#(proceeds to stay up until 7 in the morning)

[jay-ig]

og post

[hyperspacial]

King of being bullied more as an adult than as a closeted autistic child 💪

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: I am queuing this so who knows if Im still suffering.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The morning is going splendid. You spilled your coffee and the tea you packed in a thermos, you left on your counter. The realisation doesn’t hit you until you pull up to the site. You huff and hang your head, gripping the steering wheel as you brace yourself for your caffeine withdrawal. 

At least it’s dry. Mostly. As Thor forecast, the rain didn’t come until the night. The steady patter kept you awake, along with that lingering displacement that never quite leaves you. Fatigue is another constant. Your new normal; sleepless nights and sleepy days. 

You get out and set to work. It’s all you can do. It’s all you’ve been doing. Just keep going. It doesn’t matter how, just get it done, get through the day. 

You yawn at your task, brushing digging, oh so gently wiggling the little form. It’s almost out. Almost free. In your eagerness for some progress, you get careless. Your hand slips and the spearhead grazes our palm. Is isn’t until the stinging splits your skin that you realise it’s a slash. 

Damn it, you didn’t put your damned gloves on. 

Great, with the luck you’re having, you’ve just contracted some ancient virus. You hiss and grip your wrist. Your adrenaline triggers your heart. You take a few breaths to stay calm as you watch the blood bead to the surface. 

You curse and stagger to your feet. You grab the rag from your back pocket and clutch it in your injured hand. You grip it tight as you cross the site, careful not to tread to heavily, and you angle the fencing to sidle between two panels.  

You clumsily pull open the car door and reach under the seat. You always keep an emergency with you. It’s a rule of thumb for your sort of work. You never know what might happen. Bug spray, sunscreen, bandages, swabs, a hole trove of supplies. 

You shake as the pain intensifies, thrumming through your palm. You come out and rest the plastic tote on the hood and sift through with your single hand. This is going to be awkward as hell. While you enjoy your solitary, it can sometimes be unsettling. What if something worse happened? 

“Ruff, ruff, rrrrruffffff,” the growlish yet high-pitched barking comes from up the mountain road. 

You pause as he peek under the rag and peer up as gravel mulches. Another visit? Your work is so boring, you wouldn’t expect him again. Thor appears as Thunder hops before him, spastic as she sniffs the ground in circles. He smiles and waves but you can only manage a grimace before you look back to your wound. 

“Morning,” he booms as he scoops up the small dog and nears the other side of the car, “it’ll be a sunny one.” 

“You sure?” You look up at the greyish blue skies, than at him. Hm, the hue of above is rather similar to his eyes.  

“I know so,” he assures you and tilts his head curiously, “why are you so grim?” 

You show him your hand as you lift the cloth from it. He lets out a sympathetic hum and sets Thunder on the ground. She runs over to inspect the fence as he rounds the hood towards you. As he gets closer, his size is even more obvious. He’s well-built, you can see it even at a distance, but up close and personal, he’s almost inhuman in stature. 

“Yikes,” he offers his hand, “may I?” 

“Really, it’s not—I can handle it.” 

“I’m certain you can. Only the bravest woman would come to these grey lands and sit alone in the dirt,” he jokes. “Please, it’ll be easier with two hands.” 

You relent, a tinge of embarrassment hot in your cheeks, and peel the rag away. You hold your hand out to him and he brings one of his large ones to cradle it. Wow. He’s massive. The difference in your hands is startling. 

“Nasty cut,” he muses as he reaches over for the swabs you’ve piled out on the metal, “but it shouldn’t need more than a snug wrap.” 

“Thanks,” you look away, eyeing the dirt as his proximity makes you squirm.  

You can’t remember the last time a man touched you, especially a handsome one. Well, aside from Sam and Bucky but those were just hugs and usually ended in them arguing anyway. You’ve never been the most popular girl in the world and those men you managed to reel in didn’t stay on the hook very long. You never really tried to keep them. You were always too distracted. 

You wince as he wipes the cut with the alcoholic cloth. He softens his touch but holds your hand firm from beneath. He offers a rumbling apology as he focuses on tending to you. His intent is new to you. The way he looks at your palm holds more than any look you’ve ever gotten from a man. Or anyone. 

He crumples up the used wipe and takes another. He’s thorough. You feel a shiver roll through you despite the warmth in the air. He trades the wipe for the roll of gauze and wraps the strip around your hand, hooking over your thumb and looping your wrist. He uses the little metal clip to pin it then turns your hand over, brushing his own over it as he grins. 

“Good as new,” he announces, “though I recommend you not use it too much. And perhaps a pair of gloves.” 

“Yeah, I forgot. Long day.” 

“It’s nine in the morning?” He chuckles. 

“Yep,” you agree dryly. 

“Hopefully it gets better,” he says. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you agree dully and toss the things back in the tote.  

He picks it up before you can and keeps it from your reach, “like I said, you should take it easy.” 

“Well, there’s work to be done,” you say as he moves to the open door and slides the tote inside. “What are you doing back here?” 

“Ah, I let the queen lead the way,” he stands straight and closes the car door. He looks past you and your head perks up. Thunder is very quiet. “As ever, she does not tread with caution.” 

You turn to find the chihuahua inside the fence. You jump in place and sprint over, clattering between the panels as you call after her. “No, no, sweetie, be careful!” 

You chase her around where you were digging as you sense Thor watching from without. Great! You hope she didn’t pee anywhere. 

A sharp whistle pierces the air and Thunder stops. She sits in place, still wiggling, but doesn’t move. You peek back at Thor and he nods. You near her and pick her up. 

“Sorry about her, she is a free spirit,” he tuts as you cross back to him. “I will be certain she does not stray again. My apologies.” 

You’re taken aback by his sincerity. You try to remember the last time someone apologised to you and sounded like they meant it. Hell, when’s the last time you even got an apology. You dip out between the grating and hold out the dog. 

“I would hate to get in your way any more than we already have,” he hugs her with one arm and spreads his other hand over his chest, “we will be on our way. I do hope the sunshine brings some brightness to your day.” 

“Um, thanks,” you shift on your feet and hide your twiddling fingers. “You too.” 

“I’ve already found my sunlight,” he grins even wider and blinks, “now, Thunder, let’s go make a storm somewhere else.” He twists on his heel and lumbers off, “perhaps mother might put up with you for a time.” 

You stand just outside the fence and watch him go. A lock of his golden hair hangs loosely form his bun, dangling down his back, wagging almost like the dog’s little tail. He bounds over the lumpy ground and disappears behind the rock face. You look down and smile. 

Not everything is so bad and you can see the amber ribbon limning the clouds. The sun will be there soon. Just like he promised. 

💟

Thor comes back again. 

It’s a week since you cut your hand. Like before, you can’t predict him. You don’t hear him approach as he’s alone. You only notice him as he clangs something on the fence and lets out an ‘oops’. You pop your head up and look over at him through squinting eyes. Your forehead hurts from the expression. 

You smooth out your face and stand, facing him. He wiggles a metal canister in his hand. The wind sweeps the strands around his square jaw as the sky pulses in shades of gray behind him. 

“Thought you might like some hot tea,” he holds up the thermos. 

“Oh, uh... you didn’t have to...” you look at the sky and its quivering blanket. You’ve been pondering packing up for the last hour. “Thanks.” 

“Not to worry, I was restless.” 

“And you always go walking through the mountains when you’re bored?” You wonder as you step around the markers in the dirt. 

“I live here, there isn’t very much else to do and it isn’t a good day for swimming.” 

“Swimming?” You nod and click your tongue. “Sounds like the life to me.” 

“Mm, it can be rather languid when there isn’t work to do,” he turns the thermos in his hands as he talks, “Have you tried cloudberry?” 

“Cloudberry? Never heard of it.” 

He pokes the thermos between the panels and you take it. He pushes the barrier back into place between you, hooking his fingers into the links. You feel the warmth through the copper-coloured metal. 

“You didn’t have to come all this way for tea,” you laugh. 

“I wanted to ask after your hand. See how it’s healing,” he says. 

“Oh, uh,” you open and close your gloved hand, “just a scab now. I’m all good.” 

He smiles and keeps himself from leaning to heavily as the fence dips towards you. He coughs and realigns his feet, brushing back the looses strands around his face with a flick. He pushes his shoulders back and drops his hand. 

“So uh, you should try the tea. I put together the herbs myself, steeped it...” he bounces on his heels, “I suppose it’s not that impressive but it is good. Antioxidants, anti-inflammatory.” 

“Wow, sounds like one of those superfoods,” you scoffs as you pull of your glove and tuck it into your work belt. You untwist the cap and steam wisps out. You smell the tea and blow over it. You look up and find him watching you. “You’re starting to make me nervous, what’s in it?” 

“Just tea,” he assures. “I can’t lie to you, though. It wasn’t my idea. My mother suggested it. She’s very interested to see what you’re digging up but I’m afraid she can’t do much at the moment.” 

“Oh, your mother? Is she sick?” 

“She is in perfect health aside from her dislocated knee. She went rock climbing and well, accidents happen, eh?” 

“Yeah, sure do,” you show him your cut. “But they get better.” 

A lull rises as you take a dainty sip. The tartness tweaks your cheeks and you scrunch up your nose. 

“You don’t like it?” 

“It’s... different but not bad,” you say. “So, your parents live up here too?” 

“Mm, yes. I’m afraid I’m occupying their attic at the moment. I sold my home in Oslo, it was much too... cold.” 

You can’t help but snort, “it’s Norway.” 

“Ah, so it is. I should be used to it,” he agrees. “And how are you faring here? Have you adjusted to these dour lands?” 

“Eh, I’m trying,” you put the lid back on and turn it until tight. “Thanks for the tea.” 

“My pleasure,” he assures you. “Seems lonely work.” 

“I don’t mind it,” you shrug and cross your arms, tucking the thermos beneath one arm. 

“Interesting though. Have you found very much?” 

“Ugh, a spearhead and some pieces of the shaft. A vase, cracked though. Some beads.” 

“Beads,” he echoes thoughtfully, “is this all confidential?” 

“Not really, you wanna see?” 

“Very much so,” he says. 

“Right, uh, let me just...” 

You go back to where you were sat and plant the thermos in the dirt. You scurry around, overly aware of his observation, and go to the pin of your catalogued items. You find the bone beads and brings the little dish of them over to the fence. You hold them up as he peers between the links. 

“They have runes,” he intones. 

“Yeah, I’ve got the meaning of all of them except, er...” you pull out the single bead made of jade, “this one.” 

He hums and considers it closely, leaning in. 

“Not a rune. That’s a family symbol.” 

“Oh?” 

“My family’s.” 

“Wow, uh,” you lower your chin, “that’s... I... kinda feel like a thief.” 

“Can’t have cared very much about it if it’s down there,” he remarks, “you know, my father has mapped out much of our genealogy. As much as he can. He might be able to assist with your research, if he can find the time. Bit of a hermit these days.” 

“Oh, uh maybe, I’d hate to bother,” you smile sheepishly, “erm...” you look around, “where’s Thunder? Awful quiet without her.” 

“She’s keeping mother company. I’ve told her not to be too much of an imp, can’t have her making it worse,” he shakes his head. “The two of them are both stubborn as the other.” 

You can’t help the twitch in your eye. All this talk of your family has you suddenly homesick. You fight not to crack and swallow tightly. 

“Anyway, thanks again for the tea.” 

“Your parents must miss you,” he says abruptly. 

“Erm, yeah, my mom calls now and then but she’s better as an empty nester. Dad’s got his head under a hood most days so...” 

“Friends? Boyfriend?” He wonders. 

You arch a brow. He’s not very subtle and yet his inquiry can’t be anything but innocent, right? You’re still strangers. He can’t be into you. Not someone who looks like him. How long did you pray for Steve to even see you like that? This man is definitely not going to. 

“Friends. Sam likes to pester me when I should be sleeping and Bucky... they’re funny.” You sniff and gaze past him. You won’t mention that giant elephant in your head. The one you think about at night. 

“Lots to miss back home, it sounds like,” he breaks the silence before it can settle. 

“Yeah, but not every day you get to travel.” 

“And to a beautiful land,” Thor declares, “I hope one day you’ll come out of the dirt and see more of it. You’ll be surprised what lays further up the mountain.” 

You smile and look down, “yeah, maybe one day.” 

“Until then,” he backs up on his heel, “I won’t distract you any further. Enjoy your tea.” He turns and strides away, pausing halfway as you linger by the fence, “the rain will be here around five so I would leave early, otherwise you’ll be driving through it.” 

“Right,” your chest deflates just a little. You don’t know what you wanted him to say but you’re disappointed, “thanks.” 

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [6/...]

— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“On sunny days I go out walking, I end up on a tree-lined street. I look up at the gaps of sunlight. I miss you more than anything."

— Mitski, "Francis Forever"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.  The crew arrives at the Baratie, and several things go down in a matter of hours. Decisions are made, both stupid and not so stupid. Old and new faces come back into your life, and unable to deal with the events in Orange Town, you handle it in the worst best way possible: through the bottle.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, alcoholic indulgence on a catastrophic scale (drink responsibly ppl), blackouts, morally grey reader, violence, mentions of everyone (marine, fish people, pirates, etc.) having a past beef with Reader/"Cross-Hairs", Buggy POV in the end,

A/N: So, since this chapter was delayed, I think it compensates due to the fact that it is approximately 7k words long. The chapter jumps a little between the events of the Baratie, but there's a reason for that: the reason being that the Reader is shitfaced for most of the time during this chapter. Also, shout out to @ay0nha for putting up with my rambles during this period, really appreciate it XD

It hurts. Everything hurts. That’s the first thing he feels. 

His feet, his back, his torso, but especially his head. It’s like a hamster is running on a wheel inside the bones in his skull, squeaking, chirping, driving him insane from the inside. 

The wheel is pounding, and pounding until all he wants is to chuck that fucking hamster into–

“Hey, he’s waking up!”

Shanks? Why is he in his head? Fuck, he takes it back. The hamster can stay, rent-free, for as long as it fucking wants to, as long as it isn’t fucking Shanks—

“Buggy?”

On second thoughts, that voice doesn’t strike any sense of irritation with him. In fact, he finds it comforting, like the morning sun shining atop the ship deck. He doesn’t mind listening to that.

“Buggy?”

His eyes open, and he thinks he's seeing the sun for the first time. The sun and the moon, in fact, at the same time. Golden, blinding, warm, and cold, but he wants to watch them until his vision turns white and all sense of sight abandons him. 

