#little to no remnants of the lives that were built there

[sea-critter]

scenes from today’s walk

[halohalona]

🎀 A Little Redecorating

Logan wakes up to you rearranging the living room in the middle of the night

Logan Howlett x Reader

this is inspired by my impulsiveness (i don't know if that's the right word) to clean and rearrange my room at 11 at night until like 12:30 in the morning.

not beta read

masterlist

warnings/tags: fluff, reader possibly having adhd and making impulsive decisions, husband!logan, a little ooc logan, kinda domestic, probably a bit incoherent towards the end cause i decided to finish writing this at 2 in the morning

To be completely honest, you have no idea why you suddenly got the urge to rearrange and reorganize the living room. You were laying in bed when the idea popped up in your head, and couldn’t sleep since. So you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake up your husband, and got to work.

You were moving the TV stand when your hip accidentally hit the edge of a side table causing the vase placed on top to fall.

CRASH

Logan immediately sat up the claws on his left hand unsheathing. Instincts kicking in, he looked over to your side of the bed to see if you were ok, only to see no one.

“Shit!” he heard someone speak before hearing a loud thud. In an instant he was out the door running straight to where the voice came from.

You were sweeping the remnants of the broken vase onto a dust pan when you heard Logan frantically shout your name. “Y/N!!”

“I’m okay!! I just knocked over a vase!”

When Logan finally reached you his body visibly relaxed. “Thank fuck, you’re okay. I thought you were getting taken.”

“I’m sorry.” you say sheepishly.

He looked around, the room was in disarray. The couch was no longer in its original place, instead it was blocking the path to the stairwell where Logan came from. The TV stand no longer against the wall he was facing but instead in the middle of the room. The TV itself was laying on one end of the couch while books and knickknacks were scattered on the other end. The rug was also rolled up and put against the wall.

“Love, why are you rearranging our furniture?” he asked, confused.

“I honestly don’t know. I suddenly got the idea while in bed and I couldn’t wait until morning.” you answered looking around, the corners of your lips turning down. “And now I can’t exactly go to bed while the living room looks like this…”

Placing his hands on his hips, he took another look around. “Well then, let’s get to work. Let’s finish this before sunrise,” he sighed before hopping over the couch. “You got an idea how you want the furniture placed? "A smile makes its way to your face before nodding excitedly.

It took you only an hour to get everything in place thanks to Logan doing most of the heavy lifting. After placing the last book on the shelf you let out a loud yawn starting to feel exhausted.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed” your husband said, carrying you up to your room.

Bonus:

That morning you sat at the dining table hard at work on something on your laptop.

Logan had to do a double take making sure he was seeing things correctly. "Is that our living room?”

“Yep”

“Did you seriously build our living room in—”

“The Sims? Yep. I actually built our house in the Sims.” you zoomed the camera out to show the entire first floor of the build before shrugging. “It makes redecorating easier.”

a/n: the bonus was really just an excuse to add the small detail that the reader uses the sims as reference for decorating the house lol

word count: 511

[comicaurora]

In your asks and other outside-of-comic statements, you seem to draw on parallels to programming a lot when talking about lacrimas.

And this makes me think as a programmer: the primordial rules that are used in Auroras to do magic and lacrimas are part of the primordial language. You are literally telling the primordial's dead bodies what to do, and they obey.

Yet, the difference that comes to my mind is that Primordial was at one point a language actually spoken. Used to communicate in day-to-day life by normal sentient beings. That's quite different from programming languages, which aren't meant to be talked in at all, and are built from the ground up purely to convey a series of precise instructions. They're very formalised and structured. There are no synonyms, no double meanings, no altering of word order, no redundant information etc. It's extremely rigid, much unlike languages people actually talk in, for which a degree of fluidity and ambiguity is essential.

And in Aurora it would seem the latter is being used as the former.

Have you ever thought about this tension/contradiction/conflict? How it affects the world, how it affects your writing, etc?

Or has this distinction never crossed your mind?

Or was this something you have noticed, but never really had the right knowledge to engage with much?

Or any other thoughts on the subject, really

So! This is an interesting thing I have actually thought about.

When the Elder Races were first created, they were born knowing and speaking a language innovatively called the First Language. Every new Young Race is also initially created speaking this language. The language then drifts over the generations, developing into regional dialects and then into separate linguistic descendants if given enough time.

The Ancients spoke a close descendent of the First Language for most of their time in existence, and made a writing system of their own very early on, which has no innate power. But in the early days of the world, the generally accepted story is that a god granted the three elder races knowledge of the written Runic language, which could command the elements. The Ancients acquired it late and used it very sparingly, only for the programming of lacrimas, but for the Elves and Humans living in the depths of the Caves, this was their first and primary writing system. It's even possible that a rare cave-dweller brave enough to venture to the surface was the one who taught the Ancients these runes in the first place.

It's posed an obvious question, of course. Why does this one specific form of writing manifest as a language of magic? Why can it command the dead Primordials? Why is it so well-suited to the phonemes of the First Language that every child of this world is created speaking?

The predominant theory - and, with two living primordials to check with, one which is potentially on the cusp of being proven - is that the First Language and its runic writing system are the language that the Primordials spoke. Its words, written or spoken, can be understood by the remnants of thought that still linger in the sleeping, dead-but-not-entirely-gone primordials that make up the world.

Primordial magic is different from programming in one key way: real computers are entirely unthinking entities. They are not in any way smart - not even smart enough to be stupid. A computer parsing a program cannot observe a missing parentheses and compensate like a human could do in their sleep - it simply fails to parse, because the mathematics don't work out.

Magic in this world is like what every programmer wishes programming could be. Tell the computer what to do, and it might be a little confused, but it'll get the gist. Tell Fire to burn in this direction - Fire, even if it's just running on an echo of a seven-thousand-year-old memory, knows what that means. Tell the wind to printf this statement to this recipient, it'll try to find them and send the message. Tell Life to make this body do what it's doing faster, it can do that. It's simple executions of simple commands, almost reflexive - things that require no complex higher thought from a being that is no longer alive enough to have them. They're not as unthinking as computers, and that means the nuances of language can actually have an effect on them. Some mages think more poetic and emotionally-charged spell invocations can lead to better, more efficient results - an appeal to a long-dead emotion might be easier for the Primordial to execute than an appeal to a half-forgotten complex thought.

When a mage takes direct control of a magical energy and funnels it into an elemental effect, their own higher thought allows the element to do more complicated things - Fire can't transmute on its own like it could when it was alive, but it can when bent to a mortal will. No need to translate a spell into the language of magic when the mage can simply use their own mind to shape the effect. This is the primary advantage mages have over lacrima-users - flexibility, complexity, and speed.

Another interesting factor. Alinua's dynamic with Life demonstrates what a living Primordial's living thought can do when in the hands of a mortal. A normal, simple healing spell cast by anybody but her just accelerates a body's own healing, but with Alinua's guidance steadying Life's hand, they can do much more complicated things of her own free will - things Life knows how to do that no mage knows how to command her to do.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 5: One Perfect Day

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

Let me photograph you in this light (in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were)

(In which a procrastinating writer procrastinates giving her ship happiness)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Some Fluff

Words: 7.5K

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. As many of you have reminded me it is indeed Friday and so here we are, nobody needs to yell at me! I know I'm years too late with this but I hope y'all like it anyways, even though this is very much mainly hurt with very little comfort. But for things to get better, they have to get worse and remember, it's all for the plot! There's plenty of creative liberty taken this chapter with how hotels and post-championship celebrations work and other logistics but I wrote it how I needed to so just go with it. Did I edit? Yes. Are there typos and errors anyway? Probably. As always, tell me what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful weekend lovelies!!

March 2019 

The final buzzer echoes through the Williams Arena, and the disappointment of the last couple of years is finally drowned out as the Hopkins Royals win the state championship. Surrounded by the cheers of her teammates, Paige doesn’t know if she’d call this the happiest moment of her life, the stomach flu symptoms haven’t quite faded yet, but she knows it’s definitely on her mount rushmore of times when life was great. 

For a second, as she’d been crouched over the toilet with Azzi’s hands soothingly rubbing her back, feeling her soul leave with the remnants of last night's dinner, Paige had almost lost hope. But she’d never been taught to give up without a fight. And so it hadn’t mattered that she definitely looked a little green or that standing up was taking twice the energy it normally did, Paige was going to play today. It hadn’t been a flashy scoring night but she’d done everything else her team needed. And as that lead had built and built and built, Paige knew, the moment was still hers. 

“Paigeyyyyy,” Drew is the first one to find her after her and her teammates break apart, launching his tiny body into her legs, “you won!”

Paige laughs, lifting her brother into her arms and spinning him around, “I told you I was gonna didn’t I?”

One by one, her whole family, the epitome of a modern family, pull her into hugs and then they gather into one large group hug, with Paige at the centre of it all. Her siblings look at her with pure admiration while her parent’s eyes are filled with pride. And it fulfils that part of Paige that has always lived a little more for her family than for herself. 

As her family moves away slowly, Paige finds herself face to face with Azzi’s shining smile and her heart skips a beat. And she doesn’t really know when it started or even how really, but it gets a little more difficult every time she sees Azzi, for Paige to convince herself that that fluttering in her chest is nothing. 

“You look a little pale white girl,” Azzi teases, taking a couple of steps towards the blonde, “glad you didn’t vomit all over the floor.”

“Nah no bullshit flu is stopping Paige Bueckers. The flu is scared of me,” Paige juts out her chest with a smirk, earning her a patented eye roll from the younger girl. 

“Oh yeah, you’re real scary,” Azzi indulges before pulling Paige into a bone-crushing hug, “I’m proud of you P.”

Paige smiles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, basking in the glow of the compliment. It’s these little moments they have in between their constant banter, where they let themselves be each other’s biggest cheerleaders, that makes them Paige and Azzi. They pull away, still grinning. and Paige’s eyes roam over the Team Paige jersey framing Azzi’s body. It makes her feel some type of way to see the younger girl wearing her name across her chest, but it’s not a feeling Paige is quite ready to accept. Perhaps it’s been written in their destiny that someday things will change, that eventually they’ll both have to confront the something more that’s simmering underneath it all, but for now, Paige just wants to protect what they already have. 

“That’s a pretty jersey,” she says with a wink, fingers rushing over the soft material. 

“I was forced at gunpoint to wear it,” Azzi sighs dramatically, “I was actually cheering for Stillwater. Their pg’s kinda cute.”

Paige bristles at the comment, the queasiness from this morning returning with vengeance, “she’s mid as hell on and off the court.”

“Don’t be petty Paige. You think she’d let me wear her jersey instead?” 

“You know what,” Paige fights a losing battle with the quick surge of anger that’s taking birth in her stomach, “how about you take off my winner’s jersey and go to the loser’s locker room and beg for her jersey instead.”

She knows Azzi’s joking, knows the point guard on the other team isn’t even really Azzi’s type, knows that even if Azzi’s being serious, Paige doesn’t have a right to feel this way. But that green eyed monster is clawing at her heart, squeezing it and making it hard to breathe. 

“Oh- hey hey hey,” Azzi’s quick to grab at her when Paige tries to storm off, “chill dude. You know I’m just kidding.”

“Well it wasn’t funny,” Paige pouts, aware that she’s being unnecessarily childish. 

Azzi opens her mouth, about to make some smartass quip but there must be something about how genuinely frustrated Paige looks that softens her expression, “I came to watch you P. I have no idea what that other girl was doing. I was cheering for you the whole time.”

“You’re so sappy,” Paige snorts, throwing a handful of confetti at Azzi, but inside, the ice cold jealousy melts into something warm and lovely, spreading through her heart into her veins. 

“Can’t even say nice shit without you being a dick about it,” Azzi rolls her eyes, as she links her arms through Paige’s,  “now come on, let’s go celebrate you.”

***

It’s almost 2 a.m. when Paige’s teammates finally begin to filter out of her house, leaving with droopy eyes and tired smiles. She and Azzi stand in the doorway, waving goodbye to every last one of them and it feels a little domestic, like a couple after a dinner party. Paige shakes that thought away the minute it begins to form, forcing herself to ignore the burst of wouldn’t that be lovely that blooms in her chest.

“What if I just fell asleep here?” Paige sags against the doorframe. 

“You’d probably fall flat on your face and I’d get an epic video of it.”

“You’re so fucking mean to me.”

“Oh yeah right because you’re so nice to me.”

“Am to,” Paige retorts, before she makes grabby hands towards Azzi, “carry me?”

Azzi swats her hands away, “Absolutely not lazy, it’s one flight of stairs.”

“That’s like 20 steps,” Paige whines. To be honest, she’s not that tired. Out of the two of them, she’s probably closer to being a night owl. But Paige is nothing if not a little bit of nuisance, especially when it comes to Azzi. 

“Are you an athlete or not,” Azzi chides, rolling her eyes. 

“Bro I just won a championship AND I had the flu. And you won’t even carry me? What kind of best friend are you?”

“Paige.”

“Azziiiiii.”

“Paige I’m tired.”

“Pleeeeeaseeee.”

The younger girl sighs, a sign of her caving in, before turning around so her back is facing Paige's front, “fine, get on you big baby.”

“YES-”

“Dude shut up, you’re gonna wake everybody up,” Azzi groans, always the responsible one. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige whispers as she jumps onto Azzi’s back, the force of it causing the brunette to take a couple steps forward, “fucking hell Azzi don’t drop me.”

Azzi lets out an indignant squawk, as she regains her balance,  “with that attitude, I should drop you.”

“If you’re too weak to carry me, just say that,” Paige teases, wrapping her legs firmly around Azzi’s torso.  She buries her shit-eating grin in her best friend’s neck, as she loops her arms around Azzi’s shoulders.

“It is not my fault you’ve put on like a hundred pounds since I last saw you.”

Azzi squeals when Paige pinches at her ribcage and the blonde immediately slaps a hand on her best friend’s mouth, “what happened to being quiet? Now, onwards horsey- OW! Did you just fucking bite my hand!?”

“What happened to being quiet?” Azzi mocks, adjusting Paige’s weight on her back as she begins to walk towards the staircase, grumbling something under her breath about ‘ungrateful best friends’ but Paige knows she doesn’t mean a word of it. She snuggles further into Azzi’s neck, letting herself breathe in the scent of the younger girl. 

When Azzi had first left Minnesota, after they’d spent every second since the plane ride back from Argentina, Paige had thought that that hollowness in her chest was temporary, that it would fade once she got back into daily life. It didn’t. And the thing is the word miss had existed in Paige’s dictionary before too but she doesn’t think she really understood what it meant til she started to miss Azzi. 

As soon as they reach Paige’s bedroom, Azzi’s already swatting Paige off her back. The blonde falls back onto the pillows on her bed with a content sigh, watching with a cheeky grin as Azzi pretends to stretch out the muscles on her back and her arms.

“I think that might have broke my fucking back,” the younger girl groan, face scrunching up in mock exhaustion, “and I have to sit on a plane again tomorrow.”

That wipes the smile straight off Paige's face. It’s so easy to get lost in the moment with Azzi, so easy to forget that they spend less time together than they do apart. They haven’t bothered with the actual lights but even in the dim glow of the moon through Paige’s windows, Azzi sees her best friend’s change in expression clearly, her own face becoming melancholic. Sighing, she climbs onto the bed herself and lies down next to Paige, intertwining her hands with the older girl’s. 

“You could stay a little longer,” Paige says after a moment, eyes resolutely focused on the ceiling. 

Azzi let out a wistful sigh, “I wish. But you know I can’t.”

“You can, you just won’t, little miss goody-two-shoes,” the light-hearted teasing eases some of the mood as they both let out soft giggles. They dissolve into a comfortable silence before, “I can’t wait til we’re playing for UConn together.”

Paige misses the way Azzi stiffens a little next to her, too enthralled with imagining a future where she and her best friend could conquer the world together. She knows Azzi, with all her indecisive tendencies, hasn’t quite come around to being anywhere near ready to pick a college team yet but Paige still has time to convince her and Paige Bueckers is nothing if not persuasive. 

“So it’s definitely UConn then?” 

“Yeah. I mean it’s UConn dude. The UConn. They’re the best. All these other programs are nice but when UConn calls, you don’t say no to that shit,” and Paige means that with all her heart. As the number one recruit in her class, there had been no shortage of offers and of course Paige had entertained them for a little while. But the minute Geno Auriemma had given his offer, everything else had become obsolete. She hadn’t committed yet, still maintaining a façade of being in the decision stage, but all of that was just a front. Paige knows she’s meant to be a UConn husky, there’s no way around it. 

“I think you’ll make a pretty damn good Husky,” Azzi says with a soft smile, as she absentmindedly plays with Paige’s fingers. 

“We’ll make damn good Huskies,” Paige affirms. 

“I don’t know P, California’s pretty tempting,” it’s said teasingly but a hint of seriousness slips through the cracks anyway. 

