#But that line really stuck with me because... Like... Yeah not only do they advertise themselves as Decepticons but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

abbatoirablaze · 8 months ago

Text

Shameless, Chapter 9

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: minor angst, slight manipulation

“Hey…hey…quit your cryin, Fi!” you tried, pulling your sister to your chest once more while she sobbed against it, “come on, Fi. Be strong. B-“

“Fuck you,” she spat, snot coming out of her nose as she looked up at you, “you don’t get to tell me how to feel…Steve left. He left me. You have what you want. I couldn’t even fucking leave to follow the man that I love…I’m stuck in this fucking house forever, taking care of all of them…”

“You could have gone with him!” you reminded her, “I didn’t force you to stay!”

“The fuck you didn’t!”

“What are you doing, Fi?”

“I’m going with him!” she said quickly as she packed her dusty suitcase.

“What?” you asked, “with who?”

“Steve!” she answered, throwing in clothes, not caring whether they were yours or hers, “he wants me to go with him to Brazil…I-I want that too! I’m running away with Steve!”

“Do you though?” you asked, “is-is that what you really want to do, Fi?”

She stopped packing her back and looked up at you, “What?”

“Do you really want to go with him?”

“Well, you guys sure as shit don’t need me…” she scoffed, “you’ve made that perfectly clear, Fi Fi. And now that you and Tony are together, you really don’t need me. The two of you can have your little perfect family here in the yard, but I’m going to Brazil with Steve!”

“Fi-“

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not upset about it, Fi Fi. You trapped your dream guy. Congrats. But I-“

“I didn’t trap Tony!”

She scoffed, pointing at your nonexistent bump, “oh really? What the fuck’s in your stomach then? A bagel bite? Because I’m pretty sure ‘having a baby’ is code for the condom breaking or the pill fucking up…and you didn’t exactly advertise the fact that you were going to go out and get an abortion, Fi Fi. Shit, what you’re doing is plain stupid. I mean, it’s smart because it helps for the time being, but you’re trapping him. I bet that’s the only reason he helped us get Lip and Ian out of jail.”

You stood, quietly, watching as your sister finished packing her bag, unsure of what else to say to her,“I-I didn’t trap him, Fiona…yeah, the baby wasn’t planned, bu-“

“Ain’t that what every hood rat girl says when they get knocked up?” she laughed spitefully, “I’ll give you that, you graduated high school before you did it, but come on, Fi Fi. I get it. You proved the point that Tony is yours. Message received. I mean, we had that one fuck, but I wasn’t into him. I have Steve. You didn’t have to go and get knocked up by him. I wasn’t planning on going back for round two or anything!”

“Fuck you, Fiona.”

She stopped packing her bag and looked up at you, “What?”

“Fuck you…and fuck Steve…and whatever else you think you’re doing by packing up and leaving, while calling me a whore for loving the man I’ve had a crush on since I was three!”

“Sofia, wait!”

“No…run off with Steve in Brazil. Til Tony and I find a place I’ll just move him in here and we’ll watch after the kids… you selfish, narcissistic bitch!”

“Selfish?” she scoffed, “I told you to stay in school when Monica left because the doctor’s said that you needed a routine to follow once they got you back on your meds or another fucking suicide attempt was likely. I gave up my life so that you wouldn’t go ending yours because of your fucking psychosis! I’m not the selfish one here. YOU ARE!”

“I’m sorry bout what I said…about you and Tony…” she whined as she clutched your side, “and about making fun of your bipolar shit. That was outta line, Fi Fi. You took care of us until your shit started up…you held down the fort when we were growing up, I-“

“We don’t have to talk about it, Fiona…” you sighed, wanting your younger sister to stop talking, “we don’t have to rehash the past, Fi.”

“On the plus side, the two of you won’t be far…” she sniffled after a moment.

You gave her a sad look as she wiped away some of her tears, “at least it’s some cash coming into the house…Steve selling it to him on the cheap, and giving some cash to you guys…”

“The least the fucker could do!” she scoffed.

“What do you say you help me finish packing?” you asked softly, “ever since I announced the pregnancy Tony won’t let me do anything…hell, he won’t even let me help move in today…told me to come get him and the guys when I’m done packing my clothes.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sofia.”

“Emmet, Jake, Michael…what are you guys doing here?” you asked as the three off-duty officers got out of their cars and opened the moving truck that held all of Tony’s stuff from his mom’s place.

“Helping good ole’ Tony here while he moves into your guys’ first place together.” Michael smiled, nudging you lightly. You reached into the van to try to get a box, but you felt a pair of arms looping around your waist.

“No, no. You know what the doctor said…no heavy lifting or exerting yourself. That includes moving!” Tony grinned as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m sure I can lift a box of your laundry!” you giggled, turning your face so that the next kiss caught the corner of your lips.

“Congrats by the way!”

“Tony told us about baby Markovich, Sofia!”

“He seems awfully proud of that,” you laughed as you turned in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck, “knocking up some girl from the South Side.”

“Made a baby with the love of my life!” he said softly, his lips grazing over yours, “why wouldn’t I be proud of that, Sof?”

Your heart swelled and you felt your cheeks light up as some of the guys cat called you and him.

“Hey, that’s my girlfriend your cat calling.”

“Who said we weren’t cat calling you?” Emmet joked.

“Let me help?” you tried.

He shook his head before resting it against yours, “go pack your clothes…I’ll make sure that by the time you’re ready I can come over and grab it…I’ll let you unpack the small stuff and set up the house how we want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise!” he replied, pressing his lips to yours once more.

“The house looks great,” you sighed dreamily as you looked around the main floor, “I mean…we definitely need to get some things like pots and pans, silverware, cups, plates…but nothing unmanageable…I have a few bucks saved up that we can-“

“Don’t worry about spending your money, baby,” Tony offered as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “mom actually wanted to chip in and help…she’s going to come by tomorrow and pick you up while I’m at work…take you out to get all that stuff.”

“Tony…”

He spun you around in your arms and gave you a soft smile, his hands reaching up to cup your face, “I know that look, Sofia Gallagher…mom’s helping because she wants to. She had $1000 saved up for when I got my own place or had my first kid…and she wants to put half of it to helping finish furnish the house, and half of it towards the nursery. Or a saving’s account for the baby…up to us.”

You gasped, “Tony-th-that’s-“

“I know,” he smiled, pulling you back into his chest, “I know…”

“We have to have her over for dinner…I mean that’s just-“

“Have to have things to make dinner in first, Sof…”

“Right…” you smiled, “I’m getting too ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

“Maybe you use that extra money…ask mom to go to the bookstore with you and pick up some baby books? I’ll toss some money your way to pick up groceries…”

“Yea-yeah…that could work.”

“Great,” he grinned, “so…you ready to see the rest of the house, Miss. Gallagher?”

“I am, Mr. Markovich.”

He chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, before spinning you around once more, and leading you towards the stairs, “well…you’ve seen the main floor. The living room. Entryway. Kitchen. Powder room. Upstairs however…that’s a whole new animal.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, “how so? Because if I remember correctly, all of your furniture wasn’t a lot. And I saw the TV and fold out that we made baby Markovich on in the living room along with the lazy boy lounger you love so much.”

“What makes you so sure it was the fold out and not my cruiser?”

“Touche salesman,” you smirked, “but what about the bedroom? If your foldout is down here-“

“Well…I might have also ordered an actual bedroom set for our master…which was delivered today.”

“Is that why you didn’t let me go upstairs?” you teased.

He smiled and nodded, pulling you to the top step, “as you can see, four bedrooms, moderately sized…and a bathroom and two linen closets. I figure we get the master and the baby’s nursery is right next to our room…”

“Smart…” He smiled a little more and pushed the door open to the nursery. You had expected a bare room, but you were surprised when you saw that it was already decorated. You gasped, tears instantly filling your eyes as you looked at your boyfriend, “Tony…wh-what is this?”

“Been working on it all week,” he admitted through pursed lips, “between the hours at the station and all. Few of the guys chipped in with the painting and their wives helped with decorating it. Mom still had my crib and rocking chair, so we refinished them and put em in here…chief actually donated the changing table…built it himself…”

“Tony…this is-“

But you couldn’t finish the words that were in your throat. He walked over to you and pressed another kiss to your lips as he wrapped his arms around you, “this is for us…our future, Sofia…”

You nodded, the littlest of squeaks leaving your lips as a few tears streamed down your cheeks, “this was so nice of everyone…”

“That’s not all…”

Your eyes shot to his, “Wh-what?”

“Let me show you our bedroom…”

You nodded dumbly as you took his hand and you let him lead you to the room right next to the nursery. Your eyes glittered when he gently pushed open the door.

It was a cozy enough space. The walls had been repainted a soft, cool gray while the floors had been stained a deep reddish color, and the trim and crown molding was done in a glossy black. The queen-sized bed had plush blankets on it, and a few decorative pillows that tied together with the colors of the red, black, and gray. Black nightstands stood on either side, and two matching dressers lined both sides of the walls. A small chair and matching ottoman sat in the corner next to the closet, which already had your clothes and his hanging in it.

But that wasn’t what caught your attention.

It was the numerous flower petals scattered on the floor and across the bed.

The way the room was lit only with candles.

You had stepped past your boyfriend to notice that the petals on the bed spelled something out.

You gasped and turned around to see him on one knee, holding an engagement ring.

“Tony…”

“Before you say anything, I just-just want to say something…is that okay?”

You nodded, “o-okay!”

“I knew from the first time that I saw you clinging to your sisters hand in head start, that you were the woman I wanted to marry,” he said nervously, “I-I mean, yeah, you were quiet, and hid behind Fiona for weeks until the day you agreed to put your mat next to mine instead of hers, but I knew…from day one…But I was always too afraid to tell you how I felt. But every Valentine’s Day I always made your card by hand…and during your birthday, I only ever got you gifts that meant something because you always meant something to me…I remember in Kindergarten, I passed a note to you, asking if you’d marry me then…but Fiona got it…and-and I didn’t have the heart to correct her…not when you kissed Colin Milkovich and asked him to marry you…”

“I did it because I thought you liked Fi…”

“The only woman I’ve ever loved was you, Sofia Gallagher,” he reaffirmed, “you…always so kind to me…always my best friend. Always the woman I loved…no matter what. Every odd job I worked, shoveling snow in the winter, or cutting grass in the summer, was the money I’d use to buy you gifts…but I always saved up a little bit because of this…the day I turned eighteen, I went out and I bought this ring…and I kept it in my sock drawer…because I knew that no matter what, one day, I’d get the balls to ask you to be my girlfriend…and that I’d get the balls to ask you to be my wife…I love you so much, Sofia…we are planning our future…we’re going to have a baby together. This is our first home together…and I just-I know that while you are the mother of my child, I want you to be my wife as well.”

A few more tears slipped down your cheeks as you tearfully nodded, “Yes!”

“Yes?” He asked, repeating your answer.

“Yes….yes! YES! I’ll marry you, Tony Markovich!” you squealed excitedly as he jumped up from his position. He was quick to pull you into his arms and press a firm kiss to your lips.

Chapter 10

#shameless #south side #chicago #the gallaghers #frank gallagher #fiona gallagher #lip gallagher #ian gallagher #debbie gallagher #carl gallagher #liam gallagher #tony markovich

6 notes · View notes

clonehub · 2 years ago

Text

Episode 3 of the bad batch!

"we're fine" girl the gonk droid is on its side

I wonder what these rations taste like

Okay so echo can eat solids. And also everyone is yelling at him to fix everything on the ship. They are flying through hyperspace on a ship that doesn't work properly and I'm SORRY but techs priorities are BACKWARDS

THEY DONT EVEN FIT IN THE SEATS AAAHHHHHH

The way they're acting I'm thinking theybe never crash landed before which is actually really funny bc Anakin only knew how to crash. Like it was a regular occurrence in tcw for bitches to be crashing all over the place

Okay first mention of crosshair.

"Crosshairs actions may have been influenced by his inhibitor chip" "it can do that?" Was it. Like wasnt this established. Like one or two episodes ago? I'm genuinely confused this could be my own standing knowledge of the chips getting in the way but why's echo surprised the chip is influencing Crosshairs actions

I will say. There's times where the lighting and the model rendering blends in such a way so that u can't really differentiate the features on omegas face if that makes sense. Like it blends too much

I do like how much they do the blur/focus thing I've always liked that

Rampart being like the only person in this entire series with decently brown eyes :/

Oh look. Once again referred to as enhanced (crosshair). And it's like the more that I think about it. It would not make sense for the Kaminoans to work so hard to keep tbb alive if they believed they were really defective. They're very much like "here's our enhanced product here's our enhanced soldiers see how enhanced they are" like tbb are advertising so they wouldn't say "yeah they're defective BUT--"

So crosshair just walking about in his jammies

Tarkins face model is p good

Something about the models for this first batch of conscripts is like. Like they were built the way they were bc the animators knew they wouldn't be on screen long.

This is kinda funny tho bc they definitely made some heads and just stuck them on a clone models body HFKSBFKSNDKSJS not that I'm mad I like they didn't do boob armor but fhakdnaksk

Tech is so like. Not arugmentative but he has to reply to everything and it's normally in a dismissive or disagreeing way and normally I wouldn't care at all but sometimes it's like was this line necessary.

"you wanna narrow that down" bitch can you go outside and look damn making all this noise from the back seat

I wonder why if Wrecker is having all this obvious hesd pain nobody is actually like checking on him?

A nice blend of music here

It's so funny like how much ppl just fucking hate being scanned because like for me if every doctors visit could just be a scan I'd be so gung ho for it. Yeah let me just lay here for three seconds and hardly get a needle or anything tf

Willing enlistment as metric for a good soldier is interesting and I feel like purposely manipulative bc the guy in the scene before this just said he's got like food and housing so that's partly why he's staying. It's not a loyalty thing at all lmao

What's funny is that I think tbbs helmets for all their little specialities don't actually contribute to air tight contained suits the way the normie clones do. Bc if this was Rex and co they could probably just keep their buckets on w a lil attachment. So they get the headlamps and the HUD. But hunter can't have that so he has to remove the entire thing and put on this mask.

"we each have enhanced skills"

See I wish they could have maintained this tension around crosshair better through the season

Not this white boy poking crosshair in his insecurities BDMABDLSNSLAK no wonder he was so gung ho to kill him and also why he wanted to stick w the imps so bad. Again again again it's ego

They use English letters a lot here not that it's a bad thing or anything but like I remember how in tcw during some like behind the scenes things they basically implied they tried to avoid doing that. They sometimes would say the aurebesh letters and sometimes it'd be A and B

Oh he didn't tattoo his eyelid. Not that it like has to be but like. I just noticed

Sorry these choking noises are so throaty

Bro just unconscious here fjandnaknsa

Wilhelm scream :/

Yeah wow the uh. White boy was the only one with moral back bone huh. The only one who said extrajudicial execution of civilians was bad. Just him huh. Hm.

This is an interesting creature

Oh she gotta be standing on something to be this tall

DNA degradation still doesn't make sense to me given what should be the kammies gene prowess but whatevs

It's like. They're hung up on Jango DNA but if hsi stuff is swirling the drain and you don't have boba would the next thing not be to just find a new guy? Also how does any of that make this any less cost prohibitive

"such a contingency would require a direct source. The clones required will not return willingly" / "they are kaminoan property and we only need one"

Uh but tbb are enhanced and mutated so therefore not the best candidates for sourcing for Jango DNA? Unless I've got this wrong (I'm thinking I do).

I wonder if this room still stinks

This is a sweet thing wreckers done I will say that. But also is omegas room just a viewport or is there a turret attached to that chair?

"I never had my own room before" who was she sharing a room with?????

#ch posts #tbb rewatch

13 notes · View notes

haldenlith · 1 year ago

Text

More evening personal life rambling. Really rambling.

The more time goes on, the more I kind of get the vibe that I fall into that "probably won't find a partner" category. I know having the desire for a romantic (and sexual) partner is somewhat silly, and detrimental, but I'm not going to deny that it's there. It is. And I sort of have my doubts as time marches on due to a lot of factors.

