#and price is willing to throw hands with a fish

[shyravenns]

I can smell Mermay right around the corner, so it’s time for a pricenik merman/fishermen au 

John Price, who was forced into (early) retirement, and the expectation of doing nothing infuriates him. He’s frustrated, bitter, and more than a little angry at the idea that his career is essentially over at such a young age. He keeps in contact with the boys (his boys) as best as he can, but it feels as if the distance between them is growing further and further and the thought of being forgotten is slowly killing him. 

He settles down as best as he can near a small lake. Moving in the small cabin that was gifted to him by his grandfather in the hopes that one day it won’t be as desolate and as empty as John’s life currently is. 

It’s peaceful, quiet, and *dull*. 

The kind of tranquility that John had hoped to accomplish on his own terms. When the time truly felt right. 

So, he fishes and let’s the the lazy motion of the water sooth his anger for a few hours. 

He’s not good at it. But it gets him out the house, and takes him away from the bottle on his nightstand. He should be grateful, he supposes, for the soft simplicity he fought so hard. But he can’t. And he thinks that a large part of him won’t. 

------

Nikolai, who’s been alive for far too long and thinks it’s more than a little embarrassing for him to feel this unsettled in his own skin. He’s tired of hiding and he’s tired of the little kingdom he’s created for himself. 

He wants more, and he can’t stop himself from feeling like those pathetic souls trapped in a small bowl, cursed to swim around and around in circles for eternity (He’s a dramatic man even on a good day).

So, it’s more than a little annoying (and downright rude) when he finds out that some fisherman has not only taken up residence on his lake, but is also tormenting the tiny fish that Nikolai may or may not have grown fond of over the last few centuries. 

He was here first, and he had always expected that silly little cabin to remain empty for as long as time would tell. he quite like the dust that’s settled over it over the years, and to find that a man (a rather attractive man much to his chagrin) has settled in and is tormenting his fish? 

No one has even said that Nikolai has the patience of a saint, and he’s willing to throw caution in the wind and get this man to fuck off

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

45 / 1.9k / soap soulmate au, part 11

...

Mercenaries can be paid off for just about anything.

So when Price rings your cell phone to propose a trade—Laswell had your number, naturally—Horangi has no qualms with fishing it out of your pocket. You glare at him, but he doesn’t bother giving you anything more than a dry look before he answers it.

You hear Price’s voice from the speaker in Horangi’s ear. "Was wondering what was taking you lot so long."

Horangi sighs. It never ends, apparently. "What do you want?" he asks.

"Just to talk," Price replies. "What's your rate?"

"Come again?" Horangi asks.

"We're all soldiers here. Unfortunate that our mission came at the cost of yours, but we can all walk away happy, hm? I want to make sure you don’t go uncompensated. That’d be a shame."

Horangi scowls, but one of your squadmates in the back seat grips your shoulder and shifts his weight toward the phone in obvious interest.

"What do you have in mind?” Horangi asks.

"First, your rate."

"Too rich for your blood."

"Try me."

Horangi narrows his eyes. Then he shrugs and throws out a number. It's far more money than KorTac’s real fee, but before you can decide whether to say something, Price speaks again.

"We'll double that."

"Will you now?"

"I will. Even pay you all directly if you like. No need to involve the company. Just keep your handler’s cut for yourselves. I won’t say a word," Price says. "That should be good enough, shouldn't it?"

Horangi leans back, tapping the steering wheel in thought, but you can tell he's interested now. "What's the job?"

"Not a job, really. Just a favor. Let us have custody of your songbird, and the money's yours. Make up some story about how she got away or got shot if you need a scapegoat. We’ll turn a blind eye if you prefer. Keep the record nice and clean."

Horangi glances at you. “Songbird’s worth a lot to the company.”

“You’re not the company, now are you? You already did the damn job. You should get paid. You and your team.”

He likes the sound of that. Price's offer turns both of your situations into something everybody can be pleased with. Get the mercs paid for what they lost. They get the girl. Fine by him. He hums in thought. “Cash in hand.”

There’s a beat of silence on Price’s end. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Cash in hand,” Horangi says again. “Or no deal.”

“Are you sure about that? Wired funds spend just as well as cash.”

“I can afford to be picky, my friend.”

Another long pause. “Is that so?”

“Apologies. I’d be happy to consider your deal if I hadn’t already made a better one with someone else. He’s willing to pay cash.”

“Who?”

Horangi scoffs and ends the call. He tosses your phone into the backseat floorboards and ignores your stare burning into the side of his head. “Don’t worry, rookie,” he tells you. “You know it’s a better deal than you’d get back at base. You’ll thank me one day.”

…

But you don’t make it back to base.

It’s an ambush. A trap—Horangi doesn’t see the charges on either side of the road until it’s too late, and the truck transporting you flips forward onto its roof. One minute, you’re feeling the melted snow in your boots; the next, you’re looking down at the road through the windshield. Then you’re coming to in a haze of gunfire and hoarse voices barking call-and-response orders all around you.

It’s not until your teammates have evacuated the wrecked truck that you attempt to move yourself and do the same. Maybe they plan to come back for you; maybe they think you’re dead. Maybe you are dead. You really fucking hope not. Whatever death has in store for you, it had better not force you to contend with the agonizing pain of a dislocated shoulder and broken glass buried in every second nerve ending.

You push against the seatbelt holding you to the seat, having to twist out of your coat just to slump to the pavement. You’re still ziptied, but you have to move. If whoever laid this ambush finds you, you're done for.

Somehow, all you can think about is Johnny. If he could see you now, he’d never let you hear the end of it. He’d lecture you like a goddamn recruit. You hate how much you want to see his stupid face get angry at you again.

There’s a long lull in the gunfire. Then the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone curses and orders the others to “spread out,” searching for your scattered teammates—for survivors.

Your teammates aren’t coming. You’re on your own.

Then you remember Price’s call and Horangi swiping your phone from your pocket.

Desperately, you shoulder your way back into the wreckage. Somehow, you find it. The screen is cracked, but it still lights up when you wrestle your bound wrists under your feet and touch the screen. Thank Christ. You redial Price's number from the call log.

He picks up on the first ring. "Go for Price."

"I need to talk to Johnny."

There's a moment of crackling silence through the line. Then: "Soap's tied up at the moment. What's going on?"

"I don't know. Ambush. The car flipped." You wince, feeling broken glass cut into your shoulder. The slushy pavement under you is turning ruddy. Oh, that’s your blood. "It's bad."

Price swears under his breath. "Where are you?"

"Near the base of the mountain. In the side. There's a... a lot of trees. Twenty hostiles. I think. I can't see."

"Stay put. We'll find you. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime."

"I want to talk to Johnny."

"For God’s sake. You can talk to him in person when we find you. Just sit tight."

"Let me talk to my goddamn soulmate," you hiss. You put as much venom into your voice as you can, but even you hear how weak you sound.

Price says something away from the speaker you can't quite make out. There's shuffling and then another familiar voice picks up, low and gruff, and tinged with a Scottish burr.

"Hen?"

The wave of relief that sweeps through you renders you mute for a second.

That makes the worry in his tone swell. “You okay? They hurt you?"

The concern in his voice has your throat tightening. Dammit.

Before you can reply, there's another burst of gunfire and a hostile voice much too close by for comfort. You grab the phone and edge your way further into the tenuous safety of the wreckage. You clutch the phone in your hands, barely clocking the glass screen digging into your palm.

The sound of your voice cutting out over the line triggers Soap’s anxiety all over again. He curses up a storm on the other end, his voice rising with every word and the urgency in his tone growing as he calls you by name.

You hear more footfalls, but whoever it is, they don't seem to notice you. You've not been gunned down yet, at least. You need to find somewhere safer.

Peering around the wreckage, you look for somewhere else you can hide. The tree line is close. You don't know how long you'll last in the snow no matter what, especially without your coat—but cold cover is safer than none. Staying under a leaking, gasoline-filled truck carcass isn’t a good long-term plan.

Soap’s voice rises over the line. "Dammit, say somethin'!"

Finally you do. "Johnny?"

"Jesus." Soap closes his eyes, hoping like hell he's not about to hear you get shot, or captured, or worse. He can already tell by the rough sound of your voice that he's not going to like what you say next. "I'm here," he says quickly, trying to keep the worry from his own voice. "Where are ya?"

"I’m an idiot. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn about..." You let out a harsh sigh. "You. Just wanted to tell you that."

It suddenly feels like there's a block of ice lodged in Soap’s chest. "That a goodbye, darlin'?" he says.

"I'm doing my goddamn best. Alright?"

"That’s a sorry fuckin’ excuse. You’re aways doing your best," Soap snaps. An ugly, hard thread of bitterness creeps into his tone. "Trouble is you always choose the worst way of goin’ about it. I’m not lettin' you go like this.”

"I know it's my fault," you retort. "Okay? I should've listened to you. Are you happy to hear me fucking say it?"

"Does it look like that's gonna fix things?" Soap’s voice rises with every word now. His temper is frayed at the edges. "No, I'm not bloody happy. I don't want apologies. I don't want some grand realization. I just want you to survive. You're damn right you fucked up. And you've got a lot of work to do to make it up to me, so you'd best stay alive. You hear me?"

You swallow, clutching the phone tighter in your hands.

"Answer me."

"I'll try."

"No. You'll do," Soap says in a voice that brooks no argument. His voice drops low again, but the anger is still there. "You will make it back to me. You'll do whatever it takes. You don't get to leave me alone after all the trouble you gave me. I'll not hear one more sorry excuse."

God. You want him so bad it hurts. You close your eyes, concentrating on the pain of the glass in your skin and your dislocated shoulder to sharpen your focus. "Fine."

"That's my girl." The words come out rough, heated, and tinged with something like pride. "You just stay put," he says. "We'll find you."

You tense as another set of voices raise in aggravation nearby. The longer you stay here, the greater the chance you'll be seen. "I have to go," you say lowly into the phone. "Need better cover."

"Stay on the line," he says quickly. "Do not hang up. Hen!"

You bring your ziptied wrists down hard on the edge of your boot—and again, and again, pain radiating up your arm—until it finally snaps.

With your hands free, you pull yourself out from under the wreckage and away, leaving Soap on the line to hear nothing but shouting and gunshots.

Soap listens through the phone, biting down hard on the curse that threatens to tear free. He can't lose you. He's going crazy imagining the worst right now. His mind is all too happy to cycle through a parade of gory images. No. No, you can't go, not like this.

He'd give anything to be a knife on your belt right now. A bullet in your gun. Anything but this—this utter fucking helplessness. He can’t do anything but sit on the other end of a line and listen. It's torture.

Even with Price at the wheel, racing all of them toward the bottom of the mountain.

"We'll make it, Soap," is all Price says.

Soap nods, but he barely hears it. All he can listen to is the sound of gunfire through the phone and the cold, visceral rage in the pit of his stomach. He'll claw his way to you with his bare hands if he has to. It doesn’t matter how much blood and sweat it costs him to get you back. You’d better keep your word and stay alive to make it up to him.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / [part 11] / part 12

more Soap / masterlist

[maidragoste]

Chapter One: The Reaping

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader (I labeled it that even though Jace's backstory is different from Katniss's but he and Reader will be the star-crossed lovers of district 12)

Chapter Two Chapter Three

I really hope you like it because I'm so excited to write this au!

Please let me know what you think in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys entered the Victors' Village, not that he was a victor. In fact, his name had never come up in the reaping. But he and his brothers lived there since his uncle Larys took care of them after his father died in the middle of an explosion in the mines while working.

The teenager quickly quickened his pace while adjusting his grip on the only two squirrels he had brought from all the ones he had hunted during the morning with Baela, his best friend. He may not have needed to hunt for food anymore but he was one of the few people in District 12 who knew how to hunt. Some people had depended on bartering with his father to bring a plate of food to his table. His father would not have wanted him to leave those people abandoned, so every day he sneaks into the forest with Baela to look for deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, fish, or any type of edible vegetable or fruit. He always gave the best goods to Baela, after all, she had more mouths to feed with her mother, her twin sister, and her two little brothers. But the rest he exchanged with the merchants or even sometimes he practically ended up giving away his merchandise due to the low price that he was willing to accept from the families that he knew did not have enough to eat to prevent them from ending up asking for more tesserae. Uncle Larys had never told him but Jacaerys knew that he thought he was a fool for doing that.