Paige scoffs, “cause it’s hot? Bruh that much heat would be boring. Connecticut gets all four seasons. We’d get the heat and the snow.”

“I get all of that in Virginia already,” Azzi points out with a huff, “maybe I want something different.”

“You do get something different. You get to play with me. That’s different.”

“Yeah but-”

“Dude why are you fighting me on this? Do you not want to be on the same team as me or something?” Paige asks agitatedly, suddenly feeling frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken. 

“Okay breathe,” Azzi gives her a stern side-eye, “I was just saying California’s nice. Of course I want to be on your team. Did the shirt not make that obvious?”

Involuntarily, Paige has to smile at the memory of Azzi’s jersey, the team Paige that had been loudly imprinted across her chest, “right, sorry got a little carried away. I just always want you on my team, you know?”

“I’m always on Team Paige. I always have been. I always will be,” Azzi says firmly, as if it’s the most obvious truth in the world.  

When Paige turns her head to look at her best friend, the younger girl is already looking back at her and the sincerity in Azzi’s eyes makes Paige’s heart stutter. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige swears she can see every little detail in the dim light. And the thing is Paige has always known Azzi’s a pretty girl, she’s not blind. But it’s different tonight. Tonight Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that Paige wants to memorise until it’s imprinted in the back of her eyelids, the kind of beautiful that she wants to lock away in a treasure chest and preserve only for her own eyes to ever see again. The kind of beautiful that Paige knows she isn’t allowed to think of Azzi as. But still, right now, Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that makes Paige want to try and see if maybe, just maybe, there’s the possibility for something more. 

That night, when she finally falls asleep to the sound of her best friend’s quiet breathing, Paige dreams of UConn and championships and at the end of it all, kissing Azzi under the confetti. 

***

April 2024

There’s 14 seconds left in the National Championship game and UConn is ahead by eight points. Adrenaline courses through Paige’s veins as that one elusive dream of hers seems to finally be coming closer and closer to fruition. Winning a National Championship had been on her mind since she’d first picked up a basketball. The minute she’d committed to UConn, it had felt inevitable and yet year after year, her team had fallen just a little short. But this afternoon, it seems like it’s finally within grasp. 14 seconds to go. 14 steps closer to having her perfect moment. 

Except, every time Paige had imagined this moment, she’d expected her best friend to be there. In the beginning, before everything, she’d dreamed of them being on the court together, running into each other’s arms the minute the buzzer sounded. And then, until the last second today before she had to take the court, Paige had just assumed that when she’d look in the stands, somewhere in the crowd, there’d be the one face she wanted to see most in the world. But no matter how much she squinted, that face had been nowhere to be found and Paige had forced herself to compartmentalise her disappointment, and focus on the game. She hadn’t looked at the crowd since. 

The ball is in the other team’s hands, their point guard, diligently calling out plays before she inbounds it. Coach’s words echo in Paige’s head, try for a clean steal but don’t under any circumstances foul. Their pg inbounds the ball and the shot clock starts to count down. The ball bounces through the hands of different players on the other team but the UConn defence is stifling. Their coach is out of timeouts and it isn’t until the last millisecond that they heave up a prayer shot. And it doesn’t matter if it goes in, it’s a two point possession game, but Paige’s eyes are glued on the basketball anyways. 

The shot is an airball. The buzzer sounds through the arena. UConn wins their 12th national championship. 

For a second, everything goes silent around Paige. The normally over-excitable girl, known for her insane golden retriever energy, is perfectly still. It takes a couple more seconds for the adrenaline to hit. And then she’s screaming, pummeling her body into the rest of her teammates as the bleed blue crowd goes wild. She loses herself in the noise of her teammates cheering and the bright lights of cameras flashing nearby. They did it. And it doesn’t erase just how fucking hard the last couple of year had been, but it makes the burden significantly lighter. 

Paige rushes through the handshake line, the opposing team’s coach giving her an appreciative review of her performance before she’s recaptured into a group hug by her teammates. It’s a surreal feeling really, one that’s far better than even her most wonderful dreams. For the first time since the game began, Paige lets her gaze wander over to the family section who are all tearfully hugging, smiling at her parents and then her siblings and then- 

When her eyes meet Azzi’s, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has finally settled into its rightful place, completing the perfect picture of Paige’s perfect moment. A #5 UConn jersey hangs loosely against Azzi’s hips as she smiles shyly at her best friend. And Paige is scared to blink, scared if she looks away, the girl in front of her will disappear. It takes everything in her to not rush into the stands, pull her best friend into her and kiss her under the confetti. 

Azzi doesn’t budge when the rest of the family and friends crew start to move towards the court. There’s too much attention, too much media, for that to be a feasible option. Paige wishes they would all just disappear, let her have her moment the exact way she’d pictured it. She thinks she’d like to fulfil that dream of hers, kiss Azzi in the confetti, twirl her around, and between it all, let the world know that she was Paige’s. 

As always, Drew is the first person to reach her. He’s a little too big for her to pick up, but she spins him around anyway. 

“You won Paigey,” her little brother squeals and he might be older now, but that innocent admiration of his older sister is as palpable as always, “I knew you could do it!”

“Thanks for always believing in me, little dude,” Paige says softly, leaning her cheek against the top of Drew’s head.

Over the top of her brother's head, Paige realises with sudden panic that Azzi’s not there anymore. Dread filters into her bloodstream, the voices in her head screaming it was too good to be true. The way her body tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother who’s quick to hold her. 

“She said to tell you she’d see you at the hotel later,” Amy Jo says with a knowing smile, before letting Paige’s body sag into hers. She rubs her daughter’s back as relief settles into the younger girl's features, “proud of you Paigey.”

Paige smiles into her mother’s chest. Last year had been the hardest of her life and for a while the light at the end of the tunnel had been hard to see. Today, she feels the light surrounding her, washing away all the darkness from the last few years, bathing her in the glow of happiness. 

***

“I always knew you’d look good in a UConn jersey.”

Azzi’s eyes fly open and Paige smirks, leaning her body against the wall. The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind of media, champagne and excited chatter about what the after party would be like. Paige’s focus had been on celebrating, but the thought of getting back to Azzi had been a constantly lingering presence in the back of her mind. And as the bus had gotten closer to the hotel, anxiety had creeped in because what if Azzi wasn’t there? What if she’d changed her mind? 

Paige had smiled for the fans outside the hotel, diligently posing for pictures and signing autographs, ignoring the heaviness in heart. But as soon as she was far away from prying eyes, she was bolting towards her room. And then everything was okay. Paige has heard a lot of cliché things about love, about how it makes you hear violins and see stars and all of that, about how it increases your heart rate and makes you flush. But Paige thinks all of that can’t quite be right. Because when she’d seen Azzi, curled up in her sheets, #5 jersey crumpled but still fitted around her body, Paige had only felt a sense of calm. And that Paige thinks, is probably the actual truth of love, it’s about finding peace and to Paige, Azzi has always been her peace. 

“I’d look great in any jersey,” Azzi claps back groggily, moving to sit up. 

“But you look the best in mine. You always have,” Paige tries to keep her voice teasing, but it comes out sounding rather wistful, and the next words are even softer, “you came.”

Azzi bites her lips, looking down at her fiddling thumbs, “you asked me to.”

Those four little words carve themselves into a little crevice in Paige’s heart as if they’ll stay there forever, as if they’ll echo through her entire body for the rest of time. She practically throws herself onto the younger girl, the force of it pushing Azzi back down into the pillows, as she buries her head in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Their legs slot together of their own accord and it’s a little bit like they’re trying to meld into each other’s skin the way they press themselves as close as possible, til there’s barely space for air in between them. They lie like that for god knows how long; it goes by in a rush and yet ever so slowly. 

“I’m really fucking happy you’re here,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s skin, “really fucking happy.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, humming into Paige’s hair as she tightens her grip on the blonde’s waist but Paige can tell by the way she stiffens underneath her, that Azzi’s holding herself back from something. Her heart hammers in her chest as she lifts her face from Azzi’s neck to inspect the younger girl’s face. 

“What aren’t you saying to me Az?” she whispers quietly with a sinking feeling.

“Paige,” Azzi closes her eyes. And just that is enough for Paige to understand exactly what’s going through her best friend’s head and suddenly she wishes she’d never asked, just let them have this moment. 

“Never mind, I don't want to hear it.”

“That’s not how that works. I- I wanted to wait a little but we- we need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” Paige retorts stubbornly, fighting the tears threatening to spill, “I don’t want to.”

“Paige-”

The girl in question pushes herself off of Azzi, rising to sit on her knees, “this is meant to be the best day of my life Azzi.”

“I know- I’m sorr-”

“What game are you playing, Azzi? Why even fucking come if you were never gonna stay?” Paige spits out. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, as she sits up “maybe- maybe I should have stayed away. But it’s you Paige, it’s you and I- I’ve never been that good at staying away from you. And maybe I’m just really selfish but I- I told you once that I wanted to be there when your dreams came true and so- here I am.”

They’d barely known each other when Azzi had said that, when they had just been young innocent girls with a tentative friendship, lying in the grass and sharing their dreams. Back then, the words had thrown Paige off. She hadn’t quite understood why they had meant that much to her, why they had filled her with more warmth than the sun shining above them. But she’d tucked them away in a little corner of her heart hoping she’d understand it better when she was older. She’s older now and she understands. Except every single emotion she’d felt at fifteen is heightened with the realisation that the words had meant something to Azzi too. And-

Paige surges forward to kiss Azzi. She’s pretty sure this bipolar act of theirs will be the death of them someday but it’s the only thing in the moment that makes sense. Azzi is hesitant at first, clearly too in her head, always the overthinker, but she gives in when Paige squeezes at her waist. It’s not as if they’ve kissed that many times before but it feels familiar, a little bit like coming home. She moves to straddle Azzi’s hips and they can’t get any closer really with every bit of their bodies pressed together now, but Paige tries anyways, tries to etch please don’t leave me into the other girl’s skin. And she isn’t sure if the salt she can taste is from the tears steadily streaming from Azzi’s eyes or the ones free-falling from her own. 

The minute Azzi pulls away, Paige misses her. 

“We can’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Paige cuts Azzi off immediately, resting her forehead against the younger girl’s, “please.”

“Paige,” Azzi breathes out, “I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” Paige says stubbornly. 

“Paige please-”

“Stay- fuck please- Azzi- just give me tonight. Tomorrow we can talk and you can-,” Paige swallows, not wanting to say leave out loud, “but please- tonight can we just pretend? Can you give me that? Fuck- can I just have tonight? Please- just- stay.”

Azzi lets out a shaky breath, “it won’t make it hurt less.”

“I know- fuck- I know but I just don’t want it to hurt right now.”

“Okay,” Azzi whispers slowly, thumb caressing Paige’s wet eyelashes, “okay, I’ll stay tonight.”

Paige kisses her again. 

***

The UConn team falls in love with Azzi in a matter of hours. No one had been shocked when Paige had shown up to the after party a.k.a everybody gathering at the hotel bar, fashionably late and with a nervous Azzi teetering behind her. It had been awkward at first; everyone was a little unsure of how to act around the new presence. Not only was Azzi from a rival team, but everyone was at least a little aware of her tumultuous relationship with their star player. But then KK had wanted to film a tiktok that needed someone to do random camerawork and when everybody else had groaned, Azzi had quietly volunteered. Much to KK’s delight, Azzi turned out to be quite the cameraman. And that apparently was all that was needed and Paige marvels at the way Azzi just fits.

She moves around Paige’s team as if they’re just as much hers. One second she’s timing some stupid drinking game that KK and Ice are playing, the next she’s sitting in a corner laughing with a more subdued Ash and Q. 

Aubrey and Ayanna gush over their girlfriend and Azzi’s coos over their pictures, a hint of wistfulness on her face when she meets Paige’s eyes. 

The team does their routine of teasing Aaliyah’s about being vegetarian and Azzi diligently backs the Canadian up with a spiel of how tofu isn’t actually that bad. That gets her a hi-5 from Aaliyah despite the eye rolls from the rest of the team. 

Despite being a little tipsy from having been dragged into doing shots with Amari and Carol, the two other people she knows pretty well, Azzi diligently lets Inés and Jana teach her little bits of Portuguese and Egyptian. 

Even Nika sheds her frostiness, amused by Azzi’s curiosity to learn her native language beyond just the curse words, and teaches the younger girl a couple of words. Azzi rolls her eyes fondly when she realises she’s been taught to say UConn is the best team ever in Croatian and amidst Nika’s laughter, Paige knows is a hidden acceptance. 

But the best part of it is that although Azzi’s suddenly being pulled in all different directions by various UConn girls, she never really leaves Paige’s side through it all. There’s always a little bit of them touching, whether it’s their shoulders or their knees, even when they’re both involved in completely different conversations and activities. It feels oddly domestic and Paige is reminded of the part after her state championship all over again. The burst of i want this forever that stirs in her chest makes her want to sob because it collides head first against a wall of this is only for tonight. And Paige knows that one night won’t ever be enough for her. 

“Aye Paige’s girl, come play truth or shots with,” KK’s loud voice breaks through Paige’s cloud of distress and it’s eclipsed by the implication of those two words. 

Paige’s girl. The phrases makes itself home in Paige’s heart, sounding so fucking right. She hasn’t let herself acknowledge it truly ever but that’s how it’s always been in Paige’s mind. It’s how she’s always thought of Azzi. As hers. Her Azzi. Her girl. 

“I’m not-that’s not-” Azzi’s cheeks are tinted pink as she stutters through her words, withering under KK’s cocked eyebrow. 

“Uh-okay if you say so,” KK rolls her eyes, holding her hands up in a sarcastic defensive position, “guess we’re starting off truth or shots by lying.”

The rest of the team laughs as Azzi’s blush grows even deeper and Paige can’t even try and hide her smile, her own neck tingling a little bit as she tucks herself into Azzi’s side. And it’s not real, they’re not anything, but in this moment it feels a little bit like they’re everything. 

“You guys are sickening,” Ice accuses when she notices the two of them cheesily smiling at each other, “it makes me gag.”

“They’re cute. Leave them alone,” Caroline chastises, ever the supportive friend. 

Azzi leans back against Paige’s arm as the group goes around the circle, asking each other ridiculous questions, cheering like little kids when their teammates opts to drink instead of answering a vaguely invasive question. When it’s her turn, Paige can already tell by the glint in KK’s eyes that her menace mini-me is about to cause trouble. 

“Paigey cakes, when’s the last time you had sex?”

Next to her, Paige can feel Azzi stiffen immediately. The shot feels heavy in Paige’s hand as she seriously contemplates taking it. She knows why KK asked the question, probably having concocted some idea of exposing Paige and Azzi. She’d known by the waggling eyebrows that the whole team had thought the two of them were late because they’d been fucking but that couldn’t be further from the bitter truth. 

Paige chances a look at Azzi’s face as she bites down on her lips. The younger girl’s face is stoically devoid of any emotion and Paige knows she’s thinking about the night of the crash (or as Paige likes to call it, the most terrifying night of her life) except- 

“November, last year,” Paige says slowly and Azzi whips her face around to look at her, lips falling apart in shock. 

“Don’t play, there’s no fucking way,” Ice guffaws and Paige shrugs. 

“It’s the truth.”

“Bruh what the fuck,” KK looks a little shell-shocked, “how the fuck did you survive that long?”

“Some of us actually know what to do with our own fingers,” Paige quips defensively, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach at the way Azzi’s still looking at her. 

“I bet Azzi knows all about your fingers huh Azzi?” and even that, KK’s unhinged commentary, isn’t enough to get Azzi to pull her gaze away from Paige. It’s almost as if she hadn’t heard it all. 

“You didn’t- that night?” Azzi manages to get out. 

“Couldn’t do it,” Paige mumbles, “she wasn’t you.”

Despite the horde of people around them, they’re in their own little bubble now. There are a multitude of questions swimming in Azzi’s eyes and Paige wants to answer all of them if it means that maybe just maybe, she could prevent the inevitable misery tomorrow would bring. 

“Okay Azzi, it’s your turn,” Amari’s voice draws Azzi’s attention away and Paige feels cold without the heat of it. She doesn’t know how she’ll survive tomorrow. Living in the present isn’t working and Paige finds herself already feeling the emptiness she knows will become her reality in a couple of hours. Her fingers tap an incessant pattern on her thigh as she tries to keep her focus on the game, 

Azzi swallows nervously before mustering up a grin with false confidence, “I’m ready. Hit me with your best, I’m not drinking.”

“We’ll see about that,” KK smirks, diabolically rubbing her hands together, before she turns to Nika, “all yours Nik-Nik.”