It’ll suck to be blind, but damn, what a hell of a way to go.

The more he stares, however, the more everything else falls back into place. He realizes it’s not suns he’s staring at, but two sharp eyes and a concerned face that makes him feel just as warm.

He’s in a bed, he finally discovers. There’s a pillow under his head, a fresh sheet up until his midsection which strangely smells of vinegar, inside a room he just now remembers is the Oro Jackson’s de-facto ‘infirmary’ which really is just an old storage space that was refurnished when they first got the ship.

There’s something wrapped around his head, tight but not too tight that it’s squeezing. It’s been done by precise and sturdy hands; a professional, someone who knows what they’re doing.

He blinks once, then twice, and everything around him finally settles. Including everyone perched around the bed.

“Ah, Buggy, my lad!” It’s hard not to recognize the booming voice of his captain, who proceeds to lean over him with his hands pressed around his biceps until the massive mustache trickles his chin. “Thought you were a goner for a moment!”

He kind of wishes he was one because the strength of Gol D. Roger is not to be underestimated. His ribs squeeze and it's hard to breathe, but out of respect for his captain, all that leaves his throat is a guttural groan that he hopes conveys the message clearly enough.

Gol D. promptly removes himself from his poor apprentice with his hands raised, and when he steps back, Shanks takes his place next to the bed. “Gods, Buggy! What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed! Rayleigh said you were lucky it was just a concussion!”

That’s when it dawns on him. Riiight, there was a scuttle. Some asshole pirates trying to ambush them, they picked the wrong fucking targets. Some … guy was flying over him? Did that happen, or was it just a fever dream?

He remembers kicking someone in the balls, and then … and then …

Lightning. Making its way for him as the darkness embraced his vision. A line of gold, straight as a sword, narrowing in on him.

Did it catch him before the darkness did? 

He hopes so.

“Lay off me, will ‘ya!” he shouts at his friend, trying to get up. However, the fucking hamster wheel in his head keeps spinning until he settles back down against the pillow. “I was doing good!”

“Yeah, until you weren’t!” Shanks disputes and grabs his fellow apprentice by the collar of his sleeve. “I told you to fucking move, but it’s like you spaced out! She had to carry you all the way back here with your head all bleeding!”

Carry him?

He glances at you, finally. You’re sitting there, hunched slightly over the bed with those eyes looking at him, and he’s thinking you fucking carried him? It’s not that he’s ashamed, not at all, but if anything, he was always hoping the roles were switched. 

He’d be the one carrying you. With your strength, he imagined it would be quite the weight to uphold, but he would do it. For you, he would move the seas if he could, Devil Fruit or not.

“Buggy, are you alright?” 

You’re the one talking this time. Not the captain, nor Shanks, just you. The lighting is here, and he feels his skin prick. It’s electric. Cold. Warm. All and nothing combined. He could listen to it – feel it – for hours, days, maybe even years without ever growing weary of it.

He puts on his best brave face and scoffs, forcing his arms to cross themselves despite the surge of aches that rush through his body doing so. “Of course I’m alright! I’m Buggy! I bounce back, always!”

“Still,” your hands fall on top of his, and he feels his body freeze. “I was worried.”

“’Worried’?” Shanks cackles and gestures to you with his thumb over his shoulder. “You should’ve seen the damage she left behind. The entire place was smithereens, I tell you, Buggy! She knocked over those assholes like frickin’ chessboard pieces!”

“What did I always tell you?” Gol D. slams a hand on top of your shoulder, knocking you slightly forward. “She’s got eyes sharp enough to cut through steel, and pirates too, apparently.”

You laugh awkwardly. “I didn’t cut through them, really. I just … knocked them a little over.”

Shanks cackles. “Don’t be humble. You should’ve seen the guy who knocked you out. I swear, none of his bones were where they were supposed to be. He won’t be walking, or doing much of anything, ever again.”

Buggy can imagine it, but also not. He looks at you now, and he sees his concerned friend with those kind eyes that contain both the sun and the moon. He’s always known you’re strong – the strongest person he knows of save for his captain, but not unkind. Not cruel. Not sadistic.

Yet, if what Shanks just said carries any weight, it confirms what he’s always known. 

You’re a beast, and beasts only follow their prime instincts. They don’t allow others to harm what or who they consider theirs.

And it means that you consider him yours. 

Maybe in a different way than he’d prefer, maybe in a way that’s different from the kind he harbors towards you, but it still confirms he’s yours. 

He will never want to find himself on the opposite side of that. Of you. Never you.

When he looks at you again, looks down at where your hand is pressed on top of his, he takes it in his own. 

“I’m fine,” he finally says, his lip tugging in what is supposed to be a smile. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, though.”

You chuckle softly, and he smiles. Fuck, how can he not? He remembers it all so clearly. The way your dimples are shaped, the length of your hair, the soft tint of your lips.

“You? Never.” You finally say. “Never you”

---

You reflect on how it's weird that some things change whereas others don't. 

Flowers prosper and bloom and die. The sun ascends, stays up for a few hours, then descends back into the horizon. 

Friendships grow strong, stay strong, then they aren't.

Some things change, some don't. 

Baratie being among the latter.

It's bright enough inside to momentarily blind you, just like it was a little over ten years ago. Save for new faces with the employees and some design choices, the overall place has stayed the same. 

There are people there of prestigious backgrounds - both pirate and not - and you think of how receptive the restaurant must've been to make both parts come together without any regular scuttles. 

A neutral ground for all to come and enjoy the feast. Well, that is the principle, but not everyone abides by it.

It’s been a while since you last visited the establishment, and last time, you were banned for life. 

Frankly, you don’t recall much of the events; too drunk on rum at the time.

What you do remember is that it involved a few broken bottles of Baratie’s finest wine, some mashed-up furniture, and cutlery, a rival captain who wouldn’t take a “fucking get lost” for a “no”, and it ended with you standing surrounded by a bunch of broken bodies of your own making.

Needless to say, Zeff was pissed. 

More than pissed, actually. He was fuming.

He probably still is.He has a thing for grudges if he’s still alive.

Maybe … Just maybe the old man’s chewed off something more than his leg and kicked the bucket? That’d be a sight to see considering he only has one remaining foot.

"My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

The waiter - Sanji - is fine, not going to lie. A good fighter, too, if his little display seconds ago is a testament to that. A bit too young for your preference, with a nose too small, and hair too bright and blonde. Not quite blue colorful enough.

All in all, not a bad look at all. Just for the aesthetics, though. A solid 7/10, you conclude.

"One of everything, please!" Luffy requests enthusiastically.

For whatever reason, Sanji does not seem to share your general affinity for the restaurant. That’s odd. Most people who work here tend to boast about their occupation in the famed restaurant.

Though, if you have to make a guess, Zeff is likely a contributing factor behind that disdain. He’s tough on people, even tougher if he likes someone.

As discontented as Sanji seems, however, it does not keep him from trying to withhold his flirtatious demeanor with Nami. A Casanova, it looks like. Funny.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?" Zoro asks, fed up with the one-sided dalliance going on between your shipmate and the waiter.

"Two beers!” Usopp promptly adds. “though, I usually have three."

"And one milk!" Luffy chimes in.

"Three beers and a milk," Sanji notes. His eyes land on you, and that signature smile falls to his lips. "And for the ladies?"

You’re already here, you think to yourself. Why not make the most of it? For nostalgia’s sake.

"A bottle of Baratie's Finest," you request, your chin resting in your palm. "Not the kind you keep for customers, though. Pick one from Zeff's private stash, if you can afford to smuggle it past his bushy nose?"

"A classy beverage for a classy lady, I see." A mischievous glimmer shines in his eyes and smile. "Although that stash is off-limits, what kind of a man would I be if I refused a lady her desired beverage?”

You tilt your head a fraction to the side. "I'm sure he won't mind. At his age, he needs to watch his liver."

"That is true,"

Quite frankly, everything else evades your attention the second the waiter arrives with your order. Sanji brings you your meals, and your pricey bottle of Baratie's Finest, and it’s the Red Apple edition.

Perfect.

You eat, and eat, and drink, and then drink some more, not even stopping to concern yourself with the price tag. 

The food at the Baratie's has not been in decline when it comes to quality above all else. It's delicious, and not a lot of places have earned that kind of claim in your life.

The food is good, but the drinks are ethereal. 

One glass turns into two, and two promptly becomes three. So forth, and so forth. Anything to dull the tightness lodged in your chest. 

A tightness that has not left you alone in the past couple of weeks.

You've developed a pretty good tolerance over the years, and after several more units, you begin to feel the tickle on the edge of your hands. Baratie’s Finest indeed.

After five, the feeling settles on the tip of your spine.

After seven, you start to wonder what went wrong. It's a dangerous area to indulge in, especially if liquor is involved, but you don’t stop.

What went wrong?

What did you do wrong?

In another life, you would've traveled the world with them, doing nothing but drinking, fighting, exploring together.

Instead, you’re here, drinking with a crew yet still feeling like the loneliest asshole in the world. It’s not your crew.

You lose a smidgen of focus, and in the grand specter of things, focus is something you could do well with less off. 

You can afford to think less, feel less, and know less. Life has been full of ups and downs, and quite frankly, you've grown weary of it all.

Fuck, maybe Luffy’s onto something? Maybe you are sad?

… Nah.

Once Zoro orders another beer, you go as far as to share your bottle with him. His face scrunches at the taste and he coughs several times, but he admits that it’s good.

As you sit there on the edge of the couch, sipping your beverage and tasting your food, Sanji arrives to collect the bill. You know Luffy doesn’t have a berry to his name yet, and so you wonder how long it'll take before Zeff notices.

More specifically, how long it’ll take him before he realizes he's missing something from his private collection?

“Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?!”

Speak of the Chief… and he shall appear.

This time, you do not interfere when Luffy attempts to bargain for his lack of cash. You simply sit back and observe. 

As much as Luffy tries, he does not have the words or mind suited for this kind of business yet. It’s Capitalism at its finest. 

“You eat, you pay!”

Thoughts and dreams can only get you so far in life, but at the Baratie, it’s coin.

When Zeff grabs Luffy by the front of his shirt, the chief's eyes turn to you, and holy hell, is he furious. 

“And what in the blazing hell are you doing here?!"

“Zeff,” You greet him and raise your beverage his way, a tilted smirk on your face. "It’s been too long."

"Not long enough! I thought I told you to get fucking lost last time? The damages you did cost a fortune!"

“In my defense, it was the other guys that started it.”

He gives you such a dirty look that his jaws clench. “Don’t give a shit. Why are you here?”

You twirl the bottle around in your hand. "Just enjoying the ambiance, as always. I was in the area, and so how could I pass up the chance to try your scrumptious meals again? Or drinks, for that matter?" 

On cue, you raise your - or rather his - bottle closer up to him. 

It’s stupid, the rational part of your brain argues. One does not fuck around with the Chief of the Baratie, but among the few joys you have left in life, this remains one of them.

His eyes narrow in on the bottle and there he is.In the blink of an eye, he snaps it out of your hand with such fast precision that you're almost caught off-guard. 

Zeff narrows in on the mostly empty flask like it's personally insulted him and his entire lineage. “Where did you get this?"

"It was on the menu."

"It sure as shit was not! How could you—" He freezes like a thought suddenly dawned on him, and if a man can become purple from anything other than oxygen deprivation, Zeff's current mood is the closest thing to it. "Sanji. Why that snot-nosed, little—! ... When I get my damn hands on him."

It seems that whatever vendetta Zeff has towards his employee, it outweighs the one he has for you tenfold, which says something. Without another word, he yanks Luffy by the scruff and all but drags him with him to the kitchen. 

Ordinarily, you would’ve intervened on behalf of your captain, but with Zeff now preoccupied, it’s your chance to rob the bar of a few more beverages.

And in your dictionary, “a few” is the equivalent of “a shitton”.

"Wow," Usopp murmurs with a low whistle. "That guy really hates your guts."

"What are you talking about? I’m his favorite customer." You raise what remains in your glass to them. “Anyone want another one?”

"I do," Nami relents.

Zoro laughs, probably for the first time since you’ve met him. "Now you're talking."

Maybe, just maybe, you’re beginning to like these people. 

With a couple more drinks, maybe you’ll be able to tell.

———

“You know, I kind— I kinda assumed you were an asshole when we first met?” 

Usopp’s struggling to stand on his feet, legs bent slightly forward as he makes a half-assed attempt at ordering another drink. You can’t tell if the bartender is electively ignoring him or not, and truth be told, you don't blame the guy if the former applies.

Between the two of you, you’re more adept when it comes to dealing with liquor. Sure, your lips are a little looser now and the bright lights are starting to hurt your eyes, but all in all, you’re not even half as drunk as you want to be. 

Seriously, fuck me sometimes. You just had to go all out when you were younger. Days and nights spent pouring bottle after bottle left your liver hardened rather than weakened.

Now, because of the high tolerance you stupidly developed, it's come here to bite you in the ass and keep you from getting wrecked. 

“Oh?” Your sarcasm couldn't be any more discernible than it is now as you eye your crew mate. “What made you reach that conclusion?”

Usopp twirls around, horribly off-balanced, and slaps a hand over your shoulder. 

A little too personal for your liking, but you let it slide for now.

“I mean, for starters, you—,” he hiccups. “You always have that look about you. Like someone just pissed in your ale.”

You give him an unimpressed but vaguely piqued once-over. “Descriptive. Go on,”

“And soso— And so I and the guys are wondering if you’re like that because some clown broke your heart or—,” he hiccups again. “Or some— something? Did he piss in your ale?”

You shrug his hand off at once. You don’t want to think about him, now least of all. "No.”

Not even a second later, his arm his back over your shoulder and he leans closer. It's probably meant as a comforting gesture, but given how absolutely wasted he looks, you perceive it with a grain of salt. 

"Y-You can tell the great Capt— I mean, the Great Usopp, alright? We've all been there before, I—I'm ssssure. I mean, Zoro doesn't strike me as much of a ladies' man, but he's probably got stories, too."

The bartender finally stops by and leaves a beer bottle in front of you on the table, completely ignoring your companion, and disappears to make his next rounds.

You take the flask and flick the cork off with your thumb. "Well, if you really want to help, —" 

You turn around so that your back hits the bar counter, twirl Ussop around with the guidance of your hand and shove him lightly towards where Nami and Zoro are sitting. "— Talk to the others first about their heartbreaks."