Jacaerys hated the silence in the village but it was no surprise considering that of the twelve houses there, the only house that was being inhabited was his uncle's. Of the seventy-three Hunger Games that have been held so far, there have only been two victors from District 12 and the only one still alive is Larys Strong.

Jace hurried into the house trying to ignore the heaviness in his stomach.

“I told you Luke would throw up again this year! You owe me!” was the first thing Joffrey, his youngest brother, said when he saw him.

Lucerys, or Luke as his dad had nicknamed him, was the middle brother, and every year he had the worst time during Repairing; which was the moment when the District escort went up to the podium and then took a random piece of paper from each glass urn, one containing the names of all the boys between twelve and eighteen years old and another with the names of the girls. This was how the tributes were chosen for each Hunger Games. Like any coherent person in District 12 Luke feared being chosen as a tribute and unlike Jacaerys he could not hide his fear.

“Take this to the kitchen,” the oldest of the brothers asked, handing the squirrels to Joffrey before running to the bathroom.

When Jacaerys entered he found Luke hunched over, holding the toilet bowl. Ignoring the smell of vomit he hurried to his brother's side and with one hand began to rub soothing circles on Luke's back while the other brushed the hair from his face. He doesn't know how many minutes they stayed like this until the youngest finally stopped vomiting.

"I'm sorry, Jace" Luke apologized with a broken voice and tears on his cheeks, clearly feeling ashamed for being in the same position for another year. "I really tried."

"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for," Jacaerys denied as he helped him up from the floor. "It's okay to be afraid. Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid."

"Joffrey is not afraid," the youngest murmured after cleaning his face.

Joffrey must have been the only thirteen-year-old in District 12 who wasn't horrified at the thought of his name coming up in the Reaping. Jacaerys believed it was because Joff thought he would be able to win the games just by being a relative of a victor. Also, of the three, Joff seemed to want Uncle Larys's validation and attention the most. In these three years living with him he had never told them that he loved them but Jace thought that he should at least care a little about them because otherwise he could have let the authorities take them to the community orphanage instead of taking care of them.

"I told you, an idiot," Jace said, managing to get a small laugh out of Lucerys. "Listen, Luke. Everything will be fine. You never asked for a tessera so your name is only on four pieces of paper."

In the first year when you started to be part of the Reaping, they put your name only once in the bowl. But every time you have a birthday they add another paper with your name on it. If you do not ask for any tessera then it is assumed that you will reach the age of eighteen with only seven papers.

Jacaerys always tried to reassure his brother, and also himself, saying that the chances of his name coming up were low compared to all the people who had to ask for tesserae to be able to eat.

"Lucerys, Jacaerys, start getting ready for the Reaping" Larys ordered from below. There was no need for him to shout as the house was silent.

"Take a bath, you stink" Jacaerys mocked, ruffling Lucerys's hair before leaving him in the bathroom.

"Happy Hunger Games! and may the odds be ever in your favor!" greeted Effie Trinket, the District 12 companion, with the same excitement as in previous years.

While Effie gives a speech about what an honor it is for her to be there as a companion, Jacaerys's eyes meet Baela's. She smiles at him and he struggles to return it. Baela is so brave, he doesn't know how she isn't trembling with fear knowing that her name is at least twenty times. Maybe in recent years she was no longer asking for tesserae but before Jacaerys moved in with his uncle she had.

"Ladies first!" said Effie announcing that it was time for the drawing. She approaches the urn with the girls' names and then reaches deep inside and takes out a piece of paper. You can feel the tension in the air and for a moment everyone seems to hold their breath until Effie opens the paper and I read it "Y/n Y/l!"

Shit. Jacaerys knew you. He had seen you more than once at the bakery when he went to buy or exchange his merchandise with your father. Not only that but you two share classes together at school. You weren't friends. But you were still there for his brothers when he was too devastated by the death of his father to care about anyone else. You were the one who stopped some idiots from bothering Luke at school, you were the one who helped Joffrey with his homework to prevent him from repeating a grade, and you, in the only conversation you ever shared, reminded him that he was important to the District, that his brothers needed him, that he could not abandon them, that his father would not have wanted to see him as a ghost in life, that he would have wanted him to help the people of the District.

Jace had to go say goodbye to you, his gratitude may be three years late but he needed to thank you for taking care of his brothers when he had failed them and remind him that he had a purpose.

Jacaerys watches you move towards the stage. Your posture is straight, your chin up and your steps are firm but he can see the uncertainty in your eyes. You still look pretty in your pink dress, it wasn't glamorous at all—no one in the district wears glamorous clothes—but in his eyes, you stood out. It's probably because, unlike other girls in the district, your clothes didn't hang off and your bones didn't show, you didn't look like someone who was malnourished.

Maybe with your beauty and if you had a good interview you could get lucky and captivate a sponsor, he thought. He hoped that this year his uncle would try even harder to bring home a winner.

Once you are on stage Effie asks for volunteers. Of course, no one offers.

“Now it's time to meet our male tribute!” Effie announces, rushing to the boys' urn and pulling out the first piece of paper she sees, “Lucerys Strong!”

This must be a nightmare, Jacaerys thought. They were supposed to be safe, they had never asked for tesserae. He was snapped out of his stupor by hearing Joffrey's desperate cries calling for Luke as his brother began to walk with fear and tears in his eyes to the stage. Jace didn't even think about it, he broke out of his formation and started running after Lucerys.

“I'm a volunteer!” he shouted when the peacekeepers grabbed him, wanting to take him away from Lucerys. “I volunteered as a tribute!” he repeated, standing up straight, once they released him.

"Magnificent!" Effie exclaimed, happy because there was finally some action in the District. "But you are supposed to present the winner of the reaping first and then ask for volunteers…"

"Just let him up," the mayor interrupted her sharply, clearly upset by the situation. He knew Jacaerys because he always bought strawberries from him and Baela.

“No, Jace!” Lucerys said with a trembling voice, still shaking her head. “You can't!”

“Go to Joffrey” the eldest brother ordered firmly, he wanted to hug Luke but he was afraid that if he did he would also start crying and he couldn't do it knowing that the cameras were filming everything. He couldn't appear weak. “Go,” he repeated, pushing him aside and heading to the stage without looking back.

Jacaerys' brown eyes meet yours and the heaviness in his stomach increases. He would have to kill you if he wanted to come home, you, the person who pushed him to move forward after her father's death. He had never thanked you and much less would he do so now knowing that in a few days, he may be the one who ended up killing you. Obviously, luck was not on his side but if you died he really hoped that it would be another of the tributes who would end up taking your life. If it became him and he managed to win the games, Jacaerys was sure that there would not be a day in which he would not think of you.

"Wonderful!" Effie exclaimed once the young man finished climbing the stairs. "What's your name?"

"Jacaerys Strong," he answered.

"I'll bet my shoes he was your brother. You didn't want him to steal your glory, did you?" The companion's smile disappeared before the furious looks of the victor and the tributes. "Good! Let's give a big round of applause to our new tribute!"

But no one applauds. The entire District demonstrates its disagreement with its silence. Not only that, but many people begin to bring the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then point them at Jacaerys. He looks shocked as they give him that gesture. It was not a common thing to be used in the District but every once in a while, someone would do it during funerals. It was a gesture of giving thanks, of admiration, of farewell to a loved one. The same gesture they had made at his father's funeral. Jacaerys feels a lump form in his throat. He can't help but look at you, this was thanks to you, if you hadn't reminded him that the District needed him like they needed his dad then maybe he would have continued in silence staring into nothingness, living mechanically instead of starting to help people like his dad used to do.

The mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason. Once he finishes he instructs you and Jace to shake hands. Jacaerys notices that your hand is a little smaller than his and he feels warm against hiss. You catch him off guard when you squeeze his hand as if to encourage him. He returns the gesture even though he knows he shouldn't, it wasn't the time to become friends.

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[owlwithanapple]

The Light and The Dark

Chapter 01. Encounter

Two years ago

The story begins two years ago when you were playing alone near your home late at night, suddenly you were attacked and kidnapped by human traffickers. At that time you desperately screamed for help late at night, but no one was willing to lend a helping hand because they were outnumbered. In the end you were forcibly taken away by them.

Your hands were handcuffed and were taken to their pirate ship. In addition to those bastard accomplices on the boat, you saw several girls about the same age as you and even little girls younger than you.

When the ship left the island sailing on the sea, they took you with other girls to a room for evaluation to ensure that the girls could be sold at a good price. It is simply humiliating us. You are treated as commodities even though are priceless.

When follow the queue, it's your turn go into the room to be evaluated. You didn't pay attention to what they were saying because you were still frustrated, and someone pushed you forward from behind and accidentally fell to the floor.

You got up from the floor and stood still to look at the asshole in front of you. You want to beat them up. But you don’t have that ability, you are just a weak girl now. If they go crazy, they will kill instantly or throw into the sea to feed the fish.

"Name, age, expertise?" The bastard looked you up and down.

"Y/N, 17 years old, can read and write." You said, holding back tears.

"Hey hey hey! Look! There is really high-quality goods! She can read and write! Mark her with a high price!" That bastard took your hand and stamped it with a red seal to mark it as high-quality goods.

You were born and raised on a small island, albeit in a poor family. But both parents are great, you learn some rare things from them. Mother was an explorer and father was a researcher of ancient literature, but both parents passed away a few years ago.

Their evaluation of you as top quality means that your value is high. They put you and other girls in separate rooms and locked the door. You curled up in the corner and cried secretly, you felt helpless and powerless.

You may have been sleeping in a dark room for a long time because of exhaustion and anxiety. Suddenly someone unlocked the door and called you but didn't wake up. The bastard slapped you and woke you up immediately.

The ship has already stopped at the dock, now they want to take you off to the trading location. He tied your hands with a rope and pulled you hard. You couldn't break free and had to follow them.

When you arrive at the trading location you see a bar. There is a woman at the door. She is the owner of this bar and the buyer who wants to buy you. She is sitting on a chair smoking a cigarette and waiting for you.

"Slow..." The woman looked at the person with contempt.

"Who told this girl to fall asleep? She's so slow!" That bastard slapped you.

"Hey, just because I bought her doesn't mean she'll be beaten by you." The woman blew out smoke in the bastard's face.

"Damn bitch!" The bastard choked and scolded the owner.

"Give me the girl and get back to your stinking ship." The woman said.

"Tch! If I don't have enough money, I won't sell you such high-end goods!" The bastard spit on the ground and left.

"Trash….Oh ya.Let me introduce myself first. My name is Ria. You are Y/N, right? I heard that you were evaluated as a high-end product." She put out the cigarette in her hand and looked at you.

"Well..." You looked down at the ground, not looking directly at her.

"It's such a shame that a beautiful face was beaten like this." She lifted your chin and looked at your face.

"Please let me go home." You begged her helplessly with tears in your eyes.

"I bought you with money. If you give me money, I will let you go." She let you go and said.

"I..." You couldn't help but shed tears.

"You have a pretty face, come work here. I will pay you on time, but you must listen to me. You can refuse, and I will sell you back to those garbage. Make your own choice, little girl. ” She lit a second cigarette.

"If I raise all the money, will you really let me go?" You hesitate.

"That's right. I buy you with money, and you pay me back. It's only natural and logical." She took a puff of cigarette and blew out the smoke.

You have no money or ability now, you just know how to read and write. Although it is a good talent, it has no value here at all. You have no choice but to accept her terms and work here.

Your job is as simple as taking orders and serving drinks to guests. Of course, you will still encounter some customers who are lewd and lustful towards you and suddenly harass you. Ria will step in for you and yell at them, but you still feel scared.

Two years later

You have been living under the same roof with Ria for the past two years. In her free time, she takes you shopping for beautiful clothes and teaches you some things you don’t understand. Although the first impression was not very good now you feel like she is like a sister.

The store temporarily closed today because there was a sudden heavy rain outside and couldn't go out. You and Ria had no choice to pass the time at home. You sat on the bed reading the newspaper while Ria sat next to you sewing handkerchiefs.

"Ria, why did you buy me in the first place?" You asked her curiously when you thought of this question while reading the newspaper.