The other girls “ooh”, knowing  Nika’s reputation for being notoriously good at this game. The Croatian grins at Azzi, as she sits up from where she’d been lazily lying on the love seat, a glint of mischief in her eyes. And then her eyes meet the forlorn ones of her twin and something shifts. When she looks back at Azzi, there’s a more serious look on Nika’s face. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

There’s pin drop silence once the gravity of the question registers. The light-hearted air in the room is replaced with anticipation, as all of Paige’s teammates look back and forth between their point guard and her best friend. Paige isn’t sure if she wants to know the answer, doesn’t know if there’s an answer that wouldn’t break her heart just a little bit. For a second, it looks like Azzi’s going to drink until she puts the shot down on her hand rest until- 

“Yes,” she confesses in a whisper, and Paige feels her heart begin to race, “I have.”

“How many times?” Nika prods

“That’s not how the game works. I already answered your question.”

“Different rules for newcomers,” Nika shrugs. It’s a blatant lie but nobody says anything. Paige is still caught up in her own head and the other girls won't challenge Nika, not when they’re just as curious, “I get to ask questions til you drink.”

Azzi narrows her eyes, knowing it’s all bullshit and maybe if she wasn’t a little bit tipsy and competitive, maybe if she couldn’t feel every inch of Paige’s side pressed against her, she’d walk away but she can’t. 

“Only once,” she answers. 

“With your ex-girlfriend?” Nika asks. The way she raises an eyebrow suggests there’s only one right answer to the question. Paige doesn’t know if there’s a right or wrong answer, only that there’s an answer that would shatter her. 

“No. I was never in love with her,” Azzi directs the answer towards Nika, but everyone knows it’s meant for Paige’s ears. And despite the tornado still roaring in her body, the blonde lets out a sigh of relief. 

Nika’s intimidating demeanour cracks a little bit when that answer makes her smile, “are you in love with someone right now?”

Even if it’s not said out loud, the implication of Nika’s question, the someone, is clear. And suddenly Paige doesn’t want to hear the answer, not right now, not when they’re both a little tipsy, not when they’re surrounded by all her teammates, not when their future is so unclear. 

“Drink,” Paige cuts in, holding the shot in front of Azzi, “don’t answer it.”

“Paige-”

“Drink Azzi,” Paige says firmly. 

Azzi looks equal parts relieved and frustrated as she downs the drink, happy to have gotten out of the uncomfortable round of questioning but a little annoyed at losing in front of the UConn girls. 

“And you said you wouldn’t drink,” Nika sneers, as she hi-5’s her teammates. 

“Because you bent the rules; she did great,” Paige defends immediately and everyone snickers, the mood in the room returning to something more casual.

“So fucking pussywhipped,” Ice teases. 

“Shut up,” Paige whines, hiding her face against Azzi’s shoulder as everybody else laughs. If the voices in head screaming this is just for tonight would shut up for a second, Paige thinks maybe she could fall in love with this moment, surrounded by her found family. 

It’s almost 3 am when the team decides maybe they should start going to bed, knowing they have a morning flight back to Connecticut. Everyone else is still in a jovial mood, sufficiently drunk of both alcohol and the high of a championship but Paige’s stomach pools with dread. Every minute is a step closer to a goodbye, she’ll never be prepared to say. 

They get to the lobby of the hotel when Paige turns to Azzi, ignoring her anxiety to be a nuisance instead. 

“No,” Azzi says immediately when she sees Paige making grabby hands at her, “there’s literally an elevator Paige.”

“So? That just makes it easier for you. This is tradition.”

“In what world is this a tradition?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly. 

“Since I won the state championship,” Paige grins, “pleeeeease, I’m tired, my feet hurt.”

Azzi gives her an unimpressed look, “you’ve been sitting for the last couple of hours.”

“And before that I was winning a championship, after beating your team by the way,” Paige’s smirk widens when Azzi guffaws at catching a stray. 

“Oh fuck off. Reminding me of that is not the way to get me to carry you by the way.”

“C’mon Az, you know you’re gonna give in anyway. You know you wanna sleep, stop wasting time.”

Azzi rolls her eyes with a dramatic sight before doing exactly what she always does, giving into Paige, “hop on then you big baby.”

Paige cheers, latching on Azzi’s back as her knees circle around the other girl’s waist. Unlike when they were younger, Azzi’s doesn’t stumble anymore at the additional weight. She’s stronger now, completely solid and steady underneath Paige and that absolutely doesn’t trigger any inappropriate thoughts in the older girl’s brains, absolutely. 

“Y’all are so cringe,” KK crinkles up her face when she turns to look at them as they wait for the elevator, but there’s a certain amount of fondness in her voice, “but Azzi’s cool. Much cooler than you P boogers. You should bring her around more often.”

Paige’s smile vanishes in tandem with Azzi letting out a strangled noise. KK looks between the two of them, slowly realising maybe she’d just put her foot in her mouth. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Paige answers noncommittally, trying to keep her voice steady. 

Much to her relief, the elevator dings open, saving her from having to say anything more. She wraps her arms tighter around Azzi, burying her face as far into the other girl’s neck as she can and closing her eyes, trying to lose herself in Azzi, instead of in the jail of her own mind.

She doesn’t look up from where she’s nestled into Azzi’s skin, when the rest of her teammates start towards their own separate rooms, telling Azzi how lovely it was to meet her. 

“Can you get off her back, so I can give her a hug?” Ice pinches Paige’s arm but the older girl just shrugs her off. 

“No. Go hug someone else.”

“Bro you’re so fucking annoying,” Ice groans and Azzi sends her an apologetic wink but it doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t try to shake Paige off like she normally would. It heals something in Paige to know that Azzi doesn’t want to let go either. And she doesn’t understand why they’re doing this, why they’re fighting this, when neither of them want to. 

“I think your teammates might like me better than you,” Azzi teases when they finally get back to the room and Paige climbs off of her back. The blonde is too lost in her thoughts to come back with a smart quip. And of course her best friend notices it immediately, nudging her quietly, “P? You good?”

Paige blinks up at Azzi, and even before she says the word, she knows Azzi’s already read them in her eyes, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs tiredly, “what happened to pretending tonight?”

“Fuck pretending,” Paige blames the alcohol for how loud her voice comes out, guilty only because it makes the girl in front of her flinch, “I don’t want just tonight. It’s no where near fucking enough. I want forever. With you.”

“That’s not- Paige- we live on different sides of the country.”

“For now, but we can make it work. It’s us,” Paige pleads desperately. 

Azzi scoffs, stepping away from Paige, “you say that like it a good thing.”

“What-”

“Us! We don’t- it’s not- being ‘us’ is not a good thing Paige. May us from before but us now? Us now is complicated and messy and hard and I just- I can’t do this Paige.”

“You can- we can- Azzi- just- think about it okay- sleep on it- you’ll see. You’ll see, I’m right.”

Azzi shakes her head, closing her eyes as a single teardrop leaks out, “you’re making this so fucking hard Paige.”

“I don’t want to- I’m sorry- I’m so sorry baby,” the term of endearment slips through Paige’s lips before she can catch it, “but I need you to think about it once please.”

She moves to cup Azzi’s cheeks, thumb caressing away the tears, “please.”

“Okay, okay,” Azzi nods, resting her forehead against Paige’s, “I’ll think about it.”

They’re quiet as they get changed for bed, thinking about the same thing. Co-existing together comes naturally to them after years of inhabiting each other’s space and the. there's no getting in each other’s way, even if they’re both dead silent. It’s awkward when they finally get into bed, both of them lying on their back, resolutely staring up at the ceiling. Paige is the first one to move, turning onto her side so she can face Azzi. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige thinks that so much has changed, but Azzi’s still that kind of beautiful, the same kind of beautiful Paige had thought of her as since the state championship. 

“What was your answer going to be,” she asks quietly. 

“To what?”

“To Nika’s question. Are you in love with someone right now?”

Azzi hesitates a little bit, before turning her own body to face Paige, “you know the answer Paige, you don’t need me to say it.”

Paige doesn’t prod, knowing they were too volatile for her to keep pushing. Instead she reaches over to intertwine their hands together. 

“Do you know what my answer would have been?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says softly, squeezing her hands, “yeah I do.”

Maybe there’s peace in knowing. Or maybe there’s only more pain. Paige doesn’t know if the truth sets her free, doesn’t know if she could ever even be set free from the shackles that bind her to Azzi, doesn’t think she even wants to be set free. But at least Azzi knows too. Maybe there’s peace in drowning together. 

***

Paige wakes up in a panic when she reaches over and finds the other side of the bed empty. She gets up with a jolt, eyes frantically searching for Azzi, until they finally land on the girl sitting on the couch next to the bed. 

“Fuck,” Paige’s voice is still wracked with sleep, “I thought you left.”

“That’s more your style,” Azzi says and Paige flinches at the reminder, “how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. How about you?”

“Pretty shit actually” Azzi admits, “I woke up every two seconds, scared you’d be gone.”

“Az-”

“You asked me to believe in you- to believe in us and I-” Azzi draws in a sharp breath and Paige knows she’s not going to like where this is going, “I want to- I really, really, wish I could. But I don’t. I can’t- I can’t be with you Paige- not when I’m scared you’re going to break my heart every second.”

“Azzi,” Paige scrambles across the bed, stopping when the girl in question holds her hands up. Everything in her feels like it’s on fire. There are no burn marks on her skin but she swears she’s been turned to ashes underneath. 

“And you deserve better than that too Paige. You deserve someone who- who’s not scared. Who can give you all of herself without- without holding back and I- I can’t do that.”

“You can- fuck- Azzi you can- please,” desperation leaks through every syllable as Paige fights what she knows is a losing battle. 

“Not right now. Too much has happened between us and we can’t- we can’t just ignore all of that and start something new- maybe someday- but not right now.”

Azzi stands up from her seat, hesitantly walking over to Paige’s side of the bed. She cups Paige’s face, watery dark brown eyes meeting crystal blue ones that are glistening with tears. 

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, feeling everything slip away before she’d even had a chance to fight for it. 

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s forehead, holding them there for what feels like the briefest of seconds until she’s pulling away, “I’m sorry P.”

And then she’s gone and every part of Paige’s heart is gone with her. 

[dykeishheart]

Dark Souls 2 had such a clear and heavy thematic throughline about the pointlessness and waste of empire, the idea that no amount of cruelty carved into land nor flesh, no amount of nobility or valor cast in statues or in song could make a king's name withstand the weight of time. Gwyn might be the lord of cinder, but the people of Drangleic don't even know what that means. Izalith might have created the flame of chaos, but now her city is gone beneath a mountain of ice and called by a new name. Anor Londo is gone. Lordran is gone. Astora, Carim, Thoruland, all gone. Olaphis, the land of Straid's time has come and gone on the same tract of land as Drangleic. The Sunken King, the Iron King, the Ivory King, these men are all gone to such an extent that their names are forgotten even by those who still walk their lands. Drangleic's own king is fading away, and the only remnants of his legacy will be the corpses of giants and crumbled fortresses.

And of the ones who remain in these places, there are only echoes of past lives. Jailers continue to guard the Bastille that has long gone defunct. Miners and work drivers continue to mill around the base of Earthen Peak even though they've long since lost any reason to work. Empty sets of armor still guard over ruined castles because no one exists to tell them they can stop. The life has left them, all that keeps them going is the work they were given so long ago, which has long since lost all meaning to anyone except these empty husks. It's the bleakest form of existence. So many lives were reduced to so little, and for what? The empires of kings, built by the hands of countless men, will all one day be empty.

[inmyloveworld]

i'll look after you (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.3k

synposis: "don't think, just do," was a challenging mentality to live by. but bradley quickly finds there is a balance to be had between thinking and doing.

warnings: allusions to anxiety, work abuse, overthinking

a/n: another hurt/comfort, who's surprised? this has been sitting in my drafts with an unfinished smut ending for a month but i’m electing to post without it as i’m not confident in my ~other~ writing abilities yet.. enjoy!

It was rare that the Navy ever let its aviators off early for the day; even more so for the elite members of Top Gun. Yet, with the clock barely stroking past a sunny four, Bradley was reclined on the sofa with a beer in hand. The house was spotless thanks to a shared cleaning spree the day prior. Nothing could have made for a more perfect turn of events.

But Bradley was pondering on the few texts he'd received that day. They were void of any of the color and character he was used to. None of the words exaggerated their spelling, and periods punctuated every short sentence. Everyone had once remarked him as a chronic overthinker both in the air and on the ground. It was easy to dismiss the gnawing he felt in his gut as the remnants of that mentality.

So, he cracked a Heineken and let himself indulge in uncommon solitude. The flat screen played his favorite drama to placate his mind. A subtle hunger led to perusing online menus for takeout ideas. Every little bit of stimulation was a welcome distraction from his pompous presumptions.

And then he heard it: the abrupt slam of a car door. Fumbling footsteps made their way to the front stoop followed by a clamoring of keys against the painted wood. Bradley grinned as he awaited the arrival, even through the slight tug of worry in his chest.

He watched as you stumbled inside without care. Shaking hands hung up tightly gripped keys and those same fumbling feet kicked off their shoes in frustration. Your shoulders rose and fell sharply with every short breath.

Was I overthinking?

Bradley had yet to see your face, had yet to meet those eyes always bright with excitement. Your face remained tucked toward the wall with each passing second. Swallowing his hesitation, Bradley spoke over the TV. "Baby?"

Your body reacted in shock, jolting up as your head whipped around.

I wasn't.

Hot tears were rolling down your cheeks. Said cheeks were splotchy, proof that these tears were far from the first you'd shed that day. The bright eyes he adored were puffy and red. Their brightness now was not out of joy but sorrowful watering.

Bradley's heart clenched tightly. "Oh, angel," he cooed, hurrying to displace his Heineken to a coaster and mute the TV. You had little time and no energy left to fight his comfort. As your boyfriend stood before you with open arms, you crashed into them.

He wasted no time in embracing you. Sobs broke past your wobbling lips and muffled against his shoulder. "I've got you, babe," Bradley soothed. "I've got you, it's okay. Just let it out."

All you had ever wanted was for someone to support you whenever life put you through the wringer. Bradley felt it a great privilege to be that support, knowing you'd do nothing short of the same for him. He almost cursed himself for letting his insecurities derail his intuition for you, but dismissed the old habit of self-deprecation. Nothing mattered more in this moment than helping you get back on your feet.

"I- I didn't know, you'd be ho-home," you blubbered. The comment irked something in him. How long had you been coming home in a similar state, putting yourself together just in time for him to get home? Were there more despondent texts or other warning signals he hadn't picked up on?

Each hypothesis built a greater desire to look after you, and to follow up on any twinge of doubt he felt. He needed not only to think but to take action on what he thought. "Shh, none of that, baby. None of that. You can always let go around me, okay? 'Can always tell me what's bugging you."

The words lifted heaviness off of you little by little. You cried more at the safety you felt in his words. Bradley guided you, leaden-legged, to the couch. He sat first before gently tugging you atop his lap.

Warm palms rubbed against your cheeks to dry them. Warmer brown eyes sunk into yours, unconditional love seeping through every glint of gold. "Do you wanna talk about it now, or later?" Though not wanting to let your feelings fester, Bradley didn't desire to press you for answers.

He watched as you took in a steady breath and nodded slowly. "Work's just.. just been really frustrating." You sniffled before continuing with anecdotes of being overworked and underappreciated.

Bradley continued to rub softly at your skin as you spoke. His lips pressed assuring kisses to your temples at times you got too worked up to continue. He gave every ounce of care and attention he could to your stories as you vented them out.

You slumped forward in his hold as you finished with a heaving sigh. Another soft kiss was pressed to the crown of your head. "Thank you for telling me, baby." His hands took up rubbing up and down your arms to help ease any remaining tension.

Bradley wasn't sure what he could say or do to make any of this better for you, to help resolve your problems in one fell swoop so that you never had to feel this way again. At the same time, he wasn't sure that a fix-it attitude was what you wanted or needed.

Don't think, just do.

"I want you to know that you're amazing. You work your ass off in everything you do without any promise of reward, and that's really admirable." You lifted your head slightly to see him, to see the sincerity dripping from his praises. "But you deserve recognition for it. It's not fair that you're continually overlooked for fuckheads who don't do a fraction of the shit you do. And it's not fair that you're made to feel so much less than you're worth. I'd kick all their asses if I could." His empty threat broke a small giggle from your lips as grateful tears replaced those of frustration.

Bradley returned your smile with one of his own before resuming a serious tone. "You don't ever have to put on a show for me, okay? I want you to know you're safe to come to me with anything, even the littlest complaints that you write off as whining. Do you ever think I'm whining about Jake getting on my nerves? Or Maverick getting too tough with me in the air?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay, that wasn't the best example." You laughed again, louder this time, and Bradley felt his chest swell with pride. He leaned forward to catch your lips against his, softly, allowing you to take the reins. The kiss stayed soft and sweet as you melted against him. Soft breaths filled the space between you as you parted, resting foreheads against one another. "I'll always look after you, angel. Don't forget that." You nodded in agreement before kissing him once more.