If he wants to object, he's too drunk to for it. Instead, he recollects his limited stance and all but wobbles over to the corner where your other companions are seated.

He’s their problem now, but it’ll be an interesting display.

You recline against the bar counter to chug your beverage in peace when a voice suddenly speaks up from next to you. 

“I thought you were retired.”

With how loud the music is, it might have slipped your notice completely. Then again, the owner of said voice has always had that thing about him. 

He could whisper, and the entire room would’ve heard.

You glance up at your side, and you’re halfway tempted to smile when you see who it is. 

“It’s been a while, Hawk-Eyes.”

Everything from the feather on his hat to the cross around his neck and the pointy way his beard is trimmed has stayed the same. Not a scar, a bruise, or blemish to spot on him.

In ten years, he looks to have aged only one. Some people are fortunate in terms of youth, and you would definitely consider Dracule Mihawk one of them.

“Cross-Hairs.” He inclines his head to you, a silent courtesy reserved only for those whose company he tolerates. “I believed you abandoned your life behind the mast years ago.”

You take another generous gulp from your bottle before you respond. "So did I, but life finds a way, doesn't it?"

"Indeed." He peeks over his shoulder to where your companions are seated, his countenance less than impressed. Then again, that's just his face by default, so hard to tell with him. "And last we met, you were a Captain."

"Last time we met, you almost cut my right arm off." For emphasis, you pull back your sleeve to show off the straight scar that separates your upper arm from the rest. It's faded, old, and never noticeable unless you decide to wear anything short-sleeved, but it's there all the same.

He doesn't apologize. Of course, he wouldn't. Instead, he raises his sparse glass of wine to you. "Nothing personal."

You raise your bottle to him in turn. "Of course not,"

Clink!

You drink your respective beverages in companionable silence. However, even with your halfway inebriated state of mind, you can't help but think of the reasons for his presence. 

You have your suspicions, and you're not shy about voicing them.

"This isn't your usual scenery." You say. “What makes one of the great Warlords of the Sea seek out a place such as this? Business or pleasure?"

"Business," he answers curtly, as though he'd prefer to do anything but. "I'm looking for a captain."

“It’s not Shanks, I take it?”

“No, it’s not. It’s a captain by the name of Luffy.”

It doesn't surprise you. It should, but it doesn’t.

The lengths the vice-admiral is willing to go to retrieve his grandson, which apparently includes hiring a Warlord to do so, doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Unbreakable willpower is a family trait, after all, if you've learned anything from Luffy. 

It wouldn’t suffice with a gun; he had to send the entire fucking arsenal.

Still, at least it’s Mihawk of all people. It shouldn’t be a source of relief, but had it been anyone else, be it Kuro or Axe-hand or Bu-... 

Your fingers subconsciously dig into the fragile, empty bottle you’re holding.

The point is, had it been anyone else, you would've intervened. You have intervened, several times by now, but not tonight. 

Tonight, you're here to drink and forget, then drink some more. You don’t have the sobriety to worry about much of anything anymore.

"Garp must truly be at his wit's end if he employs you for his endeavors." Once you retrieve the bottle at your disposal, you pluck off the cap and swirl it lazily in your hand. The lights from the bar dance around the transparently brown rim, like a shooting star with no exit and no entrance to the rest of the universe. Forever stuck. "Seems excessive to send you of all people after something so seemingly simple."

"From what I've heard, this particular quarry is something of a wildcard."

"If you’re here, I’m sure of it."

Mihawk tilts his chin up, eyeing you curiously in your peripheral vision. "Are you saying that you're acquainted with this Luffy?"

"I'm saying no such thing. It's just mere speculations on my part." Another fistful of alcohol travels down your esophagus. "You're only employed when it's truly serious, and the vice-admiral is known for only getting involved in those kinds of matters. It adds up, is all I’m saying."

“I hardly consider it dire. It's more a means of killing some time on my part." He does not take his eyes off of you, and even in your current state, you can tell that something is brewing beneath those sharp eyes. "However, if said captain has you in his arsenal, then I feel like some investigation is warranted. After all, the Captain of the Cross-Haired pirates is not particularly known for her tendency to submit to others."

You quirk an eyebrow at him and circle your finger around the bottle rim, pondering on the subject yet not biting at the metaphorical carrot he dangles in front of you. "Technically, it’s just like you said: I'm retired, and the Cross-Haired pirates are no more. I’d think most people are aware of that.”

"The Marines believe otherwise,” he counters calmly. “The Cross-haired pirates may be disbanded, but their captain’s bounty remains on the posters. The vice-admiral was quite adamant that, while he wants the boy alive, he’d prefer it if you weren’t."

“I see.” The vice-admiral should learn to take a fucking number. “Tell me, have you elected a means of execution, or is it the dealer's choice?"

"I recall he mentioned something along the lines of wanting your head on a spike."

"Crude."

"I agree."

"Then," you raise your glass. "Am I to have my last drink here tonight?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm here for the boy and nothing else."

You'd expect him to be forward with his line of questions; demand you just give Luffy up and be done with it, not side-stepping the subject like he's doing now. 

If he suspects something, he'll sniff it out like a bloodhound until he gets what he's searching for, regardless of how many cards or people fall around him. You’ve not exactly been subtle about your affiliations with his quarry, something you’ll berate yourself for come morning, but it all depends on how this plays out now.

"I won’t give you the answer you seek. You’ll have to do that on your own.”

You're not friends, but you're not necessarily foes either. 

For as long as you’ve known the swordsman, Mihawk's only ever had a beef with Shanks for reasons undisclosed even to you. Even after you parted ways with your red-haired crew mate, Mihawk never seemed to have anything personal against you despite the rather brutal nature of your previous encounter. 

If anything, there's a certain level of respect veiled between you, one former pirate to another semi-former one, and it’s something you hope he'll honor just this once.

To your relief, he decides to not push the matter, but the interest lingers in his eyes. 

It's not easy to notice, but you make it a habit to take note of limited details. "The boy must be something special to have earned your loyalty like this, Cross-Hairs." 

"I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself." 

"Perhaps so," he concedes.

You chug the rest of your drink in one go, put the empty bottle on the tabletop in the space between you, and push yourself off the counter. "For what it's worth, I wish you good fortune with your endeavor. However, I’ll warn you; if anything happens to the kid, I'll get involved.”

“Duly noted.” Once again, he dips his head to you. "And Cross-Hairs,"

"Hmmm?"

You glance at him from over your shoulder, but his gaze is fixated on something else this time. Something on the other side of the bar, to the borders of the waters. If he sees anything, you can't tell what it is, and he doesn’t share. 

Not explicitly.

"There is unrest brewing in the seas," he finally reveals, casually as if he's discussing the current state of the weather. "I'd suggest you keep your feet dry for now, at your convenience."

You don't know what he speaks of, but whatever it is, you'll follow. He is not a man who prides himself on his capacity to proclaim falsehood. If he tells you that the sun is green, you'll believe it, and you make it a habit not to believe in a lot of people.

That applies to this warning too.

"I'll see you around, Hawk-Eyes."

You need another drink.

———

You slip in and out of consciousness a couple of times throughout the night, never coming to the same places twice, with a belly full of rum, beer, and whatever else with enough alcoholic percentage to knock out a horse. 

At one point, you're in the restaurant munching on some bread rolls.

At another, you're puking your guts out in the bathroom stalls. 

At the third, you're chugging even more liquor straight out of the bottle while a bunch of people cheer you on.

The circle goes on and on and on until it spins out of control like a zoetrope. Faces flash in front of you, one after the other, never the same two times in a row. 

It's alright, you tell yourself, as long as you forget.

You forget about blue eyes, blue hair, and red noses. 

You forget about Gol D. Roger and the time you spent on his crew.

You forget it all, if only for a few hours.

Next time you come to, you're still miraculously standing on your feet. You’re currently in the kitchen on the Merry, and currently listening to Nami telling a ridiculous story about how Zoro challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel.

What a funny story.

In fact, it’s so funny and so outlandish that you can't help but snort. Since when has Nami been the kind of person to tell jokes?

Maybe Usopp's tendencies have rubbed off on the standoffish young woman, or maybe she's smoked something along with her drinks? 

Fuck, you have to ask her where she got the stuff.

It takes a few moments of awkward silence until you realize that no one is joking, Nami least of all. The room is still, and as if all alcoholic content has left your blood, it dawns on you last of all.

Oh hell no.

You slowly turn to Zoro with a deadpan look in your eyes, and despite the urgency, you ask him as calmly as you can, "You challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel?"

He bobs his head and continues polishing his swords. "Which he accepted,"

You blink, and blink, hoping that this is just a fragment your beer-and-bottle-drenched brain has conjured to fuck with you, but Zoro remains where he is and so is everyone and everything else.

Fuuuuuuuck…

You thought he was one of the smart ones, too. His sense of navigation doesn't work for shit and if anyone can get lost on their way to the lavatory, it's him. Still, you withheld some semblance of hope that he would exhibit the same kind of recklessness as his captain.

Turns out, it has all been for naught.

You rub your temples hard enough to sting. With a nasty headache developing, you decide to pop the question. "Cremation or burial at sea?"

"... What?"

"Pick one or the other, I'll see to it that arrangements can be made."

"I'm not going to die.”

"You are a fly to him." Nami grimaces. "Something to be swatted and forgotten,"

"Not if I win." Zoro is steadfast and determined, like every new pirate on their first voyage.

It’s a look you remember well. In a way, the young swordsman kind of reminds you of Mihawk himself, and if there's one thing you can link to both, it's that annoying stubbornness that never yields. Even when the odds are against them.

"You're not going to win," Nami tries.

Zoro remains infuriatingly unconvinced. "You don't know that."

"You won't." This situation, to your chagrin, sobers you up enough that you can't blame the liquor on your next actions or words. 

You take a step towards him, and with an iron fist, grab him by the front of his shirt and force him to face you. He's unamused. “I think I liked you better when you were drunk,” he murmurs.

"I want you to get this, really get this.” You snarl. “Once you go against Mihawk, and there's no coming back for most. He's not known as the World's Greatest Swordsman for no reason, and as good as you are, take it from me. He'll end you."

He inclines his head to the side with deep-rooted skepticism. "Sounds like you really know the guy,"

"It doesn't matter whether I know him or not." 

"Everywhere we go, we make enemies, and for some reason, they've already got a grudge against you, Captain Cross-Hairs." 

With one hand clenched against your offending wrist, he starts to list off his other hand. "Since you know just about every asshole we come across, you might as well tell me about Mihawk's preferred method of execution. Will he chop me in half, or is he excessive like the damn clown and goes all the way with splitting someone into pieces?"

You feel your nails begin to pierce through the fabric of his shirt, inches away from leaving open gaps. You're not their guardian or their mentor. You're not the one supposed to keep the crew at ease or lead them towards certain victories. 

That's the captain's role, and you're not it. Not on this ship, with this crew.

Your only purpose here is to keep them from killing themselves on their first voyage, but if they're so determined to do it themselves despite the warnings you provide, then it's not on you.

Pulling him a few inches closer to you, you look him straight in the eyes, and that's when you see it. The aforementioned stubbornness that follows each and every young pirate you've come across in your life. The notion that they're invulnerable; unkillable. 

Nothing can hope to end them.

You remember what it was like, that feeling, and it almost breaks you to see it in front of you like this. 

You know aggression won’t do it for him, so you try an approach you haven’t tried in years. Bargaining. 

“What will it take for you to pull back from this?”

“He’s coming for Luffy. I’m his first mate, it’s my duty to protect the captain.”

To protect the Captain…

That's how you know that there's no convincing the young swordsman to stand down, not this time. 

He's persistent, exceedingly so, and if there's one thing you've learned during this voyage with these people it's that hell hath no fury like a straw hat pirate determined.

This is not on you, yet it doesn't make it any easier to let go of him. But you do.

Taking a deep breath, you uncurl your fingers and let him step back. 

"Fine."

You need another drink.

Glancing over your shoulder, you meet Luffy’s concerned gaze. “This is your call, captain.”

You don’t need to be here for this. You’ve done your part, and now it’s his turn to do his.

You give Zoro a pat on his back, just one. It's not meant for comfort, it's not an act of sympathy either. 

It's just a pat, like the kind you give your friend when they're about to gamble away all their savings over a game of cards. It’s the “fuck around and find out, but do it yourself”-kind of gesture.

Heaving a sigh, you sidestep him and let your fingers fall off his shoulders. "It's been fun, Zoro." 

And the worst part about this all is that you mean it, truly. It has been fun to sail with them, share a few beers, and joke at the expense of others. Your time on this ship has been fun. 

Like old times.

You won't go as far as to call Zoro a friend, you never do, but it's close enough that you'll probably miss him in the long run.

Zoro looks at you, his countenance indecipherable. "Say that to me again when I win this fight,"

"I can't." Because you won't.

---

The water forces its way into his lungs at such speed that it feels like he's swallowed buckets by the time they finally come up for air. He harks and coughs and tries to get as much of it out, but he doesn’t feel any lighter. 

Get it? Lighter, because he’s just a head now and— alright, forget it.

For once, he's happy his head is disjointed from the rest of his body because if it wasn't, he'd probably sink to the bottom of the ocean from the fluid in his belly alone.

The taste of salt and sand stays like a sour afterthought on his tongue, and as much as he tries to spit it out, he can't be rid of all the grains. "Fuck! Give me a warning next time, will ya?! Kinda vulnerable to seawater and all that!"

Whatever fish-guy has him strapped to their back this time does not dignify his complaints with a verbal response. Instead, all he hears is a couple of snickers, like their humor is fuelled at his expense. 

Assholes, the lot of them. 

It takes some time for the tangy scent to abandon his nostrils, but once it does, it's immediately replaced by the fine scent of something divine. Something delicious. 

It smells of food. Actual fucking human food. Not whatever Arlong and his litter gorge on, which he personally believes to be carcasses of dead sea animals they happen to catch on the shores of their island. 

It's honest-to-god cooked, seasoned, edible food.

Buggy can feel his mouth water, and for once, he cannot blame it on seawater.

They're finally at Baratie.

The finest restaurant in all the East Blue, renowned for its excellent taste and unrivaled quality. Only the richest of the rich get to dine here, and while he's not exactly flowing with berries at the moment, he’s famished.

“Hey, Lips!" he yells out as loud as he can through the shitty bag. "How about you order me some hot dogs once we get a seat? A clown's gotta eat!"

The only sort of response he gets is an elbow to the bag, which incidentally clashes right into his nose. "FUCK!"

