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stxrvel · 3 days ago

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series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

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moowmoon · 3 days ago

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SANDWICHES, KISSES AND MESS

— spencer reid x fem!reader

— summary: it was the perfect afternoon for spencer. he was with her, making sandwiches and a slight mess.

— c/w: i think none?

— w/c: 1.4k

— a/n: hello! another spencer one-shot! i want to thank's margot (@pathologicalreid) and ket (@mandarinmoons) to help me choosing spencer for this one-shot! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

The kitchen was illuminated by a soft light, filtered by the late afternoon that poured through the windows. Ingredients were spread out on the worktop, and a pile of bread slices and assorted cheeses were waiting for their turn at the small improvised feast. Spencer was focused, holding a knife with almost comical concentration as he cut a piece of cheese. Next to him, she was trying to open a jar of jam, the lid tougher than she imagined, drawing a restrained laugh from him.

“Do you need any help with that, Miss Independent?” he teased, with a smile that was a mixture of playfulness and defiance.

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Spencer, I can open a jar of jam.” She tried again, but the glass slipped out of her hands, almost falling to the floor before she caught it in the air in an involuntary reflex.

“Of course you can.” he whispered with a wink, holding up the jar. Spencer slid her hand down the side of the glass, his fingers firm and warm against hers. Even though they didn't look at each other for a moment, the subtle closeness seemed to ignite something in the air, an electricity that hovered between them.

Little by little, the ingredients lined up on the counter, each one in its place as if waiting for the right moment to be used. Spencer reached out to take a slice of bread, but at the same moment she did the same, and their fingers met. They laughed, but no one moved for a second, their fingers lingering on the bread as if that simple touch could contain an entire conversation.

“You mean I'm stealing your piece of bread now?” she joked, looking at him with a challenging smile.

Spencer laughed quietly, still holding the slice of bread close to her. “Well, I'm not one to share my sandwich… but I think I can make an exception for you.”

She let go of the bread, laughing, and the two of them continued assembling the sandwiches. While she spread some mustard on the slices, Spencer picked up the pot next to her to pour in the grated cheese, and their arms crossed again, a light touch, but full of tenderness that they both pretended not to notice.

They exchanged glances between casual laughs, the tension between them growing as if each touch were a silent secret.

While she concentrated on spreading the cheese on the bread, Spencer grabbed a handful of flour from the worktop, a spark of mischief forming in his eyes. He waited for the right moment, leaning down next to her, pretending to be interested in what he was doing, until, with one agile movement, he dabbed a little flour on her nose.

She stopped, blinking in surprise. “Spencer Reid, did you really do that?”

He laughed, taking a step back, his hands raised in feigned innocence. “I couldn't resist. You were an easy target.”

She tried to wipe up the flour but ended up spreading even more, which only made him laugh louder. Determined, she picked up a piece of tomato from the board, threatening to throw it at him.

“Don't even think about it.” he warned, laughing, but her defiant tone only encouraged him further. She threw the tomato in his direction, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

“Now it's war.” he joked, leaning towards her, but when she tried to dodge, he pulled her close, their laughter mixing as the space between them shrank, their eyes exchanging sparks in silent banter.

After the little battle with flour and tomatoes, Spencer and his partner were still panting with laughter. The kitchen was filled with a slight mess, scattered ingredients, and a delicious smell in the air. As she tried to catch her breath, Spencer watched her with a satisfied smile, admiring how the strands of hair fell over her face.

“You're a mess,” he said jokingly, running his hand over her cheek, where a little flour was still stuck. She smiled, finding it funny.

“You started it!” she retorted, but she couldn't look away from him, an intensity beginning to take over the space between them.

Spencer didn't withdraw his hand, letting it rest on her cheek for a second longer, their fingers intertwining gently. Their laughter subsided, giving way to a heavy silence where words seemed unnecessary. He stared at her, his gaze deep, as if he were evaluating every fraction of a moment. The warmth of his hands mingled with that of the kitchen itself.

She took a deep breath, a shy smile forming on her lips as the connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment. The touch that had only been playful now seemed deeper, and she wondered if he too felt the same electricity in the air.

“So,” he began, his voice a little lower, almost a whisper, ”what else do you have in mind for our sandwich?”

The moment seemed suspended, and she knew the answer was beyond words. The simplicity of the kitchen was transformed into a space where intimacy flourished, and every beat of their hearts seemed to shout that this moment was even more special.

The tension between them hung in the air, each absorbing the silent energy that pulsed between the touches and glances they exchanged. Spencer was still holding her hand, and slowly, as if time had slowed down, he raised his other hand, sliding it gently under her cheek. The touch was delicate, but the electricity they felt was palpable.

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the sensation to envelop her. Spencer, watching her, realized the fragility of that moment and moved even closer. His hand caressed her cheek, his thumbs gliding gently over the soft skin. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the depth of everything they didn't say in words.

When her eyes opened, she met his, so close that she could feel his breathing. The world around them seemed to disappear, and all that remained was that intense connection. The laughter and jokes had given way to a silence full of unspoken meanings.

“I…” Spencer began, but the words died on his lips. Instead, he leaned in, the distance between them fading. She followed him, their hearts beating in unison, until, without thinking, he ended the distance with a soft kiss. It was a delicate touch, but full of urgency that they had both tried to ignore.

The kiss was a mixture of restrained laughter and silent promises, and she gave in, wrapping her arms around him, and pulling him closer. The warmth of the embrace enveloped her, and at that moment, everything seemed perfect. The kitchen, with its chaos, became the refuge where they could finally be honest, their bodies fitting together perfectly while the world continued outside, but they didn't care.

But suddenly, the shrill sound of the oven timer cut through the romantic atmosphere, echoing through the kitchen like an emergency alarm. Spencer and she moved away quickly, their faces flushed and their eyes wide with surprise.

“Wow, that was… unexpected.” she said, trying to hold back her laughter as she walked away, her lips still slightly tinged with a smile. Spencer let out a laugh, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of playful exasperation.

“I didn't know cooking was so dangerous,” he replied, walking over to the oven and opening the door. The smell of what they were preparing enveloped the kitchen, a mixture of ingredients that now seemed even more delicious after that moment.

She joined him, and they both looked at what they had made, their laughter mixing with the aroma of the sandwich. “Look at that! I don't think we're going to be able to make a perfect sandwich with the mess we've made.” she commented, looking at the flour spread and the traces of tomato on the worktop.

“Ah, but the mess is part of the fun, right?” Spencer said, throwing some flour in the air as if it were confetti. The act made her laugh, the echo of laughter filling the kitchen once again, dissolving any trace of tension.

“You're right! Let's make this sandwich a real work of art… or a masterpiece of mess!” she said, picking up a piece of bread and starting to assemble the ingredients again. Meanwhile, Spencer watched her, admiring the joy she brought to the kitchen and the warmth they still felt from their shared moment.

As they continued to work, their gazes crossed from time to time, carrying the memory of their kiss and the feeling of intimacy that still lingered between them. It was a mixture of playfulness and affection, a light moment that promised more laughter and connections ahead.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 1 day ago

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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 15

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 15

Word Count: 3499

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

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

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Do forgive me for the small chapter... *sigh*

“Cariño, having fun?”

Shit.

“Sir?” You ask, feigning innocence.

“Don’t pretend, darling, it doesn’t suit you.” Doffy takes a step forward, towering over you in an intimidating manner. He has an unsettling grin on his lips and the usual glint in his red eyes. “You and my nephew? You can’t hide that pretty glow.” He purrs and you flush deeper. “Too bad that this time I didn’t get to hear any of your pretty noises…”

Doflamingo keeps circling you as if you were prey. His eyes locked on your form, noticing any shiver, any tremble, any kind of movement that might give anything away. “Of course, we can remedy that, mi querida. Anytime you want.” He leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “You see, while my dear nephew might have advised you to keep quiet, pretending to be sneaky, I would prefer to hear you scream my name loud and clear so every guest knew what I was doing to you and how much you were enjoying it.”

You take a step back, your breath hitching in your throat as your hands clench into fists. “That’s utterly inappropriate, Sir.” Then you try to move forward to get away from his clutches, but he towers over you again.

“That’s not what you want? Because I can figure out what it is.” Cocking his head to the side, he hums lightly, one finger pressed against his lips as if he’s in deep thought. “Is it power, then? Because I can make sure you’re in all the right circles, rubbing shoulders with anyone who matters.”

You stiffen at the implication. He’s trying to fish for information again. You just have to keep steady, there’s nothing to hide. Nothing except the agonising rhythm of your heart, your anxiety clawing its way up your throat, scratching it and making it hard to speak.

“No? Influence, then? I know all the right people. You’d never have to feel unnoticed again.” Raising your chin, you meet his gaze with defiance, showing more bravado than you actually possess. “Money? It has to be money. I can offer you a lifestyle beyond your wildest imagination: beach houses, penthouses, luxury cars, designer clothes… all yours.”

“I don’t want any of that, Doflamingo, Sir.” Your voice shakes a little and you curse under your breath. Doffy caught you at a vulnerable state and you’re still too addled for this to be a fair battle of wits.

“So it’s just the thrill of it?” Doffy starts to circle you again, one of his fingers running along a strand of hair, and you hold your breath. “You are so hard to read, princesa, so, so hard. When I think I have you figured out, you sweep the rug from under me.” He tuts and stops, chin resting on his knuckles, a pensive expression on his face as he looks at you.

“Then there’s Vinsmoke Ichiji. I mean,” he scoffs, “I get why you left him, he’s an asshole. What I don’t get is why you were with him for four years. It just doesn’t add up. What did he give you? What did you gain from that relationship?”