My track record isn't exactly great, for starters. I've never managed to even get to "first date" status. I generally get shut down pretty fast. I don't know if I'm just bad at conversing or what. That aside, my lack of interest in a family or marriage has been a dealbreaker for some (okay, actually, all) gents I've conversed with, and I've generally (as in just when talking in a group) gotten shit for being polyamorous.

Gotta love living in a heteronormative, monogamy-centric society. And no, that was not a fun experience, because it came with a healthy helping of slut-shaming and talking about how gross having multiple partners like that is.

Being nonbinary hasn't come up in the past, by virtue of not being out back then (technically still not -- but only because no one IRL has ever asked -- I don't advertise it), but I suspect it would be an issue.

Actually, I think a lot of the issue is the location I live in. Living in the deep south as a queer with no interest in family or marriage makes me very much the odd man out. And with equally queer tastes in men, hoo boy. It's like a vegetarian being stuck in a meat packing plant. The landscape around these parts is either sleazy fratboy, the blandest of corporate white men, or ultra-masculine lumberjack that drives a pickup truck that has the American flag attached to the top and probably unironically voted for Trump.

Well, there's also a fourth flavor: cop.

Yeah, all of those choices do not spark any interest or desire. And no, I don't think I'm asexual. I have felt that attraction before. I (sort of) know what I like. I'm just also aware that the beauty standards of the average man in today's society do not line up with what I find attractive. In fact, what most people consider an "attractive man", I do not. Stripping these men of their status, and going purely on looks (yes we are going full objectification ray on them), if I were sitting at a table with my friends, and Chris Hemsworth or Henry Cavill, or even Michael B Jordan, strolled by, my friends would be tripping over themselves to probably try and get their numbers.

I would glance to notice that a person is passing by. That's... about it.

Now, (again, ignoring career and status), say, Booboo Stewart walked by, I'd do the full tuuuuuuuurn and ponder my angle of attack.

I wish he had a different nickname he went under, but it is what it is ("Booboo" as a name has... unkind connotations down here in my neck of the woods). Also, no, I've not seen anything he's acted in. I literally saw him (I think on Pinterest) once, was like "oh who is this tall drink of water" and went diving. His artwork is cool. Uninterested in his movies.

I have a thing for clean-shaven boyish and/or androgynous "pretty" guys with long hair.

They're, um, not common round these here parts, and when I have encountered them, I've been shot down (see above "not monogamous" + no children issues).

Add to that soup the Kinky Koolaid Man busting through the wall (I'm into kink -- though I am extremely inexperienced), and I've just decided that the odds are not in my favor, and I'm not sure I'll ever have the spoons to fight those odds (and that's without mentioning other issues like ageism towards AFAB folk, ageism in dating in general, transphobia, and general misogyny).

*puts on sock puppet* "Just move to a more open area when you get the opportunity, forehead!"

I'm sure if that ever happens, my prospects in making friends and finding the romance and intimacy my grey matter craves will increase, but I'm not hedging my bets.

Notice I said "if", not when. I'm still trying to get my degree, but also things seem... turbulent... in the graphic design sector of jobs, and the average pay seems to have dropped in recent years, so, yeah. One thing at a time.

But yes, these thoughts brought to you by examining my recent daydreamings of imaginary situations (generally centered around kink positive, sex positive, open and supportive relationships), leading to me thinking realistically about how one would even get into the imaginary situations.

#haldie rambles #personal shit #this is one of those multilevel issues #it doesn't help that I'm not the most outgoing of people #I struggle to make friends let alone find romantic partners

0 notes

hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

Note

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

101 notes · View notes

halfmoon-writes · 4 years ago

Text

『"𝕙𝕪𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕚𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕜𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕒𝕥 𝟛 𝕒𝕞, 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠?"』

✉ 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚝 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ✉ 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗!𝚊𝚞, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚛𝚢, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎, 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚙𝚞𝚝) 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜(𝚜): 𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌, 𝚔𝚊𝚎𝚢𝚊, 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒, 𝚊𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚘

☾ diluc

➥ he's probably still in his office at the time, sipping his nth coffee for the night as he glances the paperwork in his desk. mans a busy businessman.

➥ then, his phone rings. he would scowl at the sound then look at the clock. it was 3 am, who would call him at this time?

➥ when he saw your name on the caller, he'd sigh. 'what are they up to this time?' he thought, then pressing the green button.

➥ strong winds and rapid footsteps could be heard from his phone and he grew worried. he let out a small "hello?"

➥ "diluc! baby! love of my life, hi!" you answered, your voice was breathy, as if you've been running for a long time. "what are you doing at this hour, and why is it so loud?" he asked.

➥ he could hear you let out a laugh. your pace didn't falter at all as you let out a small squeak. "hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?" you questioned.

➥ his slouched state became tense as he stood upright, phone pressing between his cheeks and shoulder as he hurriedly wear his coat. "run away. where are you right now?" he asked, grabbing his car keys and immediately exiting his workplace.

➥ "my brain is panicking right now I have no idea where I am." you informed, then laughed. he doesn't know why you could laugh at a situation like this, but it felt reassuring to know you're not overly panicking to the point where you couldn't even get help.

➥ "elzier, tend to my workplace while I'm gone. I won't be long." he said as he ran towards the garage. "could you stay on the line with me?" he asked.

➥ "yeah, yeah definitely," you said, taking a deep breath. "my breathing might sound unsightly though, hope you don't mind. I've been running for a while." you took another breath again.

➥ "that's fine. all that matters is that you're safe." he said. by the sound of the slight shuffle in your line (minus the breathing), it seemed like you are currently hiding, or relaxing.

➥ "did you lose them?" he asked. "uhh I think ye—" all of the sudden, you went silent. he wanted to ask if you're okay, but he was scared that he would've alerted the person in finding you.

➥ so, he waited. he was currently on his way to the supermarket you normally visit at an ungodly hour, in hopes that you would be somewhere near there. not too long after, he heard the sound of something hitting the concrete. hard.

➥ "(y/n)! are you okay?!" he yelled out. there wasn't any answer given other than the sound of ruffling and he was anxious to wait for your reply.

➥ "hi! I managed to escape death's grip and kick him in the fucking balls!" you shouted, your breathing still erratic. he let out a sigh of relief.

➥ "that's great. do you know where you're located now?" he asked. "uhh... oh, look! it's the gas station near the statue of barbatos!" you said. "good job. now, stay there. I'll go get you."

➥ "yes, please." once he arrived, he noticed you waving at him with a smile, as if you weren't in a near-death situation. he wondered what he's gonna do with you.

➥ as soon as he arrived, he immediately engulf you in his arms. "I was really worried." he said. you let out a laugh, hugging him back. "yeah, I was too. worried for that guy because he definitely won't be having kids." he sighed at your response, but laugh nonetheless, placing a kiss at your forehead.

➥ "let's go home. and you're not going to the supermarket at these hours anymore."

☾ kaeya

➥ let's face it. this man would be sleeping at this hour. but he's a light sleeper, so he would wake up the moment he heard his phone rings.

➥ he groans at the noise, rubbing his eyes and check the caller id, then back to the clock.

➥ what in the actual ever loving- it was 3 am, why are you calling him at this hour?

➥ he picked up your call and was about to make a sly remark about how you must've missed him, but the words were stuck on his tongue when he heard the sound of your heavy breathing.

➥ "you good?" he asked.

➥ "hey, bubs. nope. not at all." you said. "hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?"

➥ the way that this man stood straight up. his sleepiness dissipate immediately. "you're joking." he said, well, more like convinced himself. this was the only time that he was hoping you were pranking him.

➥ there was a long silence on the line, then the sound of your footsteps, from light tiptoes to full-on sprinting. he grew panicked. taking the nearest piece of clothing and pants with him.

➥ "stay on the line. I'm coming to get you." when he said, that he heard a laugh from you and he really thought that you were pranking him, but it wasn't. "I don't even know where I am, how on earth are you gonna find me?"

➥ he stopped doing whatever he was doing at the moment, before continuing and grabbing his keys and drove off with his motorcycle (use your helmets!), his phone snuffed inside his helmet. "you're probably not that far off. I'll try to find you. meanwhile, stay on the line." he demanded.

➥ "yes, captain." if it was any other situation, he would've laugh at the nickname, but he couldn't. god, he was so scared at what might happen to you if he wasn't fast enough.

➥ the constant sound of you taking a long breath before continuing to run makes him very anxious. all of the sudden, he heard you scream in pain.

➥ "(y/n)! hey, hey (y/n)! what happened?!" the grip on the handlebar tightened. there was nothing but the sound of something stumbling around, then the sound of a loud groaning could be heard.

➥ "(y/n)...?" he called out one more time. "yes, yes I'm here." you let out another laugh. "well, now I know where I am now. it's a few blocks across diluc's bar." you said.

➥ you're breathing pretty heavily and he was really concerned about that, increasing up the speed to get to you. he spotted you sitting down near a pole and you waved at him.

➥ his eyes widened at your red hand, clutching the side of your shoulder. putting down his helmet, he rushed to your aid to examine the wound. "hey, you found me." you joked.

➥ he didn't answer, instead pressing the wound to stop the bleeding. "it's pretty deep." he answered. "just like you last night." you retort. he couldn't help but let out a laugh at your comment.

➥ "yeah? and I'll do it again."

☾ venti

➥ venti had a variety of activities he'd do at an ungodly hour. it could range from making new music or trying to summon a demon. either way, he'll probably still be awake doing random shit.

➥ the sound of lyre could be heard at his place, strumming softly with him humming along. it was peaceful, until it was broken by the sound of his phone ringing.

➥ he raised a brow at it, but picked it up without seeing the caller. "hello?" he greeted. his greeting was met by the sound of wind blowing harshly, as if someone was running.

➥ he released the phone and checked the caller. to his surprise, it was you. "(y/n)? wha-" "hey, venti!" your voice called out, mixed with pants and heavy breathing.

➥ "hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?" at the question, he stopped moving.

➥ "...are you serious?" he asked. you laughed at his reaction. "'course not! I'm joking!" you said. "no, you're not." "no, I'm not. please help."

➥ I don't think venti's the type of person to have a car since his tiny legs too short to reach em so-- public bus it is.

➥ immediately, he rushed out of his home and ran towards the nearest bus. luckily for him, the bus was just on its way to leave. "where are you?" he asked.

➥ "uhh... hang on. I'm- AAH--" you shrieked. venti panicked at the sound of your scream. "(y/n)!" "HAH! I managed to outrun them. sucks for them for not being to able to have children now." you said with a laugh.

➥ venti's just relieved to hear you were still okay. "oh, how convenient! there's a bus stop ahead." you said. "that is convenient. stay there, I'll get you." he said.

➥ his eyes trailed at each stop the bus did and when he finally spotted your form, he asked the driver to stop then hopped down, immediately sprinting to you.

➥ "were you hurt?" he asked. "nah. damn, I know I've said that I wanna die a lot of times, but I wasn't ready yet." you said, catching your breath.

➥ venti laughed at your response then pulled you to a tight hug. "let's get you home, then."

☾ albedo

➥ he would probably either drawing, or doing some experiments, mostly the former.

➥ he'd have his phone playing one of those live jazz songs on youtube. he'd prefer to listen to live since it has no advertisement to bother his focus.

➥ while listening to the song and sketching your face by memory, the sound of his phone stopped, replaced by a ringing.

➥ he'd get a bit annoyed, but his previous emotion turned to worry when he saw the caller id. it was 3 in the morning, what on earth were you doing?

➥ "hello, (y/n), is everything alright?" he'd asked. he heard a loud crash from the other line, the sound of something falling at the ground, then followed by the sound of what seemed to be your phone slammed down.

➥ "(y/n)?" he'd ask one more time. in front of his bed was a coat neatly placed on the hanger and he was more than ready to just bolt towards your location.

➥ he'd heard grunts and shuffling for a few times, before he heard your voice. "hey, prince. sorry, was I bothering you?" mans was worried that he couldn't even bring himself to say yes.

➥ "forget about that. what were you doing?" he asked. he heard you let out a nervous laugh. "well, hypothetically speaking, if someone were to chase you with a knife at 3 am, what would you do?"

➥ albedo was someone aloof that doesn't really show emotions a lot, but the emotion of fear was evident on his face. "run and find a safe spot. I'll get to you. are you somewhere near the place where we would buy art supplies?" he asked, his voice calm and collected, a complete contrast to how he's feeling right now.

➥ "uhh... oh, yes! I can see the light from here." you answered. "good. go inside. the owner should recognise your face, go ask them for help." he suggested. he grabbed his coat and car keys and speed up towards said location.

➥ "alright, thank you." "don't hang up." he reminded. before he could hear your response, the sound of your scream could be heard. his car nearly crashed to a nearby tree at your voice, but he regained composure and continued to made his way to you.

➥ "(y/n)! talk to me! what happened?!" he asked frantically. there was a lot of stumbling sounds followed by your voice saying 'get off of me you fuck!' then a loud 'thud' was heard.

➥ "hey, hey I'm alright. still alive." you said. he took note that you sounded more breathy than before. "I'm inside. the person doesn't seemed to be following me though." you informed.

➥ "that's good. I'm only 2 minutes away. wait for me." he said. once he was there, he immediately went to you, eyes widened slightly at your bleeding form.

➥ that's why you screamed. he took off his coat and covered the bleeding area. the owner was nowhere to be seen, but he returned shortly, bringing a glass of water and a med kit, not surprised to see that albedo was there.

➥ albedo thanked the owner then tend to your wounds for a while. afterwards, he gave thanks to the owner again as he supported your wounded body on his.

➥ once the both of you reached his car, he placed his forehead against yours, one hand on your cheek, the other or your arm, supporting your form. "don't ever scare me like that again."

I honestly have no idea how to use Tumblr but it seemed fun.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #venti x reader #albedo x reader #genshin impact headcanons

111 notes · View notes

okaywa · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Can I request Kuroo, Iwa, and Tendou when one of their teammates tell them that their so-called enemy (crush) who is extremely quite and basically a female kenma is dressing up as a maid in a school festival? THX

They’re a bit longer than I was expecting so they're beneath the cut! :)

Kuroo

“Yeah, Y/n? They got selected to dress up as a maid for their class cafe,” Kenma sighs, not looking up from his phone. “I think they're pretty embarrassed about it. I would be...”

Kuroo looks up his homework, mouth agape. “Y/n? In a maid outfit?” “Uhh, yeah,” Kenma spares a quick glance at him. “Why do you care? You hate them.”

“Well, uh, I want to see them so I can make fun of them,” Kuroo stood up, stuffing his homework in his bag. “Obviously.”

“Ooo-kay,” Kenma watches him hurry away, unruffled.

Kuroo got to the outside of your class, taking a deep breath. It's not like he isn't allowed to be here. Student’s are encouraged to check out other classrooms, so why is he so nervous?

He slides open the door slowly, peeking in just in time to see you walk past carrying a tray of mugs. In a maid outfit.

“Hnn-” he slams the door shut.

Maid outfit, maid outfit, Maid outfit-

“Kuroo? Do you want to come in?”

He looks up from his panic, meeting your blank stare.

“Maid outfit,” he says stupidly.

“Oh,” you look down at yourself, tugging on the apron lightly. “Yeah, just my luck, huh?”

He follows your gaze, taking in small details like the way it fit your figure perfectly and how the apron cinched so nicely around your waist. Oh fuck, the way it rested around your thighs-

“We have tea and cookies,” you were saying quietly. “Uh, I think we have coffee jelly but it might've just ran out.”

Your voice stayed flat the entire time you spoke, as did your face, but it didn't matter to Kuroo. He was still completely infatuated with you.

“Uh, yes I would like that,” he ruffles his hair nervously.

You look up at him, tilting your head. “The tea orrrr what?”

“Uh.” Panic. “Whatever’s your favorite!” You shrug, sliding the door wider so he can fit past you. “Sure.”

He follows you to an open seat, struggling to not ogle you as you walked around the classroom.

“Here you go,” you set a plate and cup in front of him. “Enjoy, master.”

“WHAT?” He chokes.

“Uh, master... you know this is a maid cafe.. right?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he looks down at his plate, freezing when he sees a slip of paper on it.

xxx-xxx-xxxx -Y/n

Holy shit, he thinks and looks up at you only to find you've already walked away to another table.