"Thank you."

🏷️: @avengersfan25

[icrypop]

In the quiet

ROTTMNT Leo

Sleepy! Leo x GN! Reader

Fluff/Character comfort

This takes place after the events of the Kraang invasion. Idk why but TMNT been a recent hype fixation (I blame Chaos), and I've just been wanting to write for it until I start getting requests! Much Love!

-Writer Icy<3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of distant explosions echoed through Leo's mind as he tossed and turned in his sleep. The Kraang invasion replayed vividly in his nightmare: the city in ruins, his brothers fighting valiantly but being overwhelmed, the despair that had clawed at his heart. Raph being taken and Kraang possessed, Donnie's broken battle shell, Mikey's tears- He jolted awake, gasping for breath, his chest heaving with the remnants of panic. It felt real.

For a moment, Leo lay still, staring at the ceiling of his room, trying to shake off the nightmare. The familiar surroundings did little to comfort him, and the images of the invasion lingered in the corners of his mind. Deciding he needed a distraction, he quietly slipped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

The apartment was silent, having stayed with his s/o for the night, the only sound being the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Leo flicked on the coffee maker, watching as it gurgled to life, the rich aroma of brewing coffee filling the air. He leaned against the counter, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the residual fear.

As he poured himself a cup, he heard soft footsteps approaching. He turned to see his s/o, their hair slightly tousled from sleep, padding out of his room. They gave him a sleepy smile before wrapping their arms around him from behind, resting their head against his shell.

"Leo, what are you doing up?" Y/n murmured, their voice soft and concerned.

He forced a smile, trying to play it off. "Just couldn't sleep. Figured I'd make some coffee."

They didn't buy it. They never did. With a gentle but firm tug, y/n pulled him away from the counter, guiding him back to the living room. They sat down on the couch, patting the spot beside them. "Come on, talk to me."

Reluctantly, Leo sat down, his shoulders slumping. Y/n rubbed his shell comfortingly, their touch soothing the tension that had built up in his muscles. "Was it a nightmare?" they asked, their voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Y/n continued to rub his shell, their touch grounding him, bringing him back to the present. "The Kraang invasion," he finally admitted, his voice hoarse. "I keep seeing it... hearing it."

Y/n pulled him closer, letting him rest his head on their shoulder. "You don't have to go through this alone, Leo. I'm here for you."

He sighed, the weight of the nightmare beginning to lift as he felt their warmth, their steady presence. "It's just... it was so real. I thought we were going to lose everything."

"But you didn't," Y/n reminded him gently. "You and your brothers fought back. You saved the city. You saved each other."

He nodded again, feeling a bit more at ease. "I know. It's just hard to forget."

Y/n held him tighter, their hand still rubbing soothing circles on his shell. "I understand. But you don't have to carry this burden by yourself. We're a team, remember?"

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah, we are."

Y/n kissed the top of his head before leaning back, coaxing him to lie down with them on the couch. "Let's try to get some more sleep, okay? We'll face whatever comes next together."

As he nestled against them, feeling their heartbeat steady and strong beneath his cheek, the remnants of the nightmare finally began to fade. Their presence was a balm to his troubled mind, and he let himself relax, the tension melting away.

With their gentle touch and reassuring words, Leo found himself drifting back to sleep, the nightmare banished by the warmth and love of the one who held him close.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's a package deal for 3 homes in New Orleans, LA. The 3 separate living spaces include 2 houses and a guest cottage. The 2 homes were built in 1900 and have a total of 5bds and 5ba, $1.1M.

The first house has 2bd, 2ba.

It has a nice sitting room with an original fireplace.

It's a shotgun house, so the next room can be anything, and it also has a fireplace. Usually, this room would be a bedroom.

Here's a lovely bath with a vintage tub.

Then there's an open kitchen/family room combo. A wall was taken down to open it up.

The kitchen is completely renovated and it's lovely. I like the wall color, white cabinets and black counters.

The last room is the bedroom. It's pretty large, has a lot of furniture in here.

A hall with a laundry closet leads to the 2nd bath.

It's a modern renovated shower room.

The guest cottage is located in the back yard of this home. It has its own deck.

It's a lovely little studio with a bath.

The 2nd home next door is completely renovated former double shotgun. It has 3bds & 2ba.

Unfortunately, this home is modernized, gray, and missing the charm of the other one.

It has a very modern kitchen with open shelving.

This room is a home office, but can be a bedroom as well.

The primary bedroom is very large.

The remodeled bath is a shower room.

In a small pass-thru outside of the 2nd bathroom is a laundry area and a closet.

The 3rd bedroom has French doors to the sun room.

The sun room doesn't look finished. I wonder if the wonderful vintage stove conveys.

The yard is a good size, but it's basically dirt and there appear to be remnants of a broken patio, so it needs work. The 2 lots total 2 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/919-921-E-Saint-Roch-Ave-New-Orleans-LA-70122/347260213_zpid/

[timkarr]

Unsettling Sound The Puget Sound is an unsettled sea that lies above the tectonically active western edge of the North American Plate. This large body of frigid water is separated from the Pacific Ocean by the Olympic Mountains to its west and the Cascades to its east. Glaciers crowded into the Sound during the last ice age, advancing from the north. When they retreated some 13,000 years ago they left behind deep deposits of interglacial sediment. These sand and clay remnants, in turn, were carved by frequent rain, sea and wind erosion to form high, unstable coastal bluffs, which were soon blanketed by dense evergreen overgrowths of cedar, hemlock and fir, and undergrowths of alder, blackberry and fern. As erosion progresses this cover slides from high bluffs in slow cascades that often take decades to complete from hilltop to shore. The process is sped up when the northwest rains are heaviest. Landslides can carry trees and their understory to the beach in an instant. Once arrived on the shore, the upended forest enters the marine ecosystem, where it functions as nutrient, shelter and barrier. In the last centuries, human structures have been added to this tumult. Houses perched on bluffs afford spectacular views and command high prices, but they face the disturbing prospect of being splayed across the beach following a prolonged downpour. Slides in the Northwest earn frequent headlines, and were even the subject of a popular book and film set on the slopes of Queen Anne Hill. Much hilltop construction in the area occurs with little immediate awareness of the role erosion plays in maintaining both the geological and biological integrity of the Sound. A common response to the inevitable is to line the bank with black basaltic stones quarried from ancient lava beds. The proliferation of these bulkheads throughout the Puget Sound has resulted in a phenomenon called “shoreline hardening.” According to some government statistics, approximately 30 percent of the Sound’s shoreline is now armored with stone and concrete reinforcements. This happened along the beach where my family has lived for nearly a century. in the 1970s and 80s, property owners piled stone bulkheads to shore up against sliding —attempting to fix in time something that’s always in flux. The results of our obstinance has been devastating. Within years this beach began to lose much of its value. As a child, I can remember clawing a hundred Native Littlenecks from the sand and clay beneath beach rocks. We let these clams sit for a couple of hours in a bucket of seawater. My grandparents taught us to sprinkle in cornmeal so they could spit out stomach sand as they fed. Once full, they were transferred into a steaming pot where they open latticed shells to offer up their tenderness. Today I’m lucky if I find a single Littleneck after 30 minutes of raking. When I visit the Sound, I think of Sue and Payne, who were privileged to live on this shore and loved what it could yield to any of their grandchildren willing to put some time into it. They left us more than 20 years ago, and a new generation of family has built modern homes on the foundations of those Sue and Payne left behind. In time, ownership may be handed to successive generations, or we might drift away, passing the beachfront to someone with no memory of what it meant to a family that gathered there. And while the Sound may retain much of its scenic beauty, this too is fleeting. The tides will rise and fall revealing stretches of rocks and sand, again and again, and still something will always remain unsettled until it’s gone.

[octuscle]

How to become the fuck whore

Lawrence was ruined. Really broke. He had lost his job. He had lost his apartment. And the suitcase containing his last belongings had been stolen. Now he stood in the rain on the street and waited for a lightning bolt to strike him. That would have been the best solution. He was now in his late 50s, had never furthered his education, was unathletic. He didn't see that there was any perspective for him.

Just as he was considering whether he should really throw himself off a bridge, a group of obviously drunken partygoers came by. "Dude, you look like shit!" one of the young lads said. "Do you need help?". It didn't matter now, his dignity was already shot to hell too. So Lawrence started crying bitterly and outlined his story. The lads around him were embarrassed at first. But then one started grinning whispering with the others and interrupted Sebastian's lament. "Dude, come join us. One of our roommates is abroad for a semester. You can have his room for a few days."

A few minutes later, Lawrence was sitting in the kitchen of the student housing community. He had taken a jogging suit from the closet of the lad whose room he was staying in. A little tight in the waistband. A little loose at the top. The lad obviously had an athletic build. It did feel a little strange to be an old man sitting among all the young studs. The lads all knew each other from sports college, two were assistants there, three were still studying. All well-built and picture-perfect alphas! He didn't fit in here. But Lawrence had no choice either.

After three beers and a joint, his eyes fell shut. He excused himself and threw himself on his bed. As he fell asleep, he noticed the smell of sweat in the bedclothes. And he wondered why such athletic young people were drinking, smoking and smoking pot. But he didn't care. He had already fallen asleep.

When he woke up, the sun was shining. He had to orientate himself for a short time until Lawrence remembered where he was and who he was. In any case, he was well rested. And he felt better than he had in a long time. He went to the bathroom of the shared flat in his borrowed jogging suit to pee. And one look in the mirror confirmed it: the night had been good for him. Maybe everything really was going to be okay. The bathroom looked like he had imagined the bathroom of a student shared flat would look. Dirty, untidy. So he made himself useful. The others seemed to be still asleep, in any case he didn't hear a sound. When he was done with the bathroom, he continued in the kitchen, where there were still weeks of dishes. And while he was dishwashing, two of the lads came into the kitchen. Obviously both had been jogging, sweat glistened on their bare torsos and they were breathing heavily. Sebastian handed them both a glass of water and asked if he should make breakfast. The two lads grinned at each other and exchanged a fistbump. And ordered scrambled eggs and coffee.

For the rest of the day, Lawrence cleaned the apartment until you could have eaten off the floor in every room. He'd also been to the laundromat, and for the evening he'd made plans to iron the clothes. The lads came and went, had food made for them in between, and had no problem leaving a trail of devastation behind them each time. But Lawrence thought it was only fair to tidy up and clean again. In the process, he found himself getting a stiff cock more and more often at the sight of the lads. Why did they all have to walk around the apartment bare-chested, too. Or directly completely naked.

For ironing Larry was allowed to come into the living room of the shared flat. The lads were lounging on the sofa watching a football game. Every now and then, someone would ask for a beer or a sandwich, and Larry would interrupt his ironing to go to the kitchen. It was late when he was finally able to go to bed. But he still wanted to clean up the last remnants of the TV evening before he went to bed himself. In the process, he had already taken off the top of his jogging suit. And while cleaning the bathroom mirror, which was already smeared again, he noticed that he didn't look so bad with his naked upper body. And as he lay in bed, he noticed that his room was the only one where the beds were not freshly changed. And it hadn't been cleaned yet.

When Larry got up the next morning to get rolls and make breakfast, something was different. The top of his jogging suit was stretching across his chest. And he had trouble pulling his pants up over his thighs. Maybe he'd have to go through the closet later to see if he could find something better to wear. But now he had to hurry. The first of his masters would be leaving for their morning jog in a moment. By the time they returned, he had to have breakfast ready. As soon as he got back from the bakery, he had to take off his sweatshirt. Way too tight. Besides, it was rude to cover his tits when he was allowed to see his masters'. And his tits were something he was proud of. He was proud of his whole body. But as his masters' cleaning slave and fuck whore, he also had an obligation to do his best.

[clone-anon]

I miss Tech. I know you might not be able to write for awhile and I get that. If you feel up to it though could you please write a fic where Tech is able to come to Pabu after tantis and finds out the Marauder is gone. Maybe reader (platonic/aromantic) comforts him with hugs and memories tks

Hello! I have some pretty strong feelings about Tech and how we still didn't see him in the entire last third of The Bad Batch. Here is hoping he will come home soon. And in manifestation of this....

Tech x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of injuries, but nothing explicit. No indication of whether Tech was CX-2 or not. Tech lives, obviously!

You sat on the landing pad near the ocean. It was empty now, but the last few remnants of the Marauder were only recently removed. In the rush to get to Tantiss, the people of Pabu did their best to help clean up the mess from the explosion while Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair left with Phee. You were among them, trying to grab whatever you could and sort through anything that you felt the brothers would want to keep. There wasn't much. Thankfully Gonky, Lula, Tech's goggles and various pieces of armor were already removed when the ship exploded. You did, however, manage to find and keep one thing.

You smiled to yourself as you looked down at the yoke and the lever used to jump to hyperspace.

"You recovered it?" Tech asked as he approached.

"I did," you replied with a smile. "I thought you might want to keep it."

Tech sat next to you with a flinch and sighed.

"You okay?" you asked.

"I'm better today." He was still healing, but mostly there. His family had waited until he was better to tell him about the Marauder. He didn't take it well, although he tried to insist it was merely a ship that could be replaced. You all knew better, but it was Tech's way to try to process the information.

Tech reached for the yoke and you gladly gave it to him. He held it in his hands as he had done hundreds of times while piloting the ship. It fit his grip perfectly.

"I requested this particular part," he said. "I requested the modifications to the Marauder. I was nine, but argued that since they felt we were nearly ready for battle, we should be able to get the best equipment. They made some of the modifications, but I made most of them. Even the ones they deemed unnecessary."

He reached for the lever and you handed it to him. He felt so natural holding these pieces, yet they were less familiar since they were no longer attached to anything.

"What was it like when you first flew the Marauder?" you asked.

Tech fondly smiled and answered, "The training simulations were not adequate, but I adapted quickly."

He grimaced, now faced with the thought that he would never fly his ship again. He would never have that home again. He took in a breath. Things changed, but he wasn't alone. He made it to Pabu, their new home. He put the yoke and lever aside and tried to smile at you. You opened your arms to invite him in for a hug if he wanted it. He didn't hesitate. He'd been separated from his family and friends for so long. He rested his head against yours and you held each other. While he wasn't usually one to cry, a few tears trickled down his face.

"I cannot explain why I feel this way. I'm home. We lived. I should only feel gratitude."

"It's okay, Tech," you reassured. "Sometimes I can't put my finger on my feelings, but I simply feel them. We're all built a little different. Besides, you survived a terrible fall. It takes a toll on your body, including your exceptional mind."

He nodded and took in a deep breath. You held him a little closer and waited for him to feel ready to let go. You stayed up with him and watched the ocean while he spent the night telling you all kinds of stories about flying and the modifications he wanted to make on a new ship.

[the-real-treasure]

Treasure Treasure!

An OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Previous Chapter: Treasure Troves in Orange Groves

Chapter Ten: Poisson d'Arlong

Summary: The Strawhat Crew fight to protect their navigator and to avenge her dream against a scaled tyrant. After that evil is defeated, another emerges to teach them the true dangers of what they've set out to do.

Trigger Warnings: Tattoos, needles, childhood trauma, overstimulation, blood, sort of cannabilism? Reader imagines torturing and eating Arlong so take that as you will, fire, violence, threats and descriptions of violence, murder, Reader's Devil Fruit power is overwhelming and overstimulating, being dowsed in sea water is akin to being drugged Word Count: 9,330 **Edited: 20/09/24**

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The way Nami describes getting her tattoo makes your skin crawl and you curl your hands with the desire to peel the flesh away from your bones to ease the discomfort. She was only little, the baby-faced tangerine head you saw from her memories, bound up in that dark dank room day after day to draw maps for a man who held nothing but vitriol in his heart for any human in the world. You don’t remember gaining your tattoos, their origins now even shakier in your mind then they had been growing up with the involvement of Roku.

Nami talked quietly, very unlike the snarky snappishness you were used to from your only female crewmate and the affect Arlong had on her when he wasn’t even present made your stomach roll and the energy in your chest quiver and roil as the rage built in you. You want to descale and broil him in butter, cream some potatoes and serve him on a bed of steam veggies. Or ask Sanji to do it so you don’t burn everything to a crispy husk. She was still wearing Luffy’s hat as you all made it to the remnants of the village, her shoulder wrapped to protect the torn skin of where she had driven the blade into it.

The buildings were wholly gutted by the flames the fishman pirates had set, shells of the foundations and support beams left empty and barren. The ground was black with ash and soot and the air stank of wet cinders from the villagers’ desperate attempts to douse the flames. Despite their best effort, the village was still reduced to nothing but ashen ruins.

“Arlong did this?” Sanji is staring around aghast as the rest of you at the destruction. “Why?” Nami’s throat bobs as she looks around her.