Heartache? Trauma? Pain?

“And what do you want from Law?” Doflamingo almost growls, the smirk now gone, replaced by a frown as he leans down, his face mere inches from yours. “Because I know you weren’t together before this weekend. You weren’t dating.” He raises his hand to stop the words that are about to leave your lips - a weak denial, actually - and he continues. “Don’t deny it, princesa, once again, it doesn’t suit you. I investigated this, whatever you two have, and it happened this weekend. But I want to know why. What do you want from Law?”

You decide not to answer him. Your heart seems ready to jump out of your chest at a moment’s notice, and you’re more flustered now than you were after your little escapade with Law.

“It’s okay, I’ll figure you out, one way or another. You won’t get what you want. I will find out just what makes you tick, and then you’ll fold. They all do.” Doffy’s words are menacing and ominous, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“I’m not hiding anything. I am who I am, and Law and I are together because we care about each other. I am not a puzzle waiting to be solved.” The words leave your lips through clenched teeth. Hard-edged, shaky and defiant, leaving you breathless with the effort of keeping steady.

“Oh, cariño, but you are.” He caresses your cheek, making you hiss and step back. “I will solve you. Don’t worry.” His laugh follows him down the corridor until he disappears around the corner, a hand in the air waving goodbye as you try to catch your breath and calm your unsteady heart.

-*-

You run into Law as you decide to go to the bathroom instead of heading towards the reception area. You’re so deep in your own head that you nearly stumble into him.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, what's going on?”

With a frustrated grunt, you tell him about your encounter with his uncle. “So now we know he knows, plus Ichiji is here, and I’m feeling more and more trapped, Law.” You sigh. “It’s like Doffy won’t relent until he breaks us apart.” Your trembling hands clutch the lapels of Law’s jacket. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Law never wavers. His cool, controlled persona manages to calm your irrational fears and delusions as he brings you closer to him. Amber eyes piercing straight into your soul, keeping you tethered as your lack of control sends you spiralling further away from reality.

“Sweetheart, you won’t lose me.” Law kisses your temple softly. “So what if Doffy knows we weren’t together before? Let him believe what he wants, we’re together now, and we’re leaving tomorrow. Nothing he says or does will keep us apart. Okay?”

You nod, and Law sighs, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. “I should’ve never brought you here. I’m sorry. I knew my uncle was… extra, and I still subjected you to this.”

“Don’t say that.” Your whisper almost gets lost in the confines of his vest, where you have your head buried. “If you hadn’t asked me to do this, ‘we’ might not have happened.”

Law’s chuckle is quite cocksure. “Trust me, sweetheart, ‘we’ would’ve happened. One way or another.” You blush as a smile finally creeps its way onto your lips. The warmth in your chest expanding and taking hold of you. He seems so certain of the possibility of you two as a couple, like nothing could ever stand in your way. It's heartwarming.

It would be so easy… just open your lips and say it: I love you. It’s not that hard. You’re not ripping out a piece of your soul, even if the last person you uttered those words to completely destroyed you.

Law is special.

Just say it.

Say it.

Law cups your cheek and tilts your head so you can face him. “Let’s go back? Get this wedding over and done with so we can finally go home?” You nod, teetering between the lines of the bitter and the sweet. Your words seem trapped, lodged in your throat, held ransom by deep-seated trauma. And yet, you know that you’ve never loved like you love Law. And you know it’s a feeling that will only continue to expand and grow.

But the words remain imprisoned.

-*-

The cake has been cut, the bouquet tossed and the remainder of the night seems to have cooled off all of Doffy’s and Ichiji’s attempts to disrupt your newfound peace. Just another hour or two before you and Law can retire to your room, and then this whole nightmare will be over.

So the dream can finally begin.

It might be silly, since you’re still at the beginning of the relationship, but perhaps because of the romantic vibe of the wedding, you can’t help but think about what your next steps will be. You’ll date, obviously, because you never properly did that; you’ll spend a lot of time together; and then… maybe you can think about living together. Give ‘domestic’ another chance.

You and Law at at the table, resting your feet after standing in heels all day and he’s in the middle of promising you a very long massage once you’re back in your room. His lips hover over your ear as his fingers trace your thigh with a feather-light touch.

“I’m very good with anatomy, you know. I’m a doctor.” He teases, and you giggle, your eyes fixed on his. “I’ll start with your feet - I’m familiar with a lot of acupuncture pressure points, and some of them might bring you interesting sensations - then I’ll climb to your calves, knees…” His fingers trail up your thigh, his gaze mischievous. “Thigh… inner thigh…”

“And…?” You ask, breathless.

Law kisses your face, then your jawline as you turn, letting him catch your lips in a tender kiss. “And I can’t disclose the rest of my plan. I’ll keep it a surprise. I want to hear every little startled gasp that leaves your lips.”

A small chuckle makes your chest tremble. “You tease.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Baby 5 and Sai approaching. They’ve been making rounds to all tables, thanking guests for coming and bestowing little gifts to them as a thank you. Law notices her approaching too, and he leans back slightly, his hand leaving your thigh and with it an empty feeling.

“Soon, sweetheart.”

“Dear cousin!” Baby 5 smiles as Sai holds out a wicker basket of small gifts. “Oh, honey, there aren’t any more of those little whiskey bottles. Could you grab more?” She bats her lashes, and Sai complies, leaving her to engage in small talk with you and Law while he retrieves the gift. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

She actually seems like she’s glowing from all the happiness. You nod excitedly while Law teases her, saying he’s attended better weddings. They banter a little, and you find yourself relaxing some more, hoping the night continues without any more hiccups.

Except, as usual, things don’t go according to plan.

“Oh, I had no idea your girlfriend knew Sai’s groomsman, Ichiji! It all turned out perfectly after all, right?” She says your name and smiles. A pinch of dread twists in your stomach as she turns to the side and waves someone over. It’s Ichiji.

You and Law immediately straighten up in your seats, your relaxed state long forgotten. His arm settles on the back of your chair protectively.

“Ichiji, hi! I was just commenting on how remarkable it is that you two already knew each other. Doesn’t it make things easier?” Ichiji’s smirk reveals his canines, almost as if he’s a predator locking onto his prey, his intense gaze never leaving you.

“Indeed. So remarkable. You know, Baby 5, we go waaaay back.” Ichiji’s stance speaks of provocation, and Law straightens further, his arm brushing your shoulders as you clutch your drink tighter, your jaw locking and legs bouncing restlessly. “Don’t we, Doll?”

Your breath hitches, and you don’t look back at him, but Baby 5 doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort.

“Oh, how fun! You two must have some great stories to share, no? How’d you two meet?” Closing your eyes and holding your breath, you just will this moment to come to an end. Perhaps if you pray hard enough, Sai will come back with the gifts, and the bride and groom can go on their merry way.

Even without looking, you can feel Ichiji’s smugness as he slowly sips his drink. “We met in college. Those days were wild… the stories we could tell…”

“I don’t think anybody wants to listen to that, Vinsmoke.” Law’s voice cuts as sharp as a knife, though he has perfect control over its tone.

“Oh, come on, Trafalgar. I’m sure she didn’t share everything. Isn’t there anything you want to know about her wild days in college?” Memories come rushing back, and most of them are painful and demeaning. It seems that, even if there were some good moments at the start of your relationship with Ichiji, they were all drowned when he tainted everything with his manipulation and cruelty.

Your breath comes out in shaky gasps, and Law’s hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulder blade. “She told me all I need to know. Even if she didn’t, there’s nothing you can say that will interest me.” Law’s words are delivered with more calm and ice than you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s also an undercurrent of danger pulsating beneath. His protective instincts are kicking in, and you can sense him itching to act on it.

Baby 5 keeps smiling, though it seems a little strained now that she senses some sort of tension between the three of you. “Wait… I don’t understand. Were you two…?” She trails off, her eyes darting from Ichiji’s smug look to Law’s protective stance, then to your cowering form. Her brows raise in slow realisation and Ichiji interjects.

“Yes. We were in love, once. Engaged to be married, even. Small world, indeed, isn’t that right, Doll?”

You squirm in your seat, and Baby 5’s expression shifts to horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Her gaze keeps darting between Law and yours. “I didn’t know! I never meant to make things awkward!” She laces her arm through Ichiji’s trying to drag him away from the scene, but he doesn’t budge.

“What do you mean, awkward? Not at all! We were just planning our future together, laying the foundations for our dream life. We were even discussing kids, right?” You can’t help it, your gaze falls back on his as all the colour drains from your face. How dare he?

You can barely breathe. The air is stifling, the heat overwhelming and the memories don’t stop. The word ‘Doll’ resounds in your head over and over as do his lies and manipulations. The clenching of your chest at how he made you feel, the powerlessness you had and all the power he held over you.

It’s too much.

All colours start to blur together, the room spins as you try to catch your breath, anxiety kicking in. In a second Law is up on his feet, pulling you up by the hand and supporting your weight against him.

He pins Ichiji in his cold gaze and practically snarls, his control slipping. “I warned you to stay the fuck away, Vinsmoke.”

Baby 5 looks mortified, she keeps trying to pull Ichiji but Law is already ushering you away from the table since you seem unable to do much more than stand. “Ichiji, let’s go, please. I didn’t know! I’m sorry.”

“Oh, come on, Baby 5. Don’t worry, we were just reminiscing about the good times. No harm, no foul, right, Doll? I mean… she was mine first.” Your chest keeps tightening as the room becomes smaller, constricting, suffocating. Bringing your hand to your neck you try to claw for air.