"Shut up!"

There's scuttling to be heard, doors opening, and a shitton of gasps echo from all around him. They have an audience, he deduces, and not a particularly receptive one at that. 

Arlong makes a spectacle, something about "serve" and yish and yash about dinner and last meals as they get a seat.

Fuck, what he would give for a meal.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels solid ground settle under his neck. Though it's a pleasant reprieve from being thrown back and forth like a yarn ball caught in a cat’s game, he won’t consider it much of an upgrade. He's fucking hungry, damnit!

"Who are you, old man?" Arlong speaks, and Buggy hears uneven steps approach them.

An unfamiliar voice answers. "My name's Zeff, and I own this place."

Right, the Chief. Maybe he can ask him for some crumbs since his captors aren’t exactly on the generous side.

"Well, I'm Arlong, and I own the East Blue."

"No one owns the sea. Not even a fish man."

Ooooh, burn! Suck on that, shitface!

"Listen up!” Arlong exclaims when the chief’s negotiation tactics fail to appease him. “I'm looking for a pirate in a straw hat! Goes by the name of Luffy!"

The saw-nosed motherfucker truly has to be even more extravagant than himself, Buggy admits to himself with no short amount of begrudging compliance. Fishface even goes as far as to threaten the poor diners with having them for dinner instead, by the sounds of it. 

Buggy can appreciate the message it conveys; he’s used it himself, but he refuses to find any common ground with his captor, so he buries the sentiment ten feet down into wherever the hell his body is.

He listens as the diners lose their appetite, all the while Arlong begins to gorge on whatever he has on his plate. For a while, all he can make out is the sound of meat being torn off something and the occasional cry from one of the diners in the distance.

Even from miles and miles away, Buggy can feel his stomach twist painfully due to the lack of food in it. Oh, it’s hell on earth to smell everything you want yet being unable to even grasp it. And here his captors are, toying with him, torturing him with it.

Seriously, fuck them.

He’s about to demand to get something to chew on when Arlong’s other henchman — Kuroobi or some shit like that — beats him to it. "Hey, boss, I'm feeling for a bottle right about now."

Arlong laughs. "Don’t have to tell me. Take what you please. I don’t think that one will mind sharing one of hers.”

“And get one for me too while you’re at it,” Lips supplies.

The henchman cackles and gets up to his feet to retrieve what he’s looking for, but not before lightly kicking the bag that is Buggy’s current prison cell in the side. 

“HEY!”

“Sorry.” He apologizes unapologetically.

Buggy grinds his teeth together and tries to think of something — anything — to keep his mind off his ever-rising hunger. When he gets his body back, he'll take some bottles and shove them right up these fuckers a—

CRASH!

Buggy hears the sound of something breaking from the opposite side of where the fish man just headed. Countless gasps ring through the restaurant’s interior, bouncing on the walls, and he hears the henchman’s painful wails from a distance away.

He’d laugh - he does laugh, because it seems like someone didn’t want to share their precious drinks and decided that full-on attacking one of the fish people was the appropriate kind of response.

It’s impressive, he thinks. Very much so. Oh, he’d pay to see that again, and he’ll have to give that person a fucking kiss, just for making his day a little bit better.

It’s a shame he can’t see the—

"Fucking get lost."

Buggy feels his head freeze in the bag.

He recognizes that voice. The morning sun shone atop the ship deck. Warm. Cold. All of them at once. 

He's finally found you.

---

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 2

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Some of the conversation feels a little clunky, but we want these two to make up and move on, right?

Part 1 Here Part 7 Here Part 12 Here

Part 3 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

Part 6 Here Part 11 Here

Norm hates this feeling. Laying in bed, he can feel his stomach twisted in knots. This gut-wrenching feeling has kept him up most of the night, realizing he’s got to make a decision. As far as he’s deduced from his sleepless night of pondering, he’s got two primary options. 

Option A. He pretends yesterday’s conversation with (Y/N) never happened, and they continue exchanging small talk, pleasantries, and those awkward neighbor half-waves until the end of time. The scaredy cat in him prefers this option. It avoids confrontation and maintains the status quo they’ve held for the last couple of years. It is simple and lacks any unnecessary entanglements. Things just go on according to plan. He’s done it before, it can easily be done again. 

OR he can proceed with Option B to confront (Y/N) about what she said in the cafeteria yesterday. This option has sparked his curious side. Cause that entire interaction was odd, wasn’t it? Norm had so many questions, but are they worth pursuing? Opening that can of worms could lead to more problems, more decisions, and fewer answers. No. He needed to know. Curiosity might just kill the cat, but at least he’d be able to sleep at night. 

(Y/N) worked in one of the maintenance labs as Vault 33’s official Pip-Boy Programmer—one of the perks of doing well on the Vault G.O.A.T exams. Norm was eager, planning to stop by the lab first thing before he headed to his desk. Unless someone had major issues with their Pip-Boy, they’d probably have the lab to themselves that early. Alright, it was decided. He threw off the certified Vault-Tec comforter, climbed out of bed, and headed toward the shower to get ready. 

—--------------------

You were already at your desk, pretending to be occupied, when Norm MacLean appeared in the doorway of the lab, leaning on the doorframe and fiddling with his Pip-Boy. Truth be told, you were half-expecting him, especially after yesterday. But maybe not this soon. You were hoping he’d stew on this decision for at least a day.

“Good Morning, Norm. Pip-Boy on the fritz?” you ask, knowing full well that the reason he was here had nothing to do with his Pip-Boy. Even if his Pip-Boy was malfunctioning, Norm was more than capable of taking care of that repair without your assistance. 

��Yeah, I think I’m having some software issues. Do you think you could do a diagnostic run for me?” 

You smile, “Of course. If you wouldn’t mind taking it off and filling out the repair form, I can start right away.” 

He complies, handing you his Pip-Boy and taking the clipboard with the attached Vault-Tec paperwork. As he starts on the paperwork, he estimates he’s got roughly twenty minutes of fake errand cover to work with. 

You attach the Pip-Boy to the diagnostic cable running from your computer, load up the program, and wait. “It will just be a few minutes to get a full picture of what’s going on,” you reassure him. 

“That’s fine. My supervisor knows I was having a few issues with it this morning,” Norm says, barely looking up from the clipboard. 

The two of you fall into awkward silence, neither wanting to be the first to break it. 

You relent. “Hey, I’m sorry if yesterday made you uncomfortable. I know we haven’t spoken much at all lately, but I heard about what happened from Reg, and I just couldn’t stop myself from coming over. It wasn’t right of me to use your situation as my catharsis, especially since we had that failing out. I should have respected that. We can continue on as we were, friendly neighbors in the same Vault.” The words stuck in your throat on the way out. That’s not what you wanted, but if that’s what Norm came here to say, better get it out of the way sooner. 

Oof, now he felt terrible. Norm should have known you’d apologize for thinking you made him uncomfortable. That’s your nature. You’ve always been empathic to the needs of your friends. He needs to come clean. 

“I never wanted that.” 

I’m sorry. What did he say? He never wanted that. To stop being friends? Your brain was going a mile a minute, swirling with questions, too many to vocalize at once. Thankfully, Norm elaborated before you even tried. 

“I never wanted to stop being friends, but the closer we got to graduation, the more effort you seemed to put into exams and passing, being the best in the class. You had ambitions and goals, and (Y/N) you could achieve them. You didn’t need to be dragged down by the Black Sheep of Vault 33.” He tries not to think about his label, and usually, it doesn’t bother him. But right now,  it weighs on him; it feels laminated across his forehead, defining him. 

“Norman,” you manage to sigh out. “I’ve always admired that about you. That’s what I meant yesterday. I wish I had the confidence to act that way before now; I’m sure I’d be much happier. After my dad passed away, I wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate,” you gesture to the air around you, "everything. I was on my own, and subconsciously, I picked up on the reality that the better I did in that classroom or for the Vault, the more control I thought I could have over my life.” 

She didn’t need to explain. He knew exactly what she meant. It is kind of an unspoken rule of Vault 33. Obviously, those who did well on their exams got matched into the most coveted jobs within the vault, but those placements also impacted other situations. Those higher-achieving students had more say in when and to whom they were married, more access to leadership positions, and the list goes on. 

“I had no idea how my life would go, but at least I knew I wanted a hand on the steering wheel. I mean, I’m not sure if I actually want to be married or if that’s part of the programming to be in a relationship, but whatever happens, I want it to at least feel as though I made the decision." You pause and add, "Seriously, could you imagine if I got stuck having to marry Chad Johnston?” 

Norm snorted. The juxtaposition of his former classmates as a married couple was hilarious. Those two couldn’t be more opposites. “Well, at least he’d have someone to teach him to read,” he managed between laughs. 

This garnered a snicker from you as well. “Haha, you’re hilarious,” you say in the most sarcastic tone you can muster. “So, what do you think? Can we act like adults and finally move on? Or do we double down on whatever self-destructive tendencies we’ve got going on here?” 

“Hmmm, I don’t know about you, but I’m really leaning into that second one.” He pauses and puts his hand to his chin. “On the other hand, it might be nice to have lunch with someone I’m not related to.”

DING. “Vault-Tec Pip-Boy diagnostic program is now complete, no issues were detected.” 

You both smile. “Well, it looks like the software issues seemed to have resolved themselves.” 

“Isn’t technology incredible?” Norm asks as he stands to leave. 

[issialou]

I don't know if it have be already shared there but someone said have work there until the end have created a Google document about the many problems with Quackity Studio most notably with Adrien/Quidb/LochnessMonster3/jakellc/jayyybio/chisel37 is the Quackity's brother and the director of QSMP. Some other things like the fact it have just a minumal number of CC have support them and have have try dealt with the situation. Also it have some accusations about some ancient staff members have make fake propagants against the people are stays in the project and some others that on the have take the credit of some works of their anciens fellows for themselve.

Also don't hope too much QSMP 2 and any changements cause it seems that Adrien is still the director and doesn't seems for wanted happen.

A good thing know, someone have at Aypierre on his Discord servor if what is said on this documents was true (most notably about the paragraphe F, G & H) and he have confirmed for what he knows it was truth. For Adrien/Quidb, he only talk with him only when it have some servor problems and post drama he never has need talk with the +1 of QSMP and so with Adrien.

For add some other things (and I will also make a rapide summary of what this documents said).

I would put directly the link at the document cause I realised I have forget put (Sorry, I was still a little sleepy this morning).

Edit 2 : I put the captures of the messages Aypierre have posted about some is write on this documents on his Discord servor. I would of course translate them.

(Question : I don't know if aypierre can confirm certains facts or prefer don't speak about them

Aypierre : F is totally true. G I don't know no idea. pomme doesn't have be contact again that it's guarenteed despite my insistence).

F is the "CC's and the truth behind". I will leave you read about that.

G is "Ex admins and Personnal Documents".

(No idea for H but the phrase "lies spread about that some former staff publicly propagated" is true).

H is "The end of QSMP1".

(Question : so q have lied to you about the restructuration ?

Aypierre : no idea that I don't what is happen in internal. quid has be pull out of the discord however yes. and the team team with who I talked looked like enthusiastic. whom with who I talked have never changed between before / after the drama (6-7 people).

When Aypierre talks about the Discord, I think he talks about the one where the CCs and the admins was. Not the one was just for the staff. (The Discord for the CCs have closed after the Expedition Even. This one have be confirmed by Pac).

(Person 1 : the document insist strongly on the fact it is always quid with an another name.

Aypierre : yeap lochness I don't know what. I doesn't saw. but anyway post drama I never get need talk with the +1)

The +1 are the higher ups.

(quid it was at the moment of the problems servor / proxy. had the system admin but I don't remember anymore of the name).

(Question : at least we can take at the serious the document at the minimum what

Aypierre : Yeap like I had tell you I can confirm F. And still there had get stuffs dirtier lol but well we wouldn't open again stuffs).

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Heart's Day | n.r x w.m

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: fluff(??), dirty talking, implied smut, light angst, pet names, mentions of bruises and wounds

Summary: Natasha and Wanda are about to celebrate their first Valentine's day together. What happens when Natasha has to leave and Wanda has to be on her own on such special occasion?

A/N: I wrote this one in between answering emails at work and this is pretty much a self-indulgent fic in celebration of Valentine's Day. 💜 Happy reading!

╰┈➤ Masterlist

Wanda eagerly anticipated spending Valentine's Day with Natasha this Wednesday, marking their first celebration together. She took thoughtful steps to make it special by pre ordering a bouquet of red roses and she also thought of scattering petals around her bedroom for a surprise touch. Additionally, she meticulously planned a romantic candlelit dinner, showcasing her culinary skills to impress Natasha.

This upcoming Valentine's Day holds great significance for Wanda, as she wants to express her deep affection and appreciation for Natasha. It's an opportunity for Wanda to convey gratitude for Natasha's unwavering efforts, despite her demanding job and hectic schedule. Wanda only has a vague idea of what Natasha's job entails, all she knows is that she holds a high position in a successful company, often finds herself immersed in work 24/7, and making most of her free time with Wanda.

However, Wanda's excitement took a hit when Natasha informed her of an unexpected business meeting that required her to fly to Europe just three days before Valentine's Day. Disappointment washed over Wanda, but she tried to be understanding of Natasha's professional commitments.

Natasha, expressing regret over the situation through a phone call, explained, "I'm truly sorry, detka. I wish I could reschedule, but this meeting is crucial for our business dealings." Despite her disappointment, Natasha was already packing for her flight, set to depart in less than four hours.

Wanda, fighting back tears, sighed heavily and asked, "When will you be back, Nat?"

"I can't predict the duration of this meeting, these deals sometimes extend to a week, including post-agreement celebrations," Natasha replied, the uncertainty of her return evident in her voice.

"Will you at least give me a call once you touch down? And where are you planning to stay?" Wanda kept her voice steady, not wanting to burden Natasha with her own emotions.

"I'm not exactly sure about my accommodation yet, but I'll make sure to call you as soon as I can, alright? I promise, baby."

Wanda, accepting the reality of the situation, simply replied, "Take care, okay? I'll be waiting for your call."

"I love you, my love. Until we talk again, goodbye for now."

****

A day passed without a word from Natasha, which was unusual. While it wasn't the first time Natasha missed a call due to her busy schedule, she typically sent a brief text to update Wanda. However, this time, there were no responses to Wanda's messages, fueling her anxiety. The worry escalated to thoughts of Natasha potentially being involved with someone else, an unfair assumption, yet Wanda couldn't help but overthink the situation. Recalling moments when Natasha was tied up in business meetings, Wanda questioned whether Natasha couldn't spare a minute for a call.