“To punish the villagers. And to punish me.” You run your knuckles gently up and down the length of her injured arm. You don’t know if it does anything, but you hope the small comfort offers her some relief as the villagers, led by Nojiko and Genzo, come to meet you all. “What’s going on?” Her hand grabs a hold of your wrists and squeezes it tightly, nails digging in more desperately than they did in Buggy’s big top.

“Nojiko told us about your sacrifice. We didn’t know. Can you ever forgive us?” Her hand grips tighter.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Coco Village is my home.”

“Then it’s our turn to sacrifice. We’re done living in fear. We’re gonna march on Arlong Park. If those fishmen want a fight-” Nami interrupts, voice desperate.

“That’s not a fight, that’s a massacre. You will all be killed.”

“And I’m sure that’s exactly what Arlong wants.” Your voice is a low mutter, but Nami gestures at you in agreement.

“If there’s no hope for us to buy our freedom, then I say we die trying to fight for it!” The villagers cheer and raise their weapons as Nami watches them all hopelessly.

“No, everyone please! No, I-I won’t let you do that.” The cheering cuts of abruptly as they all look at her, “This is my fight.”

“No.” Luffy’s voice is sharp and serious from beside Nami. “This is our fight. Right guys?”

“Finally I get to cut something.” Zoro’s voice is monotone as always while Usopp worries beside him.

“But how are we gonna beat Arlong? We saw what he did at Baratie.”

“Grilling would probably work. Or boiling.” You answer simply and Sanji looks down at you with a confused smile, “What? It’s, like, the easiest way to prepare fish?”

“Every creature has a weakness.” Zoro sort of agrees with you, “Maybe Nakayoshi has a point.”

“You can just call me Y/n.”

“No. It’s a matter of principal now.” Usopp cuts through your glare.

“Even bulletproof ones?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Luffy’s voice has lost the harshness, but he is no less confident as he speaks, “And when I do… I won’t hesitate.”

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The fishmen are busy carting about crates and boxes before the explosions go off. Large puffs of thick white smoke begin to pour through the air of Arlong Park. Luffy kicks open the barred gate with no issue, leading the other six of you in to the fray as the smoke begins to clear.

“Fishmen!” One you remember from Baratie yells out to the rest of the park, “Stand by to repel boarders!”

You all ready yourselves for the fight. Luffy cracks his knuckles as Zoro unsheathes the Wado Ichimonji, Sanji pulls back one leg and Usopp draws his slingshot. You drop your chains from their homes in your arms, the weight clunking at your feet.

“Where’s Arlong?”

“He’s probably in the map room.” Nami is the only one not to pull a weapon and Luffy looks back at her.

“Then that’s where we’re going.” They take off for the map room and Usopp darts for the rocks to your left for a higher vantage point, leaving you in between Sanji and Zoro in front of the wooden gates as the fishmen charge.

Sanji and Zoro leap into action, swinging and kicking at the fishmen as they advance. You wind back, long lengths of chain clinking against each other as you crack them across scaley backs, heads and shoulders, leaving stinging red burns on their skin.

You crack your chain whips through the rock bridge Luffy and Nami had crossed, barely missing Zoro as he ducks away continuing to fight, and the collision knocks substantial chunks from the yellow stone, leaving them to tumble messily into the water.

Your chains wind around the legs of one fishman as he leaps across to the stone platform Zoro is standing on. You land on his shoulders and dig your nails in, tearing out chunks of scaley skin and fishy flesh as he screams and topples. You hop off at the very last moment, the saltiness in the air enough of a warning for you to avoid the water, and you land beside the boys again as the liquid turns a murky red, your hands now dripping in blood. Zoro is already turning on Sanji, who had apparently stolen a kill from him.

“I had that one.”

“If you had him, I wouldn’t have got him.”

“Boys, you’re both very pretty, can we stay focused on the matter at hand please?” Sanji smirks cheekily at you.

“Oh you think I’m pretty.”

“They only said that to save you dignity, don’t get a big head.” Zoro snarks and then points the tip of his katana to your nose, “You, don’t give him a big head.”

“Stop calling me Nakayoshi.”

“No.”

“Then no. Sanji you look beautiful in this lighting!”

The blonde man cackles as more fishmen begin to spill out from deeper in the park, roaring and yelling as they come. Several dive into the water around you, and each of the three of you take off in a different direction, Sanji to your left, Zoro to your right and you move back across the inlaid boulders towards the main gates.

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You can hear the boys across the pond bantering as two fishmen leap out of the water at you, darting in and out so much you have to spin to keep up. They bob in and out, swiping and clawing at your skin, the salt water seeping into the wounds making you groggy and filling your head with sawdust and cotton.

“You look tired!” Sanji spins and knocks two fishmen down with his outstretched leg, and you have to refocus your brain as he flips his hair dramatically. “Maybe you should take a break.” Zoro stands from his kneeling position and easily incapacitates a fishman sneaking behind. One of your two manages to land a full faceful of salt water right at you, leaving you dripping and even more dazed than before.

“Maybe you oughta get back in the kitchen.”

“Quit screwing around! Luffy needs us!” Sanji and Zoro slice down the fishmen around them as the two you were fighting duck back below the water, your form swaying and off-balance.

“You just got here, you don’t know what Luffy needs.”

“I know he needs my cooking.”

“You mean putting two slices of bread together?” A cackle resounds from the bag as they both turn to glare at it.

“Uh-oh someone’s feeling threatened!”

“Shut up!” The roar is instantaneous from both of them, hatred for the clown swelling.

“Then get me back to my body! We’re close. I can feel my toes! Trust me. I can help you guys win this thing!”

Their attention diverts, though, as you scream angrily, both fishmen once again popping up and away again, now even further into the small lagoon pool. With a roar, you swing both your chains up and over your head, before slamming down full force across the surface of the water. The force sends waves lapping to the tiles sides, but neither chain sinks.

Instead, the water around them begins to bubble and froth ferociously, your own anger overheating as the fishmen still in the pool watch the surface as it foams and rages. With a roar you, lift them again, slamming the chains into the water again and again, steam beginning to rise from it and fishmen begin to pinken and let out gurgling screams as the surface, in a moment of sheer lack of ability, ignites in a roaring azure inferno, sending several of the fishmen who weren’t as deep, shooting out of the scalding water, sides dripping with molten liquid as their skin bubbles and peels with blisters.

Both men from your crew back away from the inferno, and watch, slightly terrified as your figure emerges from the flames, eyes boiling and chains ablaze, the metal white-hot. Heat washes over them from the fire as it splutters boiling hot water across the tile around them.

The bag around Sanji’s neck continues to shake and plea to be reunited with his body and you join the other two in glaring at it.

“I swear, clown, if you screw us over…”

“We have a currently on-fire pool of saltwater I don’t think any of us will mind using to give you a dip.” As Sanji upends the bag on to the ground at his feet, Buggy’s head spends no time in zipping right back to himself and making himself whole again in the shooting gallery.

“Yes!” He unattaches his hands and hops down from the prize board giddily. “YES! Oh, it’s so much better than I even remembered.” As he spots the three of you glaring at him, he stops clutching at himself and, after a moment of staring in shock at the burning pool, instead chooses to shoot you all the double bird. “Hey, so um, I’m gonna get outta here.”

“Into the pool, I think.”

“Hey!” Your suggestion was ignored as Zoro barks after him.

“Sorry kiddos! I’d love to make things right, but it’s time to exit stage left.” AS he prances up the stairs away from you all you call out behind him.

“JUST BECAUSE THAT WAS FUNNY DOESN’T MEAN WE’RE NOT RIGHTFULLY PISSED!” You screamed after his retreating figure who shoots you a thumbs up at the compliment. “NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, I WILL KILL YOU! THAT’S A PROMISE!”

“Fucking clown.” Zoro swears behind you.

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“How dare you strike down my brothers?” You all peer through the flame as another two fishmen you recognise from Baratie storm in through the wide open gates. “You won’t be so lucky against the might of my fishman karate." The bluer one raises his hand, curling it into a fist as he levels it at the three of you.

"And my fishman judo." The orange and brown one spoke as well, long barbed tail whipping behind him as he dropped into a half squat. Sanji snarls at them, and with a yell they leap into the still flaming pool, scalding hot water pinkening their skin as they torpedo towards you three, and as the blue one leaps from the scalding water, its spouts out with him, showering you all in boiling water as he lunges at Sanji, who he lands on with a wet slam, sending them back several feet, the scalding water already cooling.

The brown-orange one lands upright by you, and you can make out fully now he resembles some kind of ray or skate, face flat and mouth snarling at you. With a yell, you swing your chains at his head. He catches them, and using your momentum and a raised leg, sends you plummeting face first in the still salty wet tiles around you. The other one straddles the blonde man in a choke, Zoro attacks his back, though he easily catches the katana and pushes him away, sending Zoro careening backwards.

You right yourself and dodge around Zoro and the fishman as they trade blows, scampering over to Sanji, who is still laid out prone on the ground. Helping him off the ground, you turn as Zoro is kicked away from the fight and whip your chains out to strike the advancing ray fishman. He catches them on his forearm and the wind around and around it, leaving raised, scorching burns on his already pinkish skin, leaving blisters all in their wake. He roars at you, tugging on the chains to send you flying across the burning pool and into the rock formations past it. Sanji jumps into the fight after shouting your name, kicking and spinning to try and knock the brute off his feet, as his eyes searched the thick steam to catch sight of you, just barely doing so before being sent flying himself.

All three of you grunt as you try to stand, Zoro and Sanji much closer to your joint opponent as you had been thrown on a harsher curve, leaving your chains to trail in the water.

"You're no match for me. My kicks can break a ship's keel." You scoff at the fishman as you hear Sanji reply as he attempts to stand.

"That's nothing." His voice is incredibly strained. "You should have seen Zeff's kicks when he found an eggshell in the crème brûlée."

"Or when I got the wrong wine delivered that shithead in Shells Town when he first let me do the stock orders by myself." Zoro groaned at the pair of you.

"I get it. Zeff was mean to you. Boo-hoo." With a grunt, the blue fishman runs at the now standing Sanji, kicking him square in the chest and sending him flipping head over heels on to the ground again. 

Zoro is sent spinning into the wall beside you two, you propped up against it as the salt water steam clatters about in your lungs, making you woozy once again. The fishmen stand side-by-side, glaring down at you all.

"Nami is a fool to have her faith in such weak compatriots." Your mind feels like its floating in soup but a grimace still curls on your lips as you stand straight.

"Don't you ever," you snarl, "bad mouth my friends." Sanji joins you, shucking off his jacket and standing beside you.

"And don't think I'm gonna let you get away with hurting my fut-" the words catch in his throat and he awkwardly reshapes them as they fall from his mouth "-favourite person." Zoro stares at him dolefully at the pathetic save, but you hardly notice the mocking glare he throws the blonde as you square up to the fishmen before you.

"Now you've done it." You both leap forward, striking your respective fishmen.

"Côtelette!" Sanji yells as he kicks the blue fishman's side harshly, and you match him with a schring-ing swipe of your chains and a shout of "Cófra!" The shouts and hits continue to match in tandem with each other, the pair of you moving in sync as you had for years.

"Collier!" A strike to the collar bone as you hit with a spinning whack across the stomach "Boilg!"

"Épaule!" A spinning kick from the ground connects with his shoulder as you scream out "Cosa!" and sweep the legs and tail from underneath your foe.

"Poitrine!" Pushing himself up and into the fishman, Sanji sends him back with a full kick to the chest as you roll out your chains and lash your chains across his face and neck "Ceann !"

Both fishman get pushed back with a snarl, but you weren't about to let them start the fight again after getting their breaths back. Looking to Sanji, he gives you a nod and you both launch forward in your finishing moves.

"Mouton Shot!"

"Slabhra Stór!"

With a well placed kick, Sanji launches the fishman back over the bar counter, knocking him into and through the wood. You join him, slamming your chains down in an X shape onto the other, sending him flying through the now cascading debris. Zoro comes up behind you as you both right yourselves, and you find yourself still wobbly from the sea water steam still lingering in the air around you.

"Mouton Shot? Slabhra Stór?"

"I told you before," You reply drearily, and Sanji finishes for you, hand resting on your back and pulling your lolling head to his shoulder.

"All great fighters call out their finishing moves."

"Yeah, you're gonna fit in just fine." A manic screaming echoes through the front gates as Usopp rounds them, slingshot armed and at the ready.

"NEVER FEAR, THE GREAT CAPtain Usopp is..." he looks around at the dozens of fishmen bodies scattered across the ground by your trio, completely missing the fire pool still burning away. "...is... Oh. You guys did pretty good in here. Good job guys."

"Thanks Usopp." You shoot him a drowsy thumbs up and he points to you.

"What's with them?"

"Must be the salt water." Sanji replies, still holding you close to him as he fans the air around you to rid it of excess steam. Zoro and Usopp exchange smirks at the position, "It's sort of like getting drunk, except you just go weak and sleepy everytime." 

You blink back to full consciousness as the tinkling sounds echo out from the tall main building behind the park. Sanji lets you stand yourself as he spreads his arms out happily at the sight of the running red head approaching. You barely catch his cheer of "NAMI!" as she barrels past him, looping you, Usopp and Zoro into a tight hug.

"You're all okay!" You snigger slightly as Sanji's face sours and his arms drop back to his sides. "What happened, why-" she stops and registers the mass of flames surrounding you all. Usopp finally registers it too and peers at you confused.

“Why is the water on fire?” the pair are now staring worriedly at the flickering flames, the water level having diminished with the rising steam, but the flames no less brilliant. You don't look behind you, so you don't see as Sanji pulls his hand across his neck to signal for them to stop asking.

“Look, we all know I can’t cook, but that doesn’t mean I can’t boil a few fish when needed.” You chirp smugly. You look back just as he stops, smiling innocently down at you. Nami and Usopp give you shaky smiles when you turn back to them with a large proud smile. "We have already established, I possess an extreme lack of skill in the kitchen, so I will graciously allow Sanji to continue in the role of head chef of the Straw Hats." You wave graciously to the blonde as he swipes at you with his foot, catching the back of your ankle and nearly knocking you off balance. "Hey!"

"Where's Luffy?" You all look to the slowly crumbling building.

"Still inside, fighting Arlong."

"He's gonna be alright." As Usopp opens his mouth, the entire building begins to shudder and groan, the bells on each corner ringing with each wobble. "Right?"

You all watch with horror as the building begins to implode and collapse, dust sweeping over you as rubble crumbles down the sides. Nami lets out a terrified scream of "LUFFY!" as each level collapses down on to the one below, the building completely destroyed in seconds.

There are several moments of silence as the dust settles and debris falls further, scattering across the ground as it falls down the uneven ledges left from the collapse.

Your crew holds their breath as one for a moment.

And then two.

In the third, a rumble shakes the main mound of dirt and dust, and Luffy's fist shoots from the rubble, pushing pieces clear before the boy leaps out, hair, clothes and skin beige with plaster dust but looking unharmed.

"NAMI!" He yells down to your frame stills and tears burn your eyes, "You are our friend!" Again, you push your knuckles into the skin of her arm and there's no hesitation as she snatches hold of it, clinging for dear life. "We are your crew!" You all begin to laugh around her as she stares up at your captain in a daze.

You wiggle your joined hands and she looks at your beaming face, tears rolling down hers. Her smile matches yours.

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You stand by Sanji behind the large serving bowl, handing him fresh clean bowls as people come up for their meals. You smile as children run past with sparklers, giggling clear through the chatter of the festival atmosphere. "Bon appétit." You both smiled as the young lady as she walked away with her portion, next bowl at the ready as you scooped in some of the waiting diced and sliced fruits and vegetables in front of you. You snigger as you go to tap the large pan, only for Sanji to swat your hand away. "Oi, I'm not looking to serve burnt food to these people," He ignored your grumbling as Nojiko returns to the line again. "Oh hey!" You grin at her as she stands looking at your chef sassily.

"I'm gonna need this recipes too." Sanji chuckles as he scoops more into the bowl for her, "You should really write a cookbook, you know?"

"Weeeell, you know, a true artist never reveals his secrets."

"Especially when he's the best cook in the entire world." You praise easily, poking through the veggies to top her dish, as Nojiko smirks at the red crawling up Sanji's neck and cheeks.

"Kitchen running too hot for you chef?" You look up at her a moment, before spinning on Sanji, eyeing his red face and leaning up to investigate as he leans away.

"You better not be getting sick-"

"-I'm fine, you cheeky, get off, I have people to serve-"

"-we don't have a doctor yet Sanji, you can't be sick!" Nojiko and then next woman you serve, still fussing at Sanji, giggle to each other at your well meaning care that is only flustering the chef more as Zoro approaches again.

"Oooh! Back for seconds, must have liked it!"

"Yeah, it was okay," he replies with a shrug.

"That plate says different."

"Yeah, d'ya lick it clean Roronoa?" His eyes turn to you as you smirk up at him.