Before leaving, Law’s towering frame seems to engulf Ichiji’s. In his gaze there’s an unspoken warning as he delivers his words with a calmness you would never be able to achieve. “You’re done here, Vinsmoke, but I am not done with you yet.”

The warning lingers in the air as Law steadies you, his hand on your waist, and leads you away from the table, away from Baby 5, away from Ichiji, and away from all the painful memories.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Focus on me.”

But you can’t. The room is spinning out of control, and Ichiji’s manic laugh is all you can seem to focus on. His words, his empty promises, his threats, and fake concern. It’s a whirlwind of dizzying thoughts, and you don’t know how to get out.

You can feel yourself fighting for air, gasping because nothing seems to fill up your lungs. And suddenly you’re swaying in Law’s arms. He’s taken you to the dance floor, pulling you closer to him as his arms ground you.

“You’re safe. I’m here. He’s gone.” His hand presses against the back of your head, pulling you to his chest so you can follow the beat of his own heart and try to steady your own. Slowly, you start to hear the soft music over Ichiji’s laughter. Law’s voice pulls you out, keeping you centred. “He’ll never touch you again. You were never his.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you slowly feel yourself gaining ground. Your lungs are functioning again, and your heart beat is steadying. There’s nothing you can do to stop the tremble in your hands, though, so you just clutch Law’s jacket as tightly as you can, burying your face in him and inhaling his soothing scent, again and again.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re such a mess. You’ve already lost count of how many times Law has had to bring you down from your panic. It’s a full-time job for him now, and you feel the need to say you’re sorry. Would he still want you if he knew how badly damaged you were? You might be in too deep now, but there’s always time for him to regret his decision.

You sniffle, and a whimper leaves your lips. Law keeps swaying you.

“How about a little distraction, hm?” Ever the attentive man, Law senses that words alone won’t stabilise you. “Let’s play a game, sweetheart, okay?” He tilts your chin so you’ll have to focus on his eyes.

“Game?” How foreign your voice sounds. Shaky, weak, trembling and fragile.

“Yeah.” He smiles gently, placing a small peck on your nose, trying to coax a smile from your lips. You try to focus, the bad memories slowly slipping away. “I bet I can make you smile before the song ends.”

It’s such a silly notion that it manages to shake you back to your senses, though the trembling still hasn’t subsided. “Make me smile?”

“Sure. If I manage to make you smile three times before we end our dance, I win.”

Your brows furrow in concentration. “And what happens if you win?”

“Bragging rights.” You twitch the corner of your lip but it’s not quite a smile, so he continues. “Fine. You’ll have to admit that you like me way more than you let on.”

Yeah, you do. So much more.

The first smile fully curves your lips upwards as you let out a breathy laugh, and Law’s posture loses some of its stiffness. “That’s one.” He grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Some of the tension begins to dissipate, and the weight pressing on your chest feels lighter. Your fingers are no longer clutching Law’s jacket for dear life. “Fair enough. What if I win?”

“Hmmm…” Law looks up, seemingly thinking of something to make you laugh again. Then a mischievous smirk fills his lips, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I’ll let you be on top.”

Your breath hitches, and even when you try to fight it, a laugh escapes your lips as a flush fills your cheeks.

“Two.” Law pulls you closer, the intensity in his gaze returning. He sways you some more before kissing the top of your head and voicing his thoughts, “I’m not going to let him near you again, sweetheart. I’m sorry he ever did.”

You nod, feeling the knot in your stomach finally start to unravel. Law’s soothing words manage, once again, to ground you and to make you feel appreciated. The burning in your eyes and the tears that threatened to spill recede, and you feel more at ease.

“I trust you, Law.”

Law smiles, and the music begins to fade in the background. “One more?” He playfully asks, and as you’re about to retort that he’s out of time, he dips you, suddenly and too low. A squeak leaves your lips at the surprise, followed by a heartfelt laugh. When you look into his eyes, he’s grinning. “Three.”

“You’re ridiculous, Law.” You chuckle as he pulls you upright. He looks utterly pleased with himself, smug and cocky.

“Maybe, but I won.” The song has ended, but you’re still wrapped up in his arms.

“You did.” A sigh leaves your lips. “Thank you.”

“So you’re feeling better?” His thumb caresses your cheek, his lips inches from yours. You hum in agreement to his question. “Good. My reward?”

You flush deeply, lost in the amber of his eyes. Your stomach twists and coils, and your heart thrums faster than ever. But it’s not an overwhelming, disturbing feeling. It’s freeing, uplifting, and so damn satisfying.

“I love you, Law.” The words seem weightless, a whisper that carries all of your emotion. Law receives them with a soft smile, his eyes shining brightly as he leans even closer, breaths mingling, making your lips tingle, anticipating his kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

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chibinasuu · 2 days ago

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The Lady at Baratie | バラティエのお嬢さん

From One Piece Novel: Straw Hat Stories by Ōsaki Tomohito

❗IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER❗

This is not my story. I just translated the original story written by Ōsaki Tomohito (大崎知仁) from Japanese into English. This is Sanji’s storyline that was included in One Piece Novel: Straw Hat Stories, but didn’t make it into the One Piece Fan Letter episode. It was first published in One Piece Magazine vol. 2, which is where I got the original text from for this translation.

This is just a fan translation. I am not a native Japanese speaker (or a native English speaker, for that matter) nor am I a professional translator. My credential is as far as a JLPT N2 certificate, so please forgive any inaccuracies or awkwardness in the translation.

I’d be thrilled if you share this by reblogging within tumblr, but I'd appreciate it if you don’t copy and repost, or share this translation outside of this website.

Now, on to the story. Enjoy!

──── I ────

An apéritif of sparkling wine to stimulate the appetite, then an appetizer of dry-cured ham and fruits. Delicious, as expected. The second course was a seafood tomato soup, with just the perfect touch of acidity.

If you shift your gaze out the window, a view of the cloudless sky and the calm sea spread out before you, which, coupled with the distant call of the seagulls, soothes the heart that had been worn down by life on solid land.

Good food, good location. Yes, it had been a long time since I visited the Baratie, but it really was incomparable!

However, there was one little thing holding me back from freely enjoying myself today.

That one little thing, was sitting right before me.

“Hmm, yes, this place is quite alright, isn’t it? The way I see it, the alcohol and ingredients they use here are not half bad either. But, you see, there’s this other restaurant I know which I would rather recommend to you. Well, it is fairly more high-end than this place, yes, but I happen to know the owner. So, if you would like to visit, I can make a reservation straight away...”

“Oh yes, I see… Is that right?” I threw in some offhand responses at appropriate times as he rambled on. Behind the cover of a napkin, I let out a deep sigh.

This man, who had only been excessively talking about himself, was my companion for today’s meal (to emphasize, this was not a date, just a meeting over a meal). I wasn’t even sure anymore how I first met him – I think he probably approached me at a party, or something like that. Ever since then, he had been endlessly persistent in asking me out for a meal, even after I refused him every single time. I admit it was my mistake that I finally gave up and said okay this time.

Since I wasn’t looking forward to the meal in the first place anyway, I thought at the very least I should be allowed to choose the restaurant myself. So, I made a reservation at the floating restaurant “Baratie”, which I had recently been visiting less and less due to my busy schedule. Today happened to be the day of that reservation.

The man had his hair slicked back with a heavy coat of styling gel. A gold handkerchief was tucked in the front pocket of his bright, crimson suit. How do I say it, everything about this guy was just gaudy. Loud. And although he had been running his mouth off the whole time, all he talked about was,

“There’s this singer that I know—“

“There’s this building that I own—“

“There’s this dog I got that costs six hundred thousand berries a head—“

Me, me, me. It was a never-ending onslaught of boastful speeches about himself. I wished I could put him on mute just by pressing those flashy cufflinks of his.

My rare chance to dine at the Baratie – my long-overdue meal at the Baratie had lost half its charms with Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist over here as my dining companion.

Right now, a monologue about “this movie starring my bro’s wife’s sister” was taking place in front of me. I put on my imaginary earplugs and shut out the noise, deciding to focus on my meal instead.

It was then that I realized. The Baratie was unusually quiet today – well, aside from this self-absorbed prick sitting before me. After taking a quick, casual look around the restaurant, I figured out the reason why.

Just as I thought. He wasn’t here.

That waiter, always in his black suit with a cigarette hanging between his lips… No, not a waiter. I believe he called himself the sous chef.

Sanji was nowhere to be seen today.

Beyond his cooking skills, he was infamous at the Baratie for being a notorious skirt-chaser who was always indiscriminately hitting on all the female customers. As for myself, it wasn’t just once or twice that I was on the receiving end of Sanji’s flirting.

And just so you know, it wasn’t just three or four times either.

“Oh, what a beautiful lady! It’s your first time here, isn’t it? Hm, did you come alone today? That won’t do. Shall I accompany you for a glass of wine after your meal?”

“This sherbet – you better eat it quick before it melts from the heat of my passion for you.”

“Oh, you’re a fashion designer? Then, maybe I should ask you to design a suit for me! Could you take my measurements now? Should I take my clothes off? Should I strip down?”

He was pompous, and foolish, and perverted. But, somehow, he was also the kind of man that was just impossible to hate.

On top of that, this Sanji was also famous for the strength of his legs.

All kinds of customers dine at the Baratie, not excluding rude and bad-mannered ones. If a customer’s ill behavior went too far, Sanji would deliver a powerful kick to their table, or even to the patrons themselves. I had only seen it once. A huge drunk man, who was loudly making a scene and even reaching out to steal food from a neighboring table, fell victim to Sanji’s leather shoes and ended up sprawled on the floor, “If you could please kindly shut the fuck up, Sir.”