Fast forward to the third day since Natasha left, Valentine's Day arrived. Wanda still sent Natasha a heartfelt greeting, desperately hoping for a response. Sadly, the message only showed as delivered, without any acknowledgment. Tears welled up in Wanda's eyes as she gazed at the bunch of roses that were delivered in the morning. Unable to proceed with her planned surprise, Wanda still decided to decorate her room with a heart-shaped design of roses on top of the bed, a bucket of wine on the bedside table, and heart-shaped balloons attached to the ceiling. Faux-candles added an intimate ambiance, disappointed that Natasha wouldn't witness the effort. Completing the decorations, Wanda snapped a photo, sending it to Natasha with the caption, "I wish you were here, Natty. ❤️🥀"

Wanda sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day as her message remained unanswered.

Approaching midnight, the jingle of keys and footsteps in her apartment startled Wanda.

"Wanda?"

Natasha's voice echoed, prompting her to turn on the lights to search for Wanda.

"Natasha? You're here!" Wanda, leaping off the couch where she had been sleeping, embraced Natasha tightly.

"Yes, baby. I'm here now."

Wanda felt an overwhelming sense of relief knowing that Natasha had returned before the day ended. However, her joy was overshadowed by lingering concerns about Natasha's silence during her trip.

"Why didn't you call me back when I asked you to?" Wanda questioned with a hint of irritation, though her voice carried genuine concern.

Stepping back from the embrace, Natasha replied, "Things got incredibly busy when I landed. I'm sorry about that, my love."

It was then that Wanda had a chance to inspect Natasha's face and body. Noticing a cut on her eyebrow with a poorly cleaned wound and small tears on her neck, Wanda's concern deepened.

"What happened to you? Why do you have these wounds?" Wanda's voice revealed alarm as she anxiously fretted over Natasha's state.

"Shh now. I'm okay. I promise. Don't worry about me," Natasha reassured, purposefully diverting Wanda's attention by kissing her senseless.

Wanda melted under Natasha's kisses, moaning as Natasha's grip tightened around her waist.

"I've seen what you've done with your room," Natasha purred in her ears. "Can I see it?"

Wanda nodded, suddenly feeling a surge of arousal from Natasha's affection. She shrieked as Natasha effortlessly lifted her, arms wrapped around her thighs.

"Put me down, you scoundrel!"

Natasha chuckled at Wanda's reaction, carrying her towards the bedroom. Impressed with Wanda's efforts, Natasha was even more delighted when she saw the setup in person. Though the candles were extinguished, the moonlight cast an ethereal glow on the white sheet forming a heart-shaped design with roses. Playfully slapping Wanda on the backside, Natasha set her down.

"Wow, this is really good, detka."

Wanda beamed at Natasha's reaction and responded, "Thank you, it's my surprise for you! Do you like it?"

Natasha sat at the edge of the bed and turned on the candles that were placed on the footrest, beckoning Wanda to sit on her lap, "Come here, sweetheart. I will let you feel how much I like this grand effort of yours."

Wanda's cheeks instantly heated up knowing what's about to happen next.

"You know, you're all I think about whenever I'm away and my mind can't help but to remember how soft your skin is against mine." Natasha's hands travelled down to the hem of the satin night gown that Wanda was wearing and skimmed through the exposed thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin.

"How I love leaving hickeys on your chest and neck, so everyone will know that I own you." This was emphasised by an aggressive bite on the junction of Wanda's neck, which made her squirm in pain, but was soon soothed by Natasha's tongue.

"I thought of your delightful moans, sometimes I would need to shake my head just so I could get the sound out of my mind. But baby, I can't. I love how you sound, it shows how needy and desperate you are for me."

Wanda's nightgown was taken off of her at an instant, making her shiver from the sudden exposure. But Natasha's monologue wasn't done yet, and she continued, "And these fucking delicious tits that I could never get enough of. I want to be buried in them, all day long, the same thing with your thighs. One day I know I will suffocate on how hard you squeeze my head when you cum."

Natasha's nails raked over Wanda's thighs and at the same time, sucking on her nipples like a starved animal. "You're really mine, yeah?" Natasha's eyes sparked dangerously.

"You know I'm yours, completely," Wanda responded but her patience for Natasha's foreplay was wearing thin. "But I need you to fuck me right now."

"Hmm. You're impatient today. You miss me that much, huh?"

If Wanda could roll her eyes, she would. But she's not ready for the punishment that it would entail. "Please, Natasha. I need you so much," She rolled her hips desperately seeking friction.

"But honey, I am not done with enumerating the filthy thoughts I have about you." Natasha smirked at her.

"Don't tell me, show me instead," And with that, Wanda brought her hands on the side of Natasha's neck and started kissing her passionately. "Show me, please."

Natasha stood up while Wanda was still wrapped around her midsection and laid her down on the bed, right in the middle of the roses.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've seen." Natasha sincerely complimented her right before assaulting Wanda's lips.

"Take off your clothes, please." Wanda moaned in between the kisses and was forcing Natasha to remove her jacket. Natasha growled at how desperate Wanda was.

"I'll make love to you, all night long." It was a promise that Natasha will surely commit in order to make up for the days she was away from her lover.

****

Hours had passed, and a number of orgasms had been exchanged between the two women. Natasha was feeling utterly satisfied and she glanced at the woman by her side, now peacefully asleep. If someone had told her a year ago that she would be head over heels about a certain girl, she knew she'd shoot that person without hesitation.

Natasha felt like she hit the jackpot when she got to know Wanda and fell in love with her. She never expected to have a chance like this, especially with her line of work. Love was a new and unfamiliar emotion for Natasha, but Wanda made it special, and Natasha wanted her in her life forever. However, the harsh reality interrupted her blissful thoughts as her phone buzzed insistently, revealing an unwelcome caller ID. Answering the call, she knew trouble awaited.

"Where the fuck are you, Nat? You disappeared before the mission debrief, and Fury's losing his mind trying to find you."

Natasha disentangled herself from Wanda's embrace and headed to the living room while putting her pants on and t-shirt. "Don't make a big deal out of it. I had somewhere to be urgently."

Clint chuckled at Natasha's response. "Nah, you bolted because you needed to fuck someone. You were gone for nearly three hours! Get back here before Fury hunts you down, caught with your pants down."

Just as Natasha was about to reply, a voice interrupted her.

"Natasha? Who are you talking to?"

Clint seized the opportunity, exclaiming, "I knew it!" Natasha hastily ended the call, scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"It's just my co-worker. Sorry if I disturbed you."

"Are you coming back to bed?" Wanda asked with a sleepy voice.

"Actually, I have to go. There are things that need to be finalised that I didn't get the chance to do since I immediately left so I can see you." Natasha explained.

Wanda's doubts crept back in her mind and blurted out, "Are you cheating on me?" Her voice trembled as she tried to stay calm.

Taken aback by Wanda's question, Natasha immediately answered, "What? No! Why would you ask that?"

"You're always on business meetings and whenever you're on trips, you never call and you don't reply to my messages." Wanda pointed out.

"I am not cheating on you. I swear!" The redhead walked towards Wanda and placed her hands on her hips to pull her closer. "I don't even look at other people. I only have my eyes on you."

Wanda stared at Natasha's face intently, scrutinising whether she's being truthful but found nothing but sincerity. "You promise?"

"Yes, I promise. I love you, okay?" Natasha touched Wanda's lips before leaning down to kiss her.

"I love you, too. When are you leaving?"

Natasha's phone buzzed again indicating another call. Wanda saw the caller's name, Yelena, and raised her brow at Natasha as if asking who the caller was.

"It's my sister. Wait a second."

Natasha answered the phone and went to look at the window, she shook her head at the profanities that were coming out of Yelena's mouth and dropped the call.

"My sister also works at the company that I'm in and she's currently outside to get me. I will call you in the morning."

Wanda only nodded and kissed her girlfriend goodbye, her doubts still lingering in her head.

"Oh and I will pick you up for a lunch date tomorrow. Please dress up nicely." Natasha winked at Wanda before closing the door.

****

Meanwhile during the car ride heading to SHIELD, Yelena was berating Natasha for her behaviour.

"Are you really not going to tell Wanda that you're an assassin?" Yelena questioned, as if Natasha had sprouted a second head.

"How am I supposed to bring that up? Should I just casually mention, 'Oh, by the way, I kill people—'"

"—criminals," Yelena corrected Natasha.

"Yelena!"

"What? Don't be dumb, sestra. You need to tell her!"

"I will tell her when the time is right." Natasha answered.

"Good luck with that. You even had the guts to go to her while you still have small cuts in your face."

"Yeah, she actually asked about them and the bruises."

"Well, she's going to ask more questions if you continue leaving her like that and then coming back without a limb."

Natasha rolled her eyes at her sister's drama, but she knows Yelena is right to be concerned. Eventually, Wanda will ask more questions, and Natasha might struggle to keep secrets that could harm their relationship. She just hopes Wanda will stay with her once she learns about Natasha and the nature of her real job.

[haechurch]

Morning seeps through the blinds and you find yourself not waking up alone in your bedroom when you take a full seat and glimpse next to your side. There's someone else's lying with you on the mattress, well, that someone else's was mark lee, which was your friend until the movie session turned into something else in the state that you didn't even know how to face or assured to call him per usual the next day if you were about to bump into him since you spent the previous wild night together.

But here you were, finding yourself too drunk yesterday and somehow ended up with your biggest crush lying on your bed the morning after, also fuck it, though you feel like you're still stirring in your sleep you can't help but think that mark is very tempting at this moment and you just can't even believe in yourself for having a turned on on an unconscious mark lee that stay still peacefully in his sleep.

You currently watch him slumber in silence, not even aware that you got your mouth watering over him and started to scoot closer, lying beside him as he's sleeping facing you. You didn't touch him at first, you only admire his features and only could thinking about how damn fine this man was, even in his doing-nothing state like ugh. Then you started to move your hand and caress his strand hair-very carefully, and tracing his eyebrows-very delicately, as afraid that he might be broke if you touch him in not so gently manners.

Then you snapped when he suddenly groan and bring his hand over to rest on your waist, with him being-of course-senseless. You froze when he did that, and you started to trembling on a thought of having him all over you again right at this instant. Would he mind if you just...?

You felt like you're suffering, you're waking up horny, needy, and he looks so fucking good in his sleep right now that it makes you just want him more than anything. You started breathing heavily, eyes closed shut with a low 'fuck' leaving your mouth and you sigh under your breath, as started to put your bodies against each other.

You snug into him and straddle him from the side, your left leg was on his waist. Two of your hands circling around his neck and shoulder, then you started humping on him. It's in a slow pace at first but then you felt the urge to grind on him even harder and that's when he started to stir in his sleep.

"Y/n?" He called as he squint his eyes, baffled as he just wake up from his sleep. Knowing he's finally fully awake, you started to hug him even tightly and grinding harder, making him groan and you can feel his boner getting evidence by the mean time. Poor mark lee, he just woke up and have to see you panting and so so so needy for him it's almost looked pathetic. Mark was just stay still, closing his eyes shut while balling a fist to covering his face, apparently trying so hard to get himself together.

"Shit.. don't go too fast.." he said. That's just made you go harder as you let another needy moan. "M-mark, gonna cum." You tell him. "Wanna cum, please." His hand now were all over your ass, pushing you down forcefully onto him as he buck his hips into your core and started to equally thrust sensually. "Do it. Cum."

And so you did. You pant onto his chest and grab him by his shirt, feeling all hot and sweaty even if it's just 7 in the morning. You felt so relieved as you came down from your high, but mark definitely haven't came, and you just leave him with such a morning wood, so after getting up and sat on the bed as mumbling a 'sorry' to him, you proceed to take your clothes off, leaving you just in your panties, and you swear the way he's just staring at you with awe was so fucking endearing.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Taking care of you." Before he could speak another word you're already on your knees and yank his boxer down, grabbing a handful of his cock and take him into your mouth. He let out a deep groan and tossed his head back, jaw clenching when you roll your tongue and suck into his tip. His chest was heaving and his abdomen flexing when you take him until the tip was on the back of your throat, making you gag around his size.

"Fuck.. just like that baby, keep going." You bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks, do whatever you can to make him feel good. He then took a fist of your hair as a grip and finally look down at you, his eyes were heavy lidded and his mouth was agape all while sounding so pretty with the low moan and some profanities he uttered.

"Good girl. You're doing so fucking good right now." You hum, the vibration makes him shudder and his abdomen tensed, he thrown his head back as his breath hitch. "Aw shit, m gonna cum." He quick to face fucked you unconsciously, trying to catch his high before finally shoot his warm load into your mouth with a low, long grunt. You swear to god that that shit making you even more wet, pussy clenched over nothing.

You try to swallow all of his load as you saw mark's face all contorted in pleasure, and for fucks sake, there's nothing more sexy than the shit you're seeing right now.

You wiped the quite mess with the back of your hand and then sing song before him, "breakfast."

[misunhye]

Stay Soft, Get Eaten

characters kang sunhye (misun), kang sumin … brief appearances of nct dream, very brief mentions of misun’s family

words 2.3k

warnings physical abuse (cigarette burn), gaslighting, love bombing? brief mention of sexual favors

A burnt child love the fire.

“‘Mom’ is calling,” Siri announces to the practice room.

Misun’s head doesn’t lift until Renjun nudges her in the arm, not expecting it to be her mother calling her. She looks around as Siri repeats the notification, everyone looking back at her. She hesitates, eyes darting to find Jaemin before she realizes. Right. He’s at home, resting. When he should be here, a voice bitterly reminds her. She swallows roughly, mouth feeling dry as she looks towards the choreographer who nods shortly, and she stands up, hurriedly answering the phone before it could end. She feels the heavy stares of the boys on her back as she steps into the corner. She’d rather leave, but she feels it’s too disrespectful.

“Hello?” Misun answers as the others busy themselves to give her privacy. She’s surprised her mother is calling her at … She pulls the phone from her ear to check the time. Nine in the morning. She probably hasn’t even gone to sleep yet. But she’s hopeful that maybe she’s calling for a good thing— something happy. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you always assume something is wrong when I call you?” is her mother’s instant scoff, making Misun’s lips press together tightly at how she’s starting already. Not even thirty seconds into the call. She catches herself before she can sigh out loud. That’d set her off even more.