Iwaizumi

He, despite what Oikawa likes to blabber about, did not hate you. He just found it difficult to have a conversation because you were just so... apathetic. So he didn't really like you, per se. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself.

“That’s just how Y/n is,” Oikawa shrugs. “Always has been.”

“But they're always so quiet, its frustrating. Even when I try to be friendly they just stare at me and give really short answers,” Iwaizumi huffs.

“Well, why don't you go to their classroom? I think they got stuck with that maid cafe for the festival,” Oikawa shrugs. “Then they’ll have to talk to you, right?”

“Why would I want them to talk to me, I don't even like them, Stupidkawa” he snaps defensively.

“Were you not just complaining that they don't talk to you?” Oikawa laughs. “Silly, Iwa-chan”

“Don't call me that,” Iwaizumi growls, standing up and stalking away before Oikawa could really get in the groove of teasing him.

Once he’s out of Oikawa’s line of sight he hustles down the hallways he knows will lead him right to your classroom. The outside had a roughly made sign advertising your festival stall, and Oikawa was right. Inside he could see your classmates dressed in their maid outfits, carrying trays and serving guests. But where were you...

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san, are you planning on going in?”

He spun around, nearly tripping when he sees you. The maid outfit was... wow, it was really adorable on you. You blink up at him, shifting the large box in your arms.

“Uhh, I’m not,” he froze, seeing the flush on your cheeks. “Oh! I’ll open the door for you. “Thank you, senpai,” you nod.

Senpai?!

“N-no problem,” he stammers.

“You can follow me, I’ll sit you down somewhere,” you say over your shoulder, glancing back at him. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he nods.

He couldn't even keep lying to himself at this point, he definitely did not hate you. And it was a whole lot harder to act aloof when you were wearing a cute little custom like that...

“Hey, um, Y/n,” he’s sat down at a table now. “Would it be okay if I asked for your number?” “Oh,” your eyes were wide. “Really?”

“Only if you're okay with it,” he says quickly.

“I’d like that,” you gave a small smile.

He nods eagerly, feeling a blush light up his ears at your reserved show of happiness. Even though you were a fairly muted person, he had spent so long watching you out of curiosity that he had picked up on most of your tells.

Tendou

Tendou wasn't even sure what he was doing. In all honesty, he found you intriguing because no matter what weird stuff he flung at you he could never get you to react. His teammates interpreted it as teasing, not realizing he wasn't trying to be malicious at all. He never bothered to correct them though, he would hate for it to get back to you that he kind of liked you. He’d prefer you stayed apathetic towards him rather than disgusted.

It was Goshiki that had let it drop, everyone else on the team had flinched when he fessed up.

“A maid costume?” Tendou repeats, eyes wide. “Y/n?”

“Yes, don't go teasing them about it now,” Semi sighs, sending a sharp glare at Goshiki.

“I am hurt, Semi Semi, you think I would stoop so low?” He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “That I would go tease little Y/n in such a vulnerable predicament?”

“Yes,” Semi replies flatly.

He gasps, looking around at the team. “You all have no faith in me.”

“No, Tendou, it’s that we know you,” Semi says.

Tendou frowns, they really were completely convinced by this little act of his. Well, he shouldn't disappoint.

“I must be going,” he announces.

“Tendou-”

‘I’m not going to their classroom,” he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry.”

He’s standing outside of your classroom, preparing himself to see you in a maid costume when someone rushes out of the class and slams into him. He’s knocked onto his back with a surprised shout.

“Mmph!”

The other person lands on his chest with a squeak.

“O-oh, Tendou-san! I’m sorry,” you blurt, face flushed with embarrassment. “Did I hurt you?”

He’s dazed, not from his trip to the floor, but from the fact that you’re sitting on his stomach... in a dress... a maid dress. He covers his face so you don’t see how red he’s gone.

“Erm, Y/n, I’m fine.” His voice is muffled. “Could you.. get off?” You lurch to your feet, still stammering out apologies until he places a hand firmly on your head.

“Calm down, it’s fine,” he grins.

“Well then why are you laughing,” you frown.

“This is the first time of seen you so flustered!” He laughs. “It’s cute.”

Your eyes widen. “Cute?”

“Yeah, cute,” he pinches your cheek softly. “I’ve been trying to get you to react all year, who knew all I needed to do was get tackled.”

You flush again, pulling down the skirt of your costume. “Oh.”

“So where are you rushing off to?” He asks, tilting his head.

“We need more cups,” you say before jolting, remembering. “We need cups!” “Hey, I can help you. Don’t run off again,” he smiles.

“Oh, thank you, Tendou-san,” you give a tiny smile that he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn’t watching you so closely.

“Maybe you can help me out with something too,” he says nonchalantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steer you towards the supplies closet.

“Okay, what with?”

“Your number, perhaps?” He looks down at you.

“My number,” you echo before nodding. “Of course.”

Tendou grins widely, unable to stop himself from ruffling your hair again while teasing you gently about being so clumsy.

1K notes · View notes

kaibacorpintern · 4 years ago

Text

the wound

word count: ~2500

summary: kaiba has some pointed thoughts about yuugi’s recent cooking injury. platonic rivalshipping. post-DSOD

a/n: a woman has too many unfinished one-shots in her google drive so i’m making time to finish them instead of overthinking them (and never finishing them.) yes this is about cooking and yuugi and kaiba and depression. yes i have already written about this. whatever man. enjoy.

++++

Same time as usual. Two in the afternoon, on Saturdays. Same place as usual. The picnic table under the massive oak in the park, two blocks away from the Kame Game Shop and twenty minutes by subway from the station under the Kaiba Corp tower. Seto took the subway mostly out of scientific interest, taking a professional curiosity in the world Atem had wanted to live in, and because Atem had told him to enjoy it. What had he seen here, in the faded orange seats and bright pastel advertisements and the quiet scattering of human-not-Puzzle bodies? What had he felt, as the subway swayed around the curve in the tunnel, unseen in the darkness and known only by its momentum, making everyone sway with it? Hands curled around handrails and books. Fingers on phones. The train burst into daylight. The side of that girl’s head against the glass, watching Domino slide by with an equally glassy look in her eyes. Two layers between her and the city. Missing someone? Or just bored of life?

He slunk off the subway, unnoticed and unknown, in an immaculate white hoodie and aviators, stainless steel water bottle dangling from one hand. Yuugi was waiting for him at the park entrance, as usual, wearing some kind of fashionable belted dark purple romper, with the usual tote bag full of games hanging from one hand. On the other hand, something unusual: his fingers stuck out from a half-formed mitten of gauze, giving his slender hand a clumsy, snub-nosed silhouette. He was having trouble holding his iced tea, thumb and fingers alligator-clamped around the lid. Someone had drawn a pair of flowers in pink marker across the back of the mitten, a bumper sticker of cheerful admonition: 🌺 BE CAREFUL! 🌺 Not Yuugi’s handwriting.

“Hey,” Yuugi said. “How’re you doing? You sleeping better?”

Seto pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, over his bangs, crown-like.

“On and off,” he said, which was true. His nights were now vast, tossing oceans of insomnia between shores of just good-enough sleep. Last night he’d simply given up trying to swim and instead, for the first time in years, read a book for amusement instead of education. Some sci-fi novel Yuugi had mentioned and Seto bought on a lark from the bookstore in the subway station. Most of his amusement came from correcting the bad science in the margins, until he woke up at dawn with his glasses bent and his bed linens blotted like calico cats with black ink. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Yuugi said, lifting his mitten-hand. “So, I was making a ceviche yesterday…”

He told the story as they walked through the park to the oak tree: the protagonist was a ripe avocado, its tough, disingenuous alligator hide concealing a soft, buttery-green flesh. The arc of the conflict: avocado against knife, a natural antagonist. The climax: the knife, ignorant of its own bluntness and made arrogant by the shine of its own steel, slid off its trajectory like a failing rocket and plunged at speed through plant skin and plant flesh straight into human skin and human flesh. The resolution: two identical cuts, a half-opened avocado and a half-opened hand. Man versus fruit.

"There was so much blood Otogi almost fainted," Yuugi said, thumping the tote bag onto the wooden table and straddling the bench sideways. "So we went to the ER and they stitched me up, and then when we got back home I finished making the ceviche. What game? You pick."

"Hive," Seto said. He couldn’t stop looking at his bandaged hand. It drew his attention like a glitch on a screen, an inescapable aberration. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, it hurts, but whatever, you know?” Yuugi said, digging into his tote bag for the drawstring bag of wooden tokens. He spilled them onto the table in a clattering cascade of wood against wood. They rapidly sorted them out. “It’s not my first cooking accident.”

Seto raised his eyebrows. It was a testament to the amount of time they’d been spending together lately - every Saturday afternoon for a handful of hours, until he made some excuse to leave, and Yuugi accepted it not because he was gullible but because he knew Seto had a battery and it ran low - that he didn’t even need to ask a question, and Yuugi simply provided an answer, with examples.

“So, here, I was frying onion rings for Jounouchi, and I splattered hot oil all over my arm,” Yuugi said, lifting his hand and pointing out a haphazard constellation of white scars over his forearm. “Then here - I was baking cookies for Shizuka’s birthday and touched the tray fresh out of the oven with my bare hand, like a moron, I dueled Jounouchi after and drawing my cards was like, ow - ” he waggled his fingertips - “and this one is another burn - ” a long white ink-stroke across his wrist - “from when I was making ramen for Anzu, ‘cause she was home from New York. And this one - ”

More interesting than how and what were who. This burn for Honda’s birthday barbecue, that cut for Otogi’s game night. A violent kiss between blade and fingers behind a frothy veil of soapy water, cleaning up after a movie night. Another spray of oil splatters, frying tempura for his mother. A lot of meals for her, his grandfather, Jounouchi. Every scar Yuugi showed him had a name attached, almost all of them below the elbows, as though collected there for easy reference. Seto frowned as Yuugi's fingers flew over this map of friendships and family, their routes landmarked by midnight breakfasts, lazy brunches, beautifully-wrapped bento boxes. Something about it tasted sour to him, his tongue held tight and bitten between his teeth. All of his own scars had only one name.

“You probably think I’m a klutz,” Yuugi said, with a sheepish smile, sliding one of the wooden tokens into place around their hive.

“I told you to stop doing that,” Seto said briskly. “I’m not some dumpster for all your insecurities. You think you’re a klutz. You have no idea what I think.”

“I - ” Yuugi started, and huffed, with another smile, his chosen defense against causing offense. “Sorry, force of habit - ”

“Forget it. You don’t ever cook for yourself?”

“Duh. Of course I do. And I eat what I make with everyone else. It’s not like I make a pizza for all my friends and just sit there watching them while they eat it,” Yuugi said. “But I like cooking for people. I love... nourishing them. Knowing they’re not going to go to bed hungry or anything, and I can make something for them that makes them feel good.”

Seto tapped a wooden token on the table, under the guise of thinking about the game but really thinking about the kind of friends Yuugi made, and how he made them. Jounouchi. Honda. Atem. Himself.

“Did you ever cook for Atem?” he said, because he couldn’t help it, and braced against the soft look that came his way, with a default smile, a pre-emptive look, I'm fine. this didn’t hurt me smile.

“Yeah,” Yuugi said. “I did.”

Like what? Did he like it? Did he help cook or did he just watch? Just the two of you or with everyone else? Tell me. What did you nourish him with? What do you think he’s eating now? I ate pomegranates when I was there. Bread and honey and figs and garlic and beer. Nothing I ate makes me spend six months with the living and six months with the dead so instead I trade off day and night. Sometimes I leave for a few minutes, mid-afternoon, and I can hear my own name clattering through me as Mokuba calls me back. Seto kept all these comments to himself. There was only so greedy he could get with Yuugi’s grief; only so much he could share of his own.

He slid his wooden token into place around the honeycomb of pieces. Yuugi swiftly countered. Seto lapsed back into thought.

Yuugi took a quiet slurp of his iced tea, gave it a shake, rattling the ice until it settled, and took another, watching ducks paddle into the reeds at the edge of the pond and paddle out, a portrait of calm patience. It had taken him some time to get comfortable with Seto’s long silences. In concession, Seto made the effort to shorten them.

It was the kind of day where stepping into the shade made a difference. The air was darker and cooler under the trees and the flowering bushes that lined the park paths, while the rest of the earth baked in a cloudless dry heat. Seto made his move and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows.

“How about I cook for you sometime?” Yuugi said brightly, nudging another wooden token against the others with a single fingertip.

Seto scowled, not at the suggestion but at the way his thoughts splintered apart, like two halves of a wooden log split by an axe. He had no doubt Yuugi would pull out the stops for him, slave and sweat for hours over some seventeen-course feast of modern art finger foods. Or maybe something cozy that made him feel like he was just nineteen instead of nineteen and exhausted. Whatever it was, Yuugi would put in the effort. But.

“No,” he said, and made sure to clarify this refusal before the clouds finished gathering over Yuugi’s face in a dejected overcast grey: “I don’t need one of your scars named after me.”

“I - what?” Yuugi said, flashing him an uneven, sideways smile, and Seto felt a flicker of irritation. Atem would’ve understood immediately. But, in fairness to Yuugi, he was being a little obtuse.

“You have a way of suffering for your friends,” he explained. “And I think part of you likes it.”

Yuugi straightened up in his seat, suddenly electric.

“What the hell? It’s just cooking,” he said, with a stormy flash of lightning in his violet eyes. “You’re reading into this way too much. I cook because it’s fun and artistic and I like feeding people, not because I like… self-flagellating or something. Seriously, you can’t just spout off - ”

“You misunderstand me,” Seto countered. “There’s no reason to… hurt yourself on my behalf. If you want to eat together, I’d rather go to that kitschy little ice cream place down the block and get a fucking waffle cone. I don’t want you unable to duel because you burned your hand trying to pan-fry a steak for me.”

Yuugi opened his mouth, brows furrowing together… and scoffed, a surprisingly affectionate sound. He rolled his eyes around the park, his gaze swinging across the sunlit grass, and looked back at Seto.

“Okay. First of all, I've mastered the art of the pan-fried steak, and you should try it,” he said. “Second of all, what makes you think you’re not someone worth suffering for?”

Seto snorted, masking his inwards flinch. Mokuba already suffered enough, thank you. And for what? A ghost of a brother. A black hole, a perpetual collapsing. Things went in and they crossed the event horizon and the pressure squeezed them for eternity without ever letting them reach the center and nothing ever came back out, as much as it wanted to. The scientific term for such distortion of effort, stretched to an immeasurable length without breaking, was spaghettification. Even a black hole needs to eat!

He slid one of his tokens back and forth with his fingertip, short, scraping jerks of wood against wood, thinking.

“Direct attack on my life points,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you also got me pretty good,” Yuugi chuffed. “Let’s call it even. But relax. It’s just cooking. I love the process, and I love the result, and I love doing stuff for my friends. It’s not some big… metaphorical… symbol of something. This - " he lifted his mittened hand - "doesn't mean anything except I mishandled a knife. It’s not like… you and Duel Disks.”

But Seto also loved the process and the result and more than once he'd injured himself, machining parts or fiddling with wires that, like all wild living things, bit back in fear of his touch. He splayed his hand over the table, watching blood drip onto his work station, knowing he should get up, clean it, bandage it. But it was only two in the morning and there was work to do.

“The Duel Disk is a symbol of Kaiba Corp’s future,” he said, closing his hand into a fist. "I know what you've done for your friends. I’ve seen it. Doesn't that merit the same... mythology?"

Yuugi gave him a funny look, half skeptical, half knowing.

"That’s nice of you, thank you," he said, and an uncomfortable blush crawled up Seto’s neck. Sometimes he did understand. “Are you sure you don't want me to cook for you?”

Seto opened his mouth, closed it, folded his arms on the table. He felt like he was trying to explain the feeling of the color blue, or the arguments for why numbers do or don’t exist, or what it was like to dream. Well, you see, the last time I saw Atem, he told me - correction: the last time as in the most recent link in a chain of time, not the last time as in the end of the line, because he also told me we’d see each other again - he told me to enjoy this, and you know me, I never do what I’m told. And I can’t do what he told me to do because he was my friend, and if friendship is just getting caught in a great sticky web of small cuts and large cuts and burns and bruises and tears and suffering because they’re here and suffering because they’re not, then just go ahead and let the spider drink me up and dump what’s left of me in the dirt. I am so sick and tired of pain. Mine. Yours. Ours.