Well, if he wasn’t here, then he wasn’t here. But for me, who he always flirted with every time I came here, a Baratie without Sanji just felt like it was lacking something.

“...and that’s how it is! Funny, right?”

Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist was leering at me with a smug look on his face, and I instinctively leaned back. Danger, danger. It took everything in me not to jab my fork into his forehead.

His story seemed to have reached its punchline, and he was waiting for my reaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear a shit of what you just said,” was what I would’ve liked to tell him.

But in reality, all I could say to him was, “Right. So funny. Hahaha…”

──── II ────

“Some customers really have no manners,” Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist grumbled upon returning from the restroom.

“There was a customer smoking at the table over there. I think smoking while eating ruins the taste of the food, and to boot, it’s just a nuisance to the other customers. If you ask me, people who smoke are the biggest of idiots. You think so too, don’t you?”

“Yes, well…”

“That’s a reasonable opinion, but if you ask me, that nasty cologne you’re wearing smells just as bad as the smoke! It’s so bad that I want to dunk you with seawater right now just to get rid of it!”

But of course, I could only say that in my mind.

We had just finished the main dish of our full course meal (Sautéed Elephant Bluefin Tuna in Olive Oil – so rich and delicious), and now, dessert had just been served. All that was left was for us to enjoy the lingering sensation of a good meal over a coffee or a digestif… or at least we were supposed to. But with this Fancy-haired Narcissist sitting before me, my patience was quickly running out.

This won’t do. I need a change of scene.

“Oh, going to the restroom? Take your time.”

As I placed my napkin on the chair and stood up, the self-absorbed prick gave me a wink. I gave him a reluctant smile in return (while inside, I stuck my tongue out at him), and left my seat.

Instead of going to the restroom, I went out to the deck instead, thinking I might try to find Sanji there. But, as expected, he was nowhere to be found either.

As I leaned against the railing and listened to the whistle of a distant merchant ship, I wished I could just stay out here for the rest of the day, feeling the wind on my skin. The gentle sea breeze carried my sigh away. Out of the blue, a shadow appeared on my left, accompanied by a telltale clunk.

A ridiculously long chef’s hat, a braided beard. The clunk I heard was the sound of a prosthetic leg hitting the deck. Zeff, the owner and head chef of the Baratie, was standing next to me. We had exchanged casual greetings a few times before. Zeff had his arms crossed and was staring off into the distance with a sour look on his face.

“Are you on your break?”

I didn’t know why I spontaneously called out to him — maybe I was just longing for a conversation that wasn’t shallow and superficial like the ones I’d been having all day.

Zeff answered while still gazing at the ocean, “No, I just needed to check something.”

“Check something?”

“Yes. I have to feel the wind – whether it is dry or humid, warm or cold – to determine the way we should prepare the food today.”

“You can’t make good food just by staying locked up in the galley,” Zeff said with a small laugh. “You on a date, young miss? Seems like you came here with a man.”

“Uh, well, you know,” I stammered. I wanted to explain that it wasn’t a date, just a meeting over a meal, but the words couldn’t quite come out. As more seconds ticked by, even if I gave any additional explanation, it would have just come across as unconvincing. So I didn’t, and asked him a question instead.

“Is Sanji-san taking a day off today?”

“Sanji?”

Zeff glanced at me, “Well if it’s him you’re looking for, I’m afraid he ain’t here. He’s out – to find the All Blue.”

“All Blue?”

When I blinked in confusion, Zeff faintly smiled and explained, “Young miss, you don’t read the papers much, do you? That brat Sanji, he’s a pirate now. He’s in Straw Hat Luffy’s crew – that kid who wants to become the King of the Pirates. Ever heard of him?”

The Straw Hat Pirates. The name seemed familiar, but I didn’t know much about them. I was honestly surprised. Who would’ve thought that playboy would end up becoming a pirate?

“So, Sanji-san won’t be coming here for a while then?”

“Yeah, I guess he won’t. Not until the Straw Hats’ adventures reach its end, at least.”

“Oh, I see…”

Even I was taken aback at how low-spirited my reply sounded. Flustered, I tried to regain a lighthearted tone, “Everyone must miss him now that he’s gone, no? Sanji-san was a very lively person, wasn’t he?”

“Miss him? Don’t be stupid.”

Zeff laughed. “It’s actually a relief that the foolish eggplant is gone. He was just a walking, overdressed nuisance after all.”

His description made me burst into laughter. I certainly got the feeling that wherever Sanji went, trouble would follow.

“And yet,” Zeff said as he stepped away from the railing, “That brat is still causing trouble for us even after he’s gone.”

“Even after he’s gone?” I asked, but Zeff was already heading toward the door leading to the inside of the restaurant without saying another word.

──── III ────

When I finally returned to my seat, I was met with a surprise.

“Um… what is this?”

“My feelings. Accept it, won’t ya?”

On top of the table, his feelings – a ring adorned with a large jewel – sat in its case, glaring at me.

“Ah, there’s no particular deep meaning behind it or anything! I just want to commemorate this first day with you, since I’m looking forward to spending more wonderful times with you from now on.”

Then, he winked.

No. No, no, no. I pressed my hand to my forehead and hung my head.

“Hey, hey, hey! Are you so happy that you cried? Oooh, I’m in trouble!”

No, that wasn’t it! I could only shake my head.

On the first date (or rather, first meal together), he suddenly gifted me a ring. Moreover, the ring was so bulky it could probably be used as a weapon. Oh, hell no. I can’t take this anymore – this ring, and this man too.

A memory suddenly popped up into my tired, dejected mind – of a different “jewel” that Sanji had given me some time ago.

Once when I came here for lunch, due to a slip-up, the wine I ordered that was listed as available on the menu turned out to be out of stock. At that time, Sanji offered me a complimentary Fruit Macedonia as a token of apology.

“I hope you’ll accept this. Although this can’t possibly compare with your radiance and vibrance–”

His flattery aside, the Macedonia he brought over to me – garnished with a waft of smoke from his cigarette – was of the highest luxury. From the glassware and the way it was presented, to the vibrant colors of the fruits – it was like looking at a box of jewels.

I couldn’t help but compare the “jewel” that had captivated me at that time, and the jewel that was currently glittering on the table before me. The prices of those two jewels must have been in very different leagues, but so were the impressions they left on my heart.

“You’re gonna accept this, right?”

He gave me a look that clearly expected me to, as he waited for my answer.

I took a deep breath as I prepared to firmly set things straight with him, “Well, I–” but my voice was drowned out by a sudden loud bang of a door being kicked open.

The group that stormed into the restaurant was instantly recognizable as pirates at first glance. Their sunburned faces were crooked with vicious looks, and every one of them was carrying weapons. The customers seated by the door screamed and scattered at the sudden intrusion, which had the cooks rushing out of the kitchen.

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“Is it a raid?”

Leading the charge was a cook with a twisted headband around his shaved head and another cook with sunglasses on.

Patty and Carne. I only knew their names because I’d seen Sanji argue with those two countless times before.

“Ughh… Haaa…”

I was wondering what made that trembling sound when I realized that it was the self-absorbed prick beside me. The poor guy’s face was drained of color, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish out of water, and he’d fallen halfway off his chair.

Oh, but it sure was strange. I was quite certain he told me some kind of heroic tale earlier about how “I did boxing when I was a kid, and I once KO’d three, no, I think it was seven, pirates at once.”

There were roughly a dozen pirates in the group, and a man with a mohawk, who seemed to be the captain, kicked over a nearby table and yelled, “Cooks! Bring me all the food and booze you have! Now!”

Then, with a grin, he continued, “Don’t try to put up a pointless resistance. I already knew, see? That crazy strong bastard Sanji isn’t here anymore, right?”

“If he ain’t here then so what, you son of a bitch!”

“That lousy cook had no fighting skills to begin with!”

Patty and Carne yelled in return, brandishing their giant pitchforks.

The sea of cooks parted at the clunking of Zeff’s prosthetic leg. He stepped forward slowly, snorting at the sight of the pirates, “Hmph. Some thugs again? How bothersome. Did you think you could easily take on Baratie now that Sanji’s not here?”

“Oh look, it’s Red-Leg Zeff. What can a senile, old ex-pirate do, huh?”

Mohawk Man’s remark was bold, but for just a moment, a hint of fear was apparent in his voice and expression. No one could deny that the Owner’s presence sure was intimidating.

At that moment, I also realized the meaning of his puzzling words from earlier, how he said that Sanji still brought trouble even after he was gone.

Long story short, it seemed like these types of scoundrels would frequently come and attack Baratie, taking advantage of Sanji’s absence. It must be a pain to deal with these good-for-nothings, who may not even have dared come if Sanji had been here.

Zeff continued, “If you’re here as a paying customer, then I’ll bring you as much food and booze as you’d like. If not, then get lost.”

“Oh, I’ll pay… with this,” Mohawk Man said, drawing a pistol from his belt.

“I see how it is.” Zeff nodded and commanded the cooks standing by, “Please escort him out, boys.”

The Owner’s words acted as a signal, and with a battle cry, the cooks clashed with the pirates.

──── IV ────

The skirmish was over in no time at all.

I didn’t know whether it was because the pirates were weak or the cooks were strong, or maybe it was both, but within a matter of minutes, all of the pirates were taken out and thrown overboard into the ocean like rotten leftover ingredients.

Ah, by the way, Mr. I-KO’d-Seven-Pirates snatched the ring and skedaddled as soon as the battle started. I didn’t get the chance to say “See you never!” to him in the end, but oh well.