"I originally just wanted to find a beautiful girl to work in the bar, then I found out that those rubbish were actually human traffickers. I had no choice but to buy you, it's better than letting you be with those rubbish." Ria said calmly.

"You can choose not to keep me, at least you will have less of a burden." You closed the newspaper.

"I never thought you were a burden. I just felt annoyed that those rubbish deceived me in this way. By the way, what are you reading?" Ria stopped what she was doing.

"Some pirate incidents and their bounties." You pointed to the report.

"Pirates...there is a very famous Roger pirate group recently." Ria mentioned.

"They are the headlines today. Look how high their bounty is!" You moved the newspaper to show Ria their headlines.

"One of their heads is worth two houses." Ria calculated their bounty carefully.

"It's so cool. You can go on adventures in all kinds of places." You smiled slightly.

"You said your dream is to have adventures everywhere, right?" Ria asked you.

"When I leave here one day, I will go on an adventure. Do you want to come with me?" You invited her with a smile.

"Let's see. I have a bar to run. If I leave, I need to find someone to replace me or close it permanently." Ria said her thoughts calmly.

"Well...it's your business after all." You whispered regretfully.

"You won't need me anymore by then, just go out and explore the world by yourself. Maybe I will see your bounty." Ria said with a smile.

"It's impossible. I'm not as strong as them to shake the world." You explained nervously.

"You have a very smart mind. You may be able to reach unknown realms with your mind." Although Ria is very calm, she is praising you.

"It's basically all written content. I'm still ignorant of the outside world." You said.

Ria got out of bed, took out a cigarette and lit it, while you continued reading the newspaper. Looking out the window, the heavy rain has not stopped. It should continue to rain for a long time. It seems that will not be able to open today.

You went to the kitchen to get the ingredients for dinner, while Ria went to do the laundry. Since you've been living together, your chores have been divided in turns. She didn't ask you, but you were willing to help her share the burden.

Tomorrow morning

The rainstorm has stopped, the weather has turned sunny, and the sun shines into your room. You are woken up by the dazzling sunlight. You forgot to close the curtains before going to bed last night. You got out of bed and saw Ria leaving a note on your desk saying that you should go to the market to buy some ingredients.

You change your clothes and go to the kitchen to check what ingredients are currently missing at home. You take out a piece of paper and record it before leaving the house. Ria's home is not far from the market, so you walk slowly and leisurely.

Island shore

Yesterday's heavy rain caused the waves to become unstable, and many ships sailing on the sea were swept to the shore, including the ship of the Roger Pirates. Some parts of the ship were damaged and could not continue moving forward. The crew temporarily bought supplies and materials on this island to repair the ship.

"It's a good thing that the weather is sunny. So glad didn't get swept into the sea yesterday." Rayleigh said while standing on the shore.

"Hahahaha, we are lucky, the ship was damaged only after it washed ashore." Roger burst out laughing after saying this.

"It's so dizzy." Buggy felt uncomfortable and said, covering his mouth.

"Luckily you didn't fall to the bottom of the sea. The heavy rain came, I really didn't dare go in the sea to save you." Shanks said with a smile.

"What are you talking about! You heartless guy!" Buggy grabbed Shanks and began to fight.

"If you dare!" Shanks started fighting with Buggy.

"You two, stop fighting and help deal with the ship's problems first." Rayleigh stopped the two of them.

"Scopper and Crocus went to the city to buy parts for repairing the ship. Let the four of us just buy supplies!" Roger suggested excitedly.

"Yes! Captain!" Buggy and Shanks shouted excitedly.

"Haha, kid." Rayleigh followed the three of them.

Market near the pier

There is a lively market near the pier where many people buy things. You go to the market to choose some fresh ingredients for your home. You organize the ingredients and put them into bags to leave the market. Suddenly you are hit by an oncoming child and the ingredients are scattered on the ground.

"Ouch!" The blue-haired kid yelled after hitting you and falling to the ground.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice you. Are you okay?" You helped him up in a panic.

"Hahaha! You bumped into someone, I told you not to run so fast." Another red-haired kid laughed at him.

"Damn it Shanks!" The blue-haired kid stood up and shouted.

You showed warm concern to the blue-haired child in front of you, and he immediately stiffened when he noticed you. Two tall men next to you squat down to help you pick up the ingredients scattered on the ground.

"Are you okay?" You are concerned about the blue-haired child in front of you.

"I, I, I'm fine! Thank you for your concern!" The blue-haired child shivered nervously.

"Sorry, little girl, my friend bumped into you." A man in a red coat apologized to you.

"Come, miss. Your things." A man in black returns your things to you.

"Thank you. I feel relieved that your friend is fine. I'll leave first, bye." You said goodbye to them with a pure smile before leaving.

Rayleigh was attracted by your pure smile and gentle actions. He thought you were charming. He looked at your back and flowing long hair. Buggy froze in place and watched you leave with a shy look on his face.

"A beautiful little girl, right?" Roger smiled.

"It was so beautiful that Buggy was stunned in place." Shanks said with a smile.

"Shut up!" Buggy yelled to cover up his shyness.

"Stop arguing, hurry up and buy something now." After Rayleigh finished speaking, he looked at your back as you walked away.

"So beautiful." Rayleigh thought.

When you get home, you sort out the ingredients one by one and put them in the cabinet in order. Ria's absence at home means that she has gone to work in the bar. You pack your things and leave the house to help in the bar.

The people you just met in the market seem a bit familiar to you, as if you've seen them somewhere. You thought about it but couldn't think of it. You didn't think about it anymore and ran to the bar to help.

You arrived outside and saw Ria carrying wine boxes into the store. You step forward to help her move. You two usually move the goods before opening. You put the wine on the shelf, wipe down the tables and dishes and get ready for business.

"Y/N, clean outside the door. Yesterday's storm brought sand and garbage." Ria said while stacking wine bottles.

"Okay." You put on your apron and take the broom to sweep the floor outside the door.

You tie up your hair, roll up your sleeves, pick up the broom and clean everything outside. You take a bucket of water, put the cloth into the bucket, take it out, wring it out, and wipe all the windows of the store.

When guests greet you at the door, you put down the rag in your hand and open the door for them. Ria is responsible for preparing food in the store, and you are responsible for taking orders and serving food to customers.

Since you were sold here, your daily routine from morning to night has been working here. You were resistant at first, but Ria's care for you made you feel very at ease.

Near Ria bar

"I'm so hungry~ Can we find a place to rest and eat for a while?" Shanks asked while touching his stomach.

"I'm hungry too..." Buggy's stomach growled.

"Hahaha! Okay! Let's find a place first." Roger said excitedly.

"Why are there so many people in front of that?" Rayleigh saw many people surrounding the door of Ria Bar.

The four of them walked to the crowd to see what was going on, and heard someone in the crowd talking about a girl. Rayleigh was curious and looked through the window and see you serving food to the guests.

"What are these people doing? Can't see inside!" Buggy wondered why there were so many people.

"Don't you know? The most famous thing here is not only the good wine, but also the beauty of the girl in it!" Said a middle-aged uncle.

"What do they mean?" Shanks asked Roger curiously.

"To put it simply, there is a beautiful girl inside who will attract customers." Roger simply explained to Shanks.

"Excuse me, how many are there?" You walked out of the store and asked the people waiting in line.

"Girl! Do you want to have a drink with me? I'll buy you a few glasses of good wine." A young man raised his hand and shouted.

"It's the sister from just now!" Buggy waved wildly to you while riding on Roger's shoulders.

As you were being troubled by a young man you saw a blue-haired child riding on the shoulders of a man in a red coat. It was the kid who just bumped into you, and you waved enthusiastically to him.

Everyone except the four of them and you looked back. They were immediately recognized as members of the Roger Pirates. It was actually Captain Roger and Dark King Rayleigh standing together.

Everyone present was frightened by their oppression and stepped back to make way for them to go ahead. A man wearing a red coat and carrying a blue child walks up to you and gives you a big smile.

"Four?" You smiled politely.

"Yes, is there a seat?" The blue-haired child asked happily.

"Of course, come in." You lead them inside to sit down.

The patrons inside the bar were surprised to see you taking them to their seats. It's the legendary pirate group here. Everyone looked at them nervously as they took their seats, you handed them the menu first.

When they take the menu and look at the dishes, you serve the food to other customers first while they are looking at the menu. Buggy is paying attention to the way you work seriously, he looks at you intoxicated.

"Buggy, your mouth is watering when you see it." Shanks laughed.

"Nonsense!" Buggy quickly wiped his mouth.

"I understand Buggy. That sister is very beautiful, and every man wants to covet her." Shanks kept poking Buggy with his arm.

"Don't talk like I'm a pervert!" Buggy started to make trouble with Shanks.

"Hey hey hey, haven't you beaten enough?" Rayleigh smiled.

"Hahahaha! I really can't get enough of you two!" Roger laughed loudly.

"So lively. Do you want to order some food?" You asked, standing next to Roger with a smile.

"Two beers and two glasses of juice. Can you order the food for me?" Rayleigh closed the menu handed it back to you and asked.

"No problem, leave it to me." You walked to the bar and put the menu down.

"Y/N, do you know who they are?" Ria was mixing drinks.

"I don't know, do you know?" You asked back to Ria.

"You saw the newspaper yesterday. The two major figures of the Roger Pirates!" Ria put down the wine glass and told you.

"No wonder it looks familiar to me." You said calmly.

"What did they order?" Ria asked you a little curiously.

"Two glasses of beer, two glasses of juice. They said I would order the food, so I'll order a few signature dishes for them." You told Ria.

"I hope it's to their liking..." Ria became nervous.

Then you realize they were the legendary pirate group. You didn't realize right away that people like them were coming to dine in the restaurant. In fact, you noticed that everyone's expressions became very nervous since they arrived.

Ria made the drinks they ordered and handed them to you. You put them on the tray and walked to their seat. Suddenly someone came over and bumped into you on purpose, and Roger's drink accidentally fell to the ground.

"Hey! Come over and play with me for a while!" The man who bumped into you grabbed your wrist.

"Hey!" Ria shouted.

"I..." You were too scared to speak.

"Are you happy bullying a little girl?" Rayleigh grabbed his shoulder and glared at him.

"Dark King!" The man quickly let go of your hand and stepped back.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" Rayleigh cares about you gently.

"It's okay, thank you." You bowed to express your gratitude to him.

You clean up the spilled water first, and then give them a new drink. Rayleigh returned to seat and continued see you working diligently and conscientiously, feeling so charming.

"You are so awesome! Rayleigh!" Shanks said excitedly.

"Hahaha! I wanted to beat that guy, but you got there first!" Roger laughed.

"That guy is waiting for the opportunity to tease her." Rayleigh said calmly.

"Tch! Pervert! Scumbag!" Buggy stuck out his tongue.

"Sorry for the long wait, your drinks are here." You put the drinks in front of them.

"Thank you! Sister!" Shanks and Buggy said happily.

"You're welcome, I wanted to thank you for helping me out." You said to Rayleigh.

"Don't worry about small things." Rayleigh said modestly.

"Hahaha! Just hope you're okay, little girl! Otherwise, that guy would be doomed." Roger took the drink and drank.

"Sister! What's your name!" Shanks raised his hand and asked your name.

"Me? My name is Y/N." You simply introduced yourself.

"My name is Shanks! This blue-haired clown is Buggy! The one who just saved you is Rayleigh! This one who is drinking is Roger!" Shanks introduces you to the other people sitting together.

"Hehehe, hello there. Nice to meet you." You laughed out loud because Shanks' introduction felt so cute.

"Wow..." Buggy was stunned when he saw your smile.

"Your food will be ready soon, please wait patiently." You waved and left their seats.

"Sister with a sweet smile." Shanks praised you.

"That's right. She must have gone through a lot still smile so calmly when she encountered that kind of thing just now." Rayleigh took a swig of beer.

"What a gentle sister." Buggy said with a smile.

"I wonder if she is willing to go on an adventure with us?" Roger suddenly said.

"Huh?! Do you want to invite her!?" Buggy was surprised by Roger's question.

"It depends on her heart whether she wants it or not. Our ship will be repaired and leave the island. I don't know when we will meet again in the future." Rayleigh expressed his opinion calmly.