But he did enjoy these afternoons. He was enjoying the process of making this: he had more with Yuugi now than he ever had before. He reached across the table and took Yuugi’s bandaged hand between his own hands, running his thumb carefully over the inked warning. Yuugi's hand relaxed in his. Yes, Yuugi was wrong. It was the same as Duel Disks. In any act of creation there was pain, there was power, and there was glory. What difference was there between a hologram of a dragon and a steaming bowl of soup? Both nourished something. Both were an answer to hunger. Discovering an emptiness and filling it.

“Okay,” he said, releasing Yuugi’s hand. “Alright. Cook for me.”

“Yeah?!” Yuugi said, with rising excitement, beaming. “What should I make? What do you like?”

“Make me a steak,” Seto said, smiling. It felt good to see Yuugi smile. His hypothesis neatly undermined. See? It’s not all damage. “No. Surprise me.”

#fanfiction #intern memo #rivalshipping #a lite snack... once i've written up a few more i'll cross post to AO3 #okay good Night i am. wiped the fuck out

74 notes · View notes

rebellconquerer · 3 years ago

Note

“It’s really not that complicated.”

For Sarah and Sam

Another prompt fill. Will be crossposted to AO3. And to the anon that sent in the request today, yes! My inbox is still and always open for more.

Sarah sighs to herself, digging even further into the bottom of her bag. She knows she has it somewhere. It lives in her handbag during the summer for just this reason.

“Hey mom, can we go into Crescent City Comic? Please?” AJ asks from somewhere along her right side.

She knows the damn fan is in there. Lipstick, chapstick, book, ah! She pulls her hand out and gives a frustrated huff. Old papers, still not the fan.

“Mom?”

“Huh? Um, yeah, sure. Don’t wander off from there though, you hear me? You either stay there or come right back,” she’s all but yelling at his retreating back as he runs the half block towards the store, holding his brother’s hand and dodging in between the crowd of people on the streets.

Sarah shakes her head smiling to herself as her hand finally, mercifully brushes against her fan. She lets out a small sound of success as she pulls it out of the bag, unhooks it and starts fanning herself. The gentle wind, even if it is as muggy as the rest of the mid morning heat, is a welcome reprieve. She turns back to the vendors lining the street, fanning herself slowly as she surveys the various bits of jewelry on display, in the market for a new set of earrings perhaps.

She’d all but dragged the lot of them out to the La Gente music and street festival in the Lower Garden this morning. Sam and Bucky had come back from their last trek to DC almost a day ago in a foul mood. She isn’t exactly sure what happened but from what she has gathered they had a mission go bad, monumentally so, and when they came back there had been insinuations that it was because Jame- Bucky was leaking information, like a double agent or whatever. Utterly ridiculous. Sam said Bucky responded very calmly to the allegation. Sam had not.

It had kind of surprised her that Bucky had come back with Sam in the first place. She’s gotten more used to him being around but it tends to be for a specific event or before they go out for work, not after. But even with her limited knowledge of him, just looking at him when they arrived Sarah could tell he was… upset. Something about the calmness and stillness he carried in his frame that was just… not right. Her brother had done the right thing bringing him home and she’s kinda glad Bucky had let himself be brought back to Louisiana.

She shakes her head, moving away from the stall, she should probably not have him on her mind as much as she does but… there is just something about him, something behind his eyes that tells you there is so much more going on than just what you see.

‘And there is a lot to see’ a voice that sounds suspiciously like her best friend’s whispers in the back of her head, so of course, that’s when she notices him across the street.

He’s standing by three ancient-looking old men and one very smitten looking teenager. Sarah laughs, she can’t blame the teen. James wears henleys very well and this dark grey one is no exception. Plus he has the buttons around the neck unbuttoned just enough so that you can see a glint of his dog tags when he moves… yeah, Sarah pities the poor girl.

Sarah very deliberately does not go to him (she’s an adult, she does not get crushes on her big brother’s friends anymore) and heads to the fruit stall next to where he’s standing. She catches a little snippet of the conversation before the band starts up and has to ignore the little flip her heart does because he’s speaking fluent Spanish to his old people group and the words sound mouth-watering on his tongue.

She shakes her head a little violently, returning her focus to picking out ripe fruits. She is not interested.

Guajira, I love you too much

“What you up to, sis?” Sam asks, out of nowhere. Only years of being a mother to tiny humans with quiet steps keep her from jumping.

“What does it look like, smart ass?” she replies, yelling just a bit to be heard over the band.

Sam frowns as he watches her pick out mangoes. “I don’t like mangoes,” he tells her like she doesn’t already know.

“These aren’t for you. AJ loves them, as does Cass. And I cook with them sometimes.” she says, picking out four and twirling the bag closed, the beat of the music is infectious as she begins to sway.

“Then why not get more?” Sam asks, poking at the nearest, clearly unripe mango. He’s such a child.

“They are almost 5 dollars for one. Too expensive.”

Sam scoffs. “Everything is negotiable.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. Her brother always thinks he knows best. This wasn’t a pop-up. She knew this stand. “Mr Gonzalez would negotiate, but his daughter, Benita, is a hard ass. I’ve never gotten her to sell anything for a cent less than advertised.” Sarah finishes pointing at the woman in question.

Oye Guajira, so nice to meet ya

Next time I see ya, we gon’ roll some reefer

Sam does a little salsa two-step and a spin, grabbing her bag of mangoes from her hand. “Let’s see shall we?” he says, plastering on a ridiculous smile and walking into the store.

Sarah huffs out a laugh crossing her arms as she watches Sam sidle up to Benita.

“Why does he look like he’s up to something?” Jam- Bucky asks from beside her. She doesn’t look over at him.

“That’s how he always looks, his face has been stuck like that since we were kids. I told him it would happen,” she mutters mostly to get a laugh out of James. It works, the sound sending a pleasant warmth rolling down her spine.

She risks a glance over at him, and with the smile on his face, it’s dangerous.

“You left your friends behind? Are they all actually your age?” she asks, gesturing to his little old people group still standing a ways behind them with her chin.

He glances over his shoulder at them. “Hey it’s not my fault no one in the younger age group seems to know anything about baseball,” he replies. “Gotta take good conversation where I can get it.”

“Oh it must be so hard for you, poor baby.” she teases.

His eyes meet hers with a small smirk “Easier when I’m with you.” he replies lightly.

Sarah’s grin widens as she tries not to let him get to her head.

“Quite the silver tongue James- sorry. I mean Bucky!” She corrects almost immediately, feeling her face heat up. God, she can’t even get his name right, she clearly shouldn’t be flirting with him.

But he only laughs.

“You always seem to prefer James,” he states with a hint of question in his tone.

She shrugs, the embarrassment still making her feel a little off-kilter. “It’s a nice name, but I know you prefer Bucky.”

His smile gets real. “No one’s really called me James outside of my family, and that was a long time ago,” he says, eyes going distant and unfocused for a minute before he looks back over at her. “But if you like James, you should call me that.”

She has never been more grateful for her dark complexion and inability to turn red as she is at this moment. “No- no I couldn’t. You prefer Bu-”

“It sounds good coming from you. I like it,” he says with finality, that life-altering, heart-stopping smirk back on his face and honestly what can she do but smile back at him?

Brother, it’s true, no doubt she’s flawless

Her love’s a drug, she was getting me yo

“I told you, I’d get it done. Does your big brother keep his promises or what?” Sam says, interrupting their gazing and their smiling.

She looks over to him, pushing the dazed smile off her face.

“4 mangoes for ten dollars, a permanent 10% off produce for the restaurant and-” Sam says, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket with a flourish. “Her number.”

Sarah stares in astonishment. “How the hell did you do that, Sam?”

He shrugs, lips twitching as he fights the smile forcing its way onto his face. “It’s really not that complicated, Sarah. I am very good looking,” he says, finally giving in to that gap-toothed smile.

Both her and James groan dramatically, turning to walk away from him.

“Great, he’ll be insufferable now.” James whispers, ducking in close to her, his proximity dizzying.

She laughs as Sam overtakes them, salsa-ing ridiculously by himself as he walks in front of them and singing along with the band.

“Guajira, I love you too much”

#rebellwrites #bucky/sarah #bucky x sarah #fleur de louve #bucky barnes #sam wilson #barah #bucky x sarah fic

33 notes · View notes

strayinvelvet · 4 years ago

Text

still at it

work is starting to pile and you kind of expected your boyfriend to support you, not annoy you

pairing: han jisung x reader

genre: fluff, implied enemies-to-lovers

wc: 1.3k

warning: swearing :(

a/n: happy hearts day, cuties! part of @districtninewriters dear skz, with love. this took so long mainly because of the recent news, yea. i’m so nervous about this i really hope i did the prompt and project some justice. phew (っ＾▿＾)💨. enjoyyy (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

“You’re insufferable.”

You rolled your eyes at the neon yellow post-it note placed on your office desk. It’s still early in the morning and you have a long eventful day ahead of you which is why you tried to get to work as early as possible.

The busy days have officially started for your company. Your partner company is planning to launch a new collection in their fast-growing fashion brand in Berlin and your company, being the most sought out marketing team in the industry, is tasked to implement the most appropriate marketing and advertising plan for the collection. Even the people working for you are already on their desks working on what they are assigned to do. Some are having coffee while some are already writing papers that are nearing their deadline. In conclusion, everybody looked busy and none of them looked suspicious enough to be part of this very eye catching note thing.

Rolling your eyes once again, you sat at your table and picked up the surprise note. Truthfully, even at first glance, you already know the person behind it. How could you forget this one of a kind handwriting, the one you so hated to see back when you were in high school. Han Jisung. That little shit is still going at it.

You folded it in half before placing it in between the pages of your planner. As if on cue, your secretary knocked on your office door asking for permission to enter. As soon as she entered your office, she immediately briefed you of your schedule for today. Meetings, briefings and scheduling of future meetings and partnerships. Exciting. You’re starting to regret all of your life choices.

“Oh and by the way, is this yours?” she showed another yellow note, “this was stuck on your office door.” You sighed. Just how many of these did he make? “Leave it on my table and then meet me at the meeting hall for the first meeting,” you gestured towards your table. “Will do.” with that, she left you to do your own stuff.

“And annoying.”

Yep, he’s one of the decisions you’re starting to regret (maybe not but you like exaggerating). You’re not gonna lie, at this time of the year, you expected little notes that would inspire you, make your heart sing love songs, or rush the blood to your cheeks. These notes, however, only made your blood boil. You swore that when you see him once you’re back from Berlin, he’s going to get it. You kept the note the same way you did to the previous ones. Goodness, if only he wasn’t a major player of your partner company.

You reached for your phone and dialed his phone number and true enough he answered just after two rings, “Are you fucking for real?”

You heard him laugh at the other line before asking your question, “Shouldn’t you be planning our marketing strategy?”

“I am and your lovely notes are helping me big time, seriously. And shouldn’t you be working on the collection’s designs instead of this bullshit?”

“Hey, I am currently approving those that are outstanding. I’m not like you who-”

You know he’s gonna bully you, you just know. So, you quickly ended the call before anymore bullshit comes out of his mouth. With your nth eye roll for the day, you stood up to attend your first agenda.

Hours passed and the series of formal business stuff is starting to get to you. Your butt is sore from sitting all day, plus your muscles are in dire need of a stretch. The last meeting of the day has just been adjourned minutes ago and you and your secretary are taking your time to breathe in your office. "Miss Y/n, your trip to Berlin is in two days. Have you packed?” well until your secretary went to business mode real quick.

“Kim, please, give me a minute,” you laughed but answered her question nonetheless, “Yes, I have and oh, can you try to squeeze in my schedule for the first four days so I could have the last two to myself?”

“That would drain you,” she answered confusingly. She’s not wrong, tho. You contemplated for a while but honestly, you wanted to explore Berlin too and you can’t do that by sitting in a meeting room for a week. “Better than seeing Berlin through a floor-to-ceiling window glass pane.”

Kim nodded, "I will update your schedule. Maybe you should bring your boyfriend over," she suggested which also suggests that she doesn’t know who the notes are from. “It’s a business trip, Kim. And I don’t know if i should agree or disagree with that.”

You both laughed lightly before Kim left you to fix your schedule per your request. You, on the other hand, are willing to give everything just to lay on your bed or have a warm shower. Whatever door is nearer to your entrance. So you left as fast as you arrived at this building just to feel the comfort of your home.

The apartment you were greeted with is not the same apartment you left. You left yours with unfolded clothes everywhere, full trash bin and sink and a disorganized living room. You tend to be messy when you’re ridiculously busy. But this, the place in front of you, is like a whole different scene. Every corner is squeaky clean from the shoe organizer to the kitchen. The apartment lights are also set to dim with candle lights and all but enough to see everything. Soon after, the smell of delicious food wafted through your nose.

The hints are giving you an idea of what is going on.

You went to the kitchen only to see a romantic dinner set up complete with those fancy utensils, fancy food, candles and wine, and of course, a yellow note.

“But i’m willing to suffer for you. Happy valentines, baby”

This dork, you thought while smiling like a goof (which you tried to hide).

“Han Jisung!” you called him. His head peeped through the doors of your bedroom with a big grin on his face. “Were you surprised?”

You couldn’t contain the smile anymore and so you let it out, “come here.” You gestured to him to come over with your arms hanging in the air as if waiting for him to come nearer so you could wrap it around his neck. He came out with a bouquet of fresh daisies in his hand which he had to place on top of the dining table in order to accept your cuddle invitation. Jisung kissed your forehead before securely wrapping his arms on your waist. “Did you like it?”

“Aside from being partly annoyed, yes actually,” you tightened your arms around his neck so you could pull him down to give him a proper kiss. This wasn’t part of your relaxation plan but you are glad to welcome him in your routine, as always. The kiss was starting to get heated when you pulled away from him and loosened your grip, making him look at you with a questioning gaze.

“Thank you for cleaning my apartment and all this.”

“Anything for you, my love,” he kissed your cheek, “and I also did almost half of your work in Berlin so you could relax a little,” then he kissed your other cheek. For some reason, he has to accompany each of his sentences with a kiss. But nevertheless, it still made you giggle. “I’m not thanking you for the notes, though- wait, am i really insufferable?” You looked at him like you’ve just been betrayed. Out of all people, he had the audacity to tell you you’re the insufferable one?

He smiled, “no baby,” he pecked your lips before continuing, “ you just annoy me sometimes.”

“So you just had to annoy me first?” you asked with a smirk forming on your lips.

He shrugged, “guess I’m still at it.” This time, he accompanied his replies with a brush to your stray hair with his fingers just so he could look at you properly. You squished his chubby cheeks together, forming a pout in his already adorable face.

“Yeah,” you pecked the pout you forced, “I guess we’re still at it.”

end.

yayyy omg this may or may not be from an e2l au that is currently sitting in my drafts hmm

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stray kids x reader #han x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids au #han jisung #stray kids scenarios #skz x you #skz x reader #skz au #skz scenario #stray kids

127 notes · View notes

trvelyans-archive · 4 years ago

Text

something to look forward to

mari wiseman x gray black. 4k words.

Is there a piece of popcorn in your hair?

“Mari, are you listening?”

You snap to attention, finally glancing away from the mirror in the bathroom and rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad, I’m listening,” you reply, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear while you tug your boots on. “You must not be, though, because I’ve reminded you more than once that it’s only a ten-minute walk to the train station and that I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I should just come and get you,” Nick says. It’s past midnight now – you had to stay after your shift ended, cleaning up a puddle of Pepsi on the floor that you found accidentally after kneeling down to grab some popcorn from under the seats – and no matter what you say, he insists that you’re going to run into trouble on the way home (even though you have the grumpiest face in the Chicago area – probably all of Illinois – and there’s probably very few people who would approach you because of it without even starting to consider the whole mind-blind thing). “Did you at least bring a hat?”

You pause. “Yes?”