The cooks were no strangers to fighting, and they were also used to putting the restaurant back together in the aftermath. Efficiently, they worked to replace the broken tables and chairs with new ones. It’s not as if I wanted to thank them for the spectacle or anything, but I found myself also helping to put the knocked-over tables back up.

Then, I heard Zeff’s voice, “Apologies, young miss. What a pity that your nice date got ruined.”

I turned around and smiled at him, “No worries. I was planning to never see him again after today anyway. Besides, I was lucky to be able to witness Baratie’s famous ‘fighting cooks’ before my very eyes.”

Zeff chuckled, “Hmph, you’ve got a lot of guts, young lady. It must be hard to find a man that can match up to you.”

I was about to make a joke about how I doubt such a man actually exists, when a face suddenly popped into my mind – a certain chain-smoking sous chef.

That’s ridiculous, I shook my head, but the image had planted itself in my head and refused to leave.

My heart beat just a little bit faster.

Zeff continued, “Well, this is the Baratie. Stuff like this will definitely happen again in the future. Anyhow, make sure to bring a tougher fellow with you next time.”

“Hm, I wonder. I don’t think any man will be coming with me next time, though.”

Then – a little surprised at my own boldness – I added mysteriously,

“The man won’t be coming with me. After all, I’ll be meeting him here, at the restaurant.”

Zeff tilted his head in confusion, but I didn’t indulge him with any further explanation.

☆ translator notes:

I want to stress that not everything here was a literal word-for-word translation. I did take some liberties with some of the translations since Japanese is a very nuanced and complex language, of which lots of vocabulary and grammar do not have a direct English equivalent. But, of course, I tried to remain as faithful as possible to the source material.

One of the things I contemplated the most was how to translate the lady’s nickname for her “date”. The lady, in her inner monologue, always referred to the unnamed man as 「おれ様オールバック」 (ore-sama allback) or 「おれ様」 (ore-sama).

Wikipedia translates 「おれ様」 (ore-sama) to “my esteemed self”. Basically, it’s a personal pronoun that indicates extreme arrogance and self-centeredness. The man did not use this personal pronoun himself – he just used 「おれ」 (ore) throughout the story – but the lady here is mocking him for his self-centeredness. The translation I decided on for “ore-sama allback” was “Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist” (“allback” means slicked-back hair, referring to the man’s hairstyle), while I translated “ore-sama” to “self-absorbed prick”.

They were pretty liberal translations because I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to convey those phrases in English, but I hope that was an okay interpretation!

#one piece #one piece fanletter #one piece fan letter #op fan letter #straw hat stories #sanji #opla sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #chibinasuu translates

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uzurimisery · 3 days ago

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this time. / shoei baro x reader

Very rare BLLK piece from me

w.c: 0.8k

Written for the @pixelcafe-network Friday Challenge #5

It’s strangely easy to pack your bags. It should be harder you reckon- you can still remember moving into his apartment. Putting your stuff away, tucking in pieces of yourself into pieces of him. The mixing of yours and his becoming ours.

A sort of languid sadness has been settled in your bones for the past three days but has contorted, and hardened into anger. Or maybe it has sucked up any other emotion you might have felt towards him, chewed it up, and left you void of feeling. Apathy. That’s what you’re feeling.

The sweaters take up the most room so you pull them out and put them into one of those vacuum bags to shrink them down. Some things are too big in the compress cubes, so vacuum bags. Stuff them full, zip them up, suck the air out, and hope you haven’t shoved too much down that it doesn’t burst at the seams.

That’s the point you were at. Too much shoving things down, down, down, that they melted under pressure and now you felt like a volcano about to burst when you first saw the lipstick on the collar of his shirt. It erupted out of you in a screaming match with him that resulted in him leaving the apartment, telling you to “cool off.”

But again it’s no longer anger, that burned out after the first night. Now it was just apathy.

Apathy to how easy it was for him to continually lie to you. Apathy to how he always promised change. Apathy to how you’d take one step forward and five steps back with him. Apathy to how everyone looked at you with pity. Apathy for how much you’ve struggled to try and change yourself to better fit his tastes again.

Apathy.

You supposed it’s better this way, stops the cutting edge of the knife of failure from stabbing too deeply.

“You actually leaving?” Shoei has just come into the apartment, still wearing his coat with a dozen roses bunched up in his arm. His version of an apology you suppose. You don’t even like roses.

“Yes. I am.”

He leans against the door frame and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “That’s what you said last time.”

“This time I mean it.”

“Sure you do.” It's careless, light, dismissive, the same way he’s always brushes it off. It's impressive how he always does that. It’s depressing that he treats you like this.

You slam the suitcase shut. “I do.”

Shoei comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Surprising, just how much has changed in the past six months. You never thought that him touching you would make you feel disgusted when it used to feel like home. “Let me make it up to you.” He punctuates each word with a kiss on your neck and it makes you squirm.

How many other women has he kissed the same way?

“Don’t touch me.” You slide out of his arms and yank the suitcase from the bed.

“C’mon, doll, why are you acting like this? Let me make it up to you.” He scoffs as you shrug him off again. The mask slips just a bit and you can see his complete disregard, how he really isn’t sorry for what he’s done. “Jesus okay I’m sorry, it was an honest mistake. I was drunk and she looked like you. Tell me what I need to do to make it up to you?”

“No Sho, there’s not making it up to me. I’m done this time. For real.” It sounds like it doesn’t come from your body. Like it’s an outside source talking. So final.

“You said that last time. And the time before that.” There's anger brewing in him with the sharp draw of his brown and how his voice picks up in volume, how it gets sharper. “Reality is you’ll come back here crawling, crying, telling me you’re sorry, I’ll forgive you, and then we fuck and were good for a couple of months. Why don’t we just skip the drama, get to fucking, and then go to breakfast? I’ll even buy you those new earrings you’ve been eyeing.”

You don’t move but your shoulders tense. How many times have you done this dance with him to where he thinks it's okay to talk to you like this now? Where is your self-respect? But he’s not wrong. Every time you did come back on your knees and beg for him to love you again.

“Hate me all you want. You know I’m right.” He’s behind you again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head like he always has.

“No,” You pull forward, unlock the door and open it. “Not this time.”

It slams shut behind you.

©️ uzuzrimisery

#uzuri writes #bllk imagine #bllk x reader #bllk scenario #barou x reader #barou x you #barou shoei x reader #barou shoei x you #shoei baro x reader #shoei baro x you

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maeiia18 · 7 months ago

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SCREAM IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

I said this in my twitter and I'll say it again, while i cant deny that Deruth is a bad father to Cale, he still supported him from afar (like the emotionally constipated person he is—).

Like, even with Drew still in the picture (if i remember correctly), he was still a bit awkward with Cale and only really connected with him through Drew. And after her death, the misunderstandings and miscommunication between them grew and grew.

(Imo, even in the present he's still connecting with Cale mostly through Violan and the kids' cues)

He was also grieving for his wife and coped the only way he knew, by isolating himself from everyone and breaking down in his sorrows. As much as it is a bad move to just basically abandon your child to deal with their grief, and seek his own happiness after without any thought of his child's feelings about it— he's also just a person. And people have flaws and make mistakes, just like we do.

(Would you like physical reminders of your dead lived one? The ones they left behind? Would you just brush your grief off easily and live normally with them gone? No? Everyone grieves differently, and Deruth was at his lowest point at the time. Ofc he would act like that)

Did he treat Cale like this way too long? Yes. But again, he wasn't 100% at fault in this. They both failed to communicate with each other, assumed each other's actions wrong, and tried to protect the other in their own way. Deruth and Cale still LOVED each other, they just couldn't do it properly.

(The family was also constantly being scrutinized by others, be it the public, extended family, or the nobles. So thats that)

It's a MIRACLE that he didn't make Cale do the things his late wife did so that he thinks she was still there (wearing dresses, growing out his hair, etc.). Or changed who he was/kicked him out so that he doesn't have a physical reminder of his late wife. Or even (wrongly) blamed him for her death.

Its a MIRACLE he spoiled Cale and gave him what he (supposedly) wanted. That he goes above and beyond to try and make his son happy. That he makes it so Cale lives comfortably, safely, and freely to his own desires.

Even in irl, there's many people like this (i can personally attest to that). And while it hurts sometimes, its still miles better than what others have. He shows his love in his own way, and i can live with it.

