What plant was growing in it?” Shirayuki asks quickly as Rata passes her. He gives her a withering look that blatantly shames her for thinking he would possibly register such things.

Rata pulls out the arrow stuck in the wall and tosses it to Obi before heading to his counter.

“You’ve got three seconds to leave, else I’ll call the guards on you.”

Obi beams, giving Shirayuki a double thumbs up (a triple if you count the upward-pointing arrow clutched in one fist). Shirayuki’s returning smile turns to a wince as she moves into a patch of sunlight. She squeezes her eyes shut and raises a hand to shield them from the light. Ah...Obi had forgotten that she was dealing with a hangover throughout all of this.

He finds himself suddenly filled with emotion over it; how admirable, that Miss would spend her day off tracking something down for Yuzuri, all whilst her body was battling against her...the sight of her trying to give him an encouraging smile while actually looking like she's going to hurl fills him with...determination.

As Shirayuki leaves through the door, Obi, moved by her strength and persistence despite her current condition, decides the least he can do is provide her with some sort of aid to help her carry on.