“Mari –“

“Nick, it’s minus ten.” You zip up your jacket and straighten, reaching to grab your phone to make sure it doesn’t topple to the ground while you swing your bag over your shoulder. “That’s nothing.”

“Alright,” he concedes, sensing that you’re not going to budge. “But… call me if you see anyone acting - I don’t know, suspicious, okay?”

“Don’t you worry enough at work?” you ask, reaching for the bathroom door and pulling it open. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Button.” You can hear a smile in his voice. “I never get tired of you.”

You nod at the co-worker by the ticket booth as you wander through the lobby, your boots squeaking loudly against the floor. You don’t know how they didn’t dry in the eight hours they spent sitting in your locker – they’re still as wet as they were when you got here earlier today. Well, yesterday, technically.

Jesus, you’re tired. He should be more worried about you falling asleep on the train than he should be about you getting mugged.

Before you push open the front doors of the theatre, you pause and heave a sigh, remembering that he’s still waiting on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you if I see anyone acting suspicious,” you promise, hoping that you sound sincere. And you are sincere – even you don’t want to die by a mugging-gone-wrong. “And once I get on the train.”

“And once you get off the train.”

That gets a laugh out of you – not an entirely frustrated one, either, which is a feat to behold, at this hour and after this much badgering. While he can just tune into your thoughts whenever he wants to hear whether or not they’re ‘ah, that customer sucked’ or ‘ah, I’m being actively murdered’, sometimes – especially now that you’re an adult with a part-time job – he likes to let you pretend that you have some semblance of privacy (even though you really don’t). “Alright, before and after I get on the train,” you repeat. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Be safe, okay, Button?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Love you,” Nick replies. “Bye.”

The call clicks off before you have a chance to say ‘love you’ back, and after spending thirty seconds deliberating whether or not you want to call him again to do so, you decide against it and brace yourself before pushing out into the night.

Thankfully, it’s snowing outside, and you take a minute to tilt your head back and let the snow hit your face. Most people might complain, but you like the snow. It makes everything in the city look pretty… dreamlike, almost. Still, after breaking yourself out of your reverie, you sigh and stuff your phone in your pocket, regrettably beginning to feel the tips of your nose and ears getting cold already. It’s minus ten, you remind yourself, gritting your teeth and dragging your boot-heavy feet down the sidewalk. And you’ve survived worse. Worse weather, and…

Well, worse.

You sigh a second time like a melodramatic dog that hasn’t yet been fed by its owner and glance up just in time for you to notice a man wandering down the sidewalk towards you. Late forties or so, with a leather jacket and slicked back hair – is he a mobster? He walks like a mobster, at least ones that you’ve seen in movies, and – it’s Chicago. He could very well be a mobster.

Should you call Nick?

You opt not to this time, but tighten your fingers around your phone anyway and hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, close enough that you’d probably be able to pick him out of a line-up if he tries anything, and then, in the span of about two seconds, he walks directly past you without even looking over, leaving you shaking in your boots for more than one reason and sufficiently not-mugged. (No word on whether or not you’re sufficiently not-frostbitten, though.) You’re almost disappointed – do you not look put-together enough to at least try mugging? – and then you remember that going unnoticed by as many people as possible is something you usually like, so you let your phone fall to the bottom of your pocket and keep walking. A little faster, this time, though - just to be safe.

Which is good, because it hasn’t even been a full minute when you hear footsteps behind you – quick, careful footsteps, too close for you to run away from.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

“Mari?”

You frown and turn around – sure enough, Grayson Black is standing behind you, a package of toilet paper stuffed under one arm and a paper grocery bag hanging from his opposite hand, his golden-brown hair tucked beneath what looks like a hand-knit toque.

Great. Just your luck. He looks like he stepped out of a Whole Foods advertisement and you’re wearing a coat that’s about three winters old and smell like stale popcorn that someone put way too much butter on.

“Hey, Gray.” You smile at him, trying to pretend that you hadn’t convinced yourself you were within an inch of imminent death. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh – just walking home from the store.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Work,” you say, pointing to the theatre down the block. Grayson follows your finger and then sighs.

“Right.” He turns back to you. “Sorry, Nick told me you were working, I was just… surprised to see you out so late.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. It’s not like you have any friends to go clubbing with, so you can understand his confusion. “Uh – okay, well… See you later?”

“Are you going to the station?” he asks. Why is he still frowning?

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you,” Gray offers.

“I – what?” You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

“And it’s late.” He takes a step closer, but not close enough to break the unspoken barrier between you. “Besides… Nick will kill me if he finds out we ran into each other and I didn’t walk you.”

Of course he’s only offering for Nick’s sake. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell him.”

“Mari.” God, the way he says your name is a prime example of why every girl in Illinois has a poster of him of their bedroom wall. “Can you let me walk you to the train station?”

You stare at him for a second, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too wide. “Okay, yeah, sure. When you ask so nicely.”

He laughs and moves closer until you walk side-by-side with the usual distance between you, though it feels much bigger tonight – actually, considering his arm is sticking out half a foot farther than it does most of the time because of the package of toilet paper stuck under it, the gap probably is bigger than usual. You glance around at the street while you walk, listening to the crunch of snow under your boots and the gentle hum of passing cars. God, you’d kill to be in a nice, warm car right now – you should’ve taken a cab.

Actually, no, you’re glad you didn’t. You’re probably safer (and happier) on the street with Gray than you are with a potential Ment cab driver.

“So.” You turn to Gray, and he turns to look at you before you even say anything. “Another late night run for Arizona?”

He laughs again, and you try not to let yourself feel too pleased with yourself about it, because he could just be doing it to be polite, right? “No, not this time,” he answers. “Just some… ah… dish soap. I’ve been out for a week, and…” He grimaces, and you get the sense he’d reach up to scratch the back of his head if he had a free hand. “I finally ran out of plastic cutlery tonight after dinner.”

“Mmm… Well, that’s a good reason for a midnight run to the grocery store if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Of course, a couple cans of Arizona just so happened to fall into my basket, and – it would be rude of me to say no...”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” You smile. “That’d be downright heretical, and Fortitude has a reputation to keep.”

Gray laughs, louder this time, and you feel your smile widen. “Anyway, enough about me,” he says. “How was work?”

“Ah… it was okay.” You shrug absently, feeling his eyes on you while you do (even though he should be looking at the ground so he doesn’t slip on a patch of ice and fall on his ass). “Had to stay late and clean up, which was gross, but… According to Nick, I have some cookies waiting for me when I get home, so that’s nice.”

“Something to look forward to,” Gray agrees, nodding.

As if anything compares to this.

“Yeah,” you say. “Something to look forward to for sure.”

“Are you getting excited for the Academy?”

You cringe. As thrilled as you were to get accepted into Aeon, the prospect of finally starting there is nowhere near as thrilling. Though it’ll be nice to have classmates that are strictly non-Ments – at least when you’re not working with Sally’s class – the idea of being back in any kind of school isn’t… well, that isn’t something to look forward to. Still… “Yeah, kinda,” you answer. “Not ready to go back to school, I think, but I also don’t want to be scraping gum out from underneath movie theatre seats for the rest of my life.”

He makes a face. “That sounds… gross.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It is. But I’ve snuck into a couple movies so far and watched them for free, so… it’s an okay trade-off, I think.”

“Sounds like it,” Gray muses. He turns to you. “You’re really not excited to go to Aeon?”

“I said kinda!” you protest.

He smiles. “You shouldn’t be nervous, Mari.”

You’re the one to make a face this time. “Who said I was nervous?”

“No one had to.” He angles his head in your direction like he’s sharing a secret. “I can tell.”

“And Nick told you.”

“Nick… may have mentioned it.”

“I’m not nervous.” You’re lying, of course, because you’re nervous about everything. Right now, only half of your brain is tuned into the conversation because the other half is nervous that you’re going to slip on the ice and break your neck, which would both be not hot and so embarrassing that you’d have to write off your friendship with Gray entirely for the rest of your life and become a full-time hermit whenever he comes over for dinner. “I just… I don’t know…” You kick a block of ice and watch it skitter through the fresh snow in front of you. “I don’t want to disappoint Nick.”

“You could never disappoint him,” Gray responds. “You’re brilliant.”

“Psh. Not even Nick could get away with saying that.”

“He didn’t.” Gray adjusts his grip on the package of toilet paper. “I mean, I’m sure he thinks it. I meant that… I meant that I think you’re brilliant.”

Sure, that could be a really cute compliment Gray gave you, but you’re probably just being too optimistic, right? Like – sure, he’s nice to you and brought flowers to your graduation ceremony and sure, he gave you that cute teddy bear for Christmas and sure, he once brought over a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper for dinner because you were having a bad day and he knows it’s your favourite, but… “Gray,” you sigh. “British people say everything is brilliant.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if his cheeks are pink because of how cold it is out or – well, for other reasons that are so impossible that you don’t let yourself continue that train of thought. “That’s true,” he says. “But I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t say anything. Thankfully, you don’t think Gray seems to mind, because he doesn’t say anything else, either.

There’s a crosswalk coming up, and even though no cars are coming and you could easily get away with some perfectly safe jaywalking, you stop and press the button (ha) anyway and wait for the light to turn, figuring you don’t want to risk it if Gray wants to report anything back to Nick. (Because Nick could very well assume that you jaywalking is something to be grievously concerned about.) Although, on second thought, you’re not sure Gray’s paying very much attention right now – he’s glancing across the street with his eyebrows furrowed, a distant look in his eyes. He must be thinking hard about something, so you elect not to interrupt him.

Now that there’s a lull in conversation, you find your eyelids beginning to flutter. You stayed up late last night after falling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole – that’s why you shouldn’t watch documentaries at three in the morning, you think to yourself - and Nick had to wake you up at noon to make sure that you weren’t late for your shift, so… Yeah, falling asleep on the train sounds like a pretty likely scenario.

Gray shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and once again adjusts his grip on the toilet paper package – as he does, though, it topples out of his grasp and lands perfectly in between your feet with a soft, snowy thump. You bend down to grab it the same time Gray does, of course, because you’re the two most awkward people in the world, and there’s a three-second pause before you finally reach for the toilet paper and scoop it into your arms because it would be too awkward now not to.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” you say before he can protest. “You have your… uh…” You gesture to his bag. “Hand full, anyway.”

He tries to protest anyway. “Mari, let me –“

“No, it’s okay.” You smile pleasantly at him. “You’re walking me, so I can… you know… take one for the team.”

He deliberates for a second before nodding – you think he might only do that because the crosswalk light has started beeping at you. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The snow is starting to lighten up, now – you can see the train station in the distance. It’s still a few blocks away, which means you more than enough time to make a sufficient fool of yourself. (Or perhaps, continuing the theme of the rest of the night, a not-fool of yourself?) “You know, uh, if you think I’m so brilliant…” You’d put air quotes around it if your fingers weren’t too cold. “Maybe we should have a Scrabble rematch soon?”

You, Nick, and Gray ended up playing a round last time Gray came over for dinner, but Nick stopped halfway through because he was getting bored and decided to go try mixing a new drink instead. Usually you would’ve complained – you like to wipe the literal board with him whenever you can – but it was hard to complain when you were sitting across the coffee table from Gray and splitting a plate of cookies like a couple of little kids. (It’s hard not to feel like a kid around Gray – shy and long-limbed and awkward. Like Bambi, but less cute because you’re a human and also, just generally, not cute.) “I still can’t believe you beat me...”

“Is now a bad time to remind you that I was my school’s valedictorian?”

“Yes, it’s a terrible time,” you reply, watching Gray grin out of the corner of your eye. “English was one of my best classes! I’m supposed to be good at Scrabble.”

“Well… maybe you’ll be better during our rematch.”

Okay. Keep it cool, Mari.

It only sort of sounds like you’re arranging a date with the love of your life and he’s not even taking a couple seconds to be weird about it.

“Oh, I will be better,” you say. “That’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you work tomorrow?” He sniffles – he must be cold. This is what he gets for wasting his night walking you to the station instead of going back to his nice, warm apartment. “Maybe I could pick you up after your shift and train with you back to your house.”

“Oh, uh –“ You clear your throat. “Yeah, I work tomorrow! I think I get off at six?”

“Okay, great. Just let me know if – erm, that changes or… something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you reply, a little taken aback.

What in the world is happening?

Did you actually get stabbed by that maybe-mobster, and awkwardly making plans to play Scrabble with Grayson Black is your purgatory?

“Uh… I just – I hope I remember to tell Nick,” you comment. “Not that he’s ever bad when you show up on our doorstep unannounced and ask for dinner…”

“I – I don’t ask,” Gray stammers, “he offers before I can even get a word in, and – and I say yes because it would be rude not to!”

“Mmm… sure.” You shake your head fondly. “You’d probably eat Nick’s dinners every night if you could.”

“Yes, but for the company,” he says, smiling. “Not for the dinner.”

“Not entirely for the dinner.”

He laughs. “Alright, you got me. Not entirely for the dinner. But…” Clearing his throat, he adds, “Mostly for the company.”

You can’t exactly disagree. Nick could serve you a plate with nothing more than an uncooked chicken breast on it and you wouldn’t even care as long as Gray was there to get salmonella with you.

You’re nearly at your stop, you realize suddenly. You’re both disappointed and relieved – disappointed because you always hate to leave Gray, but relieved because things have gone too well so far and you’re starting to get suspicious. It’s just like you always say (to yourself) – you’re not lucky. You’re incredibly unlucky. If something is going well, it means that something incredibly unwell is going to happen as soon as possible.

You pause before you reach the stairs to the train platform and turn to Gray to say goodbye.

“Well… here’s my, uh… stop.”

Gray looks at you. “Here it is,” he repeats.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say. He tilts his head, almost in question, but you continue – “You really didn’t have to.”

“Mari.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch carefully as Gray raises a hand like he’s in a trance, reaching out to you like –

Like what?

Is he going to kiss you?

He blinks and the trance breaks, shattering into a thousand little pieces like a snowy sidewalk under a winter boot. “Oh, sorry,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the way he backs up a half-step. Did he really forget about the… well, everything? He never forgets. Gray drops his hand before raising it to his head again, moving it in little circles near his temple. “You have a –“

Following his movements, you reach up, and –

Of fucking course. There was popcorn in your hair the whole time! You make a note to guilt Nick about distracting you when you get home.

“Damn it.” You pull it out of your hair – how did it get so tangled in there? – and toss it onto the ground, hoping that he’s not going to call you out for littering. (Would that even count?) “Thanks.”

“Uh… you’re welcome.” Gray smiles at you again, and though it’s awkward and a little forced, it’s still a Grayson smile. “I should… let you catch your train,” he continues, running his free hand over his head before scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I should let you get back to – uh – doing dishes?”

He nods, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds right.” With one last lingering look, he smiles a little wider. “Goodnight, Mari. Get home safe.”

You smile back at him, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, you too.”

Should you watch him leave? No, that’s weird, right? You stand under the streetlight and consider it for several seconds before realizing that you’ve watched him for too long already, and then you shake your head, turning to the stairs and bracing yourself to trudge through the snow that’s gathered on top of them (as if you need anything else to be unnecessarily difficult today). The platform is relatively empty when you reach it, save for a couple of teenage girls and a man in a business suit looking entirely out of place at this time of night and at this weather, and you take a seat on a bench, settling in while you wait for the train to come.

You’re much more aware of how cold it is out now that Gray’s gone – even the sweat on your hands feels like it’s going to freeze – so to distract yourself, you look around the platform for something to entertain you. You manage squint at a weird-looking piece of graffiti a few feet away from you when you hear footsteps approaching.

Sure enough, when you turn around –

“Mari,” Gray says. “I’m sorry, I forgot the –“

He points to your lap, where you’ve diligently placed his package of toilet paper.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you say, picking it up and holding it out to him from one end so he can grab onto the other. “I totally forgot.”

“No, that’s alright, I forgot too,” Gray assures you, because of course he does – when is he ever anything but nice and diplomatic? Once he’s tucked the toilet paper under his arm again, he chuckles to himself and continues, “Alright. Erm… goodnight again, Mari.”

“Goodnight,” you reply.

With the toilet paper returned to him, he gives you a short, stilted wave before he turns and heads for the stairs again. You force yourself to look the other direction, making a mental note not to stare at him whenever he walks away from you.