"I hope she will join. We are a little tired of all our members being men." Shanks laughed after saying this.

"Hahaha! I hope so too!" Roger laughed.

"It would be really troublesome if she joins. She has to take care of you kids and the troubled captain." Rayleigh said with a smile.

You hear their laughter is lively, they must be talking about interesting topics. Rayleigh saw you looking at their seats, he raised his glass smiled at you and you waved back.

You pick up their food and walk to their seat place the food in front of them. Shanks and Buggy showed salivating expressions, Roger and Rayleigh laughed out loud at their expressions.

"These are our store's signature dishes, I hope you like them." You said with a smile.

"It smells so good, sister!" Shanks praised the taste of the food.

"My mouth is watering just looking at it!" Buggy stared at the food.

"Hey little devils, let's eat." Rayleigh smiled.

"Eat quickly! I'm so hungry!" Roger said with a smile.

They picked up the tableware and started eating. The two children ate quickly and looked like they were enjoying it. You couldn't help but laugh, and they laughed too when they saw you laughing. Maybe they are not as scary as you think.

Rayleigh and Roger ate heartily and raised glasses to drink. You refill their glasses and let them continue drinking happily. Although their laughter is loud, you are very happy to hear it.

"They are so happy." Ria was wiping the wine glass.

"Yeah, those two kids are so cute." You told Ria what you thought about Shanks and Buggy.

"The legendary pirate with two children is really cute." Ria laughed softly.

Suddenly someone kicked in the door, you looked in panic to see that it was the human trafficker from two years ago. They swagger in, sit down at random, light cigarettes, then point at you motion you to come over and entertain them.

All the guests present looked at their behavior strangely. A group of human traffickers gathered here, loud and slovenly. Because there are so many people, everyone is still afraid to keep quiet.

You took the menu started to walk away, Ria stopped you refused to let you go. You comforted Ria, calmed down and walked to their seats to entertain them. You hand them the menu and stand around waiting for their order.

"Wow, top quality is really different! You have become even more beautiful as you grow up." The bastard looked at your face and said.

"Thank you for the compliment." You replied calmly.

"Hey, how much does it cost to come with me?" That bastard asked, holding your hand.

"Hey! They are bullying sister!" Buggy was very unhappy.

"Calm down, Buggy." Rayleigh stopped him.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Ria came to Roger's table and asked.

"What's the matter, miss?" Roger looked at Ria and asked.

"Actually, Y/N was sold to me by those bastards. They keep harassing her. They are so numerous that I am worried about Y/N's safety. If there is anything, can you please help protect her?" Ria bowed and begged Roger.

"Keep your head up, miss." Roger took a swig of wine.

"I have that plan." Rayleigh held his sword and waited for the opportunity.

"Sorry, you can only order what's on the menu." You told him patiently, pointing to the menu.

"I'm asking you something, so you'd better listen to me honestly. How much is it?" The bastard grabbed your hand hard.

"Sorry, I'm not on the menu." You said to him with a smile.

"You bitch!" He stood up angrily.

That bastard is holding on to your hand and can't break free because of his strength. He stood up raised his hand about to hit you, but you didn't flinch just stood there waiting for him to take action.

Suddenly there was a strong murderous aura, and everyone turned to look at Roger and his group. Rayleigh slowly stood up and walked towards you, holding his sword in his hand.

"Rayleigh you..." You looked worriedly at Rayleigh walking over.

"Go away, it's none of your business here. Don't mess with it!" The bastard pointed at Rayleigh and said.

"If you bully her, I will be very troubled." Rayleigh looked at him and said.

"This is not bullying! She is a commodity, I just want to buy her!" That bastard grabbed your hand harder.

"It hurts!" His grip hurt you.

Rayleigh drew his sword and put it at the bastard's neck. The bastard was frightened by his murderous intent and the edge of his sword and pushed you away hard. Rayleigh stretched out his other arm to hug you to keep you steady.

"Tch! I remember you!" The bastard pointed at Rayleigh and warned him.

"I'll accompany you." Rayleigh said while protecting you.

After the group of human traffickers left, Rayleigh put the sword back into its scabbard. You felt a little relieved, thanks to him coming to rescue and helping you. Otherwise, they must be rude to you now.

"Are you okay?" Rayleigh asked, still holding you in his arms.

"I'm fine. Thank you for helping me a second time." You smiled in thanks.

"I'm happy to." Rayleigh was relieved to see that you were not hurt.

"That...your hand..." You looked at his hand holding you awkwardly.

"Oh! Sorry." Rayleigh took back his hand.

"It's okay." You simply replied and went back to work.

Rayleigh touched you for the first time. He could feel your body temperature when he hugged you just now. The first intimate contact made him a little overwhelmed, so he didn't let you go directly for a while.

He returned to seat, put his sword next to him and took a sip of wine. Shanks and Buggy kept admiring and praising Rayleigh's strength and dominance. Roger also continued drinking with Rayleigh.

"Those pieces of trash just came to destroy the place even though they were still alive." Ria said angrily.

"Ria... to be honest, I'm a little scared. Thanks to Rayleigh being here today, what if they come again tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or even after that..." you said frustratedly.

Rayleigh occasionally glanced at you at work, but when he saw the scene, he became a little worried. Because you look sad, he doesn't know why he cares about you so much but wants to know what's wrong with you.

Night

You were cleaning up before closing, while Ria was sorting out the goods and accounting books. After you went outside to clean, you felt like someone was watching you. You turned around to look at the fellow bastards.

"Ria!" Yoh shouted and they knocked you unconscious and took you away.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Eh?" Ria stood outside the store and wandered.

Ria stepped on something. She squatted on the ground and picked it up. It was a bracelet with your name engraved on it. Ria tightened her grip on the bracelet, knowing something bad had happened. Ria closed the shop and looked around for you.

Ria ran down the street and shouted your name but there was no response and no sign of you. She asked passers-by if they had seen you anywhere, and they all said no. It happened a little girl said that someone was carrying you and ran into a hut in an abandoned area.

Roger Pirates on the Shore

Scopper and Crocus prepared the materials for ship and started repairing. Rayleigh and Shanks packed the purchased supplies into boxes. Buggy and Roger sneak out to walk around the streets.

Ria saw Roger and Buggy on the street and immediately stopped them. Buggy remembered that Ria was your friend and he said hello. Roger noticed that Ria's expression was panicked.

"What's wrong?" Roger asked after comforting Ria.

"Y/N! Y/N has been kidnapped!" Ria told Roger nervously.

"Sister has been kidnapped?!" Buggy was surprised when he heard it.

"That little girl?! When did it happen?" Roger asked hurriedly.

"A girl saw her being taken to a hut in a deserted area!" Ria said to Roger in panic.

Roger took Ria and Buggy to the shore of the island where they parked the ship. Roger ordered Rayleigh to stop what he doing and immediately follow him to rescue you.

Rayleigh heard that you were kidnapped, he became angry and murderous, scaring Buggy and Shanks to hide behind Roger. He couldn't sit still and directly picked up his sword prepared to go to the hut for rescue.

Basement

The boss of the group of traffickers tied you to a chair and poured a bucket of cold water on to wake you up from your coma. A bucket of cold water is poured over you and you feel so cold that your body is shivering.

Although your vision was a little blurry, but sure the bastard who kidnapped you was also present. You hear their laughter and noise and it makes you feel sick.

"You're living a good life, top quality." Their boss grabbed your face and said.

"It's you again..." You said helplessly.

"Did you miss us?" He pulled your hair.

"No need." You said expressionlessly.

"That face is so beautiful! She still has personality now!" He slapped you hard twice.

"Trash..." You spat on the ground.

"Have the guts to say it again!" He choked your neck and said angrily.

"Are you deaf?" You raised the corner of your mouth to look down upon him.

"Fuck!" He kicked you in the stomach.

His kick just now was so hard you fell to the ground coughing wildly. He stomped on your stomach hard that you whimpered loudly because the pain was unbearable. You wanted to cry and die, but you didn't want to give in to them.

You endured being beaten by them, knowing that there was nothing you could do but it was better than not resisting at all. You grit your teeth and endure the pain and let them abuse you. If you obey them, you might as well die.

Outside the hut in the abandoned area

"Rescue the little girl!" Roger raised his fist and shouted.

"Of course." Rayleigh held the scabbard.

When the Roger Pirates arrived, they saw no one guarding the outer door, not even a human figure. Roger drew his sword and broke through to the hut. Rayleigh also drew his sword and followed Roger.

Basement

The oil lamp hanging in the basement room flickered, there was a noise from upstairs. The group left you and the boss alone, the rest ran upstairs to find out what was going on but never came back.

The bastard in front of you has noticed something is wrong. Before he leaves, he kicks you again, picks up the weapon and walks upstairs. You were tied to the chair, unable to break free and allowed him to beat you. Now you fell to the ground, vomiting blood and lost consciousness.

Upstairs

The bastard went upstairs investigate and saw a terrible scene. All his subordinates fell to the ground. He saw two men, Roger and Rayleigh knocking down the rest of his men.

They turned around to see a man glaring at them with a weapon. Roger was sure that the man in front of him was the boss of these people. When Rayleigh was about to take action, Roger stopped him.

"Are you their boss?" Roger asked with a smile.

"You are...!" That bastard has already realized who Roger is.

"Rayleigh, go find her. I'll do this guy." Roger happily ran towards the enemy to fight.

"Okay." Rayleigh retracted his sword moved separately with Roger.

"Little girl a, maybe she's dead. It's such a shame to have a pretty face." The bastard said with a smile.

Roger rushed up and punched him in the stomach, causing the bastard fall to the ground and vomit blood. Roger grabbed him by the collar pulled him up and asked where you were being held.

When Rayleigh found out, he snatched the key and rushed to find you. He unlocked the basement door went down the stairs to see you tied to a chair and lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

"Y/N!" Rayleigh drew his sword and cut the rope that bound you.

"Hold on! I'll get you out right away!" Rayleigh let you lean into his arms.

"Ray….leigh…" you whispered.

"It's me! I'll get you out now!" Rayleigh picked you up.

"The third time..." You whispered leaning into his arms.

"I'm late." Rayleigh hugged you and left the basement.

"...I've been waiting for you..." After saying that, you fell into a coma.

Ria's house

Rayleigh took you and followed Ria back to her home, while Roger went to the ship find Crocus to treat you. After Rayleigh arrived at Ria's house, he put you on the bed and stayed with you while waiting for Crocus to arrive.

After Roger and Crocus arrived at Ria's house, they began to examine and treat you. Shanks and Buggy were worried about you, so they secretly followed you to find out what was going on, but they were caught by Roger.

A few hours later, Crocus came out of the room and explained to everyone how serious your injuries were. You still in a coma and waiting for you to wake up. Ria felt guilty for not noticing you right away.

"Thank you, I don't know how to repay this kindness." Ria bowed to Roger to express her gratitude.

"You're welcome! Thanks to her, I have a delicious meal today!" Roger laughed.

"Crocus, will sister be okay?" Shanks and Buggy were both worried.

"I've treated everything that needs to be treated, now she has to rely on herself." Crocus said.

"She will be fine! When she wakes up, I will invite her to adventure in the world together!" Roger said loudly.

"Adventure? Really!" Ria asked what Roger just said.

"Of course I'm serious!" Roger laughed.

"Then please take her away!" Ria said seriously.

"Why?" Rayleigh was very confused about what Ria said.

"Actually, she was a girl who grew up on a small island. Unfortunately, she was kidnapped by those traffickers. At first, I wanted to find someone to work for me, but I didn't expect that the people who traded her were those traffickers. I thought about if I didn't buy her she must been mistreated by them, in the end I couldn't bear it so I bought her." Ria tells about your encounter with her.

"So that's what happened." Rayleigh understood what Ria meant.

"She has a very smart mind! She always reads books and texts that are difficult to understand." Ria mentioned these key points.

"But we still have to ask her what she wants." Crocus said calmly.

"She has never been anywhere else except here and the island she used to live on. Her dream is to have adventure." Ria said.

"It's a good dream." Rayleigh said softly.

After the Roger Pirates left, Ria went to your room sat by your bed to take care of you. She knew you would leave her and now she knew it was a good time. It's time for you to go on an adventure with the Roger Pirates.