“I don’t know,” is all she can offer pathetically. No matter how much she wants to bite back, she can’t. She wants to stand up to her, but she can’t. She always feels sorry for both her mother and herself aftwards. She shuffles in her spot, neck hunched over as she stares down at her shoes. She can almost feel her mother’s piercing stare through the phone. It makes her feel ashamed. She then says, “I’m sorry.”

Her mother hums, “OK. Now, the reason I was calling you … Oh, right! Have you gone on Naver? There’s a lot of posts about you on there. Oh, isn’t this exciting?” Her mother gushes, words slurring. Misun does sigh out loud this time. Her mother doesn’t catch it. “My baby’s famous, just like her mother! Guess it does run in the family, huh.”

Just like the rest of the family, Misun wants to correct her. Not just her.

“What does it say?” Misun asks instead, knowing that the truth wouldn’t be good for her. She’s already been told by everyone she knew to not go on social media. She’s done alright on only going on her phone to text and call people, even deleting her social media apps. But she can’t help but want to kill the curiosity.

Her mother is glad to tell her, “Oh, just that I paid your way into SM. Can you believe that? They think I’m rich enough to pay SM! Isn’t that amazing?” Her mother proceeds to go on and on about something that Misun can only pretend to listen to, but the choreographer is staring at her from the corner of his eye and she’s starting to feel squeamish.

“Mom,” she starts off, trying to cut her off so she’ll let her talk, but she doesn’t, still babbling about how some guy offered her a slushie from 7-11 for a— “What? Mom, please tell me you said no.” Her brain shortcuts, completely forgetting her previous intention. It’s only now that Misun realizes her mom isn’t sober. She wishes this was the first time.

“It was a really good slushie,” her mother giggles like a little girl.

Mortified, she looks back to everyone else, hoping they couldn’t hear any of that, “For your sake, and mine, I hope you’re joking. I’m in the middle of practice, I’ll call you back later.” No, she won’t.

“Oh, practice! Wow. I remember dance practice, eyes were on me all the time, everyone in sync with m—”

Misun quickly ends the call at another side-eye from both the choreographer and her manager, “I’m sorry,” she bows deeply to both of them, “Sorry.” She turns her ringer off and throws it in the direction of their bags and jackets.

She’s not too worried about her mother being upset she hung up, she knows she’ll only realize it in ten minutes when she finally stops to take a breath.

Misun didn’t know why she still tried. Her brothers have long given up, way before her parents even got a divorce. Her dad would rather drop dead than crawl back to her mother. Her grandmother has certainly given up, but not her grandfather— no, he has a heart too big for his soul to keep. They’re the only ones who still try.

She quickly gathered her things, hoping that no one recognized her in the cafe, even with her hoodie and face mask on. She threw her full coffee cup in the trash, walking out the cafe as normal as possible, not wanting to attract any attention.

As soon as she got across to the other street where the subway is, she stubbornly wiped her eyes. She doesn’t even like coffee.

It’s a week later when there’s a knock on the front door when she’s in the living room, waiting for some of the others to come back with Jisung and Jeno in their rooms. She looks back and forth between the front door and Jeno’s room, waiting for someone to yell out that it was one of the boys. No one did. She hesitantly pushes herself off the couch, looking into the peep hole and sighing once she realizes who was standing at the door— her mother was dressed properly, wearing a nice purple dress and a blazer with heels Misun was sure she’d trip if she ever wore. Her tired eyes are a sign that she’s slowly coming down from a high.

That is how she’s in this position, right now.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” her mother is squeezing her so tightly in her arms she thinks she’s about to pass out from lack of oxygen. She pats her mom on the back, each smack getting harder until she lets her go. “Oh, sorry.”

Misun sighs, casting a look back to the hallway nervously. She really doesn’t want any of her members to come back and see her mom, not wanting to have to deal with it after. All of them except Renjun and Chenle have met her already, of course, never on purpose. She doesn’t really talk about her family to them, always talking about her brother, Jaesuk. It’s never “my mom, my dad,” it’s always, “My brother, Jaesuk.” They just assumed they were really close.

“What are you doing here, mom?” She remembers to phrase her question correctly, hoping it wouldn’t set her off or anything.

“I realized I completely forgot about our little coffee date the other day!” Her mother sighs, cupping her cheek in her hand before squeezing roughly, making her wince in pain. She didn’t mean it, though. “How could I forget about my gorgeous daughter? Ugh! My mind, you know, it completely escapes me sometimes, baby. I’m sorry.”

Grasping at her mother’s hand, she pushes it off lightly, “Right. Yeah, it’s OK, mom. We can always reschedule.” So you can forget about that one, too, Misun remarks to herself.

“Oh, alright, but seriously, you must’ve been so disappointed waiting for me,” her mother pouts and Misun refrains from making a face at her. She’s far too old now for all of that. “Next time I ever do something like that, pinch me! Throw something at me, I don’t know.”

Misun doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she kind of stares at her dumbly and blinks. “OK. Um. I’m good, kinda used to it so, no worries there. Uh,” she wants to die. This is so awkward. What does she say? “Do you want something to eat?” It’s only after she says it does she realize they have no food and Jaemin, Renjun, and Chenle are at the store for that very reason. She hopes she says no.

“Wha—what do you mean?” Her mother seems so genuinely confused, stopping her from standing up. “Used to it?”

Misun avoids her eyes, huffing lightly as she looks around the living room. She wishes she knew she was coming, she’d have cleaned up. She wishes she had a sixth sense about her mother in general. That would’ve helped. “Like, it’s happened before, you know …” She should stop talking. Definitely stop talking right now. But she wants to talk about it. How will she ever ‘work through her problems’ like SM’s counselor (who she was sure wasn’t a licensed counselor) said?

“I mean, don’t you remember?” Misun asks before she can think too much more about it, and her mother’s silence makes her second guess herself. “I—I just …” She sighs, staring down at her feet, “My twelfth birthday? It was my first birthday as a trainee and … my friends wanted me to bring them home so they could meet you. But I didn’t want them to because …” She stops. “You remember, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Her mother’s voice is different, now calm and collected. It makes her even more nervous. She still doesn’t look at her. Sometimes, she swears her stare that could turn you to stone. “I have no idea what you're saying.”

“I didn’t bring them home, I just told them I’d have you come to the company. And you know what, when I walked home after practice, I started to actually get really excited about it the more I thought about it, ‘cause it was one of those times when you were the ‘you’ that came home and acted like an actual mom,” she laughs nervously, playing with a string from her jeans. “I thought, maybe if I’m extra nice and sweet when I get home, she’ll come. I came home, I asked, you said yes with this big smile on your face and I thought I must be doing a good thing— making you happy.” She manages to get through it without stuttering or pausing to take a breath. She wants to look up, but she’s scared. “I told them that you said you’d come during one of our breaks. I waited, each break, staring at that door … You never walked in.” She can feel her nose begin to sting as her vision gets blurry. She sucks in a breath, almost hiccuping but she quickly calms her breath doing, making a harsh sound. “I just … it’s not the first time, mom.”

She can hear her rummaging in her purse and Misun can already feel her head starting to throb. There’s the flick of a lighter and Misun closes her eyes in regret. Why couldn’t she just keep quiet? She should’ve never brought it up. This was on her.

She sniffs, smelling the smoke first before hearing her mother take a slow drag. Three seconds later, she lets go and coughs lightly.

“I always knew you had an imaginative mind,” Sumin nods to herself, a faraway look in her eyes. “But I never imagined it’d take you this far, Sunhye.” Misun blinks rapidly, trying to prepare herself for what comes next— what always comes next. “I am your mother, I gave you life, I raised you, I love and support you …”

“Mom,” she grabs her knee lightly, “Please. Some members are still here. Don’t …” She stops herself before she can make it any worse. It happened, didn’t it? She knows it did.

No matter what Misun says or does, her mother always take it in the worst way.

“I would never hurt you,” her mother sighs. And she genuinely believes her words. That stabs even deeper than any knife could. “Nothing like that ever happened, baby. You must’ve seen it in a show or something.”

“No, I—I,” she shakes her head, brows furrowing, distinctly remembering it. She swallowed, trying to rack her brain for someone who could prove it. But who would remember something like that? The tree would.

The heat of the cigarette’s cherry gets a taste of her skin, and she jerkily tries pulling away, but her mother grabs her hand and forces it to her knee. Her grip is like steel, and Misun just can’t fathom how strong she is, even as she loses weight. The familiar smell of burning flesh flows through the air and she uses all her body’s weight to throw herself to the opposite side of the couch.

She clutches her stinging hand, cradling it to her chest like a baby. Tears brim at her eyes, and she tries her hardest to not let them fall. This was her mother’s favorite way to ‘teach her a lesson’, but it’s also the one she’s done the least. Maybe only five or six times before. Never long enough to leave a scar, but long enough to hurt.

Her eyes closed tightly, ducking her head as her mother put her cigarette back in its pack. She gets up, bends down and presses a kiss to her head softly. “I love you, Sunny.” She taps her lovingly with her finger on her head, meant to be teasing and a familiar comforting feeling. It just made her shiver in disgust and fear. If her mother noticed, she didn’t say anything. She doubted she did.

When the rest of the boys return, and Jeno and Jisung stagger out of their rooms with sleep in their eyes, Misun’s curled up on the recliner in the corner of the living room, a blanket covering her body. Her hand is now covered in a bandage and still stings, but she’s hoping the Tylenol she took will kick in soon.

Renjun’s nose scrunches up in disgust as he puts the groceries on the floor, narrowly avoiding Jisung in the crowded kitchen that is much too small for five growing children. “Who was smoking?”

Misun never learns.

[call-me-casual]

@salmonthecat messaged me asking for GWash headcanons so here we go:

1. This is probably contradictory to real life but I’ve decided in LK he’s a somewhat picky eater. Some textures and tastes just don’t sit with him, and there’s been many a time Washington has lied to Lafayette about liking some French food as to not hurt his feelings (and proceeded to throw up in the bushes when alone)

2. Less of a headcanon but I could totally see him in a modern au as a forester. People usually make him a lawyer or a ceo or something, but I think he’d do something more lowkey

3. He’s been near-kidnapped more than he’d care to admit

4. He is OBSESSED with his horses. He coddles them as often as he can, and more than a few aides or stable hands have walked in on him baby talking Nelson or Blueskin. He’s also 100% gushed over horses with James before. The situation is similar with dogs

5. He’s tried learning French, staying up early into the morning reading books, but he’s never been able to grasp it. It’s a source of embarrassment for him

6. He may potentially be dyslexic, and uses every opportunity he can to not read letters himself. He doesn’t want anyone knowing

Okay time for slightly more angsty ones:

7. I’m pretty sure it’s confirmed he likely had a fear of being buried alive in real life, but for LK I’d amplify this. Nightmares about being trapped underground, either suffocating inside a coffin or choking on dirt aren’t uncommon for him. Typically they proceed or follow a particularly bad battle or time of suffering. He isn’t claustrophobic but can grow distressed if there’s something on top of him. Sometimes his night terrors are so bad he will refuse to go anywhere near any trenches to inspect them.

8. He’s the kind to hide injuries from others, or try and push through even when it only does more damage. He’s a total hypocrite.

9. He’s absolutely petrified of any doctor that isn’t his own. Won’t go near them. If he’s ill? Tough shit he’ll wait until his surgeon can come

10. Last one: It’s suspected by historians that Washington was infertile, probably sterilised by disease. Personally I’m taking this as canon in the LK universe for the reason why he never had any children biology (note that Martha does exist in LK universe even if she never makes an onscreen appearance: she’s mentioned during the episode “An American in Paris”). The fact he likely wouldn’t know why it’s not working makes it more sad. Washington wants nothing more than children of his own, looking out for his aides - all younger than him - is good, but it doesn’t fill the void inside him. It’s why he took such a shine to the journalist trio and was so tolerant of them from the get-go, living vicariously through them, maybe in private moments being able to imagine, just for a moment, that these are his children. On nights following their departure back to Philadelphia, if soldiers happen to hear soft, mournful weeping, they don’t say anything about it.

[afi-mukami]

Fic Masterlist

DIABOLIK LOVERS

⚠️ Please note that my DL stories might include steamy content for adults, canon typical violence, and triggering things. Read at your own risk. ⚠️

Master and You Series

His Realm to Conquer

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

A couple of weeks before Ruki's coronation you two are ready to set down in your new castle and the bedroom. Your master is about to become your king as if he doesn't get enough kicks from being the master.

Pleasuring Your Master

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

From time to time, your master grants you privileges, letting you touch him the very way you love to. That is if you have been a sufficiently obedient and good girl. Today was one of those days, and of course, you didn’t miss your chance.

Pleasures for Your Master

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

It was your master's birthday once again. You wished nothing more than to please him on this special day. The problem was he didn't treasure it in the same manner as you did.

Punishment from Your Master

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

You were supposed to study. Yet the vampire next to you sent your thoughts trailing off… and since you were being such indecent livestock it was clear that you were asking for punishment.

Other DL Fics

After the Ball

Ruki x OC

Explicit

Against the Wall

Ruki x OC

Mature

Bedtime Stories

Ruki x OC

Teen and up

A Bite for a Bite

Ruki x OC

Mature

Claimed

Ruki x OC

Mature

Daring Fingers

Ruki x OC

Mature

The Early Morning

Ruki x OC

Teen and up

Entirely Mine

Subaru x Yui

Mature

Finger Play by Shuu

Shuu x fem reader

Mature

His Very Own

Ruki x OC

Explicit

Livestock on the Loose || Kotieläimet karkuteillä

Ruki x OC

Yuuma x OC

Teen and up

Nothing Else Mattered

Subaru x fem reader

Teen and up

The Storm of Souls 1: His Possession

Ruki x OC

Explicit, eventually shameless smut

Eve stayed with the Sakamakis and Ruki’s life had lost its meaning… but then new livestock appeared. The one whose blood smelled almost as intoxicating as Eve’s even though that shouldn’t have been possible. Ruki decided to make her his possession.

The Storm of Souls 2: Her Calamity

Ruki x OC

Explicit, shameless smut

After saving Yuuto from the Demon World and learning that her mother was dead, Yuriko's life seemed to settle down. The sadness still lingered with her, but she looked forward to summer vacation and the autumn semester. Yet, the Vampire king presaged a new thread for his plans rising. Was calamity about to strike?

Their Deep Waters

Azusa x OC

Explicit

FINAL FANTASY VII

She and I Series

Did she see something more?