You make a couple other mental notes on the train home, too, though it’s mostly in an effort to keep yourself awake. You definitely need to get more than four hours of sleep tonight if you have a long shift again tomorrow, especially since Gray’s coming over; you probably shouldn’t wear new jeans to work in case you run (or, more accurately, sit) into any more puddles, and you might as well bring a hat with you next time you leave the house, because there’s a spare sitting on the shoe rack near the door, anyway.

You definitely make a note to double-check your hair for pieces of someone else’s half-chewed popcorn before leaving the theatre from now on, too - then, when you think about the possibility of running into Gray outside work after all of your shifts from now on, you decide that you should probably triple-check, instead.

#oc: mari #pairing: mari x gray #my writing #my ocs #hi. this is bad. sorry.#ALSO GRAY IS PROBABLY INCREDIBLY OOC SORRY #there is no point to this except me seeing the option to give button a part time job at a movie theatre and getting excited about it #bc it's so MARI !!! it's as mari of an option as Every Single Morbid option !!!#anyway yes here's this. do with it what you will.#also this is so fucking long for no reason sorry LKSDJFLDSJFLKDS #I JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT. THEM BONDING AND BEING DOMESTIC OK.#THEY PLAY BOARD GAMES. THEY HAVE INSIDE JOKES. THEY BANTER. ALRIGHT. IS ME WRITING THAT A CRIME.#ok anyway thanks for reading this tags if you read them loVE YOU BYE !!#long post #mind blind

79 notes · View notes

anubislover · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 19: Lying Hearts

“How can anyone stand to live in a city like this?” Nami grumbled as the light glinted off of yet another painfully white building. True, the setting sun had lessened the glare slightly, but after an entire afternoon of it, she was developing quite the headache, even with the sunglasses.

Law shrugged and continued walking at a leisurely pace, still unaffected. “I’m sure if you’re born somewhere like this it’s easier, but people can learn to tolerate almost anything given enough time, I suppose.”

“Do you think you’d be able to learn to tolerate bread?”

“I said almost. I’d sooner die of starvation.”

She shook her head with a chuckle but kept pace, following his lead. Instead of heading straight back to the submarine, Law had insisted on a few detours through Atifakuto—partially in case anyone had grown suspicious and decided to follow them, but also to scope out potential escape routes under the guise of sightseeing. Nami, for her part, had been exceedingly helpful in this, mapping out in her head which stairways lead where and pointing out various places to hide. If Law found her compliance suspicious, he didn’t say anything; it was in their best interest to work together, especially with some potentially valuable goods on the line, so her behavior was easily rationalized.

For her, however, there was more than artifacts or even belli at stake. This heist had to go well. She needed Law to trust her enough to open up about why he was so obsessed with Amber Lead. Perhaps if he could do that, she wouldn’t even have to sneak into his quarters to take a look at the ledgers. She could just ask and he’d let her in like a rational human being.

Of course, in order for either of their plans to succeed they needed to know where the vase was. Luckily, the rest of the Hearts hadn’t been sitting idle on the submarine. They’d been investigating every possible gallery, art collector, museum, and auction house their prize could possibly be at. The second they had a lead, they’d call on the mini Den Den Mushi.

Until then, though, Law and Nami were forced to meander about the city, planning and killing time.

“So, while we wait for some intel, what else are you going to buy me?” she asked as they wandered the fourth level. They’d passed quite a few shops, and while most had stocked dull business suits similar to the last store, Nami felt her bags were tragically light. They were in a beautiful-if-blinding city, and she was walking away with only one outfit? What a travesty.

Snorting dismissively, Law glanced down at her with a clear look of are you kidding me? on his face. “Nothing. I told you I was only getting you one outfit. I’m your captain, not your sugar daddy.”

“You know, for a man who wants this little job to go well, you’re not putting in nearly the effort you should,” she quipped, a sly smile on her lips, eyelashes fluttering prettily. “I’m supposed to look professional and put together if I’m gonna pull off being your lovely assistant. That means I need matching shoes and accessories. Maybe a cute leather purse or briefcase to really sell it.”

“If you want those so badly then buy them yourself. Or,” he smirked, halting his pace to turn around and catch her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up towards him as he stepped in close enough so she could feel his body heat, “you earn them by doing certain favors for daddy.”

Her cheeks only pinkened a little at his innuendos while she stuck out her tongue and shoved him away. Last night’s dream wasn’t quite as close to the forefront of her mind anymore, but that didn’t mean his smirk didn’t do things to her she’d rather ignore. “Pass. You should know by now that it takes more than clothes for me to play nice.”

“Mmm, I do. That’s what makes it so much fun,” he purred, gold eyes glinting in wicked amusement. One gloved hand was shoved into his pocket while his free arm slung itself casually over her shoulder as he continued stalking along the fastidiously clean road. “But since you’re currently insisting on being a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to provide for her, you can instead borrow some shoes from Ikkaku, and she might still have a pair of glasses or something from the time she pretended to be a receptionist at a Naval base.”

Brown eyes widened at his statement. Not because he was suggesting that she borrow clothes or anything, but the bombshell he’d just casually dropped in light of her recent discovery.

“Was this for one of your plans?” she asked, shoulders stiffening.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, though he did give her a curious glance at the way she tensed beneath him. “Yeah. We needed someone on the inside, and they’d put out an advertisement for an attractive female in her early twenties. It’s not like Uni or Penguin could do it.”

“But…holy shit, Law, are you serious?” she hissed, dragging him over to an unoccupied part of the street behind a solitary gated tree so she could scold him in private. There weren’t too many people about, but the last thing they need was to get unwanted attention because they’d caused a scene, even if Law totally deserved to get chewed out at the top of her lungs for being such an asshole. “Ikkaku has Marine brothers who want her dead and you sent her into the lion’s den? What the fuck?!”

Caught off-guard by her anger, Law’s eyebrows shot up briefly before furrowing. “She told you about them?”

Damn. In her shock and anger on her friend’s behalf, she’d forgotten that this was a subject she wasn’t technically supposed to know. But instead of admitting guilt, she doubled down and threw on her best poker face.

“Yeah. She told me,” she lied easily. Too easily. It came as naturally as it had back in the days she’d been working under Arlong, getting close to pirates by lying through her teeth and then robbing them blind. How many crews and captains had she deceived before Luffy? Nami had honestly lost count, but once she’d joined up with the Straw Hats, lying to a supposed ally hadn’t been quite as instinctual.

But this isn’t Luffy, and Law’s keeping way more secrets than I am, she rationalized. It’s just a little white lie anyway. He’d be way more pissed at Shachi and Penguin for telling me. I’m looking after those guys.

Law’s expression hardened, and for a moment she wondered if he’d seen through her bluff. She didn’t think she’d gotten too rusty in the lying department, but Law was smart and distrusting in general, so she couldn’t quite tell. Trepidation hung heavy in the air as she waited for him to speak, mind going a mile a minute coming up with new lies and explanations to appease him. Worse came to worst, she could throw the guys under the bus, even if she didn’t really want to, but they were his best friends, so Law would doubtlessly be more forgiving towards them, right?

Thankfully, it seemed his anger came from a completely different place, as he snarled quietly through clenched teeth, “Nami-ya, I am, as you have pointed out rather frequently in the past, a control freak. Do you really think I would devise a plan that required sending my top mechanic into a Marine base if there was even a chance she could be recognized? Especially by her utter shit of a brother?”

She flinched at the vitriol in his voice. It seemed she’d touched a nerve, and unless she wanted to lose all the progress she’d worked for, she knew it was best to back down. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you tell me what prompted her to tell you,” he stated, crossing his arms. “It’s not information she makes widely known, even to those who are permanent members of my crew.”

Well. At least this was easy enough to justify, and she’d be doing both Law and Ikkaku a favor, right? Sure, the guys would obviously tell him later, but being the first to warn him might earn her a few more crumbs of trust. “There was an article in the paper about Marine reinforcements coming to the Grand Line. Ushi was interviewed. He seemed pretty intent on taking down the Heart Pirates.”

Law froze, his frown deepening into a dark sneer. The tic in his jaw and the way his fists clenched reminded her of his reaction to Ikkaku having been attacked on Grimm. “That fucker will stay away from Ikkaku if he’s got any brains in him.”

“You’re pretty protective of her,” she said. Sure, he’d perhaps phrased his defense in a way that implied his priority was the plan, it was clear from the hiss in his voice that Ikkaku’s safety had been genuinely considered.

The brim of his hat hid his eyes as he stated, “I’m protective of all my crew. She’s just…it’s hard to find submarine engineers, let alone ones as skilled as her. Ikkaku’s hard to replace.”

Well that stinks to high heaven of bullshit, she thought. Sure, the Surgeon of Death had a rightly-earned cruel reputation, but he’d shown time and again his crew meant a lot to him. Stepping in close, she used her finger to lift his hat enough to see his expression unobstructed. “Is that why you let her sass you? Because if she walked you’d be dead in the water?”

The gold orbs glared down at her, though the held no heat. “Everyone on the crew is a vital component. Like gears in a well-oiled machine. You’ve gotta take care of them to make sure they don’t break.”

When Nami merely raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he sighed, body deflating slightly. “Look, Nami-ya, everyone on my crew, we’ve all got shit in our pasts. Some have overcome it. Some still carry the scars. Ikkaku…hers is one of the few that’s actively still trying to get her. So yeah, maybe I’m a bit more protective, but it’s for a damn good reason.”

Ok, now that was a fair point. “I’m surprised you haven’t just killed him.”

“Oh, I want to,” he snarled. “No brother should try to hurt their siblings. They’re supposed to look after them. The only reason Ushi-ya still draws breath is because Ikkaku begged me to spare his pathetic life.”

It suddenly dawned on Nami that, despite his criticizing Luffy for not being more bloodthirsty, Law was…surprisingly merciful in his own ways, too. He didn’t murder Ikkaku’s brother, despite having clear reason to, just because she asked. He rescued Jean Bart from a life of slavery despite not knowing him. And while she didn’t fully understand the Ope Ope no Mi’s powers, she wondered if his cuts didn’t draw blood because he didn’t want them to?

She wasn’t sure if he had a complexity addiction or if he genuinely wanted to minimize bloodshed, but once again another side of the incredibly fascinating man had been revealed.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, he gave Nami a sadistic smile. “Doesn’t mean I let him off the hook with a sternly-worded warning, though. Wanna know what I did to him the last time we met?”

Nami turned a bit green as she remembered Jinzo’s still-beating heart in his hands. Complex and caring towards his crew or not, he was still a twisted bastard. “Fuck no!”

Briefly he pouted at not getting to regale her with the gory details before shrugging. “Pity. It was quite the eventful evening. In fact, it was also the night of mine and Drake-ya’s first kiss.”

“How the hell are those two things connected?!”

“Well, I had to distract him somehow. He was guarding my poor mechanic like a dragon would a virtuous princess.”

Before she could demand more details, or even snort at the idea of Ikkaku being virtuous, the sound of the mini Den Den Mushi reached their ears, interrupting the conversation.

Looking around to make sure there weren’t any eavesdroppers, Law pulled out the little snail phone and clicked down on the top. “Guessing you’ve got something for me?”

“I do,” the snail answered, and Nami recognized the faint accent that indicated they were speaking to Cousteau. “Only one place that specializes in North Blue history. Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. It’s an auction house and gallery on the fifth level, a block away from the Elevate Deliverer Restoration Church.”

“Well that’s a needlessly long name,” he quipped, rolling his eyes. Mentally, Nami had to agree, though it also sounded vaguely familiar. “At least that makes it easier to find. Anything else I should know? Other landmarks, nearby guard stations, that sort of thing?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Cousteau replied, “No station, though there would probably be at least a few guards wandering around at night. It’s, uh, right by a fountain. Blessings from the White City.”

Nami’s eyes widened a little. Oh. Now she remembered. That had been the church with the huge stained-glass windows. The one in her book, by the tribute to Flevance.

“…I see.”

The little snail chewed its lip, clearly concerned. “Captain, if you want, I can do all the surveillance—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in, tone sharp before smoothing out, “I saw it earlier. In fact, I’m glad it’s so close. Nami-ya and I will check out the gallery. We’re nearby and I’d rather see it with my own eyes to get the lay of the land. Unless anyone else has a better lead, you and the others can head back to the ship.”

“Understood, sir. Anything else you need?” he asked, sounding relieved.

“Just tell Clione I might have a job for him later on, so don’t make any evening plans.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

The call ended, and Nami peered up at Law, expecting signs of the same darkness that had crossed his face when they’d visited the fountain earlier. Instead, his face was totally blank, staring down at the tiny snail, expressionless.

Somehow, that was far, far more unnerving.

“Law?” she asked, touching his arm hesitantly.

As if awoken from a trance he shook his head before smirking down at her. “Well, hope you don’t mind one last detour before heading back to the ship? I know it’s more stairs but look on the bright side; at this rate, the definition of your calf muscles will be a thing of beauty.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, turning on his heels and heading towards the direction of the stairs to the next level. Frowning, she began to doubt whether or not this was all a good idea. She didn’t know exactly what his deal was, but she really felt like he was too close to this. But she had the feeling trying to talk him out of it would be an exercise in futility, and would set her back far more than any lie she might spin.

Oh well, she sighed internally, jogging to catch up, so long as he doesn’t do anything stupid. He’s sensible enough to keep a cool head, no matter what his problem is. It’ll be fine.

While it wasn’t far, it took longer than either of them would have expected to actually find Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. Mainly because it was a surprisingly nondescript building compared to the opulent churches and museums nearby. Honestly, based on the exterior, one could easily have passed it by. Like everything else the building was pristinely white, the windows boasting small arches over them and flower boxes containing white impatiens. Really, the most impressive thing about it was the marble plaque out front boasting the company’s name in gold leaf.

But the two pirates didn’t really care about the appearance; it was what was inside that counted. That, and the information board out front, which stated in bold, black letters that there would be a showing and auction of North Blue artworks at 8pm that evening.

“Why don’t you just Scan the place, grab the vase, and walk away? Seems like that would be easy compared to putting on this charade?” Nami asked, eyeing the building. It was hardly Harpin’s mansion; it would take almost no effort for Law to use his powers to steal every item of value inside it, replacing artifacts, paintings, and money with pebbles and potted plants with a mere flick of his fingers, then teleporting them away to safety.

Really, if he weren’t such an ass, Trafalgar Law would be a thief’s dream partner.

Of course, he was an ass, so he gave her a look that implied he considered her question to be phenomenally stupid. “Because there’s no guarantee that the vase is even in there—for all I know it’s being kept in a secondary location until the actual event for security or health reasons. It is a relic from a city that suffered a notorious death toll both before and after the World Government had quarantined it,” he explained lowly. “On top of that, my Room would draw too much attention, so if it’s not in there, we’ll have blown our whole cover and probably the operation.”

Though disappointed that they couldn’t just whisk it away with his powers, she conceded that he had a point. Versatile and useful as they were, the Ope Ope no Mi’s abilities did have their drawbacks. Actually infiltrating the auction house was a safer move.

Yet for a moment, she saw Law glare at the building, as if he were equally frustrated that they couldn’t just grab their prize and go. Perhaps even a great mastermind like him sometimes wished to take the direct path. “At least we can be sure it’ll be presented at this auction,” he reassured, almost as much to himself as her as his hand rested on Nami’s lower back while he escorted her away. “Makes it easier to come up with a plan and contingencies when I actually know the target. My crew did good.”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger in thought. She supposed he was right, and the pride in his voice when he mentioned the Hearts’ contribution…well, she knew better than to argue with that. Seemed the lesson he learned on the last island was sticking. “Still too bad we don’t have blueprints like Harpin’s house, though.”

“It can’t be helped. That was a job I’d been planning for months. This is more…spontaneous. Why? Scared and looking to back out?” he asked, glancing down at her with a challenging grin.

Nami scoffed. She was a thief that specialized in robbing pirates. Sure, she was a scaredy-cat, but when treasure of some kind was at stake, there were few risks she wouldn’t take. “Not a chance. Just pointing out that we’re going in more blind than last time.”