The next day afternoon

You wake up and see parts of your body covered in bandages. You slowly got out of bed, Ria left a note asking you to rest today. You guessed that Ria was already at work by this time.

Yesterday you had the impression that Rayleigh saved you from that place. You haven't thanked him in person yet, but don't know where he will be. You leave your house with your crutches and walk slowly down the street looking for them.

You walked to the market near the pier and saw Shanks and Buggy jumping over with two bags of fruit. You call their names and they run straight to you.

"Sister! Why did you get out of bed!" Shanks said in a panic.

"You have to rest!" Buggy yelled in panic.

"I want to thank Rayleigh and Roger in person. Can you take me to see them?" You asked them politely.

Shanks and Buggy hesitated but decided to accompany you to find them. You walked a little slowly with crutches, Buggy and Shanks matched your speed walked beside you to keep you company.

When arrived at the shore, you saw a pirate ship and several crew members. You see Rayleigh moving boxes and Roger helping to organize things. Shanks and Buggy quickly ran to call them both.

Shanks pulled Rayleigh to look in your direction. He quickly walked over to you with a wooden box and put it down. After patting the wooden box clean, he supported you with his hands and asked you to sit down slowly.

"You ran out like this?" Rayleigh asked standing in front of you.

"I want to say thank you." You said politely.

"You don't have to force yourself to move when you're still hurt." Rayleigh cares about you.

"I volunteer. You are pirates and will leave the island any time. I want to finish talking before you leave." You confess to Rayleigh.

"I know, I can't defeat you." Rayleigh smiled warmly.

"Little girl! You came just in time!" Roger ran over and stood in front of you.

"Hi Roger." You waved hello.

"Would you like to join me! Let's go on an adventure together!" Roger enthusiastically extended his hand to invite you.

"Huh?! I don't have any expertise! I don't even know how to fight!" You waved your hands in panic.

"Your friend told me that your dream is adventure. Why don't you give it a try?" Roger asked doubtfully.

"I..." You were excited when you heard Roger's invitation, but you were hesitant about what to do.

"The ship is almost repaired can set sail tonight. If you want to come, just come. We welcome you to join." Rayleigh pushed Roger aside and stood in front of you and said.

"Hey! Rayleigh!" Roger wanted to interrupt.

"Of course we will respect your decision and won't force you." Rayleigh said calmly.

"Thank you. I'm leaving first." Rayleigh helped you up and you picked up the crutches and left.

Rayleigh felt sorry for you when he saw your hesitant expression. He wants you to join him in adventuring the world. But he knows that some things cannot be forced on you.

"You obviously want her to join, why don't you keep her?" Roger poked Rayleigh curiously.

"She has her own ideas, I can't force her." Rayleigh continued to work on his things.

You walked slowly on the street, thinking about Roger's invitation just now. He was right, why didn't you give it a try? Your dreams are adventures, life goals worth challenging.

Ria was sitting on a chair when you opened the door. When she saw you, she stood up and came over to help you. When you see Ria, you are thinking about how much money you still owe her and how you want to tell her what Roger just said.

"Ria, actually Roger and the others..." You said sitting on the chair.

"They invited you to go on an adventure, right?" Ria said calmly.

"You knew?" You were surprised that Ria knew about this.

"I know. If you want to go, go. I support you." Ria said.

"But, but I haven't paid back the money yet..." You were surprised to hear that Ria supported you.

"No need. You are free and will no longer be bound." Ria said sitting next to you.

"But Ria..." You hugged her with tears in your eyes.

"Don't be like this, I will be even more reluctant if you hold me like this. But will be lonely. Without your three meals a day, no one will accompany me to buy beautiful clothes. But I am very glad that you stay with me like a sister." Ria hugged you with tears in her eyes.

"Me too. Thank you, sister." You shed tears and hugged her.

"Remember to write a letter! Come back and see me occasionally! Your bounty should be high! I want those who bully you to know how scary you are!" Ria said loudly.

"Hahaha, okay. I'll try my best." What she said made you laugh.

Night

The Roger Pirates confirmed that the ship had been repaired, that all supplies and cargo boxes had been loaded, that it was ready to set sail at any time. Rayleigh looked at the repaired boat and felt happy but a little regretful.

He’s looking forward to adventures with you, seeing you for the first time is like an incredible being. He wanted to convince you to go like Roger, but he chose to respect your decision.

In the future, if there is a chance he will come back to this island to see you someday in the future. Now he just hopes that your injury will heal quickly and you will smile as usual tomorrow.

"Want to see her?" Crocus asked sitting next to her.

"No. If I see her, I won't want to leave." Rayleigh said with a smile.

"Soft spot for you." Crocus complained about Rayleigh.

"Sister won't come with us..." Buggy was a little sad.

"She also has friends living here, we can't force her." Shanks comforted the sad Buggy.

"She is an adventurous person. It's a pity that she didn't come with her." Roger said calmly.

"Roger, the wind direction is good, it's almost done." Scopper came to find Roger.

"Okay! Get ready to leave!" Roger stood up and shouted.

"Please wait!" a female voice yelled.

All members of the Roger Pirates followed the direction of the sound and saw it was you waving to them. Ria carried your luggage and helped you walk slowly. Shanks and Buggy rush directly in front of you.

"Sister! Why are you here?" Shanks and Buggy looked at you happily.

"I'm not late, am I?" You asked with a smile.

"Is it?!" Buggy and Shanks shouted excitedly.

"Roger, I'll join you." You said to Roger.

"Hahahahahaha! I knew it! Welcome!" Roger laughed loudly.

"Keep an eye on her, she can be very confused sometimes." Ria said from behind you.

"Ria! You!" You looked at Ria shyly.

"Yahooo! Sister is here!" Buggy and Shanks hugged each other and jumped up and down.

"Let me get your luggage." Rayleigh took your luggage.

Rayleigh carried your luggage and stretched out his other hand to help you walk slowly. Shanks and Buggy were happily walking and playing, while Ria was watching your back as you boarded the ship.

You turned to Ria, smiled and waved goodbye, she watched you leave with tears in her eyes. Seeing that innocent smile on your face, she knows you are happy. You are about to leave. She is a little lonely but she believes that will see you someday.

Rayleigh helped you to the ship, you looked at Ria who was watching you off on the shore. You waved goodbye to her repeatedly, and she waved goodbye to you with tears in her eyes.

You left this place, left Ria. You have now joined the Roger Pirates and going to see the world and adventure with them. Your tears couldn't help falling, you wiped the fallen tears with your hands.

"Set sail!" Scopper commanded.

The ship leaves the place where you once lived and sails on the sea at night. The smell of the wind and the sea, you are no longer locked in a room. You can see the waves rolling outside and the vast sky.

"Rayleigh..." You looked at Rayleigh who was helping you.

"What's wrong?" Rayleigh looked at you blankly.

"This is what you see every day." You said softly.

"Yes, we will see it every day." Rayleigh looked at the sky.

"Very beautiful." You said with a smile.

"You will see the same scenery with us in the future." Rayleigh chuckled.

Shanks and Buggy ran over to the two of you after cleaning the room Roger prepared for you. Rayleigh helped you to the room, and Buggy took your luggage and followed.

Open the door to see a bed, desk, bookshelf, wardrobe and small window. The room is neither big nor small, just like your previous room. Buggy put luggage on the floor while you looked around the room.

Shanks explain to you simply. Everyone takes turns using the bathroom. You are the only girl so remember to lock the door. The boat will be guarded in turns at night, the dining area is shared by everyone. Everyone takes turns doing the cleaning.

It's late, Rayleigh takes Buggy and Shanks out of your room to let you have a good rest. After closing the door, you unpacked your luggage and packed everything inside neatly.

"My new life..." You take a diary from the desk and write down your story.

The first thing you do after boarding the ship is write down your stories and adventures in a journal. After you were sold to Ria, you didn't have the chance to go on any adventures. Now that you've started sailing with the Roger Pirates, it's something worth recording.

After you finish writing the diary, you close it and put it on the desk. It's already night time, you take off all your clothes and put them on the bed, then go to the closet to get a fresh set of clothes to change into.

"Y/N, can I help you with anything?" Suddenly someone opened your room door and walked in.

You haven't changed your clothes yet and completely naked. The person who opened and entered your room was Rayleigh. You two looked at each other and felt awkward. Rayleigh covered his eyes with hands.

"Sorry! I forgot to knock the door!" Rayleigh explained in a panic.

"Get out!" You slapped him and pushed him out of your room, closing the door hard.

You put your clothes on quickly. It was so embarrassing that he saw your naked body. Blame yourself for not locking the door, which makes you an idiot.

Rayleigh was flattered when he saw your naked body and graceful figure. In his understanding, you are a pure and gentle girl, but after seeing your body just now, he immediately felt something bad.

"Rayleigh! What happened to your face! Were you attacked by the enemy?" Scopper was startled when he saw the slap mark on Rayleigh's face.

"No, I brought it upon myself." Rayleigh followed Scopper to find Roger.

"Hahaha! What happened to the slap mark on your face! Who hit you!" Roger sprayed wine and laughed when he saw it.

"I was beaten by Y/N. But it was my fault first." Rayleigh didn't say what happened.

"Sister can actually beat the Dark King." Shanks was surprised when he heard it.

"A ruthless character." Buggy said knowingly.

"You all listen carefully, Y/N is the only female on our ship. Remember to be polite and don't bully her. The most important thing is to knock on the door before entering her room." Rayleigh explained seriously to everyone present.

After Rayleigh told everyone about you, he sat next to Roger and drank. He touched his cheek, unexpectedly you were so strong. One of your slaps was so hard that red marks appeared.

"Sister!" Shanks yelled running towards you.

"Damn it! You're one step ahead of me!" Buggy chased Shanks.

"Y/N is loved by those two brats." Scopper said with a smile.

"Hahahaha! Y/N will exude a kind of affinity." Roger toasted.

"Hi everyone." You approached them and said hello.

"Hey, little girl!" Roger greets you.

"How are your injuries?" Scopper is concerned about your injuries.

"I'm fine , can move more easily." You sit down and talk to them.

"Sister! How about we have breakfast together tomorrow morning!" Buggy held your hand.

"Hehehe, okay." You gently touched Buggy's head.

"Y/N feels like a sister taking care of them both." Scopper took a sip of wine.

"Rayleigh, what happened just now...did I hit you too hard? Does your face still hurt?" You blame yourself a little but want to care about Rayleigh. You know it was just an accident.

"I just want to say I'm sorry. Before you came, I would call them and break into their room directly. It was my negligence." Rayleigh comforted you.

"But what did Rayleigh see?" Shanks asked curiously.

"Umm..." You blushed slightly as you recalled the scene where Rayleigh saw your body just now.

"I was beaten because I accidentally saw her diary." Rayleigh defended you making up excuses.

"Rayleigh, girls' diaries are taboo." Scopper laughed.

Rayleigh made up a reason to avoid this topic to protect your privacy. When you first met him, he gave off a very mature, stable and gentlemanly masculinity.

You were a little amused by the excuse he made up, you wanted a drink to hide your smile. But Rayleigh had already seen you snickering, he pointed the wine glass at you to signal you a toast.

Roger was so excited ans he pulled Scopper to start a drinking competition. You and Shanks stood beside them to heat up the atmosphere, while Rayleigh and Buggy applauded next to them.

Buggy and Shanks hold your hand and pull you to dance together. Rayleigh and Crocus also drank and had fun together. Roger and Scopper also started to get excited.

Late at night

Roger and Scopper got so drunk that they collapsed. Crocus and Rayleigh pulled them both back into the room. Shanks and Buggy also went to the room to watch the joke.

You had so much fun with them , after they left you sat alone in a place drinking and watching the stars. Listening the sound of the waves and the cold sea breeze blowing by, this is what you will see on the sea.

When your parents were alive, they were always away from home, venturing around the world. You were still child you only play at home or in nearby open spaces. You didn't have many friends at the time.

This is your second time going to sea. The first time was kidnapped is already a bad memory. The second time is now sailing and adventuring with the Roger Pirates.

"You'll catch a cold." Someone covered you with a coat from behind.