AerTi

Teen and up

Tifa disagrees with the other members of the Avalanche about the way the organization works, so she leaves the scene to vent her feelings. Her legs take her to Sector 8, where she accidentally runs into a woman selling flowers.

Her Scent of Magnolias

AerTi

Teen and up

Tifa and Aerith have fallen from Don Corneo's trap into the sewer along with Cloud. The group will not be able to proceed until the broken water pump is repaired. While Cloud stays to monitor the meters, Tifa and Aerith have a moment to chat alone.

Her Touch on My Skin

AerTi

Mature

Sector 7 has fallen; many have lost their lives and the Turks have taken Aerith. However, Tifa has survived and is now in the bathroom of Aerith’s home gathering herself after everything that happened.

Other FFVII Fics

Temptation

RudTi (+ a couple of other ships that will be revealed along the story)

Explicit, eventually shameless smut

Tifa and Cloud live their daily lives in Edge, which seems to be finally safe now that Vincent has defeated Omega and Deedground. However, the couple’s life is not quite what Tifa has hoped for. When she cannot find happiness in one direction, the offer may come unexpectedly from another.

IKEMEN SENGOKU

A Smile Written to the Stars

Sasuke x OC

Masamune x MC

Sasuke has returned to the modern days without Mai who stayed in the Sengoku era together with Masamune Date. The fate tore them apart but that was exactly how things were supposed to be.

MR. LOVE: QUEEN'S CHOICE

Coffee for Two

Explicit

Gavin x female reader

You and Gavin are coming home from a date and he asks you to come to his apartment for a coffee. The drink is served with extra spice.

Rivalrously Chivalrous

Explicit

Helios x female reader

You are after a target when Helios gets in your way. This isn't the first time he messes up your work, but things heat up this time.

[afi-writes]

Fic Masterlist

AMNESIA: MEMORIES

For My Princess' Sake

Ikki x MC (but can also be seen as x reader)

Mature

CW: Masturbation, obsessive thought process

Seduction would only take a month. But sometimes a month can be such a long time… and one night Ikki needs his release.

Of All the Women He Could Have

Ikki x MC

Teen and up

The heroine spends the girls ’evening with Sawa and Mine when she gets a call from Ikki, who is home alone.

DIABOLIK LOVERS

⚠️ Please note that my DL stories might include steamy content for adults, canon typical violence, and triggering things. Read at your own risk. ⚠️

Master and You Series

His Realm to Conquer

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

A couple of weeks before Ruki's coronation you two are ready to settle down in your new castle and the bedroom. Your master is about to become your king as if he doesn't get enough kicks from being the master.

Pleasuring Your Master

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

From time to time, your master grants you privileges, letting you touch him the very way you love to. That is if you have been a sufficiently obedient and good girl. Today was one of those days, and of course, you didn’t miss your chance.

Pleasures for Your Master

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

It was your master's birthday once again. You wished nothing more than to please him on this special day. The problem was he didn't treasure it in the same manner as you did.

Punishment from Your Master

Ruki x fem reader

Explicit

You were supposed to study. Yet the vampire next to you sent your thoughts trailing off… and since you were being such indecent livestock it was clear that you were asking for punishment.

Other DL Fics

After the Ball

Ruki x OC

Explicit

Against the Wall

Ruki x OC

Mature

Bedtime Stories

Ruki x OC

Teen and up

A Bite for a Bite

Ruki x OC

Mature

Claimed

Ruki x OC

Mature

Daring Fingers

Ruki x OC

Mature

The Early Morning

Ruki x OC

Teen and up

Entirely Mine

Subaru x Yui

Mature

Finger Play by Shuu

Shuu x fem reader

Mature

His Very Own

Ruki x OC

Explicit

Livestock on the Loose || Kotieläimet karkuteillä

Ruki x OC

Yuuma x OC

Teen and up

Nothing Else Mattered

Subaru x fem reader

Teen and up

The Storm of Souls 1: His Possession

Ruki x OC

Explicit, eventually shameless smut

Eve stayed with the Sakamakis and Ruki’s life had lost its meaning… but then new livestock appeared. The one whose blood smelled almost as intoxicating as Eve’s even though that shouldn’t have been possible. Ruki decided to make her his possession.

The Storm of Souls 2: Her Calamity

Ruki x OC

Explicit, shameless smut

After saving Yuuto from the Demon World and learning that her mother was dead, Yuriko's life seemed to settle down. The sadness still lingered with her, but she looked forward to summer vacation and the autumn semester. Yet, the Vampire king presaged a new thread for his plans rising. Was calamity about to strike?

Their Deep Waters

Azusa x OC

Explicit

FINAL FANTASY VII

She and I Series

Did she see something more?

AerTi

Teen and up

Tifa disagrees with the other members of the Avalanche about the way the organization works, so she leaves the scene to vent her feelings. Her legs take her to Sector 8, where she accidentally runs into a woman selling flowers.

Her Scent of Magnolias

AerTi

Teen and up

Tifa and Aerith have fallen from Don Corneo's trap into the sewer along with Cloud. The group will not be able to proceed until the broken water pump is repaired. While Cloud stays to monitor the meters, Tifa and Aerith have a moment to chat alone.

Her Touch on My Skin

AerTi

Mature

Sector 7 has fallen; many have lost their lives and the Turks have taken Aerith. However, Tifa has survived and is now in the bathroom of Aerith’s home gathering herself after everything that happened.

Other FFVII Fics

Temptation

RudTi (+ a couple of other ships that will be revealed along the story)

Explicit, eventually shameless smut

Tifa and Cloud live their daily lives in Edge, which seems to be finally safe now that Vincent has defeated Omega and Deedground. However, the couple’s life is not quite what Tifa has hoped for. When she cannot find happiness in one direction, the offer may come unexpectedly from another.

IKEMEN SENGOKU

A Smile Written to the Stars

Sasuke x OC

Masamune x MC

Sasuke has returned to the modern days without Mai who stayed in the Sengoku era together with Masamune Date. The fate tore them apart but that was exactly how things were supposed to be.

MR. LOVE: QUEEN'S CHOICE

Coffee for Two

Explicit

Gavin x female reader

You and Gavin are coming home from a date and he asks you to come to his apartment for a coffee. The drink is served with extra spice.

Rivalrously Chivalrous

Explicit

Helios x female reader

You are after a target when Helios gets in your way. This isn't the first time he messes up your work, but things heat up this time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: another week ahead.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gates open as horses snort and kick. The dawn air is ripe with impatience. You and Merinda watch as you stand east of the front doors. The luggage is clustered near the stables, to depart once all of the nobles have trotted their steeds from within the walls. 

Your encounter with the king lingers in your head but the echo of his anger and the scent of spilled ale is enough to deter you. A maid will not be missed. Merinda can’t tear her eyes away from it all. Her expression is longing and doleful. 

“A pity we must stay here with Lady Rezlyn,” she mutters, “she’ll be miserable without her daughter.” 

“I’m certain she will miss her,” you agree. 

“She won’t have any to indulge her,” Merinda sniffs, “or distract her.” 

“Mm, I suppose. Perhaps she will be too sad to be angry,” you suggest. 

The noise of mail approaches and you look up. You expect the soldier to pass by as all others have done. It is the same steely soldier who’d been at the king’s side that morning. Merinda steps closer to you as the man’s grey eyes are fixed on you. 

“Maid,” he barks, “find a cart.” 

You frown and look over at Merinda. 

“The king has sent for a lady maid for his wife,” the soldier explains, “you.” 

He points at you with his gauntlet and you flinch. The king has not forgotten or changed his mind. It was wrong of you to assume. You grab Merinda through her sleeve and squeeze. 

“Just me, sir?” you ask. 

“We needn’t a dozen of the traitor’s servants,” the man scoffs in return, “come. You will travel with the others amid the bedrolls.” 

You blanch and cling to Merinda. She whimpers and you turn to her, the reality setting in on your at once. Your chest feels as if it’s being crushed as you face your lifelong companion. As close to a friend as any might have in your position. 

“Mer,” you croak. 

“Save your tears, there’s no time,” the soldiers grits. 

Merinda pulls you into an embrace. “Be safe,” she whispers with a sniffle. 

“You too,” you part and look her in the face, “Mer, I--” 

“Yes, I know, me too,” she frowns, “you must go.” 

“Yes, you must,” the soldier insists and points towards the stable.  

Merinda lets you go and the fabric of her sleeve slips from between your fingers. You follow the soldier, looking back at the lone maid as she watches after you. You can see her wringing her hands. She’s never been the nervous sort. 

You take in a deep breath and turn forward. The soldier marches you to the back of a cart and points inside. There's just enough room for you among the chests and casks within. You climb up, moving your skirts from under your knees, and sit against the side. You don’t have anything to worry about leaving behind. 

He stomps away and you lean to see him around the wall of the cart. He disappears and you sit back and huff. Off to the capital and then the Hinterlands. You look down at your dress, the apron and wool frayed with your labour. You will be cold once you turn north, you hope you might bear it. 

There’s a clink of metal and horse hooves. You look up as a speckled grey steed appears by the cart. You gulp and gape at the large beast as its equally grey master holds it by the reins. The steely soldier shoves a wad of leaves into his mouth and chews. 

“Come this far,” he grumbles through sloppy gnashing, “just to guard the luggage.” He snorts and shakes his head, “I’m not in the mood for trouble, maid. You keep in your cart.” 

You lower your head as you bend your knees, and cross your arms across them, “yes, sir. Thank you.” 

He chews in the lull between you. He turns to spit the leaves onto the ground and kicks dirt over them. His horse nuzzles at his shoulder as he shrugs it off. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he girds at last, “you won’t once you see the snow.” 

⚔️

The day rolls by with the wheels of the cart. You jostle with the movement as the grey soldier rides abreast of the luggage train. Ahead, the royal party and soldiers lead the way on the long road to the capital. There’s a glimmer of excitement in you, a sensation you’re not used to.  

You’ve only ever heard of the capital from your masters. Lady Jazlene’s tales of sparkling banquets and golden plates and raucous dances. Lady Rezlyn was more likely to talk of the courtly whispers, who is marrying who, which earl despises which count, and scandalous affairs of those already bound to another. Your anticipation is routed by a sadness; you don’t know that you’ll ever see Merinda again to tell her of all you see. 

You pick at your nails and watch the rippling clouds above. The blue sky appears as a sheet of pure satin with streaks of soft ivory. The sunlight streaks from the horizon, weaving into the cornflower expanse and limns over the soft green leaves of swaying trees. The smell of pollen and dirt breezes from the forests and the rustle of tall wheat drifts in from the rich fields. 

As you take in your homelands, you feel a twisting in your chest. You will miss it very much. You never put special thought to it before, you never considered the ties that bound you to this land, but now they tug and strangle you near to tears. This is what you know, it is what you don’t that terrifies you so much. 

You rock as noon burns high, rattled by the bumpy earth below. The grey horse hovers closer and you look up to soldier scowling down at you. You shy away and cough as dust is thrown up by the wheels. The man grumbles and steers his horse closer. You slump your shoulders down, wondering why he hovers. 

Perhaps it is your masters who cast suspicion over you. You are one of them. New allies forged in deceit. The more you think of Lord Dustan’s deception, the more uneasy you feel. You always thought the duke was at least a good lord, now, you don’t know what to think of him. 

“Aye,” something hits the cart, landing next to your feet. It’s a water skin, a thick hide strap attached to it. You peek up at the soldier and reach for it, the water swishing within. “Your summer lands are dry as ash.” 

You consider the skin before you uncork it. You pause and try to see the man through the beaming rays of midday. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Mm,” he grumbles and keeps his horse in line the end of the cart. 

You drink, not too much, just enough to sate, and you offer it back to him over the side of the wagon. He takes it and strings it back around his shoulder. You sit back, facing away from him. The horse trods on without expedience. 

The soldier is just as silent as ever. You hear some shuffling, something brushing, it is barely discernible from the leaves fluttering in the distance. There’s a nudge on your shoulder, the man holds a small bundle of cloth in his gauntlet. 

“Sir?” You crane and turn your body. You accept the handful. “Thank you.” 

He nods and sets his sights on the horizon, undeterred by the blazing sunlight. You look down and carefully unwrap the linen from around a medley of nuts and a hunk of cheese. You suspect they were taken from the castle kitchens. 

“I...” you glance over at him, “would you like some too?” 

You cradle the food towards him and his brows form a vee. He reaches beneath his mail and pulls out a stick of dried meat. He wiggles it at you and takes a bite. 

Your lips curve slightly, “thank you...” 

“You have better manners than the turn cloak’s daughter,” he bristles through his mouthful. 

You take a nut and turn it over between your fingers. You don’t know what to say to that. You nibble on the nut, crushing it between your teeth noisily. You look up and meet the soldier’s grey irises. 

“You are kind,” you gesture to the food, “not like the guards at the castle.” 

“Mm, a symptom of the summer lands, I fathom,” he mulls with a shake of his head. “Though war can make any unkind.” He pets his horses main, a thoughtless act as he speaks, “soldiers are plunderers more oft than not.” He drags his hand back and adjusts the reins, “you will not stray far when we make camp. These men have been marching for months.” 

You blink as you break off a piece of the hard cheese, “yes, sir.” 

“You understand me,” he states, not asks. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Bryce,” he says curtly. “And your name, maid?” 

You take a moment to process his request but you issue your name before tasting the bold cheese. You make a face. It is not your favourite. You often live on the dry rye bread and butter, and the chunk broth leftover from the hearty stews served to your masters. 

“Aye, I didn’t like it either,” he remarks, “let’s hope there is better fare awaiting us in the capital.” 

⚔️

Night falls and the party makes camp. You help cover the wagon with a few other servants, ready to sleep beneath the canvas with the chests of clothes and books. You sit beside the wheel in the dirty, watch the sky glitter with stars as you bask in the cool night. You’ll retire soon but the sun lingers in your skin and burns. 

Footsteps mulch towards you. You look up, expecting another servant headed for a piss in the trees. The figure is broad and stiff. You recognise Bryce before he reaches you. You stand expectantly to meet him. 

“I was only about to retire,” you assure him and turn to touch the canvas, recalling his earlier foreboding. 

“No,” he says, “your queen requires her maid.” 

You pause, “oh, yes, certainly.” 

He sighs, “she requires many things I would not put to word.” 

You flutter your lashes, not quite sure of his meaning, though his tone is sharp. Lady Jazlene does not always inspire kindness. You put your head down and turn to follow the soldier. 