Saw hate on Deruth and like cmon guys

Deruth is the Asian dad :)

He neglected Cale emotionally but (unlike a certain King who is wealthier than most noblemen) Deruth also spoiled Cale a lot

New clothes, glimmering accessories, A LITERAL PRIVATE LIBRARY FOR HIM AND ONLY HIM

And Cale's food is always on top

Cale doesn't like the food he is served??, OKAY fire the chef, get him another perfect plate

Vicross is still standing and working because he's Ron's son and his food is "decent"

Oh but Deruth let Cale drink and become an alcoholic and does nothing about it 🥺

Pls 😭 stfu

Cale likes to drink, and he lets Cale drink

It's the only few things Cale likes

But he neglected Cale health 🥺

Girl this is a fantasy world, there's no doctor lmao

Cale needs and wants are met,, Cale lives comfortably in his house, safe and warm

Deruth is the dad who would buy the whole store

Cale: Can you get me uhh coke

Deruth: Ok *buys the whole company*

Cale: no

Come argue with me we'll fight to the death

#Lcf #Lcf rant #deruth henituse #og cale henituse #I wrote this sleep deprived #And about 1-2 years out of the fandom #So forgive me for any mistakes on this take #But im still pretty neutral on deruth #I dont like him but i dont hate him either #Hes JUST A MAN #Also hi sha-unnie (if you still remember me)#This rant (read: word vomit) was a mess istg

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ratinayellowbandana · 10 months ago

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Hound "baby boy" of Ill Omen for prompts!

first off, thank you for carrying this whole ship on your back. you are our strongest soldier and we appreciate you.

second, even more thanks for sending this my way! I hope this is something like what you had in mind!

if anyone else sees this and would like to toss a little prompt my way, feel free :)