“Maybe, but at least our prize will be out in the open and not in the home of a former Marine with tentacles. Hell, we might even get it legally.”

“Law,” she started, brow furrowing. She wasn’t scared, but she did have a reasonable concern, especially with how intent he seemed on this one item. “What are we going to do if we don’t win the vase?”

The pair stopped by the Flevance fountain, Law taking a long moment to stare solemnly at the beautiful white angels. Without a word he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small coin, pressing it to his lips before flipping it into the water.

When he turned back to her, his gold eyes were as hard as the statues’ and twice as cold.

“Simple; we take it from whoever did.”

XXX

Hidden in a small cove on an unpopulated section of Atifakuto’s coast, the sight of the Polar Tang’s sunny yellow hull was a welcome relief after a whole day of the city’s stark white walls. Law seemed to agree as his tense posture relaxed into a comfortable slouch, even giving a few of the guys a small grin when they called out to them. To Nami, of course, the submarine was still far from the Sunny and thus would never be home, but she couldn’t help but smile at Law’s reaction. The Dark Doctor really did have some softness deep down.

Of course, that didn’t last long, as the moment they were within the safety of the cargo bay he was once more all business. “Dinner is in an hour. Rest up, brush up on your notes, do whatever you need to prepare for the auction tonight; I’ve got a few more dominoes to put in place,” Law stated. He’d been silent for most of the walk back, though Nami attributed that to him mentally filing through all the information they now had and formulating his plan. Much as she missed and loved Luffy, having a captain who didn’t just go rushing in like an idiot was a nice change of pace.

That didn’t mean she appreciated his tone, though. “Say please,” she quipped, hip jutting out. She might have decided to be more compliant for the sake of gaining his trust, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him boss her around.

Besides, if she were too accommodating, he’d probably grow suspicious and then she’d be right back at square one.

He scowled but apparently decided it would be a waste of time to argue. They were on a tight schedule, after all, so her attitude would have to be tolerated. For now. “Please,” he grumbled before marching off, beckoning Clione to follow him. The biologist glanced between the two, bewildered, but smartly said nothing before chasing after his captain.

Flashing a self-satisfied grin at Law’s retreating back, Nami practically skipped to her quarters. Even though they weren’t as prepared as she’d like, so far, things were going well. Perhaps they couldn’t just use Law’s powers to swipe the vase, but by obtaining it through legal means, they wouldn’t have the authorities after them, which would be nice. Besides, it wasn’t her money that would be spent at the auction.

Her research of the North Blue had taught her a few things, including just how valuable things from Flevance were. After all, things made from the white ore had been in high-demand during the city’s heyday; now that it was in ruins, any remaining artifacts would surely triple in price. And, admittedly, if that fountain had been anything to go by, the vase could very well be extremely beautiful. Something any art collector or historian might want for themselves.

Once more, she wondered why the hell Law wanted it. He collected coins, not art, so she doubted it would be something he wanted just for the heck of it. What was his obsession with Flevance—

That train of thought was derailed when Nami walked into her room. She blinked then rubbed her eyes, certain her vision was still messed up from the sun, because Ikkaku was still sitting at her desk, working on some little device, practically in the same position as that morning. Really, the only difference was the lack of towel around her head, though her curly hair was a tangled bird’s nest.

“Have you even moved today?” Nami exclaimed loudly, flabbergasted.

The mechanic jumped a few inches out of her chair, a pen cartwheeling through the air before falling back onto the surface of the desk with a clatter. Apparently since she’d had the room to herself, she hadn’t felt the need to put the earplugs back in, leaving her vulnerable to Nami’s loud voice. “Damn, girl, you scared me,” Ikkaku said with a breathy laugh. She glanced around, noticing the time on the clock and the fact that her hair had dried completely. “Guess I was in the zone.”

“You haven’t been working all day, have you?” Nami asked, plopping her shopping bag on her bed. “At least tell me you had lunch.”

“Sounding an awful lot like Law there,” she teased, pushing away from her desk to stretch. There was an audible pop from her back, and her dark eyes closed in relief. “Like me, too. The boys and I are always bugging a certain workaholic captain to eat something and not subsist solely on coffee and aspirin. But to answer your question, yes, I did have lunch.” She pointed at an empty plate that had been shoved into the far corner of the desk, a few grains of rice stuck to the surface. “Bepo brought me some onigiri.”

“Good. If you didn’t, I’d be dragging you into the galley and force-feeding you a sandwich, then charging you a cooking and inconvenience fee.”

Snorting, Ikkaku cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, further releasing the tension sitting hunched over in one spot for hours had built up. “Dinner’s soon enough; even if I hadn’t eaten, I could have waited. And good luck making a sandwich with no bread on board.” Despite her dismissal tone, though, she gave a wry grin. “But thanks for caring, I guess, even if it does come with a price tag.”

“What are friends for?” Nami shrugged with a smile that was a little forced. It was such an alien feeling, this sudden awkwardness. Since first arriving on the Tang, she and Ikkaku had gotten on like a house on fire. It was almost inevitable, being the two women on the ship surrounded by men dealing with that insanity together. Hell, even if that hadn’t been the case, Ikkaku had practically sacrificed herself for her back at the club on Grimm. A companion like that was more than she’d even dared to dream of before she’d met Luffy.

Was it really right for Nami to act like she didn’t know about her brother? Should she just tell her that the guys told her about Ushi? Really, what was the point of keeping it a secret? It wasn’t that Nami thought she’d slip up and spill the beans—lying was her specialty, after all—but Ikkaku wasn’t some mark or stranger. She was her friend.

Hell, even if they were on opposite crews, she’d even dare to call her nakama.

The issue resolved itself, however, when the other woman’s expression turned a little melancholy. Ikkaku sighed as she rested her cheek on her fist, her other hand idly playing with the pen. “Heh. Funny, I used to ask myself that question a lot when I was younger. I didn’t really have friends back on my home island. I lived with my Gramps in a lighthouse, so besides the occasional trip to town, it was a pretty isolated life.”

“What about your brothers?” Nami asked, masking her interest by taking her purchases out of the bag so they wouldn’t wrinkle before the auction. A swell of relief surged through her. If Ikkaku talked about Ushi herself, the whole charade of pretending not to know about him wouldn’t even be necessary! She just had to carefully press for the right crumbs of information, maybe even offer up a couple tidbits about her own life in exchange. No big deal. Tit for tat, right? “Nojiko was my best friend growing up. Hell, probably my only friend until Luffy came along.”

A dark look crossed Ikkaku’s face. “Yeah, well, Nojiko on her worst day was probably a way better sibling than all of them combined.”

“I don’t think you’ve talked about them much. I basically just know that they exist and said you wouldn’t really make it as an engineer because you’re a girl.”

A long sigh escaped her lips. “That’s…the nice version. Didn’t want to unload my shitty childhood on you, especially since yours sounded worse. I mean, my island was never taken over by pirates, and I didn’t work for the guy who murdered my mom.”

Well, that was certainly true, but then again, people with healthy, normal childhoods seldom became pirates. Or at least, those that did rarely lasted long on such cutthroat seas. Nami should have realized there was more to the mechanic’s past than some run-of-the-mill misogyny. “Maybe, but I don’t mind. We’ve all gone through some rough shit, right? We wouldn’t be in this line of work otherwise.”

“True. I just…I guess I just like to pretend he doesn’t exist most of the time.”

“He?” she asked as if she didn’t already know.

Ikkaku’s calloused hand dropped the pen to instead clench into a tight fist, and there was a haunted look in her dark eyes as she stared off into space. “Ushi. He’s the oldest. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid of him. Spent our childhood making our other brothers use me as a punching bag. When he wasn’t doing that, he gave me almost hourly reminders that I was a burden on the family, that no one really loved me, that I’d never amount to anything.” There was a hitch in her breath and a pause, and Nami noticed her close her eyes tightly for a moment. As if she were fighting back tears. It was a look she’d never expected to see on the tough, vibrant woman’s face. “Then, when I was seven, he tried to kill me.”

“What?!” Nami exclaimed, dropping her blazer to the floor in shock.

“Yeah. Joras had a huge fucking forest, and he led me into it to look for mushrooms or some shit. Can’t remember. Next thing I know, he’s shoved me into a pit, and by the time I’d climbed out, he was long gone and it was night. I think…I think it was supposed to be my grave, ‘cause it was really fucking deep. Or at least it seemed that way. Maybe I’m misremembering.”

Somehow, Nami doubted that. Sure, memories could get warped with age and fear, but some details remained solid for the rest of a person’s life. “But, you got out, right? And I’m sure your parents must have been worried sick!” She could almost picture it. A young Ikkaku, sticks and leaves caught in her messy curls, knees and elbows scraped, face covered in dirt and tears, frightened but once more able to smile when she was finally found, her mother and father scooping her into their arms, scolding her for worrying them but just so relieved she was safe…

At least, that’s what Bellemere or Mister Genzo would have done if Nami had gone missing.

From the bitter laugh that escaped her throat, Ikkaku hadn’t been so fortunate. “I spent three days wandering around those fucking woods, scared and cold and wondering if I was gonna die out there. My parents didn’t even notice I was gone.” After a long moment of silence, her fist unclenched and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. “Gramps found me, though. When I didn’t come home after two days and a storm rolled in, my brothers Nausagi and Fukuro ran two miles to the lighthouse to tell him what Ushi had done. Maybe they realized he’d gone too far. Or they were scared I’d come back as a vengeful zombie. Either way, Gramps rescued me and demanded custody. Mama and Pops were glad to hand me over. One less mouth to feed, and I wouldn’t be causing their Future Marine Hero any more trouble.”

“That’s…that’s horrible.” And yet Nami could tell she was getting the abridged version of the story. “Tell me your grandfather was a better guardian.”

Despite the childhood trauma she’d just confessed to, Ikkaku merely shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. He was. Gramps was crazy, but he loved me and taught me how to fight. Told me to never lose my smile, ‘cause that’s my best protection against a world that’ll try to break me.”

“Bellemere said something similar to me and Nojiko. ‘Whatever happens, never lose your ability to laugh. If you can survive, happy times, lots of ‘em, will come your way’.”

“Smart lady.” She tried to casually run her fingers through her hair, only to find them caught in the tangled knots. She let out a light chuckle at her predicament and added, “I think she and Gramps would have gotten along pretty well. Well, assuming she liked salty former smugglers who had the gumption to threaten Law with a shot gun. Not that he didn’t deserve it a little.”

Nami had to smile at that, and she could only imagine what he’d said that had nearly gotten him shot. It was definitely something snarky, a shit-eating grin on his face while he provoked a protective grandfather just because he could.

Noticing Ikkaku’s hair situation, she abandoned her suit to instead pick up a wide-toothed comb. “Well, I’m not sure about Bellmere, but I’d certainly love to meet him.”

“Of course you would.” Leaning back in the chair, she allowed Nami to carefully put her thick curls to rights. “How was shopping? Boss show you the blinding sights of the city?”

“It was…enlightening,” she said cautiously. There was still so much to sort out, and every time she thought she had an answer to one of her questions, four more popped up in its place.

Grabbing the pen she’d been playing with earlier, Ikkaku handed it to her over her shoulder. “Here; I made you something, since I doubt you’ll be able to bring your Clima-Tact with you. Kinda why I was so focused—I wanted it to be ready by tonight.”

Curious, Nami inspected the item. It was a plain black ballpoint pen maybe a bit longer than her hand. There was an almost unnoticeable jolly roger engraved into the middle, and she ran her thumb over it idly. “You spent the whole afternoon making me a pen? I could have just as easily brought my stylus.”

“Oh, but a stylus is only good for writing. This is so much more useful. ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’, right? Click the top.”

She did so, and instead of an ink-filled nub, a small syringe, similar to an epi-pen, popped out. Her eyes widened in realization as Ikkaku explained, “Inside’s a powerful tranquilizer. Should knock any fool out in minutes if injected into the bloodstream. Takes longer if it’s ingested. It’s non-lethal to humans, so it should be safe to use on anyone you’re looking to knock out. Assuming they aren’t really Fishmen in disguise.”

“Why? Does it react differently for them?”

She grimaced. “Yeah. Severe allergic reaction. Anaphylactic shock typically. So, unless you want that on your conscience, humans only.”

Tucking the pen away for later, Nami nodded in understanding and went back to combing her hair. “Gotcha. Doubt it’ll be a problem, though. Jean Bart said this place is pretty humans-only.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s impossible for someone to have that kind of bloodline. If it’s diluted through a few generations, a lot of the time you can hide it and pass for human.”

“Hmmm, hadn’t thought of that.”

There was a moment where Nami could tell she was mulling something over. Even faced away from her, Ikkaku wasn’t hard to read, and it was only a matter of time before she voiced whatever question was on her mind.

While she waited, the ginger took the time to appreciate the texture of Ikkaku’s hair, combing out each curl individually so it wouldn’t frizz. The thick, black locks were coarser than her own, yet surprisingly soft despite her hard life at sea. Hair maintenance was extremely difficult living on the ocean, the salt and fluctuating weather of the Grand Line wreaking havoc on Nami’s much finer strands. And while Ikkaku was far more feminine than one would expect upon first meeting her, in the time they’d roomed together, she didn’t seem to put much more extensive care into her shiny locks than some leave-in conditioner.

Guess she’s just got some good genetics, Nami thought appreciatively. Either that or she’s hiding some amazing shampoo formula, and damn if she is I’ll never forgive her!

When Ikkaku at last broke her silence, the hesitation in her voice was palpable. “Hey, it was a Fishman who held you prisoner all those years, right? You ever…blame all Fishmen for what he did?”

It was an unexpected question, but a fair one, Nami supposed. Arlong had committed a crime so heinous she knew she’d never forgive him, and she knew there were plenty of people, especially ones who spent years abused by such a monster, who would project that hatred onto an entire race. But why even ask?

“I…not really. I mean, I can’t say I never lumped them all together in my head, since Arlong and his crew were my only baseline for Fishmen for a long time.” She bit her lip, thinking. “But that was when I was a kid. My view of things was a lot more black-and-white, mostly because I was bitter at my situation. As I got older, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was stupid to think all Fishmen were like him. He was the one who hurt me, so he’s the only one who should get my hate.”

“So, you don’t hate them all?”

She shook her head. “Nah. Hell, I was even able to forgive a member of his crew. I’m sure you heard about how Luffy punched a Celestial Dragon?”

Ikkaku craned her neck up to look at her, dark eyes widening in shocked understanding. “Yeah? You saying the Fishman he defended—”

“One of Arlong’s crew. Hatchi. Like all of them, he hurt me too, but it was on his captain’s orders, and he clearly regretted it.” Well, it had been a bit more complex than that. Hell, when they’d first encountered him again, she’d nearly gone back on her promise to Camie to rescue him. Even if he hadn’t abused her like the others, he’d still been complacent in it. Still destroyed villagers homes, held her hostage, attacked the Navy ships that tried to come to the rescue. He hadn’t been blameless in the least. She would have had every right to demand that he be left to be killed or enslaved. That it was karma come to bite him in the ass.

Yet what had swayed her, apart from Camie’s determination to save him, was her own friends’ reactions to seeing him again. Those who knew her past had immediately been ready to turn the ship around and leave Hatchi to his fate. Of course she’d expected Sanji to be her knight in shining armor and want nothing to do with someone who had abused a lady, even by proxy. Zoro and Usopp had been a bit more surprising, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. They knew what she’d been put through. Had fought and bled for her. Despite their sometimes heated disagreements, Nami knew she could count on them to always have her back.

The one who shocked her the most was Luffy. He might have flip-flopped between reason and his stomach, but the fact was, her loving, forgiving captain had actually held a grudge on her behalf. Hatchi and Arlong hadn’t done anything to him personally, but his nakama had suffered, and that wasn’t something he’d easily set aside. That genuine show of solidarity and loyalty to her had melted what ice had still been around her heart, which allowed her to truly forgive the octopus Fishman.

Yes, Hatchi had hurt her, but her hatred was solely reserved for Arlong, not his underlings who genuinely felt remorse.

“I’m not a saint or anything but hating Hatchi…it seemed pointless. He wasn’t the one who killed my mother. And blaming all Fishmen for the actions of one seemed pretty shitty. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill Arlong if I had the chance, though.”