Bryce walks beside you through the camp. Soldiers snore or sit and chatter, others clean their blades, and several sit around fires roasting whatever they could catch in the brush. Towards the front of the train of slumbering steeds and stalled carts, larger than the canvas on crooked poles, is a grand silk tent, glowing from within. 

Your escort stops just outside, exchanging a nod with the two soldiers standing before the flap. You can hear Jazlene’s shrill voice from within. It is too dark to make out the expressions of the guards or the man at your side. One of the soldiers pulls back the fabric to let your through. You bow your head as you enter. 

“This isn’t fair!” Jazlene roars, “I am a queen now and I will not be treated as a child!” 

You peer around, expecting another to be at the mercy of her wrath. It is only her. She rages around the space, stamping and snarling. Her skirts are stained with the dirt of the road as her steps hitch now and again. 

“I will not sit a horse again! It is not good for a lady to ride as such!” She stews, “Where is my father?” She rushes towards the door, brushing by you as she pushes through the flap, “fetch me my father, now!” 

“Get inside,” a soldier growls. 

“You do not command me! I am the queen--” 

“The king bids you stay within,” another drones without emotion. 

“Ugh, stupid men,” she retreats and swirls, her skirts swishing against you, “empty-headed soldiers! What do they do? Carry their swords and run to their deaths! I am a lady, a queen! And they speak to me as if they are above me!” 

Her rant continues as if you are not even there. Even having touched you, she has yet to notice your presence. You look around and go to the corner where a bottle sits on a crate, with a wooden cup near it. You pour the wine as the queen continues her tirade. 

“Your highness,” you offer the cup, though you avoid her harried route around the tent, “you must be tired from the road.” 

She stops short, looking at you as she pulls her chin back. You cannot tell if she is surprised or affronted by you. She huffs and stomps towards you. You steel yourself as she snatches the cup and sniffs the contents. 

“Food! I am hungry,” she snaps. 

“Yes, your highness, I will fetch something,” you assure. 

She narrows her eyes at you. Her lips slant. “Your highness, yes, you recall, I am the queen.” 

You turn and go to the entrance. You poke through and the soldier angles his spear across your path. You gulp and stay at the threshold. 

“She is hungry. Is there food?” 

“Aye, I will fetch it,” Bryce’s voice startles you as he looms in the shadows. 

You thank him before you retract back behind the silk. You stay close to the door as you wait and Jazlene slurps down the wine between furious mutters. As she reaches the bottom, she turns the cup upside down and wiggles it in your direction. It’s empty. 

You take it and refill it to the brim. The wine might calm her should she imbibe enough. Lady Rezlyn was always jollier when she had a healthy helping of red. 

As you bring it back to her, she faces you with a sneer. She glares at you and takes the cup. You stand, trapped in her distaste. You cry out as you feel something sharp on your stomach. You look down as she pinches you through your apron and twists. You clamp your jaw tight as you hold back a squeal. 

She lets you go and drinks deeply as she struts away from you. You put your hand to the sore spot and resume your place by the door. It is better than a slap, though that may still be to come. 

As you stand just inside the flap, you hear the approach of boots. The soldiers utter low words, ‘your highness’ and you barely step out of the way as the silk is drawn back. The king steps inside as you sidle away. You still as he glowers around the space, the flicker of the torch planted in the ground reflects in his golden eyes. 

“Wife, half the camp can hear your tantrum,” he says, “queen’s do not behave as chil--” 

Before he can finish his remonstrance, Jazlene is billowing towards him in her satin skirts. There’s a splash that fizzles in the air, tense silence rising as the king’s words die on his tongue. He closes his eyes against the liquid assault, wine dripping down his face and wetting his dark lashes. He sucks in a deep breath and his hands fist as Jazlene snickers cruelly and throws the cup at his chest. 

“If you treat me as a child, then I may as well act as one,” she retorts. 

The king doesn’t react. His posture is locked, his shoulders squared and his jaw set in stone. Slowly, he expels his breath and opens his eyes. Jazlene’s mocking smirk trembles and falls. 

“You are worse than a child,” he accuses and grabs her by the shoulders, “you are nothing more than a vicious cat.” 

“Get your hands off me,” she sneers as she writhes in his grasp, “unless you mean to be a husband, eh? Do you think you might prove yourself this time?” 

He growls and squeezes so she winces. She whimpers and beats on his thick arms. He walks her backwards as her feet shuffle beneath her to keep from tripping. 

“Husband, you cannot blame me for being unhappy. I have not been t-treated as a queen should--” 

“You have not earned it,” he shoves her and she lands on the stuffed mattress across the ground. “Be quiet. The camp needn’t lack sleep on your account.” 

Jazlene pouts up at him. You see the battle in her, of anger and fear. The king snarls down at her, “go to sleep.” 

She bats her lashes and pushes herself up on one elbow. She reaches to her skirts and tugs them up, “husband...” she shows her leg, “please...” 

He doesn’t move. He stares down at her for a moment then turns on his heel. He takes a step then falters. His gaze meets with yours. You quickly look down, realising then he was unaware of you. You shouldn’t have seen that. He falls back into step. 

“Do not make me return,” he barks as he shoves through the silken flap. 

[ashxketchum]

★WIP POLL GAME UPDATE ★

Starting from the least voted 🤭

[Banners/post-dividers by @/cafekitsune]

#4th Place (1 Line): Medieval Fantasy-ish AU (TyHil/Pokeshipping), Currently untitled

This seemed to be a cause of concern to him as well because, during the past few hours that Hilary had spent with the two, Misty had brought up Ash’s lack of physical prowess as a teasing point more than a few times.

#3rd Place (5 Lines): Fake Dating AU (TyHil), Currently untitled

“I’m sorry, I really am, but you owe me!”

The alley he had barged into turned out to be a dead end, Tyson cursed under his breath and came to a halt. Spinning on his feet to face the brunette who had surprisingly followed him all the way here from the hotel, he fixed her with an intense glare, hoping to scare her off but she had stopped a few paces ahead of him, keeping a respectable distance between them as she folded her arms across her chest and stared back at him with a passive gaze of her own.

“An apology for the kiss? Yes.” Tyson gritted his teeth as her words rang in his ears, pointing in the direction of the hotel they had just come from, he added in a bitter tone, “But whatever that was, hell no!”

#2nd Place - Tie - (7 Lines): Intimacy Series (Pokeshipping), Strawberry Kisses on AO3, yet to be uploaded on FFN

She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and let out a loud scream, if she couldn’t even make up her mind over something like this, did she even deserve to win?

Feeling lost and confused, Misty’s eyes searched the stands for a familiar face and it didn’t take her too long to find him.

Ash was sitting in the second row from the front, not too far from where she was standing on the battle ground. He had been observing Starmie too but when their eyes met, Misty felt a new surge of energy rush into her veins. He didn’t smile, he didn’t give her an encouraging nod, he didn’t even look like he wanted to cheer her on. No, Ash’s face was lit up with an intensity of a raging fire, one that wanted to be at the centre of the ring and wouldn’t be contained until it got what it wanted. His jaw was set and his brown eyes bore into her, as if to say that if Misty didn’t see this battle through, he’d come down from the stands to finish it himself.

#2nd Place - Tie - (7 Lines): Regency Era (Mimato), In This Life and the Next on AO3/FFN

The rush she had felt when Sora first suggested the elaborate plan to her that night, had long since faded and Mimi was starting to doubt her ability to keep the story straight in front of Lord Stonefield. Her father always told Mimi, that she was not a good liar and thus she should refrain from even attempting to do so. And she diligently followed that advice, owning up to her mistakes whenever necessary, always speaking the truth to her father and her friends, even if it hurt their feelings often. However, Sora had not only managed to convince Mimi to go ahead with this ruse but dragged even her own husband into it, who was best friends with the man they were going to fool. Things did proceed smoothly at the beginning, Mimi pretended to stay sick so she would not run into the Earl as often at the Sunnyhill Manor while Sora and Lord Tai attempted to make him believe the lie they had cooked up. Sora informed her very brightly that Matt had walked right into the trap, perhaps things were easier with Tai helping them, and while that did relieve Mimi slightly, she still did not feel courageous enough to meet his eye until the morning they were meant to depart for his estate.

Once left alone in the carriage as it slowly waded its way to their destination, Mimi had no choice but to face him head on and keep up the lie all by herself, without the reassuring smiles of Sora or timely interruptions of Lord Tai to keep her company.

#1st Place (8 Lines): Soulmates AU (Mimato), Pieces of You and Me on FFN/AO3

Mimi awoke with a start.

Even as her eyes struggled to open wide, her hands felt the mattress beneath her and she knew instantly that she was in a stranger’s bed. The realisation gave her some strength to pull herself up and keep her groggy eyes open so she could take in her surroundings. The room was too minimalist for her tastes, Mimi thought as she scrunched up her nose at the dull grey colour of the bedsheet and blankets around her. Curtains of a similar dull shade covered the windows on the opposite side of the room, blocking the sunlight from entering the room and filling it with some life. Next to the bed was a small table on which a black, digital alarm clock rested along with a glass and a bottle of water. She wondered if the water was meant for her, and as if on cue, she was aware of her throat feeling parched so without a second thought, she reached forward and poured herself a full glass. While gulping down the water, she even became conscious of the headache that ailed her, almost as if someone had dropped a whole lot of bricks on top of her.

[tammyfeabakker]

Took me forever to fall asleep. Waiting on my daughter to bring home weed. I get a text gonna be home late going to her bf parents house for dinner. 630 goes by then 7.. I finally fall asleep. 845 phone rings its my daughter telling me she nicely gave my weed to bf brother. Then proceeds to tell me the guy is staying at the hotel she will pick it up tomorrow. Drug dealers don't keep weed they sell it so its a 50 50 chance ill see weed tomorrow. I'm so pissed she woke me up to tell me. She took care of someone else. That I have to wait again until tomorrow night 7 on a big fat maybe. Because her bf family comes first. She fucking woke me up to piss me off. So much for sleep now. I had to take a little blue pill I'm so mad. Work in the morning. Get up with my cat at 5am.

[bruiisedpetals-a]

long NON RP RANT — about work bc the audacity!?!??!   tldr: a girl who had applied and interviewed and confirmed her trial shift to be a barista last week and was V EXCITED so we cancelled another person for her trial .... showed up, said hi, chatted a bit, had a look inside, then said she was going for a walk to look around the area bc she isnt a local, and within 5 MINUTES (literally. five) ghosted, disappeared, text my boss and said “yeah nah bye”, and left me alone handling the whole place.  cue endless work for me w double the usual customers, and a shift that lasted three hours longer that it should have bc of the ghosting.

rel context: i work in a small coffee & bagel place, two people on one shift: one on coffee & point of sale and another to be the cook, we also have two online food delivery providers so we take orders in person and from two apps + i’m a barista and have line cook kitchen prac & experience so am actually a ‘cook’ ig?

so i mentioned in my post when i was half asleep yesterday that i had a new person coming into my workplace for a trial today, so i stayed late to prep for weekend trade + restock stuff, and came in early to set up everything just in case. we were v busy yesterday with food as it was so i had a lot to restock, and w mothers day tomorrow everything needs to be topped up more-so. that a lot of work by itself to be honest but manageable in between cooking, esp when you have an extra set of hands when its quiet to help.   look if you have seen any cooking show you might see that set up, prep and pack down take THE LONGEST ok.

 — our permanent staff consists of me and K, we have two other locations so we get help from Z and J, and they can usually cover the shifts that K and i can’t  (eg. K can’t do saturdays, i cant do every 3rd tuesday)  but they manage other locations so they are not available without prior notice.       so basically the only person who was available to work today was me, even my boss was busy moving house w his wife, 4mo and two under 8yo’s. —

this morning i’m at work at 7am, turn on things etc, set up my cooking stuff, open the coffee machine, nothing crazy. at abt 7:45am im chillin outside having a coffee and a smoke and someone walks up and it turns out to be the trial girl. we chat a bit etc, i show her inside and the machine    (she’s a barista and i’m the cook on shift)     —   i say that i just heard from my boss myself, bc she had spoken w him earlier that morning, and he’s on the way and should be here within 5-7 mins   ***technically we open at 8am but i was waiting for my boss but had checked the time to keep track & i had just text my boss back so i saw the timestamp***

so at 7:59am i head inside after i finish my smoke and she’s going to have a look where i told her there is free close parking for next time bc she took the train, at 8:04am my boss walks in and goes “WOW IT’S 8:04AM AND SHE’S NOT HERE lmao” (he did not yell it he’s a g - that’s just how i knew what the time was alksjfhg)     and i go “no she’s just having a look down [street] bc of the parking i literally saw her a few mins ago” and proceed to open the doors etc.  meanwhile i see my boss on the phone calling her, after a moment he comes over with a Whole “i cant fkn believe this” Face on while he’s on the phone.  i’m thinking “??? i hope trial girl didn’t get lost in these lil crossover streets damn”

(it’s 8:07am, from now the customers start. they DO NOT STOP until at least 11am, it was at least double the normal turnover of profits during that time so thats ur ref for how BUSY it got)

boss goes “ur not gonna believe this” and show me the mssg from trial girl who basically has said “hi i went to ur shop, and i had a wander around the area and its just not good enough for me so i’m on my way home”. she’s GONE. in those five minutes. she got up, lied to me, and was at the nearby train station leaving. boss is floored and i’m like !>?!??!?!@#!#?who IN THE FK does this?!?!? but the customers so *professional me is present rn*

between her and boss there’s a little back and forth (text, she wont answer any calls) where he literally pleads with her bc there is NO ONE who can come in an assist me and she confirmed yesterday and she WAS HERE, she continues to be like “mmmm well ik that we discussed this and i said that i would be here and its been set for days and i applied LAST WEEK etc. but... no sorry im going back to bed” and then blocks him.

& this whole thing takes place between

7:59AM — 8:07AM.

i was there from 7am - 4:35pm  / my usual saturday is 7:45am - 2:30pm

WHO DOES THAT. WHO IS THAT UNPROFESSIONAL. WHO??? WHOMST??? SHE WAS SO FKN RUDE I WAS liVID. LIKE. why LEAD us ALL ON. we all need to make a living do U THINk he can afford to lose a whole day of trade?? he’s got a whole FAmILY and his wife cant work rn bc she’s just had their 3rd child.   i live PaYCHECK to PAYcheck.  like this is life this isnt a game????   you are 29YRS OLD why cant u act grown