wc: 934

cw: body horror…kind of? it’s just canonically what the good boy looks like

~~~

Imogen loves Laudna. She does. Quite a lot, in fact.

Because it is a fact.

It may as well be written in stone. In the stars. Recorded on one of those dusty scrolls in elegant script and stuck on a shelf in some stuffy library for the next bored student who may happen across it and learn of two witches who saved the world.

Laudna, it must be noted, is a woman of many quirks.

And Imogen, it must be noted, adores her for them.

They are just as much a part of Laudna as the angle of her nose, the brightness in her eyes. As are her projects, macabre and scrounged as they often are, and so Imogen adores them, too.

(If it takes her a moment to come around, Laudna must never know. Each new creation, presented to Imogen with all the glee of a child in a sweets shop, will only ever be met with enthusiasm. Laudna, she knows, has spent too long squirreling away the odd parts of herself. Imogen is determined to recover them.)

“Come here, darling,” Laudna calls, and the flesh-and-bone creature that scared the everloving fuck out of Imogen the first time he burst from his maker’s chest trots happily to her side, tongue lolling from a fleshless snout.

The hound twines between Laudna’s legs, and she lifts her skirts to allow him through. He leans heavily against the inside of her knee, and Laudna beams. She bends at the waist to wrap the creature in spindly arms. His back arches, and Imogen can hear the vertebrae curving, clacking, as Laudna scratches behind his one intact ear. The ichor-tipped remnant of a tail begins to wag, shaking them both with the force of it.

He spots Imogen several paces away, and his green eyes glow, peering at her curiously.

Laudna has stopped her scritches, and the hound tilts his big head. Laudna looks up, meets Imogen’s fond gaze, and her lips split into a wide grin.

“Go on,” she pats the creature’s sides encouragingly, “say hello if you like.”

The hellhound bounds forward, released from his command.

Imogen recalls the day he learned his tricks.

Laudna had found Imogen lounging beneath a copse of trees one afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to sink, casting the forest in dappled shades of orange and gold. The festering hound loped diligently at her heels. His paws colored the leaf-strewn ground iridescent black in their wake.

“Look!” Laudna had said, chest puffed. She turned to her newest creation and pointed one finger. “You’ve been so obedient all afternoon. I’ll see about giving you something from my collection if your other mom approves of your skills. I should have a deer leg that will suit you nicely.” She contemplated for a moment. “Ready?”

The hound stretched into a bow, muscle snapping over exposed bone, yawned, and shook. Drops of blood and ichor spattered the clearing, but Imogen hardly noticed, too caught up in Laudna’s casual statement.

She had said it nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just gifted Imogen something extraordinarily precious. As if Imogen’s senses hadn’t suddenly gone askew. As if she hadn’t just sent Imogen’s worldview slip-sliding into something new and dangerous and so welcome that it felt like a homecoming. Her mind spun until she was almost giddy with it. She wondered, then, how something said so simply could feel so significant. If Laudna understood what she had done.

She had appointed Imogen the caretaker of a fragment of her soul. Of a creature that had been born of her, born from her. Crafted from the essence of her with whispered words and a desire to protect.

“Imogen?” Laudna had said then, “Are you ready?”

And Imogen had glanced between Laudna and her hound, who sat on bleeding haunches and looked expectantly at his mother, and it was all she could do to swallow the creak in her throat.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

Now, as the hound nearly bowls her over, Imogen cannot find it within herself to be mad at him. Not even at the dark stains on her dress. They’ll come out with a prestidigitation or two. She knows from experience.

She falls back in the grass and stares down twin emeralds. A broad tongue laps the side of her face, and she laughs, trying to dodge a cold, wet nose against her cheek. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his muzzle.

“Hi, baby boy,” she coos. She rubs at his ears, and he presses harder into her palm, groaning loudly. She can feel the vibration in her chest.

Laudna scolds, “What have I said about knocking people over?” Her hands rest firmly on her hips. “Honestly, Imogen, you could at least discipline him. How will he learn?”

Imogen rolls her eyes, shrugs. “I’m the fun mom. He comes to me because he knows he can’t get away with anything when you’re around.”

Laudna huffs. “I’m sorry that I want our son to be civilized.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” The hound flops to the ground, sprawling over Imogen’s outstretched legs, and she lets out an oomph of surprise. “Are you going to join us down here?”

Laudna sighs and settles beside Imogen, resting her head on Imogen’s shoulder. She runs her hands over the creature’s exposed belly, avoiding the biggest of the perpetually oozing wounds. His jaw unhinges happily. His tail thumps a steady rhythm against her shin.

Imogen presses a kiss to the top of Laudna’s head, and Laudna relaxes into her.

A soft smile spreads across Imogen’s lips.

#this was written in an hour on the highway so please forgive any mistakes #I adore the baby boy #but for real many thanks for letting me take a stab at this #always honored to see you pop up in my notes :)#hope this works!#prompt fill #my fic #imodna #imodna fanfic #critical role #laudna #imogen temult #hound of ill omen #fic #cr3 #critical role fanfiction #ask #horse-immorality

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llondonfog · 1 year ago

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twst (horror) tober — day 1 (listen)

and we're back for round 2!! to keep my sanity this year, i'm going to do my best to keep prompts to ~500 words. if some go longer, then more delight for us all, but this is to keep my expectations manageable and who knows? perhaps i might come back to some of these prompts the way that i still am so very fond of 2022's twstober drabbles :) anyways, i do hope you enjoy the first day's piece! (fun fact: this is a snippet from a fic idea i have buried away....) and of course, these will eventually go up on ao3 when i have the time<3

➤ Day 1: Listen | "Listen to me!"

Sebek is haunted.

Not in the way that his family and friends and neighbors who pass him by on the street and cast him pitying, sorrowful glances think— but oh, how he wishes that he was.

He hears their whispers and murmured commiseration, the hushed voices that speak of a lonely boy lost to the clutches of the unforgiving woods. They shake their heads weighed with grief like the cattails by the river, unable to imagine the gruesome sight that one of their own had stumbled upon— ah, but it was the nature of the world they bargained to live in. A true shame, a tragic reminder, that the youngest Zigvolt was fated to learn such realities from the death of his dearest friend.

Sebek does not correct them.

It is better to let them believe that his drained expression was on account of having found Silver's body mauled in the woods by the animals they are familiar with, rather than the true ones that lurk deep within those ancient glades. It is better to let them cling to their ignorance, to think that the madness of paranoia scratching at his spine is only too understandable by having to discover one's best friend at the scene of his death and the ensuring nightmares that would follow— not that he doesn't have nightmares, that is to say, only that the contents contain horrific figures very much among the living.

Either way, his family knows no better when they find him tangled within his bedsheets, trembling and choking on Silver's name.

No, Sebek is haunted by a presence far too real than the ghost of memory, and his unnerved fingers twitch in the curtains of his bedroom window as his sleep-deprived gaze blinks out to the forest's edge where he can see them.

Three figures where there had once been only two, weaving in and out of the tree line like fish in the stream beneath the call of the moonlight. If he squints, he can make out the lethal curl of dark ivory spouting from the top of one of the figures, and the way that the smaller of the trio does not touch the ground as it tugs their newest member along in a macabre vision of a dance that Sebek cannot pull his gaze away from no matter how hard he tries. There is no mistaking the gleam of familiar silver hair in the beguiling welcome of the night— and even from a mile away, Sebek can all too clearly hear the words that smiling, laughing mouth is speaking, as if Silver himself stood directly behind him in the stillness of his bedroom.

(He wonders if he turns to look, if the boy will surely be there as Sebek remembers him last; blood-stained and smiling so sweetly even in death as Sebek had found him, reaching in the dirt as if to take the hand of one who had led him to his doom.)

"Malleus begs of you to join us, he misses you terribly," Silver's voice all but sings against his strained thoughts, tremors anew bursting down his spine like shrapnel. "Please, Sebek— don't you remember the promises we made? Father came back for me, just as he said he would."

That thing is NOT your father, Sebek wishes to shout and scream in spite of how it would wake his entire family to the horrors lurking outside, the entities cursed to wander the woods and tempt those desperate enough to find solace in their gleaming smiles. But Silver is right, as he often is; Sebek does remember— he remembers a childhood of playing in the woods with Silver, an orphan his family had come to foster and adore. He remembers two imaginary friends who could breathe fire and fly, who could coax butterflies to dance along the breeze and flowers to bloom into the prettiest of crowns. He remembers how much Silver would cling to the affections of a figure with burning crimson eyes, and how much he would the same for a being that smiled down at him with crinkled emeralds older than time itself.

As he had grown older, such strange fantasies had become just that: the result of lonely and imaginative children left to their own devices, spinning stories in the fertile soil of an enchanting landscape. Sebek did not question the time Silver continued to spend within the shadowed trees, for the other boy always did have a unique aptitude for the local wildlife, nor did he find himself with time to spare to wonder about the dreamy smile Silver would often return with, or the odd snatches of unfamiliar songs he'd hear the boy humming tunelessly to himself.

In hindsight, he'd have grabbed a torch and burnt the whole fucking forest down.

Sebek's fingers force themselves to move with a herculean effort that he did not know himself to possess, yanking the curtains shut and blocking out the terrifying sight as Silver's voice rises and fades like radio static, a nauseating sickness pitching forward in his stomach.

"We're supposed to be a family now, Sebek, aren't you listening? Can you not hear them call for you too? I won't let them leave here without you, I promise we'll stay and wait—"

They'd already waited forty-five days. Sebek rocks forward on his heels, squeezing his eyes shut and swallows a hoarse, empty sob.

How many more remained until he found himself walking out to join them?

#lettie writes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #malleus draconia #twst malleus #diasomnia #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #i am EXCITED HAPPY HALLOWEENNNN #i'm just going to have a lot of fun with these when i can #literally writing these the day of ok forgive any mistakes please #twstober is so special to me; i had a lot of fun last year reconnecting with my love for writing #and i'm hoping to do the same this year #just have fun and see where the prompts take us on this delightfully awful ride!!

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ohitslen · 1 year ago

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I am here, once again, with my Ao No Flag propaganda

These two specific panels of Toma were the thing that made me think over a year ago “Man. I want to be like that too” as in KAITO drawing expression because—

The subtle shift of emotion, it’s present all throughout the manga, but this is what sold it for me. For no particular reason, it’s not even the best example, it was just what sealed the deal to me

#it’s the way his eyes open slightly in surprise when Seiya tells him that his friends refused to give an explanation when asked about #what happened in what I think is a way of them showing they care about Toma #and that surprises Toma since I believe he might have been doubtful his friends would forgive him after that #which man. idk maybe it’s because it hit home in some other things. it’s so good #Kaito handles the way the characters express themselves so good I’m always in awe anytime I reread any volume #it’s just. they feel so real in their flaws and mistakes and how they take it. for example our dear protagonist #man he is a wreck. but it’s understandable since he is going through a stage in life where he is still understanding himself!#and KAITO depicts it so nicely and lets him be awful. and let’s everyone be it too. they fuck up yes! but it’s not the end of the world #and he shows that too. how it’s okay to make mistakes but you have to owe them and grow from them not get stuck in them #it’s the little me inside of myself that was making me weep I believe #Ao no flag #blue flag #toma mita #yeah this is about volume 7 too #well i dont know it’s the way Seiya is older sibling anguish that hit me with a bat personally because 🤝. same.#and just. AAAAGGHHHH I’m going insane

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vbs-kaitos-big-naturals · 5 days ago

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hate the word problematic so much it used to be so fun like oh yeah this guy just being killed in this gas explosion is pretty problematic to our great plan but now i cant say it without getting flashbacks to awful twitter threads calling out some famous charity worker who marches for the rights of many for saying the word faggot in a non offensive manner in 1995 when they were 12 years old. please just say its wrong or it upsets you and move on with your life youre associating a perfectly good word with something so petty and hateful it disgusts me

#i speak #and honestly this goes for when its used for genuine issues as well #“mr beast is PROBLEMATIC he has CONTROVERSY we need to CANCEL him” mr beast needs to go to jail #mr beast is a walking human rights violation #what is not clicking here #cancel culture in general is bad because not only does it extremize the punishment for the most trivial things #it trivializes the punishment for the most extreme things #turn off your phone for a second and look into your own eyes.#free your soul. stop torturing yourself in the name of feeling morally superior.#i know thats so ironic coming from me the moral ocd person but you know its true at keadt #is this who you want to be? someone who never forgives? someone who will hate others for simply being human?#you could have been that person. if you were born into a slightly different financial situation.#if maybe you had different genitals. or maybe if you were a different ethnicity.#what would it take for you to be like that? would you like to believe you could be saved?#how would you feel if someone dug a past mistake of yours? maybe you were overly mean to someone because you had a bad day.#maybe you cheated on a partner.#whatever happened shouldnt define you right? youre bigger than your worst mistake.#everybody should be able to love and be happy right? you think everyone can be happy right?#idk. i really dont #there is something fundamentally different to how my brain works than everyone else i guess #tl;dr the word problematic is stupid and we should all stop using it in any way that has ties to cancel culture

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phoenixtakaramono · 11 months ago

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Timetravel Hallmark-themed AU 🎄 Threadfic - Part I

Pairing: Billy Butcher/Homelander

Context Summary: Want to read a “short” Butchlander threadfic being written live for the holidays—rife with (almost) every Christmas Hallmark movie clichés?

(You can read it being written live here on Twitter!)

If you’re unfamiliar with the Hallmark movie genre, here’s a quick rundown of Every Hallmark Christmas Movie Ever and gist of the cheesy tropes this threadfic will be loosely adapting.

For those without a Twitter account and therefore have a hard time accessing the threadfic, screenshots of the first part are provided here below the line break!

✨ Merry Christmas and happy holidays, dear readers!✨

The Hallmark clichés in this update: the set-up of the big lie/ fiancé(e)/ future conflict that’s gonna come bite the MC in the ass later, the MC’s friend/ relative/ wine mom who gives the MC advice, the corporate entrepreneur from the big city (MC) who visits a small town to wind-down and relax but stumbles into a blast from the past (aka the hottie ML “of humble origins” who turns out to have a hidden secret/ false identity)