"Huh?" You turned around and saw it was Rayleigh.

"Did you have fun just now?" Rayleigh asked sitting next to you.

"I'm very happy. Thank you for inviting me to adventure together." You held Rayleigh's coat.

"It was Roger's idea to invite you. When that guy meets interesting people, he takes them on adventures," Rayleigh said.

"Am I?" You looked at Rayleigh in confusion.

"It was your charm that attracted the Roger Pirates. Perhaps Roger invited you because of this in you. That guy was happier when he heard that your dream was adventure." Rayleigh smiled at you after finishing speaking.

"Hahaha, that's amazing." You laughed.

"The scenery in the sky changes every time the ship sails. The clouds, stars and colors change every day. Sometimes the night is dark but the sky is full of stars. Every scene is incredible." Rayleigh looked at the sky.

"Well, it's really incredible." You also look to the sky to watch every scene.

Rayleigh glanced at you while you were looking at the sky, and his heart melted when he saw your bright smile. Compared to the first time I met you, this is your smile full of curiosity about unknown things. He's excited for you to follow them on their adventures and looks forward to spending every moment with you.

"Hachoo!" you sneezed.

"You're catching a cold. Let me take you back to your room." Rayleigh stood up.

"Hahaha, I'm not used to the weather yet." You stood up and walked beside him.

"You'll get used to it after a while. Give yourself some time to adapt to the environment here." Rayleigh said softly.

Before you get to the room, Rayleigh tells you some of their daily routine. Although he may have a heavy aura to you, but he is gentle and talkative to you. Arriving at the door of the room you returned his coat to him.

"Thanks for the coat. Good night Rayleigh." You said with a smile.

"Well, good night. Have a sweet dream." Rayleigh said with a chuckle.

You closed the door and locked it, lying on your bed looking at the ceiling. It’s hard to believe you’ve already had an adventure with them, your future has endless possibilities, and you’re ready to explore the unknown.

Rayleigh returned to the room and put his coat on the chair. He felt so comfortable when you had just put on his coat. He be attracted by your temperament, he sure you are special.

The End.

[mikhailwrites]

Keep your Sergeant happy / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #18 - Cooking (from the SFW prompt list, made a bit NSFW)

Soap stares. Shocked out of his wit, which is almost unheard of. A confused “You… cook?” is the only response he’s capable of.

“I do. Been told I’m rather good at it, too,” Ghost adds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Two weeks. Soap and Ghost are holed up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere for two weeks, and the Sergeant is seriously starting to lose it. They don’t even know if they’re really in danger; all Price told them was, “There’s been a leak; lay low, don’t return to the base until you hear from me”. It’s just their luck they’ve been out on a deployment to Germany when it happened.

They’ve been living off canned food and stashed MREs for too long, and Soap’s had just enough. He looks into the cupboard for the umpteenth time as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find there. More cans. “Ah swear Ah will throw up if I have tae eat one more canned meat.” Johnny groans, going through the stash in hopes of finding something else.

Ghost hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything encouraging or otherwise. Soap is sure his Lieutenant could live from berries and roots if it came to that. Or hunt a rabbit with his bare hands or something. He’s seen Ghost’s survival skills first-hand many times. Fuck, Soap would kill for a rabbit. Or a fish. Or anything other than a disgusting piece of pseudo-meat in the sleazy gravy. But there’s nothing else, and his stomach has been growling for over an hour.

By the third, slowly chewed bite, Soap is willing to call this shit worse than actual torture. Closing his eyes as he feeds himself another piece, Soap feels his face contort in a mixture of disgust and apprehension.

“You look like you’re about to die, Johnny,” Ghost says without a hint of emotion.

Soap sighs, putting the dreaded can away as he hopes the few bites would be enough to calm his stomach and give it at least an illusion of sustenance. “Might as well if I have to eat one more of these.”

Ghost chuckles, shaking his head slowly. “Any food is better than no food, trust me.”

Soap knows, truly, but that doesn’t mean he can’t bitch about it, does it?

“Tell you what, if you can manage two cans a day, I’ll cook something nice for you when we get back,” Ghost offers and… he sounds almost cheerful as he says it.

Soap stares. Shocked out of his wit, which is almost unheard of. A confused “You… cook?” is the only response he’s capable of.

“I do. Been told I’m rather good at it, too,” Ghost adds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Only the sly glint in his eyes betrays the truth that he enjoys teasing Soap.

“What… uh… okay? Alright.” Soap stutters and reluctantly takes the half-eaten can.

Ghost nods his approval. “That’s the spirit, Johnny. So… what’d you like? And I swear to God, if you say haggis, you’re not gonna live it down.”

“Why? Ye cannae do haggis?” Soap teases but quickly reconsiders as Ghost turns to him fully, casually flipping a knife. “Alright, alright! I dinnae even like haggis, ye British twat! Tikka masala fine with ye?”

“Butter chicken it is,” Ghost agrees, hiding the knife away.

The following week is a blur. They get back, Price briefs them, and then they have to catch up on the piles of work that, somehow, could wait up until then but couldn’t wait any longer. Johnny was looking forward to returning home, but now that he’s home, it’s not as happy a reunion as he hoped.

Soap is just finishing up for the day, tired, apathetic and irritable. For the first time ever, he’s seriously considering taking a few days' leave. Ghost’s voice stops him as he reaches the door. “Soap, meet me at the mess hall at 2300.”

It’s a weird request at best, and Soap blinks a few times before he turns around. The Lieutenant doesn’t spare him a glance, still typing away on his keyboard. Maybe Soap didn’t hear right? “Come again?”

“Mess hall, 2300, be there,” Ghost repeats without any further explanation.

Soap nods, too tired to bother. “Sure.”

As a matter of fact, he’s too tired to ponder on it. Ghost tells him to be somewhere, Soap does it, easy as that—no thinking required.

The moment he steps into the mess hall, five minutes to eleven, he realises what’s going on. The smell of masala, garlic and turmeric is enough to make his mouth water immediately. He remembers Ghost’s promise now.

Entering the kitchen, he sees Ghost dressed in his usual black attire, with a white apron. The balaclava is tucked up on his nose because, obviously, he needs to smell and taste the sauce. Nobody would ever believe Soap if he told them.

“You were actually serious,” Johnny says as he leans against the counter, watching in astonishment as Ghost prepares the meal. No, not Ghost, it’s Simon now. And Simon’s moves in the kitchen are just as steady and well-practised Ghost’s on the battlefield.

Simon chuckles, stirring the sauce. “I was. Now, hand me the plates.”

Soap does, feeling a bit nostalgic. He used to help his maw in the kitchen when he was but a wee kid. He watches Simon fill the plates with rice, pouring a generous amount of sauce over it and adding a healthy amount of chicken on top. “Here you go, one chicken tikka masala.”

They sit at the table; it’s a bit weird being the only two people there, but Soap doesn’t mind. This feels nice. Unsure of what to expect, he scoops some rice with his fork, adding the sauce to it, before he tenderly tastes it.

“Holy shit,” Soap utters in disbelief, staring first into his plate, then at Simon, who looks very pleased with himself as he eats his own portion. “This is so good!”

“Thank you,” Simon smirks. “Told you I can cook.”

It’s true, but for some reason, Johnny really thought he was joking. Ghost. Cooking. And acing it, as he aces pretty much anything he does. On a closer inspection, it shouldn’t surprise him. Soap opts for not saying anything and just enjoying the amazing treat. When he tastes the chicken that was probably soaking in the marinating sauce for some time, he moans obscenely. The food is honestly much better than it has any right to be. So good, in fact, that it strips Soap of his brain-to-mouth filter. “If you’re at least half as good a lay as you are a cook, I wanna marry ye.”

Simon pauses, fork with another bite lifted halfway. His eyes are wide with surprise.

“Oh fuck…,” Soap breathes out as he realises not only what did he just say but to whom.

Simon smiles, one of his slightly scary, feral smiles. “Technically, this could count as a dinner.”

Soap is fighting the overwhelming mixture of confusion and panic. He has no clue what’s going on, but Simon doesn’t seem offended, which is good. In fact, he looks… intrigued. Okay, Soap can work with that. “You think me some easy lad, letting you have your way with me after just one dinner?”

“It’s a damn good dinner,” Simon shrugs. He watches Soap intently, and the intent is dark and hungry.

Johnny slides his foot under the table until it nudges against Simon’s. It’s a safe touch, nothing overt or inappropriate. “Aye, it is. Makes me want to ask about the dessert.”

Simon’s foot nudges him right back with more strength, forcing Soap to spread his legs a little. Bleedin’ Jesus, is this really happening? “I might have something… back in my room.”

Soap finishes his plate in a record time, feeling genuinely sorry because it was definitely good enough to savour. Maybe he could convince Ghost to cook for him again. He’s determined to try.

It’s a small miracle they make it to Ghost’s room without any incidents. The moment the doors close, however, Simon is already yanking the balaclava off, mashing their mouths together as he wrestles with Soap’s clothes.

Johnny helps with that and then promptly returns the favour, eager to touch every inch of exposed skin, to kiss and taste everything Simon offers. And he offers plenty. They kiss, and they rut against each other, desperately trying to relieve some of the tension. However, it’s not that easy because it has been building up for months. The banter, the flirting, the seemingly innocent touches. It all culminates right here, at this moment.

Johnny has no idea when exactly their dynamic shifts, but at one moment, Simon is kissing him, licking his way into Johnny’s mouth, and the next, it’s Johnny, pressing on, forcing Simon to take a step back, then another, until they get to the bed. He’s never imagined Ghost as anything other than pushy top, but it seems that he was wrong. Still, he needs to clarify. “You want me to…?”

“Yeah, Johnny, fuck me,” Simon says, almost painfully blunt but perfectly clear. Johnny pauses to take a deep breath.

“It’d be my absolute pleasure, Simon,” Johnny grins, pushing Ghost back, causing him to fall on the bed. Ghost could immediately turn the tables if he felt so inclined, and it turns Soap on. He gets Ghost to cook for him, he gets him to be manhandled, and he gets to fuck him. He might just be the luckiest lad in the whole fucking world.

It’s good, so good. Simon is far from passive; he wants Johnny, and what Simon wants, Simon gets. Slowing down and speeding up again, changing the angle ever so slightly, they work together in nearly perfect sync to prolong their pleasure. Despite their best efforts, it cannot last.

Johnny is the first to succumb, gasping, only barely managing to keep reasonably quiet as the sweet respite takes him. Simon is close behind, grunting and arching his back as he grinds against Soap.

They lay on the bed, side by side, sticky and messy, yet unable to do anything about it for the moment.

“I’m doomed. You are as good a fuck as you are a cook,” Johnny laughs, quiet and light, tracing invisible patterns on Simon’s skin.

“I’m not marrying you, Johnny,” Simon retorts in a tone just as light.

“You say that now, but wait until the second date.”

[hetalia-club]

Stardew Mod Alfred Jones (America)

Summary of Town & Buildings you should read this first if you haven't so you're not confused.