"What."

"If you're only gonna call me Nakayoshi then I'm only gonna call you Roronoa." You nod with a finality that makes Sanji chuckle as he ladles more into Zoro's dish, the deadpan man staring down at you.

"Fine. I won't call you Nakayoshi-"

"-thank you!"

"Log Pose." You still completely, hands frozen as they reach for the tongs in the veggie bowl. A 'snrrk' leaves Sanji before he can stop it and you whirl on him with fury in your eyes.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't laugh! I don't wanna be called Log Pose! I already had to deal with Magic Compass from the clown! Zoro no come on!" He ignores you, snatching the plate from Sanji's hand as he tries to hide a grin.

"Hm, good portion. It's the least you can do, considering I saved your ass from those fishmen."

"What? I saved your arse." You roll your eyes as your own complaints over the nickname are quickly forgotten in place of bitching at each other again. It's not banter anymore, you decide, it's catty bitching.

"You didn't even get your hands dirty."

"At least I don't need three swords to prove I'm a man." Zoro doesn't react or respond, instead turning and walking off as Sanji smirks at his 'win'.

You mutter to yourself as he walks away and Sanji chuckles gently at you.

"Cannot believe him." You mumble, scooping out the last of the veggies available into the last few bowls and hand them up to Sanji. "Calling me Log Pose. Of all the things." He scraps the last out of his own large pan, the ever present rule of not wasting food running through your action as you perform them mindlessly. "Why couldn't he just use my name, like I asked? Stupid annoying, mossball of a man." Trays in front of you clear and stacked for washing, you turn to Sanji only to find him already looking at you. His gaze is painfully soft, a familiar warmth you just want to melt into as his blue eyes capture your swirling aqua and gold. His hand rests on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your body like he was made of molten chocolate. "What's up, hm?" He blinks, slow and lazy, eyes full of his heart, "Where are you then? Where's my Sanji got to?"

You don't know it, but hearing those words make his inside vibrate with warmth, he loves you he loves you he loves you. As you stare up at him, face and hair lit with the golden warmth of the fire light as it flickers over the groves and features he has long since memorised, he sees again, as if for the first time, how enthralling you are. All pure happy beauty, not marred by the dark past that follows you both, but moulded with it, carved and reshaped into the divine sight before him. His hand slides down your arm, following the groves set by the chains of tattoos, or tattoos of chains. He can wrap his whole hand around your upper arm, and for a moment a well-known shot of worry laces through him. You were always a bit too small for comfort, something he had confided in to Zeff. The older chef had assured him that weight and health would come with time, as it was the ultimate healer. But here you were, almost a decade off that rock, and you still hadn't quite made up for the weight you had lost, a small tummy perhaps, but not quite the gusto for eating he had hoped to inspire even with your ravings about his skill to others, still always waiting to eat after he does, making sure he got some bites in before trying any for yourself. It was not a battle to fight today, or a war he would win without you working with him, so he said nothing and allowed his hand to slide further until it landed at your wrist, red and inflamed from the chains hanging from them. His eyes never wavered and a small smile quirked your lips even as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Thank you." That was not what you had expected from him. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but not that.

"What for?" Your eyebrows furrowed lower and a smile grew on his face at your confusion. "I didn't do anything. Was just cleaning up some plates and stuff."

"No!" He starts with a laugh, the sound enveloping you and you squeeze the sound into your heart, which was already crammed full of him, but you could always make room. "I meant for, you know," he gestured over to where the rest of the crew had gathered as Usopp wowed the locals with the fictitious events of today. "Them. Bringing them. Meeting Luffy and him having such an impact and still wanting me to come." His eyes don't leave the others, but yours never stray from his face. "I probably could have spent my life at Baratie and wouldn't even have noticed if not for you throwing me head first into the thick of this. And I know they don't know me yet, or anything and I'm sure I have to play catchup with" his eyes roll slightly, "most of them." You snigger at his exasperation, but it smoothes out at the sound and his eyes find yours again, as always. "But you didn't have to bring me, you could have left me to my dissolving dream and gone out and sailed across the whole world and you didn't. You came back for me, and you took my hand and pulled me along too." Your smile crinkles your eyes.

"As always." He breaths a laugh out of his nose.

"Yeah." His face mellows out once more and he takes a deep breath, "Mon Cœur, I just wanted to say-"

"MARINES!" The shout rings out above the cheering that had started behind you and you both swivel around to watch as tens of Marines marched into the yard. "Form lines." Sanji's hand tightens and you pull him with you as you move towards the crowd where the rest of your crew stood. You push through the throng of people, ending up behind Luffy, with Sanji by your side. It was complete silence except for rhythmic marching of feet on dirt as they fell into formation, the leaders, the ones from the ship, Luffy's grandpa and his subordinates, stare at your group of six. Zoro puts his hand on the Wado Ichimonji, but the second in command in the fedora warned him off.

"I'd rethink that if I were you."

"So these are the Straw Hat Pirates. Huh. Marines, arrest them."

"Sir," a small voice, belonging to Koby, spoke beside him, "the Straw Hats didn't destroy Coco Village. It was Arlong." Garp peered at him a moment before turning back to you all.

"You have your orders, cadet." The pinkette, normally shy and retreating, stood firm and stepped out in front of his commander.

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said no, sir."

"You do realise there are severe punishments for disobeying direct orders?"

"I disagree with those orders, sir." A smile grows on your face and peering over at Luffy he has an expression to match. What you weren't expecting was for Haircut Helmeppo, notorious nepo-baby of the 153rd Branch, to step forward and join him.

"Me too." Garp lets out a heaved sigh and chuckles.

"Anyone else like to follow their lead? Or do you all wanna follow orders instead?" A group of Marine cadets, armed with their standard rifles, move around Garp, Bogard, Koby and Helmeppo and aim for your crew. "Any of them move, make sure it's their last." Garp steps up and begins to approach your captain. "Come 'ere boy." You watch them as they step away from the group, and your body moves without your say so, that power in your chest now frantic and writhing, as you step along behind Luffy but still at a small distance. You miss the click of the rifles aimed at you, and Sanji's hand slipping from your grasp, but you also miss the way Bogard waves the cadets attention back to the others, instead matching your unconscious movement as your captain and the Vice-Admiral square off to each other. "I gave you every opportunity to follow my path, to become a respected Marine. But instead, you chose to become a pirate." A small smile tugs on Luffy's face.

"No, Grandpa. I've always been a pirate."

"No more running boy. Last chance. Give it up."

"That's not really my thing." Garp grips the shoulder of his overcoat and sends it flying over his shoulder, where it, with the heavy regalia and medals, pummels a poor cadet in the face, nearly knocking him over.

"Then show me what you've got."

With a yell, Luffy launches at him, but Garp with surprising speed ducks out of the way and throws a heavy punch into Luffy's stomach, sending him backwards.

As Luffy is thrown headlong in your direction, the world around you freezes and you think for a moment.

On one hand, you could move out of the way. Luffy's not that big or tall, so dodging him wouldn't be too difficult, you're used to getting away from people much bigger.

On the other however, you know this would lead to your captain landing away from the huge crowd of Marines and civilians, alone. This boy, who had stood by you all, who had encouraged you all to follow your dreams and join him in his, being left to fight by himself, even if he happily would, it didn't sit right with you.

You don't move.

As your captain bowls into you, you're hit with immediate regret. He isn't big, but he is dense, the feeling of him striking you in the chest is like being struck with half of Kaya's mansion worth of bricks, and you are both sent smashing through the remnants of someone's home or business, the seared wood crumbling under your combined weight. It reminds you, momentarily, of your first meeting in that pub. The same ache in your chest is present now as it was then.

Where Luffy stands with more ease, you're hit with a wave of mangled thoughts and feelings and dreams and wishes that haven't quite sorted themselves after being solidly simple for so long. A tidal wave of all the people around you slams down into your head and leaves you completely breathless for a moment.

Reprieve comes, however, in the form of a warm hand grabbing yours that was listlessly hanging in the air. An aura of certainty surrounds you as you gaze up at your captain. It's like staring straight at the sun after a lifetime of darkness.

As a child you were told eating the Treasure Treasure fruit was the stupidest decision you could have ever made. It was pointless, offering no additional skills to assist or support the Supreme Commander's family or scientific endeavours. As useless as the overly emotional boy you were assigned to follow and serve, branded with the number 3 with a line scored through it, and the marking of your country, a clear '66' etched into your skin forever.

But, as you lie in this courtyard, surrounded by marines vying for your capture and execution, and stare up at the grinning boy in a scruffy straw hat, you realise that no.

There were much much stupider decisions to be made.

You face cracks, a grin of equal excitement breaking out on you as he pulls you upright and you stare at him with a manic glee you're sure would be frightening to anyone else.

"You can go back to the others, ya know?" He mumbles, face stretched over that grin of his. "This isn't your fight." His eyes weave over to Garp for a moment before settling back on you, hand still clasped in his.

"You're my captain." Your grin matching his in ferocity, "Of course it is."

To this boy, this boy who resembles flashes of a memory from a blue-haired clown, of a face moustached and grinning in every worn and ragged wanted poster you had seen with the highest bounty known to man, to this boy, you're an equal. And as you turn as a pair, eyes blazing into the pair of Marines staring down at you, Garp and his grandson locking eyes and yours snap to the second in command, Bogard, who has his katana drawn and ready.

Neither manic smile leaves your faces, even as his brows furrow and his teeth disappear behind his lips.

"This is what you wanted right?" Garp calls, the Marine pair advancing towards you, "To be a pirate. Well, I'll show you what Marines do to pirates." As he walks along behind his vice-Admiral, Bogard unsheathes his katana, eyes laser focused on you.

"I don't want to fight you, Grandpa." You drop one of your chains from its snug spot in your arm to your side.

"You've been fighting me your entire life." As Garp swings down at him with all his might, Luffy pushes you to the side and dives out the way. Garp easily crumbles another section of flame-rotted wood, and you have to lurch your head back to avoid being beheaded as Bogard swings at you. Luffy swings out at Garp, who dodges, leaving the punch to hit random debris behind him. "When are you gonna learn that you can't win?!" With another punch, Luffy is sent flying through another ruined building, and though you go to follow like Garp does, the 'shing'-ing of a blade behind you halts that plan.

Grabbing hold of the other end of your chain, shorter than you would normally have it, you lift it above your head just as Bogard slashes at you. You continue to parry and push off the attacks of the second, but he's fast and doesn't seem to be tiring.

"God, they must work you lot to the bone." You grunt, catching on your chain as his katana strikes at you, and wrapping it up, blade caught up in the links. "If the 153rd had been trained half as well, I don't think we would've even made it out of Shells Town."

"We're seeing to that, don't you worry." He rips his blade free, and he swings at you over and over, catching the metal of the chain and sending sparks of hot white liquid metal cascading to the ground with every strike.

"I thought I'd trained you better than this!" You can hear Garp taunting Luffy, but you don't look away from your own adversary, as he removes his own coat from his shoulders, dropping it to the ground to be stained with soot and ash. As he did, you snap your chain out at his face, barely missing as he darts back, instead smacking the grey fedora off his head, and his attention follows you slap the metal on to his extended wrist, coiling it around before pulling taut. He holds out, keeping a firm stance and feet solidly placed as you hear your captains voice ring out.

"You did!" You watch as Bogard's eyes flicker to Garp and feel the resistance in his arms give as, instead of yanking back on the chain, he lets you pull him to you. A grin cracked your face. You can almost hear Roku's snarling laugh as you pull the same move he did, yanking Bogard off his feet and letting him fly towards you. As the metal of the katana blade zooms at your face, you dodge your head to the side, lift and twist your body, leg out to catch the man's momentum. Luffy's voice echoes through the air as Bogard lifts off the ground, his eyes wide with rage as you send him sailing past you.

"GUM GUM ROCKET!" With a yell, Luffy crashes into his grandpa's arm, clothes-lining himself as Bogard slams into the dirt, sent skipping across the ground like a stone on a pond, only sliding to a stop at Garp's feet. His katana lies at your feet, and you grab it quickly as he rolls painfully on to his front, the wind thumped out of him as he wheezes a cough. Garp ignores you both as he turns to Luffy's prone form.

"You don't know how dangerous the world is-DON'T YOU MOVE AGAIN!" His finger shoots out in your direction as you go to rush to your captain, and you freeze, staring down his arm to meet his smouldering eyes. "STAY." It's like being barked at by a dog, a dog that just smashed your (very strong) captain through two buildings. You listen, and he turns back to Luffy. "The Grand Line isn't some child's game." Marching to Luffy's spot, he lifts him by the lapels, dangling him in the air with a grunt. "I told you, you aren't ready."

"You can hit me all day long..." Luffy's voice is husky, "but I'm never giving up on my dream."

"Is that so?"

"I'm going to the Grand Line. And I will find the One Piece." A smile grows across his face and he laughs shakily, "And I will be King of the Pirates." His laughter grows stronger as he looks down at Garp, who just.

Drops him.

Before turning back, only to start laughing himself. You all stare at him, very confused as he chortles away, leaning on his knees. Bogard staggers to his feet and your eyes meet in a flash of glares as Garp rights himself.

"Have it your way. Lower your weapons. Bogard." He gestures his head to draw Bogard back to his side, and the man does so after lifting his coat. Spotting his katana in your hands, he scowls slightly but makes no effort to claim it back. "What are you all standing around for? Arlong's pirates are still on the loose. Hunt them down and arrest them." As the rows of cadets march away with Bogard at their tail, you pull Luffy to standing again and walk behind Garp, still eyeing him warily as the mouse captain approaches.

"What about these Straw Hats?" Garp shrugs.

"What about them?"

"Arrest them too! They are the real criminals." His sentence is barely finished before Nami knocks him out with a swift whack from her bo staff. Garp raises his eyebrows but says nothing before turning back to where Luffy is standing. You stay back a few steps, eyes not leaving the Vice Admiral.

"I knew I'd never change your mind. You're stubborn. Just like me. But I know who you are, boy. I just needed to make sure you knew it too." You sigh, rolling your head back at the stupidity of this family.

"You were testing me? Couldn't you have gone a little bit easier?" Garp shrugs with a grin.

"Where's the fun in that?" He places his hands on Luffy's shoulders with a surprising gentleness. "You're on your own now." He turns and walks away as Luffy watches him.

"No. I'm not. I have my friends." Garp's eyes flash to you, still standing behind Luffy, and then to the rest of your crew, and with a slightly baffled nod, leaves the village square.

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You and Luffy are lounging on the stoop of Nojiko's home, you were doing your job of 'distracting' the captain for the others, as you tossed segments of tangerine to each other in the citrus perfumed heat of the afternoon. You barely raise your head from your position draped across the floor boards as you hear footsteps approaching, only peering up when Luffy exclaims a happy

"Koby! Come to see us off?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." You push yourself into sitting as the pink haired boy walks up to the house, two rolls of paper grasped in his hand. You grin smugly at him.

"You aren't trying to arrest us again, are you? It won't go as well as last time." He chuckled gently at your teasing as he comes to a stop.

"I'm not here as a Marine. I'm here as your friend. I wanted to show you guys something." You stand and join your captain as Koby hands him one of the rolls, handing the other one off to you. You watch over Luffy's shoulder as he unfurls it, peering at the printed image and large clear writing. "You did it. Finally got your face on a wanted poster. Nezumi's last act of revenge." You quickly unroll your own, realising what it must be. "He also upped your bounty, Y/n. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him." You stare at the poster, the image of yourself clean and crisp.

It was taken a few days ago, probably around when you were all in Arlong Park, the rocky formation behind you similar to what the place was surrounded with. Your eyes are vividly clear, aqua irises and gold pupils swirly and bright, snarling mouth showing your sharp canines and your arm pulled back, chain hanging in the air, frozen by the image. Your bounty, once twelve million, had been more than doubled, still lower than Luffy's thirty million, now sitting at twenty-seven million and five hundred thousand Berry.

"YEAH! YES!" You don't quite match Luffy's enthusiasm, sniggering in a mix of shock and horror at the fact people now view you so dangerously. "WHo-whoa! That's a lot of Berry! Let me-" he snatches your wanted poster out of your hands studying it quickly, "you've a high bounty too! Good job!" The punch he hits your shoulder with nearly topples you over, but he grabs and rights you without missing a beat. Koby stares at you both bemused.

"They're the two highest bounties in the East Blue." Luffy's grins up at him cheesily, "You're a wanted man now." Luffy's grin shrinks to gentle smile.

"That's exactly what I wanted." Without a second thought, he tugs the pair of you into a tight hug, squeezing you both excitedly. As he pulls back, he looks back at the pair of wanted posters happily.

"I guess this is goodbye then." Koby's eyes flicker across you both as you smile at him.

"How're you thinking Koby?" He ducks his head away from your gaze for a second. It doesn't last long as he shakes himself back, standing straighter and smiling at you.