Nami could practically feel the tension drain from Ikkaku’s shoulders, and she couldn’t hide her smile before she looked away. “That’s good to know. That asshole deserves it, from what you’ve told me. He and my brother should meet, then get sacrificed to some kind of horrible sea monster. Plenty of hungry Sea Kings out there to feed.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer pair of guys,” Nami giggled as she ran the comb through the last strand of hair. “Though, that might be cruel to the Sea King. Poor thing deserves a better meal than shit like them.”

“True. We’ll just have to think of something else then. We can ask Law; he’s always got great suggestions.”

A shudder ran down her spine, though she had to admit, it wasn’t as horrified as she’d like. She justified it with the fact that Arlong was scum who deserved whatever painful death the likes of Law might propose. So did Ushi, from the sounds of things. Though, Law had said Ikkaku had begged him not to kill her brother. Why? Did she still care about Ushi due to their familial ties? Or was there something else?

Maybe she just doesn’t want her brother’s death on her conscience, Nami thought, putting the comb away and proceeding to raid the closet for shoes. I just hope that doesn’t come back to bite her someday.

XXX

Dinner on the Tang was certainly livelier and noisier than breakfast. Mainly because the crew didn’t have to walk on eggshells while waiting for Law to get his caffeine hit. Most of the time about a dozen different conversations could be heard, utensils clattered against plates, insults were tossed about, and laughter filled the air. But at the moment, the whole galley was silent save for Nami, who was telling the Heart Pirates—save for a few who’d been sent out on last-minute errands—all about her crew’s wild adventure on Skypiea.

“…so, after Luffy beat the crap out of him, Enel flew off to the moon in his gold airship, and we escaped the island with the help of an octopus balloon, our ship loaded with treasure!”

There was a pregnant pause as the Hearts stared at her in a mix of awe and disbelief. She’d had their undivided attention ever since Law announced that the Straw Hats had found Noland’s lost city of gold, all but demanding she tell the tale and not skimp on the details.

Naturally, those details made the story even more bizarre, practically unbelievable, but she gave them what they asked for, so they couldn’t complain. Even Law’s jaw had dropped once or twice in incredulity. Mostly at the part where Luffy’d been eaten by a giant snake and thus been hidden from Enel’s senses.

Finally, a few of the crew managed to find their voices.

“An orangutan nearly wrecked your ship with singing?” Shachi asked, face utterly baffled.

Penguin grabbed his hat and smacked him over the head with it. “That’s what you’re stuck on? That’s from way back in the beginning of the story!”

The ginger punched him in the shoulder in retaliation, which quickly devolved into a childish slap fight. “Well it’s weird, ok?”

“Weirder than Straw Hat punching Kami or the knock-up stream business or the ship that flew to the moon?”

“Yeah! You ever met an orangutan that could sing?!”

“No, but that’s not the point!”

“You met Monte Blac Cricket?” Ermine interrupted, eyes so wide the whites could be seen even under the rim of their hat, though their mouth quickly split into a smile. “Holy shit, I’d wondered what had happened to him!”

“Wasn’t he your friend or something?” Seiuchi asked through a mouth full of rice.

They shook their head, looking a little wistful, a faint blush rising to their cheeks. “Just a neighbor. The people of Lvneel were dicks to his family and anyone who associated with them didn’t get treated much better. But I always thought there had to be some truth to Noland’s story.”

“Because a city of gold is so fantastical it’s gotta be real?” Nami asked, amused. She’d half-expected everyone to laugh at her like the people on Jaya when she’d asked about Sky Island—she’d even glossed over that part, finding no reason to recap such a blow to her pride. Yet instead, they’d been respectful, even entranced by her tale. It seemed to help that she’d been able to fill in a few blanks with what she remembered from Noland’s ledger, thus adding credibility to the man himself instead of just imagining the lying fool the king’s slander had reduced him to.

Usopp would probably love these guys, she thought fondly. Not that they’d likely believe his fantastical lies, but they’d probably at least let him spin his yarns to his heart’s content.

“Because you don’t tell a king about a city of gold unless you’ve got something to show for it,” Uni interjected wisely, ladling some more curry onto her plate. He paused to smile at her with his eyes, the bottom half of his face still distinctly covered by his bandana despite it being dinnertime. This close, Nami couldn’t help but try to subtly look for signs of scarring, and in fact could spot a line of slightly-paler skin peeking out just over the edge. “That, and history’s rarely all that accurate. Full of lies and twisted to suit a certain narrative.”

“That’s the World Government way. I’m sure we’ll see plenty of it tonight,” Law stated, leaning back in his chair as he munched on some onigiri. The bulge in his cheek might have been comical, but the glint in his eye was humorless. “Can’t wait to hear the dumbass assumptions people make about us Northerners.”

Murmurs of agreement echoed throughout the room, though an angry tic formed on Nami’s forehead.

“Are you saying the stuff you had me study is going to be a load of crap?” she demanded, pointing her finger accusingly. Of course she knew history was skewed at best, but she’d spent days cramming! Had weird sexual dreams about him because of it!

Yes she was blaming the book for that and no one could stop her.

He shrugged and took another bite of rice, unbothered by her irritation. “It’s the information you’ll need to be able to regurgitate if anyone asks you about the North.”

“Yeah,” Penguin chimed in, nodding sagely. He and Shachi had finally been pulled apart by Jean Bart and had resumed eating like nothing had happened. “These people aren’t interested in the truth. They just want to feel superior to the ‘uneducated masses’.”

“Buncha pretentious pricks,” Shachi sniggered, balancing a spoon on his upper lip. “Bet they’d have a fucking fit if they found out El Dorodo’s not only real, but in the fucking sky!”

“I mean, can’t say I’d blame them,” Jude grumbled, playing a bit with his food like a grumpy child. “I figured we’d be the ones to find it, but this whole time we’ve been sailing around in a submarine for nothing!”

“You got something to say about my ship?” Ikkaku snapped, glaring at her crewmate. Behind her, Crozier, Cousteau, and Ermine made slashing motions across their throats, silently reminding him that disparaging the Polar Tang in any way in front of its chief engineer was a sure death sentence.

Before he could say anything, Uni thwapped him on the forehead with the spoon, apparently taking just as much offense. “How can you say it’s been for nothing—we’ve found tons of cool shit down here! May not have been El Dorado, but there have been some amazing sunken cities. And fish! We’ve discovered more aquatic animals than any other ocean explorer,” he pointed out excitedly, Cousteau nodding in agreement. “I mean, we’ve seen deep-sea fish not recorded in any book! Extracted hallucinogenic venom from puffer fish! Taken samples of bioluminescent plankton! We’ve seen octopi punch fish!”

“You ever figure out why they do that?” Shachi asked, cocking his head.

“Best I can figure? Spite.”

As weird as this little tangent was, Nami found herself giggling a bit at how excited Uni was. She didn’t know him too well, given how he was one of the quieter, more reserved members of the crew, but it was endearing to see him so animated and giddy as he discussed marine life.

“Plus, it’s cool to study navigational currents and everything, and underwater topography. The maps I can make from that kind of intel are really good,” Bepo added, twiddling his claws a bit beside her.

“Right! And if that’s still not enough to convince you, who needs a city of gold when you can get your hands on more sunken treasure than most pirates see in their lifetimes?” Uni asked, puffing out his chest.

She couldn’t help it—Nami’s eyes lit up with belli signs at the thought of how many sunken ships the submarine probably came across, all that gold theirs for the taking. Most treasure was basically lost once it hit the bottom of the ocean, but the Hearts’ ship and diving equipment turned the ocean floor into their personal piggy bank.

It seemed Jude had the same thought. “You’re right, you’re right,” he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s a great ship, and we’ve definitely found more than a city’s worth of loot—and yes the fish are cool Uni put the spoon away—but it’s still annoying to find out that we’ve been searching the wrong place this whole time.”

“Eh, happens to every pirate crew,” Jean Bart said, sipping his drink. “You find a treasure map only to discover the gold’s already dug up. Same with legends of lost cities. The fact that the Straw Hats actually found El Dorado and came away with a profit just means they’ve got the Devil’s luck on their side.”

“Or the favor of some god. Probably not that Enel guy, though,” Shachi said with a smirk. “And hopefully nothing from Joras, either.”

There was a murmur of agreement among the crew at that, though Ikkaku looked more uncomfortable than amused. Nami wasn’t the only one to catch that, though, as Uni reproachfully smacked the side of his head with the spoon.

“Dude. Don’t joke about the eldritch horror gods, yeah?”

“Sorry,” the ginger said, blushing slightly as he wiped away the curry splattered across his face.

“Eldritch horror gods?” Nami asked, recoiling at the thought. What the fuck?! Joras sounded vaguely familiar and given the context she guessed it had to be someplace in the North Blue, but she sure as hell didn’t recall reading anything about that! Was this something related to Northern culture, or were the guys just fucking with her?

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over, Nami-ya,” Law stated with a smirk, though she didn’t miss the glare he sent Shachi’s way. “We’ve been sailing under the ocean for over five years and I’ve yet to see a sleeping god who can turn you mad with terror.”

“No, just an underwater ruin or two that talks about him,” Ikkaku muttered, picking at her food.

Underwater ruins with tales of sleeping gods? Sounds like something Robin would be interested in, Nami thought, nervous sweat running down her neck. Not that she’d be able to blame her. Sure, the archeologist was macabre as hell, but Nami could appreciate her thirst for knowledge, creepy or not. Who knew what history and cultures had been lost to the seas? Maybe there were even Poneglyphs down at the bottom of the ocean!

Damn. Robin and Law would probably get along great. She wasn’t sure if she was frightened or comforted by this thought.

Uni seemed to notice her unease and patted her shoulder. “We’ve seen some strange stuff down there, but nothing more dangerous than Sea Kings. Which, I mean, aren’t exactly friendly guppies, but they’ll leave us be. The Tang’s Seastone coating and electrical defenses ensure that.”

Though she still found the whole concept horrifying, she was appreciated how hard Uni was trying to keep the peace and not make things needlessly frightening for her. The whole crew had a morbid sense of humor, but while she’d mostly adapted, she still found this whole conversation creepy. It made her feel a little guilty for wanting to pry into his business. Yeah, it was annoying to know the crew was hiding stuff from her, but Uni deserved a little privacy, right?

“Yeah, and if there were anything more, Uni’s fish buddies would warn us ahead of time!” Malamute added.

“Fish buddies?” Nami asked, eyebrows lifting to her hairline in surprise. So much for respecting his privacy. “Wait, can you talk to fish?”

The man in question stiffened beside her. “I, uh, I can understand fish a little,” he said, looking nervous. His large hands twisted the napkin in his lap, and he refused to look at her. “It’s a Haki thing.”

“Haki can do that?” she asked, surprised.

“Observation Haki can do a lot of things, and Uni’s the best at it on the ship,” Law cut in harshly, glare brokering no argument. “It’s a skill that’s saved our asses plenty of times.”

Nami blanched at his defensive tone. “Hey, I’ll take your word for it, but you don’t have to act like I insulted his mother or something.”

“It’s ok, Law,” Uni said, shrugging a bit, though his face seemed to sink a little further into his bandana. “I know she didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a fair question, and it is a weird talent.”

“It’s not weird. It’s fucking useful as hell and I won’t hear anyone belittling my crew.”

“I’d never belittle him—” Nami snapped, starting to stand up to give Law a piece of her mind before Bepo’s heavy paws fell on her shoulders, gently but firmly keeping her seated.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “Law doesn’t mean you. It’s just…the last person outside the crew that found out, he was extremely cruel about it. Beat Uni to a pulp and even threatened to sell him as a freak show attraction before Captain found them.”

“Oh my god,” she replied, anger cooling quickly as she covered her mouth in horror, imagining Uni bruised and bloody on the ground at the hands of some bastard. Well, that would sure as hell explain why Law had taken such offense. If such a thing had happened to Chopper because he could speak to animals, she’d likely be just as pissed. From the scowls on the rest of the Hearts’ faces, the whole crew felt similar. Her gaze flicked to the fuming captain. “I’m guessing he ended up on your operating table?”

“I wish,” he growled, gold eyes glinting in fury as he crossed his arms. “Marines showed up before I could cut out his heart. Must have been his lucky day, but luck won’t be enough to save him if I ever run into Hyena-ya again.”

“Hyena?” she asked, the name not ringing any bells.

“Bellamy the Hyena,” Bepo explained, snout wrinkling in distaste. “He’s also from the North.”

Oh. My. God, Nami thought, wondering if the world was really so small. “You said Bellamy, right? Blonde hair? Spring powers? Asshole with a stupid grin?”

Law cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Seems you’ve encountered him before.”

She ground her teeth as she remembered the way he’d mocked Luffy’s dreams in the bar. “Yeah. On Jaya. His crew laughed at me for asking about Sky Island and his first mate tried to buy me. Later he stole Cricket’s gold, so Luffy went after him. I didn’t see the fight but given what an ass that guy was…yeah, Luffy wiped that stupid smile off his face.”

Once more the room fell silent, but quickly broke out into thunderous applause.

“Hah! I would have paid good money to see that!” Ikkaku laughed, spirits lifted.

“If he hurt Cricket, I’m glad he got the beating he deserved,” Ermine said with a grin.

Uni smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily. “When you see Straw Hat again, shake his hand for me! That guy’s a dick.”

Even Law was put in a better mood, though there was still a malicious edge to his smirk. “Good on Mugiwara-ya. Still wouldn’t mind doing some permanent damage to the fucker myself, though. Bad enough he insulted my crew, but that bastard should pick his idols more carefully.”

Nami’s brow furrowed at that. His idols? The hell did that mean?

She didn’t have time to vocalizing that question, though. Sweat ran down her neck when said smirk then took a more lecherous edge as he rested his chin on his fist, eyes glinting with mischief. “But Sarquiss-ya tried to buy you? I might have prioritize kicking his ass, then. I’m the only one who gets to be your sugar daddy.”

“Oh shut up! You didn’t even buy me new shoes!”

“You got her a suit but no shoes? For shame, Boss,” Ikkaku giggled, getting up to help Seiuchi and Jude clear the tables. “I thought you were supposed to be a ladies’ man.”

“I’m a cruel bastard who doesn’t do something for nothing. She can borrow yours.”

Sauntering over, she playfully poked him in the forehead. “Says who?”

Law snorted and childishly poked her right back. “Me. Your captain. The guy who pays your salary.”

“You pay me to keep the submarine running and sass you when you’re being an idiot.”

“I don’t pay you for that.”

“Mmmm, you’re right; that’s a service I provide for free.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say those two were siblings,” Nami chuckled under her breath.

“Right? When I was first recruited I was convinced they were secretly related,” Uni agreed.

Bepo gave them both a smile and said quietly, “I think it’s good for them. Especially Law. I think he secretly likes having a little sister again.”

Brown eyes widened at that little tidbit. Law had a sister? What happened to her? Bepo had stated the past tense, so there was either some kind of falling out or…

…oh no, she thought, turning to watch Law continue to bicker good-naturedly with Ikkaku, his expression annoyed but the glimmer in his eyes belying that he was enjoying himself. Another piece of the puzzle that was the Surgeon of Death had fallen into her lap, but it wasn’t a particularly happy one. Sure, people died or were killed all the time, but Nami couldn’t imagine what she’d be like if she’d lost Nojiko. And depending on how young they’d been or how she’d died, that could really fuck with a guy.

“Nami-ya.”

Her attention was yanked from her musing as Law called her name. He was on his feet, plate clean and smirk dangerous as he regarded her. Nami wondered whether this would be the last time she’d see him in a genuinely good mood for the rest of the evening. “It’s seven o’clock. Time to get ready to watch history be defiled by pretentious morons. And for your obnoxious thunder god’s sake, make sure you’re wearing shoes you can actually run in.”

( @ninhaoma-ya, @awesomi, @vannahfanfics)

#Fic: Welcome to the Heart Pirates #lawna #trafalgar law x nami #Trafalgar D. Water Law #lawnami #op fanfiction #op fanfic #heart pirates #heart pirate nami #ikkaku one piece #one piece ikkaku #uni one piece #law x nami #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #nami

43 notes · View notes