Jones Household: Alfred

Alfred (America), His brother is Matthew (Canada) and they are also roommates living on a ranch/ tree nursery together at the furthest end of Cindersnap forest. They own a small farm where America raises cows & Canada has a small tree nursery where he taps trees for maple. They live the furthest away from town so they have space to farm. They come from a family of Ranchers and got a very large trust fund from their parents. Being raised rich he does not really have a concept for money and will often say tone deaf things until you form a relationship with him. (Commenting on your clothes similar to how Haley does) Bakery contribution- Supplies Milk for the baked goods and coffee Drinks. He also makes all the Apple Pie. Alfred Visits the Bakery on Monday morning around 10am to make his milk deliveries. He will stay there for about an hour and then head home opening his store around 12pm that day. Alfred break down: Alfred Loves grindball, cows and eating. He used to be in the military and fought with Kent in the war against the Gotoro Empire. After an injury he was given an honorary discharge and deals with the guilt of feeling like he got out easy. His Milk puns can make for a fun double entendre that he is unaware of. He can come off as self-centered and chauvinistic at times but he means well. This boy loves cows and will talk about them any chance you give him. He’s a cowboy if you will. But just because was a trust fund kid does not mean he’s afraid of getting his hands dirty or hard work. Don’t let his condescending demeanor rub you the wrong way once you break that outer shell this farm boy will love you until the cows come home. The Ranch-His house doubles as a ranch so he sells Barn Animals like Marnie does and Hay + tools like sheers, milk pale and anything else you might need for your animals. He does not have as big of a selection of Marnie but his prices are slightly cheaper if you are willing to make the trek there for your stuff. Animals bought from Alfred are already full grown and there is not waiting period to have them grow from babies as Alfred raises the animals up himself so they will start producing products right away. Keep Reading Down Below >>>>

Birthday- Summer 4 Loves- Pumpkin Pie, Banana Pudding, Survival Burger, All varieties of Milk, Gold Bar and Apple Pie Likes- All universal likes except for flowers and crops that cannot be eaten. All cooked food and all crops that can be eaten with a couple exceptions Neutrals- all universal neutrals, all raw fish (Because they have the ability to be cooked and eaten) Dislikes- all universal dislikes, flowers of any kind (They are not food) Hates- Salad & Moss soup & Universal hates Gift receiving lines- Loved Lines- Wow my favorite! It’s like you can read my mind or something… Liked Lines- Sweet, Thanks! Neutral Lines- Thanks for the gift I guess Dislikes- Um, Okay Hate Lines- Why did you give me your trash? I guess I’ll throw it away for you Birthday Gift Lines- Happy Birthday to me! Thanks for remembering. Unique festival dialog: Egg Festival- I asked Mayor Lewis if we could do a milk festival instead this year. He said he didn’t think the idea would “catch on”. Desert Festival- Every year I misread the flyer and think I’m attending the “dessert festival”. This is still alright though I guess. Flower Dance- *Alfred is busy eating and doesn’t seem like he wants to talk* Ask to dance? If yes- Dance!? With you!? I thought you’d never ask! I mean…dancing is cool sure. If no- Sorry, I have literally anything else to do. Firework Festival (New Event)- It’s my birthday today you know. It almost feels like these fireworks are a celebration for me. If only I had some Banana Pudding today would be perfect. Luau- Can you guess what I added to the pot this year? If you guessed milk you were right. Trout Derby- Does not attend Dance Of The Moonlight Jellies- I don’t get what’s so exciting about a bunch of glowing fish. Now a cow with glowing milk, now that would be cool! Don’t steal that idea… Stardew Valley Fair- (Has a stand with Matthew where they are showing off Cheese, Milk, Maple syrup, and some tree fruits.) Came to stake out the completion, Eh (Player)? Mattie and I are taking home the gold this year I know it. Brew Fest (New Event)- I’m on my 18th shot of espresso. What do you mean slow down? Who are you my Mom/dad/parent? (Depending on which gender you picked) Spirits Eve- I wonder If I could make a Golden Pumpkin Pie from the Golden Pumpkin. Don’t steal that idea… Festival Of Ice- My brother dragged me here. It’s too damn cold out here *Shivers*. Hopefully the cows are warm enough in the barn. Squidfest- Does Not Attend Night Market- I wonder if you could milk a mermaid. Why are you looking at me like that? Was it something I said? Feast Of The Winter Star- *Alfred Is eating an entire Pumpkin Pie from the tin with a fork*. *He looks like he’s trying to hide it from you* Friendship Letters after befriending Alfred: 2 Hearts letter: he will send you a letter in the mail and a bottle of Maple syrup as a gift The letter will say: Found this while going through my brothers stuff. I thought it would annoy him if I gave it to you. 4 Hearts letter: Sorry I was so annoyed with you before you’re actually pretty cool you know. I Got you something little to make up for it don’t spend it all in one place. The letter will contain a Gold Bar. 6 heart letter- Now that we’re such good pals I thought I would share with you my mom’s top secret Apple Pie Recipe. This information is classified. Letter contains the recipe for Apple Pie. 2 Apple 1 Wheat flour 1 Maple Syrup Health+ 80 Energy+ 175 8 Heart letter- When you first moved in I never thought I would even talk to you. But I want you to know you’ve become my best friend. I look forward to seeing you every day. Let’s hang out later okay? Letter contains a Diamond Romance Dialog Receiving a Bouquet- For me? Hell Yeah! That’s so crazy and here I was about to just go buy a bouquet for you. Mermaid Pendent- No way, no way, no way! You seriously want to marry me? I was too afraid to ask you! I’ll get everything set up don’t even worry about lifting a finger baby.

Married Life With Alfred Jones: When married to America his corner of the farm will be a singular cow which is named Big Tex. When married to Alfred there is a chance if you speak to him in the morning he will give you milk and will tell you it came from Big Tex fresh this morning. Three days after marrying Alfred you will get a letter in the mail from ‘In-laws’ with 10k gold congratulating you and apologizing for not being at the wedding. After Marrying Alfred he will still go tend his stores and will hardly ever be actually at your house. Due to the long walk he will warp to and from there and cannot be followed since the slow pace NPCs walk would take him literally all day to get there. Alfred will call you babe from now on regardless of gender. If you go visit him at work he will have special dialog expressing he’s happy you came to see him but you don’t get a discount just because you’re married. Occasionally he will mention the current war saying he ‘hopes everyone is doing alright without him’. On Sundays he and Matthew will meet each other in Cinderssnap Forest by the river unless it’s raining and then they will both stay home.

[stormbreaker101]

HI I'm so sorry if this is vague but please, I am begging, tell me everything about Mark Moonfisher. I have such an unholy love for anything inspired by that particular oc, I am holding out my hands.

HI yes I remember your designs for the Schism Boi TM were so scrumptious.

So, Mark is a sharkperson from Skull Island because I really wanted to make a nonhuman character, and when I was spamming the random name button in the wiz creator, I got names featuring "Shark-" and "Sea-" and "Moon-" a bunch. Specifically, I've based him off the spiny dogfish shark, since they're both small and are mildly venomous (and I love venomous and poisonous animals)

He was very much a "runt of the litter" kind of guy, small and weak and living in a very large and overwhelming world overrun with international politics and chaos. Also he kinda sucked at making friends, since he was so desperate to prove himself as cool and strong that he came off as an annoying prick.

Socially vulnerable, he was perfect fodder for the Schismists. I headcanon the Order of the Watchers that showed up in the P101 Tenth Anniversary to be a branch of the Schismists (because like, hello, a secretive society that spies on the Player Character and that we're introduced to as being niceys by a character that Blind Mew voice acts? too many parallels IMO), so they were able to step in as his first "real friends" and stoke his ego and desire to belong somewhere so that he'd be willing to do more than just spy. He could be a soldier, strong and powerful. Nobody would call him weak anymore! All he had to do was leave his family behind, and obey the higher ups.

A small price to pay, for him.

I've talked at length about how Karamelle goes down, and have definitely put those posts under his tag as well, so I'll give a short summary. Shit hits the fan, the Wizard kinda throws the entire Spiral into magical disasters before Arc 4 can properly begin, the Schism Summit in Karamelle is cancelled, Karamelle is a mess, and after waiting years for a miracle that never came & watching his boss and peers die in front of him,,, Mark is kinda a mess. Very much just in an "Objective: survive" state. He and some of the remaining Karamellians who couldn't flee the disasters beforehand (and one other Schismist, the Quizzler) are able to evacuate to Grizzleheim.

And it's in Grizzleheim where Mark gets to get... deradicalized, for lack of a better word. There's no real Schism anymore, just him and the Quizzler. Instead, Mark has to navigate an actual noncult community, and learn how to interact with others normally. With help, he does manage to find his place in the new settlement of Drostein and get to be a normal, dumb teenager. He quotes vines that he learned from the Nordic Champion, Emma Titansong (one of my Player OCs). He hangs out in the rivers of Savarstaad Pass for hours on end, and catches fish by hand and by mouth sometimes. He joined the local fight club. He's a fan of former Nibbelung popstar Mauria Kutscherzo, and ABBA and Queen (Emma introduced him to the Earth bands). He gets to be just some guy, completely free from his canon fate.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Alright. Start to finish, Phantasm Masquerade writeup and photos. (Kind of. Tumblr only allows ten per post.) Extremely special shout out to @blacklight-ghoulette , who designed and painted my mask! As well as the earrings I wore. Asellas is a truly wonderful person to have taken my commission and dream to and so, so thoughtful. She explained and sent photos of every step of the process and went above and beyond in her work. She was willing to work with me on prices, figure out a payment plan and in this water devil's humble opinion, undersold her work and effort. This fandom has so many talented artists and she is my favorite. I received so many compliments it made me dizzy trying to remember them all! Rumor has it she's planning a sale, so if you have some extra dollars and an eye for shiny things, check out her shop!

To business.

As someone who is significantly more water than the rest, the heat and stuffiness of the Ministry did not bother me too much! Clergy staff thoughtfully laid out refreshments in a gorgeous chapel with fresh fruit as a tribute to our dear Aether. Justin Andrews as Young Nihil was just...hanging around. I turned around several times and BOOM jumpscare! Young Nihil. (Of course I wasn't really frightened but! It was so easy to get lost in the glamour of it all.)

The costumes. Oh, the costumes. Everyone brings their A game to Rituals and everyone brought their A game to the ball. I felt quite like the fish out of water but everyone was so kind and lovely to each other. My heart belongs to the Copia cosplayer who casually insulted the Green Bay Packers then knelt and begged for forgiveness when he realized he was insulting my crew. I don't even care about football, but, you know. Represent. He was gracious enough to allow me to dance with him for a photo op later, so either he wasn't truly bothered or I scared him good.

(Someone with entirely innocent intentions: Do you read/write fic? Look at this Papa edit I made!

Myself, entirely too aware of what the last fic I posted was about and running calculations on how fast I can throw myself out the nearest window:🧍)

The Ministry itself...what an incredible building. We toured, and found the hallway where the Ghoul jammed in Rats. The place where Nihil was rejected by Seestor after watching the Cardinal crash his trike. Copia's bedroom and so many more places...if Tumblr allowed more than 10 per post...

(We WERE, in fact, allowed to pose seductively on the couch, but they handed this soggy creature a towel first.) (Get your mind out of the gutter, I was sweaty.)

There was unholy communion, the wafer placed by young Nihil himself. I drank the apples blood of our enemies. I roamed and haunted and cried and wailed. What a night!

The real star of the show though....was the little bat that got stuck in the building. Poor thing. I hope it's safe.

And just like after the Ritual...my feet are sore. My head hurt like the devil. But my heart? Ah, my heart...if I hadn't given it to the ocean years ago, it would be very, very full. So much love for everyone who puts themselves wholeheartedly into this community. I have never seen anything like it.

[invisible-storyteller]

Mercenary's wolf

Hey, everyone! I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm participating in @teenwolfrarepairevents July event with the following pairings: Day 1: Braeden/Laura Day 2: Scott/Lydia Day 3: Kali/Julia (Jennifer) Day 4: Camden/Laura Day 5: Jordan/Sheriff Day 6: Hayden/Tracy Day 7: Nolan/Brett Day 8: Coach Finstock/Greenberg (in the future) I'm posting the first one (Braeden/Laura - role reversal) here as well, below the cut. You can check out my series for the event on AO3. Happy reading! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Come on. Try it."

Curls of dark hair frame the creature's face where canine teeth shine white and threateningly sharp in the moonlight, and Laura twirls the combat knife idly around her finger before taking it firmly into hand. The creature's eyes assess the weapon with mild curiosity.

"Nice. But mine are better." Claws pop out at the words, and they would serve well as a warning if not for their owner looking at the ravine behind her with poorly hidden despair. Laura eyes the bleeding wound in the werewolf's calf and estimates her survival to be 10 minutes 'til the poison would ultimately overpower the creature's advanced healing. Running would still be futile, even if the creature had any escape routes available.

"My client wants you alive," Laura stresses, but like any other time, the other woman just wouldn't listen.

"You mean he wants to kill me with his own hands," Braeden corrects. 

Laura can't help the way her eyes trail over the claw marks running across the woman's neck - an impressing reminder from an alpha that he has claim over Braeden, no matter how far she ventures from home.

"What Deucalion plans to do with you isn't my concern," Laura frankly states, "But he might keep you alive if you are willing to cooperate."