"For myself." He speaks with confidence and you're happy for him, "They're doing a good job teaching us, but I know what I want, so I'm not letting them change my mind." Luffy watches you both, eyes warm and happy.

"Good!" You beam at him and red flushes his face, smile not wavering. "I will miss seeing you about..." your smile pulls into a pout, hiding the shakiness of your lips. You were so sick of crying.

"Goodbye Koby." Luffy steps in close, leaning in to his space and says, "Be a good Marine." Koby nods easily and answers

"Be a good pirate." Nodding once more before turning back and heading down the trail.

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Luffy cackles to himself as he hops up over the gunnel, tugging you up behind him and still clutching the wanted posters. He marches into the galley happily, and you follow close behind into the well lit room.

"Guys! Check it out." As he unrolls the two posters side-by-side on the counter, you move back into Sanji's side, sneaking a chunk of carrot into your mouth before he can smack your hand away. The others get up and join you, staring down at your faces looking up at them from the pictures, bounties plastered clearly beneath.

"Hey, look! I'm famous!" You and Luffy peer at Usopp confused.

"What are you on about? That's Luffy's wanted poster." Sanji speaks from beside you, wiping down his knife as he does.

"Not just Luffy." He taps the paper, pointing out a small part of the image depicting the back of his head. You roll your eyes and smack your head into Sanji's shoulder, who chuckles at you. Usopp laughs as well, "Sorry guys, maybe if you work a little harder, you'll get a bounty too." Nami is eyeballing the Berry amounts under both your names as the argument around you strikes up.

"That doesn't count."

"It's okay to be jealous. Feel what you need to feel."

"I- mmm..." Sanji sighs out of his nose and Usopp and Nami look at each other, grinning.

"Maybe next time, you'll be in your partner's wanted poster, have you considered that?" Sanji's face flushes instantly at Usopp's words and your head pops upright as well.

"My who-?!" "His what-?!"

The others, aside from Luffy snigger away at the pair of you as Sanji awkwardly bats away questions from you, "You have a-"

"-No!"

"-what are they talking abo-"

"There's nothing to know, don't worry about it." He glares at Usopp who sniggers and raises his hands,

"Sorry, sorry, I must have misunderstood, you know, that whole dynamic." You squint at the sharpshooter as he continues to snigger, Zoro and Nami joining in as Sanji glares at them all.

"This is stupid."

"These," Zoro taps the paper with two fingers, "are gonna makes things much harder. With that amount for your heads, every bounty hunter in the East Blue will be gunning for you."

"Not just Y/n and Luffy, they'll be gunning for all of us." Nami agreed.

"Then it's a good thing we're not staying in the East Blue. We're going to the Grand Line." A smirk grows on your face as your captain smiles triumphantly, ignoring everyone else's concerned expressions.

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Back at the docks in Dye Town, Yano leans over his desk, shuffling through transfer requests and patrol reports. Kyoko pushes through the door, hands laden with documents that she dumps on the corner of his desk. As he glares at the new mass of work, the Den Den Mushi Transferer on his desk starts to rumble and print off a new set of papers.

Kyoko plucks them from the printer delicately and eyes them, mouth pulling into a grimace as she looks them over.

"New bounty posters from Nezumi in Coco Village, sir." She hands them over, already moving to the door to avoid the fall out. He snarls at Luffy's, balling it up and chucking it into the waste paper bin as hard as he can as he stands from his desk.

Moving over to the chest at his wall, he crouches in front of it, eyes never leaving your own, the fierce image of your eyes glaring back at him from the new bounty poster. He flips open the chest mindlessly, the bulk of it full of a mess of papers, stolen reports from across islands in the East Blue regarding these new Straw Hat Pirates, especially the ones focusing on the weird one with glowing eyes. His attention, however, focuses on to the papers pasted to the lid. Your older bounty poster, outdated in a matter of days, and several older newspaper clippings that he had scavenged regarding the Baratie, especially the owner and the kids of the floating restaurant. 

Gently, almost reverently, he smoothes out the new poster on to the lid with all the other images of you, and leans wistfully on the edge, staring longingly at your depiction across them. The centre of his iridescent yellow eyes, his blue-black pupil, wobbles into a heart shape.

"Don't worry Nakayoshi," he sighs dreamily, "I'll see you again soon."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Across the ocean, Zeff walks through the kitchen holding the two wanted posters. He pins Luffy's on to the employee of the month board. As the other chefs crowd around to look, he flattens the other on the wall below a cut out news clipping depicting the opening of the restaurant. A cheer sounds from the entire staff at your face plastered on the paper, hoots and hollers sounding as Zeff pins it to the wall, making sure it's straight before stepping back.

Patty stands beside him as the other chefs cheering reduces to chuckles and calmer laughs as they return to dinner prep, and the blue-haired chef leans more into his boss.

"Not bad for a second bounty, eh?"

"No," Zeff agrees, face stern but eyes proud, "Not bad at all."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"So what do you think?" Having departed from Coco Village, the Going Merry was now on course to the Grand Line. You and your crew stand behind Luffy, all watching as Nami looks over the trio of tangerine trees that had been brought on board and placed at the stern. "It's a little piece of home to take with you on our journey."

"And I can whip up tangerine tarts anytime you want." Nami smiles gently as she caresses the familiar fruit before she turns to look at you all.

"It's perfect." You all grin at each other. "We actually have something for you too." Luffy continues grinning at her, confused. As you all turn to overlook the main deck, she calls, "Usopp, set the main!"

"Setting the main!" He shouts back jubilantly. The large main sail drops, the white canvas unfurling to display a redone skull and crossbones, resplendent in a straw hat with a red band. Luffy's hands reach out to grab Nami and Zoro's arms, his eyes gleaming at the sight in front of him. You were all smiling at him as he stared open mouthed before running across to the fore castle to gaze up at the sail.

"WHOO-HOO! WHOA!"

He continues cheering for ages, having clambered up on to the Going Merry's figurehead, still laughing and yelling and waving his hat and arms around.

You stand with Nami as she looks over the map to the Grand Line with a magnifying glass, ready to use your power to correct course if needed.

"The entrance to the Grand Line isn't too far off, but I think there's a mistake on the map."

"What do you mean?" Luffy calls down and begins to clamber off the sheep head as you join her at the barrel, looking over her shoulder at where she focused the magnifying glass.

"Well, it looks like a river or a canal or something, but it doesn't make any sense." You grin at Luffy as he stumbles down beside you, "These elevations show a mountain. I mean, how can a river go up a mountain?" Luffy shrugs.

"You're our navigator. We have a magic compass." He elbows you and you snort and roll your eyes. "You'll figure it out." He lands a slap to her shoulder with the back of his hand as Sanji calls up.

"Hey Luffy!" You all look round as he reaches the top of the stairs, grinning at you. "Come here, I've got an idea." You all watch him as he pulls a barrel to the middle of the deck. Luffy grins back at you and Nami before yelling to the others.

"Straw Hats! All hands on deck for a cast-off ceremony!" You all join Sanji as he props his leg up on the barrel lid.

"I'm gonna find the All Blue." Your eyes flash, an image of Sanji and Zeff in the kitchen of the Orbit swirling through your mind.

"I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!" A young Luffy grins, scar fresh on his cheek and t-shirt stained with blood.

"I'm gonna be the world's greatest swordsman." Zoro stands in the forest of his youth, face assured.

"I'm gonna draw a map of the world." Nami beams, flipping to the next page of the stolen atlas of her childhood.

"I..." Usopp sits on the edge of his mother's bed, watching her still face, "am gonna become a brave warrior of the sea!"

All eyes turn to you and you slowly raise your foot, placing it on the barrel and looking into the eyes of each of your crew mates.

"I'm gonna prove that my powers, and I, have worth! I will help you all achieve your dreams, or I'll die trying!!" Luffy and Usopp snigger at your dramatic words, the others keep watching you. "I will stand by your sides as your loyal crewmate!" Nami and Zoro look away, smiles growing on their faces as they begin to laugh to, Sanji's eyes the only ones still on you. "And as your friend." His face melts in a pure and happy smile and you both join in the laughter. Luffy grins at all of you.

"This is it, crew. The Grand Line. Nothing's gonna stand in our way!! YEAHHHH!!" You all roar and cheer and laugh along with him as you set off.

In pursuit of your true treasures!

Final Author's Notes: Reader as Irish/based on Irish nationality ala Oda's suggestions for what nationality the strawhats would be. So Readers attacks were all the areas they attacked (chest, stomach, legs and head) and their finishing move "Slabhra Stór" (Treasured Chain, I couldn't think of anything more original that didn't end up being like, six words long lol) in Irish I hope you all enjoy the final chapter of Treasure Treasure! (For now at least) and thank you so much for reading! I will hopefully be back soon with some original content of Sanji and Reader when they were younger in Baratie while I plan out the anime/manga adaptation a bit more. Please feel free to check out the poll and the rest of my Tumblr! Thank you again for reading and have a great day :)

[crow-aeris]

A little drabble or whatever that i just thought up :3

-----

To most people, Death would be the end- but to others, it might as well be the beginning.

You wish... to trade yourself?

The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once, a strange and unusual blend of distorted and twisted voices tying and twisting around themselves- almost as if willing themselves into actuality, or perhaps even back into the realm of those who continue to breath. If he focuses, he could even see the warped and distorted faces and forms that formed the feathers of the god-goddess-deity.

He inhales, the sound ringing all too loud- too soft- too little- too much- in the realm that was both nothing, yet everything at once.

"I- yes," he replies after a moment- no, an eternity?- of silence, though he supposed death meant nothing when one was planted in a realm such as this, "I... I want to trade myself for... him. Let Jason live in my place, and my- my sole is yours."

The deity's eyes narrow and she slow- s l o w l y creeps forward, the sound of bones crackling and popping filled each agonizing second, and it was all he could do to not turn tail and bolt- though to where, he was unsure.

You are clever. Your words were crafted carefully, child, and would mislead those who know not your intent... Though it would be quite a difficult feat to mislead a creature such as I.

He steels himself, pushing past the nausea rising in his throat and the pressure growing in his temples, "D- Do we have a deal?"

He pretends his voice doesn't shake. He pretends his hands don't tremble. He pretends that everything is f i n e.

...No, a deal built on your terms shall not be struck.

"W-what?!" he exclaims, tensing as he feels sharp claws formed of static slowly curl around his torso- the pressure barely on the edge of being too much.

Instead, I would like to strike a deal with you.

He remains quiet, eyes wide as breathing slowly becomes more and more difficult.

In exchange for the revival of the Bearer of Tragedies, you, Kin of Dragons, will become my Scion.

He falls quiet, the atmosphere considerate as an eternity- a second- passes.

"I..." he croaks, feeling lightheaded as his lungs refused to expand- leaving him to choke-

"I- I accept this d-deal-"

Very well, Kin of Dragons, your soul belongs to me.

He screams.

His very existence was ripped apart, shredded and unwoven- gathering and dispersing- into something that both was, yet wasn't-

Tim wakes up. His chest aching and his heat pounding. His back also felt like somebody attacked him with a slab of concrete. His skin was slick with sweat, and his heart raced with adrenaline.

Was that all... a dream? Did it not work? He was still in bed, so... maybe it didn't work after all...

He buries his face in his hand with a laugh that bordered on a full-on sob.

If the stupid ritual didn't work, then that means Jason was still dead... Oh god, what was he supposed to do now?

Miles away, deep beneath the ground and trapped within a casket built of poplar, the Bearer of Tragedies reawakens and bursts into the air.

Miles away, Death upholds her-his-its end of the bargain as a woman with emerald eyes sweeps in and plucks a newly-awoken Robin from the remnants his earthen tomb.

Miles away, the first Robin twitches as he feels something... change. Something within the world shifts ever so slight to the left, and he couldn't help but think that the world- the universe, perhaps- was worse off because of it.

[introvertllux]

Chrono Heart (Future Trunks X Black!OC)

*I DO NOT OWN/CLAIM TO OWN ANYTHING IN RELATION TO DBZ. I ONLY CLAIM THE ORIGINAL STORY IDEA AND BLACK!OC IN THIS STORY!*

Chapter 1: The Relic and the Reawakening

The remnants of Dr. Gero’s lab were a graveyard of twisted metal and shattered dreams, a monument to the hubris of a man who played god with circuits and steel. Hidden beneath this forsaken ruin, a capsule hissed open, and from its depths, a figure emerged—Axa. With skin like polished ebony, eyes that shimmered with the golden light of a thousand captured stars, and hair that cascaded down in an untamed torrent, she was a sight to behold—beauty crafted by ambition, innocence shaped by design.

:readmore:

She stood, hesitantly, in the dim light of her metallic tomb, a stark contrast to the vividness of her form. Her limbs moved with an elegance that was almost haunting, yet her expression held the innocence of a child looking out upon the world for the first time.

Unbidden, Axa's body propelled her through the labyrinth of the city, every calculation in her head leading her to an encounter she did not understand. It was as if an invisible hand guided her to a serene park, where the familiar silhouette of Android 18 stood, lost in the simplicity of feeding ducks at the pond—a moment of peace in a life so often marked by conflict.

Axa’s presence cast a shadow over the tranquility, and 18 turned, her eyes widening in shock and recognition. "Axa? Is it really you?" she gasped, the breadcrumbs slipping from her fingers.

Their reunion was explosive—a symphony of fists and flashes of shared history. As they sparred, 18, amidst parries and takedowns, called out to the essence of the girl she once knew.

"Remember when we sparred with 16 in the orchard, the cherry blossoms falling around us like snow?" she grunted, dodging a swift punch. "Or the time we snuck into the city, 17 dared us to ride the rollercoaster and you laughed until you cried?"

Each word struck Axa deeper than any physical blow could, unlocking the sealed doors of her memory. "And that night, the four of us lay in the grass, making shapes out of stars, dreaming of freedom," 18 continued, her voice laced with nostalgia, even as she blocked a kick. "But then you were gone. Gero said you were defective, but you were just... you were just Axa. You were just a little girl, and I... we, I should have done something."

Tears spilled from Axa's eyes, liquid diamonds trailing down her face, an alien sensation that stopped her cold. Her hands came up to her face, fingers trembling as she touched the moisture with wonder. "What... what is this?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"It's crying, Axa," 18 replied with a bittersweet chuckle, the fight draining from her. "It happens when you're sad... or happy... or even when you laugh so hard, you can't stop. It means you're alive."

Axa's golden gaze, now dulled by confusion and sorrow, met 18's. "I don't... I don't understand," she said, a lost child wrapped in the shell of a machine.

"I know," 18 said, stepping forward to wrap an arm around her. "I forgot to search for you when I found my own life. But now I’m here, and I'll help you. Let me show you the life I've built. You’ll fit right in. Krillin, my husband, Marron, our daughter—they'll love you."

The promise of a family warmed something inside Axa, a spark of belonging that she didn't know she needed.

_____________________________________________________________

The scene shifted to the familial home, where the spark was met with a torrent of fear and misunderstanding.

The home that once held warmth and laughter was now a battlefield of words and emotions. The cozy living room, with its family photos and children's drawings, became the arena. Krillin's face was flushed with a mix of protective fear and incandescent rage. "18, how in the world could you think this was okay? Bringing her into our home without even a word to me?" His voice shook the very foundations of their sanctuary, a volume reserved for life-and-death battles, not familial disputes.

"You're not getting it, Krillin!" 18 shot back, her own voice a force to be reckoned with. "You think I can't see danger? I know danger. I've been danger. But she—" 18 jabbed a finger towards Axa, "—is just lost. We owe her this!"

Marron, with the blissful ignorance of childhood, had wandered over to Axa, offering a small stuffed dinosaur with a smile. "Do you wanna play with Mr. Dino?" she had asked, her voice a sing-song note in the dissonant symphony of the adults' conflict.

Krillin's eyes darted from Marron to Axa, and with a speed that betrayed his martial prowess, he scooped Marron into his arms. "Marron, sweetie, why don't you go play in your room, okay?" His words were gentle with his daughter, but when his gaze swung back to Axa, they were steel blades. "Stay away from her," he snapped at Axa. "We don't know you, what you're capable of—what if you're programmed to…to…"

His words trailed off, but the accusation hung heavily in the air, an invisible smog choking the room. Axa, who stood like a statue wrought from onyx, felt each word strike her. Her hands, which moments ago had explored the texture of the child's toy, now hung limply at her sides. The shine in her golden eyes dulled, a gloss of pain over the brightness.

"Krillin," 18's voice cracked like a whip, her anger transforming into something fierce and protective. "Listen to yourself! She’s not a threat! How can you judge her like this?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Axa's soft, disbelieving sobs were the only sound, a heartbreaking melody that seemed to wrap around the room. She blinked rapidly, her human-like innocence clashing with her android perfection as she attempted to process the whirlwind of rejection and anger.