Bonus A/N Reply: Re: mention of the eyelashes being a sign he’s already into him ➡️ HL’s spiraling—and he hasn’t realized yet. 😂 On Homelander’s side, it’s been 10+ years. On Billy’s side, it’s a whirlwind romance. It’s the typical holiday Hallmark cliché where the FL falls in love w/ the ML in, like, 2 weeks—but here I’m gracious to give ‘em at least a year. FYI, the alias “William Cooper” is an Easter egg to the role Karl Urban played in the film Red (2010) as a CIA agent.

Threadfic Update Schedule: new content will be added to the Twitter threadfic every couple of hours and/or randomly throughout December—or until we reach a satisfactory-enough conclusion. Once I have enough new content to screenshot 10x, I’ll post a new part here on tumblr.

Navigation: 1 | 2

#butchlander #homelander #billy butcher #the boys #the boys tv #billy butcher x homelander #butchlander hallmark au #SFW for now bc this is the exposition #pls do forgive any mistakes; it’s Twitter so I cannot go back and edit 😂#my perfectionist self is screaming but this is for funsies so take it as a quick & rough drabble of sorts from me #threadfic

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thatsrightice · 11 months ago

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penguins are flightless birds and so am i

word count: 4.8k

main themes: iceman angst, surprise homecoming, hurt/comfort, big fluff, flyboys being flyboys, found family, some military lingo

pain: yes

summary:

The words on the paper he pulled from his pocket weighed heavy on his shoulders, hurt more than all of the physical and mental pain from the last two weeks combined. He was officially grounded, placed on convalescent leave and still not sure he'll be able to take the temporary assignment. He despises the feeling of being stuck on the ground for an eternity with his wings clipped while everyone around him danced in the sky, teasing him like the flightless bird he is.“-f**king penguin,” he mumbled to himself as he exhaled, eyes shut because he was just so tired.

Iceman returns home from deployment early, but not on his own terms.

READ ON AO3 NOW

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crescentmp3 · 2 years ago

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soon i wont even be vagueposting about my pain anymore im just gonna start posting in detail like my blog is a journal.

#many topics but one of them is impossible to talk about here because person in question will see. next topic then #i relistened to two audio messages my ex-classmate sent me when i was still in middle school and in love with her and i want to cry! great.#im the reason we drifted apart‚ is what causes the pain mostly.#im so terrible at starting conversations it caused our entire friendship to end. our four year friendship #we had so many intimate moments together and heartfelt conversations and told each other things we never spoke a word about to any other/#/person in our lives and i was the reason it all ended just because of the stupid fear i have that if i send a message first i'll be/#/annoying. by god i accidentally ended a four year friendship out of fear of it ending #one thing i hate about my tendencies is my overworrying over every little action i take.#i know that if a person i talk to is worth being a friend with‚ they'll forgive these little mistakes i'll make‚ but the idea of being/#/imperfect is so terrifying to me that i cant even bring myself to talk to someone unless they explicitly tell me its okay.#and on top of that i need it constantly too.#the thing is i hate this. i hate that i cant. i know its illogical and im making up things to be afraid of but i cant stop.#its that if im imperfect that means the person in front of me has a chance to hate me and that thought is so terrifying i choose to not/#/interact at all #i hate to admit i silently pray for a few specific people to interact with me every day because i know i couldn't do it myself #the way this is is because if they interact with me first that means i can be sure they want it! theres no other way to be sure #and i dont even know why i need to be sure. i know i dont. i can just attempt conversation and go away if they'd rather not talk to me #i just. its terrifying #let me summarize. what if they hit me with the beam #basically.#♚ — vent !#vent tw #tw vent #ask to tag

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the-cooler-king · 1 year ago

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when I was younger, a friend of mine gave me a quote that I assume he came up with. And im kind of tempted to get it as a tattoo because it was a good little quote. But at the same time do I want that kind of reminder

#He was my best friend. My only brother. Its a long story as to what happened #A tragedy upon a tragedy #And it doesn't hurt like it did but I am still...... vengeful about it I think #I do not wish him well. I do not wish him at all yknow #I have killed him so thoroughly in my heart that he is a stranger to me now #And he will only ever know that sad scared little girl that he left behind.#I would never give him the satisfaction of knowing me now.#I did him the kindness of forgiveness. That's all I could give. The situation wasn't ideal #As an adult I know he didn't really have a choice. But I needed him and I made a lot of mistakes to try and get him to come back #And it didn't work. Never does #Im not feeling any type of way about it but that quote is a good summation of our friendship #Its just another relapse so relax sit back and take a deep breath...

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slut4nicholas · 1 month ago

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𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙍 | 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕

a/n: I'm currently awake at 4 am and unable to sleep ive been having some thoughts that I needed to release, and writing this is helping me feel better. this is my first time writing something explicit, so I apologize if it's not the best. please forgive any grammar mistakes. i hope you enjoy reading it. <3

summary: you are searching for a personal trainer and come across an online ad. after calling the trainer, he arranges a session at his home gym. things start to take a spicy turn between the two of you.

warning: smut! 18+ oral (m receiving), spanking, getting manhandled, fingering, pet names like “doll, babygirl” squirting, praising, degrading, rough!!

˖⋆࿐໋

when you move to california to pursue your dream of becoming a model or influencer, you leave behind your family, job, and friends. unfortunately, the move also means leaving behind your favorite place: the gym.

many label me a gym rat, but I simply embrace my love for the discipline it brings and the amazing confidence it gives me in everything I wear.

in the evening, while browsing through tiktok , i suddenly felt a wave of boredom. i let out a sigh, turned off my phone, and began searching for an engaging activity. normally, in situations like this, i would change into my favorite workout attire and head to the gym. however, as i am not at home, i need to find a gym or a personal trainer of my own in this new location.

i opened my macbook and started searching for personal trainers in my new area. I came across a profile of a man who seems to have a lot of experience in the gym and is conveniently located nearby. i must admit, he looks delicious. i decided to message him to arrange a meeting and inquire about his session rates. he responded promptly with his pricing and availability, and it turns out he's available tomorrow morning. as we exchanged goodbyes over text, my mind couldn't help but focus on meeting him in person. if I'm already feeling this way based on some online pictures, i can only imagine how I'll feel when we meet face to face.

i wake up suddenly to the sound of my alarm. as i pick up my phone, i see that it's 5:30. the familiar feeling of nervousness churns in my stomach as i realize that I'm in a new city, about to meet someone new. i made sure to wake up extra early just to ensure that i look my best.

after my shower, i breeze through my skincare routine and add a touch of mascara and some lip balm. I'm just heading to the gym, so nothing too over-the-top, i tell myself. i apply a light moisturizing lotion and a spritz of my favorite perfume. i slip into my matching black bra and thong, then into my sleek all-black workout set with cute black leggings and a fitted black tee. i slide on my nike socks and lace up my new balance 574’s. i brush my hair and secure it with a stylish claw clip, still debating whether to leave it down or tie it up. I'll make up my mind in the uber.

i send him a text to inform him that I'm on my way to the location he had sent me. he reads the message but doesn't reply. oh well, I'm on my way already.

as we pull into his driveway, i can't help but notice how stunning his house is. i wonder what he does for work; being in california, he must be wealthy or famous. i tip my uber driver in cash, thanking him for the ride, and he wishes me luck. I'm definitely going to need it.

i grab my phone out but before i can send him a text i hear a whistle which caught my attention i looked up seeing him standing next to his front door i can’t help but check him out and oh my goodness he’s more attractive in person i can just rip his clothes off right here and there but i have to remain calm im not here for that.

he is wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, with a gold chain around his neck. his hair is lightly stuck to his forehead, indicating that he had a workout before I arrived.

“hey there” he smiles and waves signaling me to come in with his hand

i smile back and step into his house him standing behind me the whole time closing the door and walking towards me

"I'm nicholas, I'm your trainer. It's nice to meet you." oh my, his smile. his smile. his smile. I'm going to fold, i know I am, but I have to keep my calm. i don't even know him. i don't know if he's single or even married.

“hi, i’m y/n” i take his hand shaking it lightly

"come on, don't be shy," he takes us to his gym and confidently sits down on a bench, gesturing for me to sit next to him with a wave of his hand.

so demanding already.

“so tell me a little bit about yourself, i know you told me you just moved here but what’s the reason for the move and why are you looking for a trainer?” he asked curiously.

“well, i moved here to cali so it’ll be easier for me to achieve some of my goals, i have some experience in the gym but i really feel like ill learn a lot more with a trainer if that makes any sense” you smile shyly causing nicholas to chuckle a little.

“no need to be shy sweetie im here to help you you already look great im sure you’ll do a great job” i cross my legs just at the sound of his voice saying those loving praises, oh i need him so bad.

he notices but tries not to make it so obvious he grabs his water bottle taking a sip and putting down standing up tapping the side of my thigh gently “come on let’s get started”.

we begin with some easy stretches to warm up before the actual run. i couldn't help but notice that he mostly stood there, watching, instead of actively instructing and guiding me, which did bother me a bit.

“do an extended puppy pose for me” i look up at him and he just winks OH. he knows what he’s doing so i decide to play along as well.

as i get on all fours getting ready to get in the pose arching my back a little i can see nicholas from the side of my eye starting so hard i can’t help but silently giggle to myself.

“am i doing this good enough nicholas?? how’s my arch looking” he chuckles at my words a little.

“oh you’re doing so good y/n, you look amazing but i think you need a little help here” he comes down next to me getting on his knees right behind my ass and pushing my arch down so my stomach is hitting the floor beneath me.

“just like that?” I question.

“just like that, good girl” those words sent shivers down my spine i let out a soft sigh.

“what’s the matter sweetie?” he questioned.

i shake my head not responding to him “can we just do the next exercise?” i get on my knees so i can stand up but he comes in front of me putting one hand on my shoulder keeping me on my knees.

“let’s do some leg spreads i’ll help and guide you”.

i lay on the mat on my back and nicholas gets down on his knees again grabbing one of my legs bending it back a little.

“let’s start of slow sweetie i don’t want to hurt you”.

after doing a couple of reps nicholas stops and can’t help but notice something.

he chuckled “someone’s excited?”.

“what?” i ask not getting exactly what he’s talking about.

he spreads my leg a little further back.

“you’re so wet you’ve leaked through your panties it’s all on those leggings of yours”.

“i-im so sorry i-“ he cut me off.

“don’t worry about it doll, im having way more fun than you could possibly imagine” he bends down to kiss me and i went full in, tongue and everything.

after a few minutes of us making out he rips open my leggings with his bare hands which caused me to throw my head back and lightly groan, his eyes burning into my skull the whole time. never once taking those beautiful brown eyes off of me.

he pulls my panties to the side.

grabbing my mouth harshly “open and spit”.

i did as told, he sticks them in my mouth reaching the back of my throat causing to me gag.

he laughed and smiled “think you take all of my dick in there huh babygirl?”.

he pulled my panties to the side and started playing with me lightly flicking the clit and switching between fingering me and playing with my clit.

the groans escaping his mouth seemed a little animalistic like he hasn’t touched a woman in a very long time he’s eager and i can tell he wants to fuck me into the ground literally.

“mmm you’re so fucking wet, you’ve been excited since you got here hm? or was it those photos i sent you last night that has you like this for me? horny and ready to get fucked by her trainer? it’s only day one babygirl and here you are legs spread open pussy juice dripping all over my fucking fingers, what am i going to do with you”.

i moan loudly his words. his actions. the sounds. everything just feels and sounds so fucking good i didn’t want him to stop.

“oh im gonna come” i felt the urge to release the feeling you get in your stomach when you know your going to cum and go crazy “please dont stop nicholas”.

“such a fucking good girl” he kept pumping his big thick fingers in and out of me which caused me to release all over his gym floor.

“oh shit baby, look at you fuck” he says rubbing my clit on a fast pace, i grabbed his hand trying to get him to stop since it feels way to good to handle.

“please” he grabs my face and kisses me harshly shoving his tongue all down my throat saliva dripping down in between the both of us.

“come on take this off” he removes my shirt and bra taking off what’s rest of the leggings throwing it somewhere in the gym.

he takes his shirt and sweats off leaving him completely exposed no boxers or anything on, he knew what he wanted to do.

“come on baby get on your knees let’s see if you can fit this dick all in that pretty mouth of yours, gagging on two fingers. that’s pathetic sweetheart you got to do better than that”.

i get on my knees and take his member into my hand lightly kissing and licking his desperate throbbing dick leaking pre cum everywhere, i quickly take my tongue and clean up the mess he made.

“now this is a great mouth exercise for you pretty you’ll love it” he laughs and i roll my eyes member still in my mouth looking up at him not breaking eye contact.

“oh come on” he pushes my head down taking his whole dick into my mouth repeatedly touching the back of my throat i tap and grab on his thighs signaling i needed to breath and catch my breath, he threw his head back in pleasure looking back down grabbing my hair and pulling me off of his dick.

“told you you couldn’t take it”

“mmm stop let me do it” i pout he reaches his hand and cups my cheek and caressing my hair rubbing circles on the top of my head.

i grab his dick taking him all in and taking him out grabbing it and lightly jerking him off, as i continue to jerk him off i suck off what’s left that i couldn’t fit in my mouth.

“mm fuck”

“just like that baby”

“such a good fucking girl for me”

i take him in once again feeling him twitch making sure he’s hitting the back of my throat so i can swallow all of his sweet juices.

he grabs my hair making it into a makeshift ponytail fucking my face at the perfect pace for him, he looks so good he can just take control and do what he wants at this point.

i feel him twitch again which means he’s super close this time he didn’t let me go he made sure he stayed in the back of my throat resting his cock in my mouth while he released all inside of my mouth.

“swallow that shit baby be a good fucking girl for me”

oh boy, this is just the first session i wonder what’s going to happen next time.

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#nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader

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