"I… I don't want to be a problem," Axa stammered out, her voice a mere whisper but slicing through the tension. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I'm sorry."

Krillin, his face softening for a moment at Axa's words, struggled with the turmoil inside him. His duty to protect his family warring with the empathy he had learned from his wife. "18, I…," he started, but the words tangled, a mess of emotion and duty.

"No," 18 interrupted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of frustration. "No, Krillin. She's not just some android. She's Axa. Remember that. She's not the past; she’s someone who needs us now."

In the quiet that followed, the trio stood, the balance of their world shifted, as they each considered the weight of what it meant to be family, to be human, or something akin to it. Axa, still caught in the eye of the storm, dared to hope for a harbor in this tempest—a place where she could anchor her heart.

The turmoil in the room reached a crescendo, a tidal wave of emotion that crashed over Axa with overwhelming force. As Krillin and Android 18's argument continued, Axa's mind began to fracture under the strain. She clutched at her temples, her golden eyes flickering erratically as memories—long suppressed—surged to the surface.

She was small again, diminutive and human, watching through the bars of a crib as giants in white coats and stern faces argued loudly above her. The cacophony of their voices was terrifying, a discordant symphony that crescendoed into an unbearable din. Words like "potential" and "failure" were thrown back and forth, volleying over her head like some high-stakes game she could not comprehend.

Her breath hitched, a robotic mimicry of a panic attack, and her body began to seize up. Her limbs locked in place, and the glow in her eyes sputtered like a dying star. "System… overload…" she managed to gasp out before collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut, her form going limp and unresponsive on the floor.

"18, we need to do something!" Krillin's voice was now tinged with fear for Axa, the protective instinct he felt for all living beings—especially those under his roof—kicking in.

18 knelt beside Axa, her fingers hovering over the android's inert body. Her heart, though not flesh and blood, ached with a mix of fear and protectiveness. "Dammit," she cursed softly, her usual composure fraying at the edges.

Krillin ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting from his wife to the still figure on the floor. "Maybe… we should take her to see Bulma. She's dealt with… this kind of thing before."

Android 18's eyes narrowed at the suggestion. "Bulma has a good heart, but she's got that scientist's curiosity. She'll want to dissect every part of Axa's programming," she said, her voice a growl of resistance. "And Vegeta…" she trailed off, a scowl creasing her features at the thought of the Saiyan prince's unpredictable nature.

Krillin nodded slowly, understanding his wife's concerns. "We don't have to tell everyone, just Bulma. She'll know what to do," he insisted, his tone imploring. "Vegeta won't lay a finger on her—I'll deal with him if I have to."

The two locked eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. It was a gamble, but Axa needed help that they couldn't give. With a heavy heart, 18 agreed. "Fine. But we're not leaving her side. Not for a second."

Carefully, they gathered Axa's motionless form, her weight a testament to the gravity of their situation. Together, they stepped into the cool evening air, the weight of Axa's fate a heavy shroud upon their shoulders as they made their way to Capsule Corporation, and into the uncertain future that awaited them.

______________________________________________________________

More on Axa (Pronounced: Axe-e-ah or Ahh-x-ah)

*Apologies for inconsistent art styles. I utilized Art breeder. Unfortunately I don't see many resources to help create black!Ocs in consistent styles and diverse poses out there. If you know of any please let me know! As you continue reading the story imagine her in the DBZ art style. Thank you!*

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Taglist!

@thejadetrios @shytothemaxx @variousfandom @konekomews @physicallyherementallysomewhere @ikittybakugou345 @jasxnoamii @enderempresss16 @elliethewitch @carzychameleon @feitanii @hollownight @dragonloverdrawer @moonlight445sblog @yelan-butterpeatea @ringsofpersonti @weeb-boy261 @jkr820 @somehowexist @scrumptiouss007 @emajohn40 @justicetheghost @thirstyhoebutbetteryehsjsg @rasaberrygray @etherialblackrose @random-insomnia15 @deviousmunchkin @galaxys-stuff @bluehibiscusgarden @kunoichis-world @x-bakudeku-x @spectoralstrudel @i-wanna-fuck-monsters @interobanginyourmom @twdhtgawm @kkeidawrites

[fastcardotmp3]

Nancy & Eddie; Nancy & Wayne; 1.4k; post-S1; the melancholy of Christmas; grief/mourning

That night, after Steve goes home and the leftovers are put away and the voices from Mike's walkie talkie murmur through the walls, Nancy creeps past the gleaming tree in the living room and out the front door.

The dark of the sky is gray with the potential for overnight snow and her layers of shirt and sweatshirt and coat and scarf and gloves keep the cold from permeating too quickly, but her cheeks pink over before she reaches the end of the cul-de-sac, let alone her destination.

She shouldn't be out this late. Her mother would hate it if she weren't wine drunk and sleepy enough not to notice, and there's not a good place for Nancy to do what she needs to do, but it's also not an optional thing.

It's not, to her.

There's no grave to visit at the cemetery, because Barb isn't dead to anyone else the way she is to Nancy, but she goes there anyway. Has been. Will continue to.

She's making do, in this and in so many other ways, and so she tries not to feel the utter not enough-ness of the little stack of stones she's built in a lopsided pyramid under a big oak tree with far-stretching branches right at the highest point of the cemetery.

She tries not to think about how she can't add Barb's name to this sham of a grave, can't even call it that when Barb's body is trapped somewhere she can never reach and thus can't bring home either.

Nancy just lowers herself to the cold, hard earth and goes about straightening the pile again, as she always does. She uses them as a barrier this time, a little fenced-in square to hold up the poinsettias she'd stolen from the centerpiece that had sat in the center of their Christmas dinner.

Her hands tremble. She lets them.

Her swallow grows thick. She lets it.

Her tears do not fall. They stay caught in her gut where the rest of her guilt resides, the rest of all her worthless searching, the rest of the hope she never got to mourn for fear of seeming ungrateful for the return of her brother's best friend.

Nancy sits here in front of her makeshift memorial and she does not cry, because there are no tears, and she does not speak, because there are no words, but her heart screams loud enough to shake the town apart.

Her soul wails and laments and begs. She lets it.

She lets it be loud enough that she doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her until there's the quiet clear of a throat and question of--

"Hate to bother you, kiddo, but can I bother you a moment?"

Nancy startles, both at the gentle gruffness of the self-contradictory question and the realization that her face is damp with the silent remnants of tears she cannot feel past the numbness of the cold.

"Sor-- Sorry?" she clears her throat as she stumbles quickly to her feet, brushing off her skirt and the thick tights beneath it as she does.

The man behind her isn't someone she knows, which would be a frightening thing if she were in any other mental state than this one, so doused in apathy for her own self that danger doesn't really register.

He wears a warm looking hunting jacket, a thick winter cap with flaps over the ears, and holds a thermos out in front of him.

"S'only, my boy spotted you out in the cold over here," he gestures to Nancy's left where she sees a boy she does recognize, the flit-away of his gaze back to a headstone at his feet all she gets out of Eddie Munson before his arms are crossing over his chest and his shoulders are hiking up around his ears. "Wondered if maybe you couldn't do with some company? Or just somethin' warm to drink?"

He holds the thermos up, this-- this person speaking for Eddie Munson when Nancy has never seen the guy be anything other than outspoken.

The sky is gray in its darkness, a muted sort of black that doesn't allow for stars beyond the heavy clouds.

There's a little pile of stones which are the only remembrance for a girl who deserved so much better than she ever got on the ground behind her.

"You want me to...?"

"We're visitin' his Mama," he says gently, and Nancy understands Eddie's posture better now, that distance away feeling shorter between them. "Anyone out here on Christmas oughtn't be alone, though, don't you think?"

"She didn't run away," Nancy blurts, the sudden need to explain overwhelming any of the kindness being offered to her.

He just nods. Succinct but not dismissive.

"Okay."

"She--" Nancy chokes. She can't tell if her cheeks are still wet. "She didn't run away."

She's not allowed to say it. She's not allowed to talk about it. She can't impart the seriousness of how much Barb didn't leave, didn't go, didn't get far enough away before her time ran out.

But this man, this Munson, he just takes a step closer with the suggestion of an offer with the slightest raise of his arm and Nancy is-- Nancy is hugging him.

She's leaning into the warmth of him, letting him wrap his arm across her shoulders and rub her back with a gloved hand because-- because no one, not a single person, none of them listen when she says it.

Not even the ones who know, not even the boy who loves her, not her own mother who cared more about the fact that Nancy lost her virginity than her best friend.

"I hear ya," he says in a quiet murmur and Nancy believes him. Can hardly breathe past the force of what it feels like to have the words she speaks land softly, with understanding.

"Sorry, sorry," she swipes at her face as she pulls away, and he lets her go without argument, but stays standing there. "Sorry, I know I look hysterical, I just."

A hitching breath. She doesn't hear these footsteps getting closer either, but she feels Eddie's presence in that familiar posture she has gotten to know too well since that first week in November.

She's about to enter a new year, a year with a new number and a new turn of the earth that Barb will never see.

"We're going for pie," Eddie says, even as Nancy wipes her face with the tail of her scarf like a child. "Diner off Walnut's open on Christmas. If you wanna come and be a fuckin' mope with me."

And there's something to it, this undeniable acceptance that Nancy is, in fact, facing the same sort of loss as a boy without a mother, that has her snorting with laughter.

There's something about them, the Munson's with their seeing of her in the most vulnerable state she's allowed herself to express outside the privacy of her shower, that feels like the same sort of relief as the release of pressure that comes along with laughter.

"Do you always pick up strays at the cemetery?" she asks with an attempt at humor, expecting the same dry witted sarcasm in response.

Instead she gets a softening.

Instead she gets this: "I was in band with her," with the lowering of a gaze to a pile of mismatched stones, only to raise back to meet Nancy's with intent, "she made me laugh."

Nancy's chin wobbles. Her lungs too tight in her chest.

She knows then, even before she says it and earns the drape of Eddie's arm around her narrow shoulders, that she'll go with them and eat pie with them and grieve with them.

They'll tell her about the woman they've lost and maybe Nancy will be able to choke out a sentence or two about the girl who raised her only for Nancy to fail her.

They'll eat and she will listen to them because she knows the importance of such a thing and it will hurt.

It will always hurt.

"You said something about pie?" she manages to get out with a hard sniff of her frozen nose.

There is a piece of her lost to a world locked off from the rest of them.

She wonders, tucked into the Munson's pickup truck on a journey in search of pie, whether maybe that's not such an isolated feeling as she thought.

[itwasrealtome]

BEST BELOVED

CHAPTER THREE — BENEFITS

⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

Scarlett Johansson x fem!OC fic | Masterlist

Summary: Elle and Scarlett do something they shouldn't and Elle is late.

Content Warning : 18+ MDNI. Starts off with smut | Fingering (Elle receiving) | Friends with benefits kind of relationship (btw Elle and Scarlett) | Scarlett being a tease |

Navigation :

Chapter Two

Chapter Four

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LOS ANGELES — CALIFORNIA

DECEMBER 01, 2016

— You're gonna come for me, sweetheart?

If you asked Scarlett to name her favorite view, she'd likely choose her current one — though, in truth, she could never settle on just one. Seated in the front row, she had the perfect vantage point to watch the entire show unfold before her.

Eyes up, she could see the extraordinary view. A body swaying to the rhythm of rising pleasure, its skin flushed and glowing more intensely with each passing moment. Muscles rippled beneath glistening skin, every curve and line taut with the tension of approaching release. The sheen of sweat caught the light, bringing out the dips and swells as it moved, a mesmerizing display of physicality and passion.

The chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath a struggle to maintain composure against the onslaught of sensation. Fingers gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white as if they were the only anchor in a storm of ecstasy. The abdomen quivered, muscles contracting involuntarily as the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter within the core.

— Please, Elle moans, her hands threading through Scarlett's hair. Don't stop... It feels s-so good.

Scarlett's grin grew even more cheeky, her eyes drifting lower to fully appreciate the scene before her. The legs were spread, quivering slightly, the thighs slick with the undeniable evidence of desire. Toes curled, and the back arched, as if the body were trying to escape the overwhelming intensity but finding no refuge.

Fingers sliding deeper, Scarlett felt Elle's hips begin to move, instinctively seeking more with each gentle roll. The rhythm was unspoken, a wordless dialogue between them as Elle's body arched toward Scarlett's touch, craving the fulfillment that was just out of reach. Every movement was a silent plea, a delicate dance of desire, as Elle's breath hitched and her grip on Scarlett's hair tightened, urging her to keep going, to push her further into the bliss she so desperately sought.

— I need your mouth.

A slow, wicked smile spread across the blonde's lips as she heard the plea, her chuckle low and almost predatory. The sound vibrated between them, teasing, promising. Scarlett leaned in closer, letting her breath ghost over Elle's skin, savoring the anticipation.

— Oh, darling, she murmured, her tone rich with amusement. You're gonna have to be patient. I'm just getting started.

***

As the sun beat down intensely on the windows, the young actress stirred, waking from a well-earned yet impromptu sleep. The warm light filtered through the glass, casting a golden glow across the room as she slowly sat up, blinking away the remnants of her slumber. She swallowed several times, her mouth dry and pasty, an unmistakable aftertaste lingering on her tongue from the earlier activities.

Beside her laid the woman whose smell and taste now felt intimately united with hers, one arm still thrown protectively around her. Elle reached out beyond herself, her fingertips running along the blonde's jawline. It felt almost familiar now. So much that it felt equally terrifying. Neither of them had intended this to happen, but it was fair to say that their little secret mutually benefited both of them.

Scarlett had recently become the mother of a little girl and had just divorced her husband, who lived on the other side of the Atlantic. In Elle, she found both carnal and emotional comfort, things she'd clearly been craving in recent months.

For Elle, it was different. She saw in the New Yorker a multitude of things. It started with what you might call a crush. She watched from a distance, trying to temper the red in her cheeks as soon as the woman spoke to her. But then, she got a taste and knew she would want more.

As her phone read 6:30 pm, Elle jumped to her feet, a series of complaints escaping her still sex-red lips. She hadn't planned to stay this late. In her haste, she let Scarlett's arm bounce back on the mattress, waking the actress in the process.

— El? What's going on? she mumbled, reaching for the sheet and pulling it up to her chest. Why are you running around naked in my room?

The brunette didn't stop, gradually picking up her clothes from the floor. Her jeans and underwear made it to the bedroom, but she's sure her T-shirt got lost on the way. She pulled on her socks, dancing on one foot and then the other. Scarlett said nothing, enjoying the view as Elle bent over again, looking for her panties.

— What have you done to my panties?

Scarlett's laugh was husky and drew a smile to the corner of Elle's lips despite her serious expression. The sheet slipped from her grasp and the fine breeze hit her nipples. From under the pillow, she removed the black lace underwear and dangled it from her index finger.

— Looking for this, pretty girl? her smirk gave Elle the urge to throw a pillow at her. Maybe you should come and see if you can get it back.

The lingerie spun around the index finger, wrapping around itself, until Scarlett slipped it under the sheets. Elle let out a grunt and watched the fabric disappear between her lover's thighs.

— I need it, Ley, whined Elle, climbing onto the bed. I'm already super late. Please.

Straddling the blonde, the younger woman's body, naked except for her socks, hovered above her. Her hand slid under the sheets in search of the highly coveted object. She lightly caressed a few curves, the path now hardly unfamiliar, until she hit her target.

— You're no fun.

Elle got to her feet and raised a scoffing eyebrow. She narrowly dodged Scarlett's wandering hand and slipped on her underwear and jeans. Now was no longer the time to play.

— Speaking of fun, the brunette sat back down on the edge of the bed. Since Carter will remain in my care, I've established a few rules with him. One of them is that he must have my permission to invite anyone to the house. And no lovers, even for me.

Words were just words to Scarlett as she watched her friend, still topless, stand so close to her. She'd never been a fan of rules and now was no exception. She leaned in, just enough to let her lips slide down Elle's shoulder, then into her neck.

— It's a good thing we're just... very special friends, then.

The young woman's scoff turned into a low moan as Scarlett's teeth nipped at her skin once more. If this were an interrogation technique, Elle would have told her everything by now. She ran her fingers through the blonde's short hair, keeping her face as close as possible.

— You make it hard to leave, gasped Elle, her right breast cupped in a gentle palm. I'm really behind...

— Do I get to see you tomorrow?

Scarlett showered Elle's face with kisses, working her way up to her lips. She couldn't contain herself, she wanted more. If their respective schedules allowed, Scarlett would take the young brunette hostage for several days in a row.

— Can't... I promised Carter I'd help him redecorate the room.

At the thought of her brother, Elle leaned back just enough to plant a kiss on her lover's lips. She unsettled Scarlett just long enough to get up and flee from temptation. She gathered up the last of her belongings before taking one last look at the bed.

— Don't think too much about me, Johansson!

•••

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