"That man is anything but merciful," Braeden reiterates the same old argument while throwing a glance at the ravine as if to guess the distance below. "None of his mercenaries has succeeded before. What makes you think you're special?"

"I found you," Laura points out, eyes gleaming, "And now you have two options. Take a leap and hope you don't fall to your death... or fight me."

Braeden pretends to mull her options over, but Laura knows her better than to hope for sensibility. 

"The second one sounds fun," Braeden finally says and Laura smiles at her predictability.

She pounces with a swift slash of her knife but Braeden ducks from the attack, poison still hindering the werewolf if the pained grunt she lets out when jumping over the mercenary is anything to go by. Laura swings back on instinct and manages to cut the werewolf's palm who growls with the new doze of poison in her veins. Using Braeden's distracted state, Laura tugs on her hair and kneels the werewolf into the stomach before Braeden gathers her bearings and trips her over, smashing the mercenary's head hard into the ground. Laura's vision is blurry when Braeden makes a run towards the cliff, and strangely enough, Laura hopes that she makes the jump.

Braeden looks majestic as she soars over the deep crack in the ground and lands on the other side with a complacent smirk tossed over her shoulder. She's limping as she disappears into the dense forest, probably not as delusional to think she's gotten away for good. Laura fights past her swimming vision as she fishes her phone out of her jacket and types out a quick message, strands of hair gripped tight between her fingers.

Got her DNA. Your location spell better be worth its price.

•♥•

The darkness is hindering but Laura wouldn't be a professional mercenary if she couldn't discern her target's form in a dim abandoned warehouse. Braeden's kneeling in a circle of mountain ash with three hunters looming over her, cackling like some cheaply animated villains, as they take turns shooting wolfsbane-laced arrows into the were's tortured body. Laura is strictly here for business, but even she can admit to herself that she'll have fun gutting them all.

She approaches the scene with light steps, quiet like a predator on a hunt, and creeps up behind one of the hunters with a knife grazing his throat and making the man huff in his struggles. His accomplices finally tear their gaze away from Braeden's hunched form and one of them immediately drops the crossbow to pull a gun on Laura. She's quick to slice the man's throat then and she uses the makeshift shield to dodge the bullets from the hunter before tossing the body towards the gun-bearing man. She manages to duck away from the third hunter and grab the crossbow, aiming it at the man shrugging off his friend's corpse and piercing an arrow through his skull without hesitation. Laura then wrestles with the last standing woman until a direct blow to the head knocks her out, and finally buries a bullet between her eyes with the man's gun. Just to make sure there are no witnesses.

With the hunters eliminated, Laura retrieves the jar of wolfsbane from their bag and deposits it among her own gear. She needed to replenish her stock anyway. Next, she crosses the circle and lays Braeden's wavering body on the ground, ignoring the quiet growls that the werewolf so ungratefully addresses her with. Laura pulls out each arrow and burns the wolfsbane from the contaminated flesh, the sight infuriating enough that the hunter doesn't even relish in Braeden trashing helplessly under her hold. When the last trace of wolfsbane has been cleared from the werewolf's system, Laura stands up with a sigh and breaks the mountain ash circle on her way out.

"Didn't know mercenaries were this caring."

Laura wonders how Braeden is even capable of talking right now as she grabs her own supplies, already wondering where she could hide the bodies, and guesses that the other woman is simply fueled by spite.

"As I've said, I need you alive," Laura repeats, looking over her shoulder to where Braeden is slowly getting up to her feet.

"You didn't need to kill them."

"I hate it when others play with my toy."

Laura expects Braeden to growl at the implication of her being in anyone's possession, but surprisingly, Braeden just looks calculating and perhaps a bit satisfied as she recuperates. "Thanks."

"You have an hour headstart," Laura tells her in response, and Braeden scoffs in something akin to amusement before exiting the building.

Meanwhile, Laura takes a look at the bodies and prepares herself to dig.

•♥•

"He hurt you." It's more of a statement than a question. 

Braeden drags her eyes over the scars stretching across Laura's face, and for the first time, Laura feels self-conscious. 

"If you're worried about my safety, maybe you should finally let me take you to him," Laura remarks, even if her words have long lost their bite, "He's getting impatient."

For some nebulous reason, she decides that Braeden can't know that Deucalion has threatened to hunt down her family - well, what is left of it, anyhow. There's a chance Braeden will give herself up - you gather that much about someone after chasing them for half a year - and even the thought of that makes Laura's lunch want to resurface.

"Why are you still doing this?"

Braeden's eyes are filled with more concern than any werewolf should ever have for a hunter sent to deliver their pelt. Laura hates everything about this situation, but mostly, she feels betrayed by how fast her heart starts to beat all of a sudden.

"Girl's gotta eat."

"Yeah, but you gotta live first to do that." Braeden jibes, and her look of utter fear is not as new as Laura wants to make herself believe. It's been there for a while, and never for the werewolf's own sake. 

She raises a gun on Braeden without any intention to pull the trigger, and tries to recall when it all changed. The way Braeden's face crumbles is heartbreaking but necessary. It has to be.

"I don't want to hurt you," Braeden says, and it sounds a lot like a plea. 

The werewolf's eyes flash blue for a second, but it's not a threat, not anymore. It's a visceral reaction to the scars marring the mercenary's flesh, and after such an impossible realization, Laura can no longer hold control over what comes out of her mouth next.

"But you want to mark me." Laura's accusation is loud, bouncing off the walls of the empty subway tunnel. "Want to sink your teeth into me, isn't that right?"

Braeden bares her canines on instinct, eyes squinting in irritation, but Laura catches the way her nose flairs. Sometimes it's so easy to read her.

"You're the one with an obsession."

Laura doesn't even attempt to deny that. 

"I'll tell you a secret, Braeden. I actually like wolves." She's forcing her heartbeat to stay steady now as her feet carry her forward. "But now the only thing I see is prey."

There's a moment of silence that stretches on dangerously. In the end, Braeden's mouth twitches at the sides and Laura knows she's busted. 

"I'm not the one always running for my life."

"You run from me."

"I run for you," Braeden clarifies, daring to step forward and let the barrel of the gun bump against her chest, "I run so that I won't hurt you. And so that you get further away from him."

Laura feels weirdly trapped, and yet, she recognizes an opportunity when it's presented to her, even when wrapped in the shape of an impossibility offered blatantly and with undeserved kindness. Deep down, Laura knows that the woman offering salvation is one who would try to shelter her from the world as well as drench her claws in the blood of whoever sets out to hurt them. When Braeden wraps her hands around Laura's wrist, it feels like a finality.

"You've got enough money to ditch him," Braeden reasons, eyes mad with hope. Laura isn't sure if she should trust someone like that, but she's also aware that it's too late now. "He can't find you."

"He will send someone after me." 

It's a truth they both know from experience, but unlike Braeden, Laura can't lull herself into false security. That's why when Braeden's lips curl into a deadly smile, Laura doesn't understand how her heart can flutter so violently against all logic.

"I think some of his enemies would take great pleasure in hunting him down. Alongside us."

"Us?" And it's obvious wishfulness in her voice, but Laura has gone so long without a future to hang onto and there's something about Braeden that makes her feel like they can face anything together. 

All this time, and it's been Braeden poisoning Laura, not the other way around.

The werewolf guides Laura's hand lower until the gun is at her side with Braeden's fingers still warm on her wrist and eyebrows lifting in challenge. "Two women with wolfsbane-laced arrows who can kick ass? I say we have a shot against him." Braeden pauses for a second then, looks to the side and presses her touch deeper into Laura's skin. "I'll protect you." 

Braeden is promising much more than those few words would suggest, Laura knows that from the way the werewolf seeks out her pulse point - a primal urge for affirmation that her pack is safe. 

They are standing face to face in an abandoned subway tunnel and the glint in Braeden's eyes when she raises her questioning gaze at the mercenary is the most thrill Laura has felt in a while.

"What do you say?" Braeden leers around the tease of her fangs, "Wanna make a deal, mercenary?"

The grin Laura sends back is nothing short of wolfish.

[miras-ash]

Chapter 12 of "Just as the stars love the night"

Mira's pov

The days went by sluggishly. I spent every free minute at Eliza's side in the hospital, she had come through as predicted but was still far from being out of the woods. Her injuries healed very slowly, she had to be operated two more times and even if she was treated by the best of the best it didn't make it easier. But the worst thing was to see how she suffered from it, there was hardly anything left of the once so strong woman, she tried to hide it but did not always succeed. She had become very jumpy and fearful, cried a lot and often had nightmares. Deimos had done a great job. He put her through hell and she paid the price. Eliza was always strong and willing to take risks but I was afraid that this time it would've cost her more than just a few bruises. A long and hard road lay ahead of her but this time I was by her side, we would get through this together.

We lay in her bed in the hospital room, she snuggled in my arms and slept a little because she hardly could at night, thanks to her nightmares. I gently stroked her side, careful not to touch her injuries, hurting her was the last thing I wanted to do. Besides, I was careful not to touch her belly with every movement, not because it made me uncomfortable, but rather because we had not yet spoken a word about this situation and even if I would never admit it, it burdened me not to imagine how she had to struggle with it. The only thing I knew was that she had no choice, the pregnancy was already too far advanced to terminate it, not to mention the internal injuries that would have made it impossible anyway, so either way it was an unfair situation. Another reason to hunt this bastard down and make him suffer.

Lately I tried to reduce my revenge fantasies a bit, the most important thing was Eliza's recovery and simply her. At the thought I pressed her a little tighter against me and strengthened my grip which resulted in her waking up. She yawned, stretched and sat up.

"I'm sorry Mi Amor. I didn't mean to wake you."

Still slightly disoriented, she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it, I can't sleep all day. I need to get a handle on this soon and pull myself together."

Her voice sounded rather dismissive. She was too hard on herself, partly we had to slow her down as far as that was concerned. However, it showed that the old Ash was still in there, just hiding and maybe a little more scared than before.

Eliza must have seen my look because she raised her brows and pressed her lips together.

"Don't say anything now. You know what I mean, I'm not in the mood for a sermon."

I playfully raised my hands in the air in surrender and put on an innocent face, which resulted in Liz rolling her eyes, but throwing me a kiss.

Towards evening there was a knock on the door and Hibana entered, bringing something to eat for us as she did every day. We talked briefly, then she left to put Maho to bed. She, Jordan and some others had decided to stay at the Nighthaven base for the time being, simply because it was safer here and we were stronger together. So far everyone was getting along, even Ela and Zofia. I hoped this positive environment and working together would give us an advantage.

Together we ate our fried fish with rice, Eliza practically inhaling her portion before eyeing mine awkwardly. I pushed my plate over to her and watched her amusedly while she devoured the second portion in no time, only to have another chocolate pudding afterwards. Afterwards I helped her to get ready for bed and together we lay down. I held her tightly in my arms, rested my head on her chest and closed my eyes, shortly after I fell asleep.

Suddenly I was torn out of my sleep and at first I thought Eliza had another nightmare but I was wrong. She held one hand in front of her mouth and with the other she shook my shoulder. Immediately I realized what was going on, helped her out of bed and supported her on the way to the bathroom. We barely made it to the shower where she threw up on the spot, between her retching she kept straining to catch her breath. I held her hair and gently stroked her back. After a few minutes the spook was over. After I had helped her to wash herself, I put her back in her bed and sat down with her.

Doc whom I had contacted earlier by pager, now came by and started to check Eliza only to give the all-clear, apparently Liz had eaten too much and too fast. Apart from the fact that her stomach was still not used to such large amounts, her circumstance made it even more difficult. She was still very pale but apart from a bucket and a glass of water there was nothing more we could do, everything that wanted to get out just had to get out.

Gustave said goodbye with the information that he would be on call at any time should there be anything else. We owed him a lot.

"My stomach feels like it's going to explode at any moment."

Eliza contorted her face into a pained grimace.

Concerned i looked at her.

"Is there anything I can do? Don't you think I should call Doc again and see if maybe he can give you something?"

She shook her head defeatedly and groaned.

"No it's okay, I.... Ouch, hey don't do that. I'm already not feeling so great right now."

Perplexed I looked at her. What did she mean, how could I have hurt her?

She looked at me from the side for a moment, took my hand and hesitated for a moment, then put it on her belly and exhaled slowly. I realized what she had meant. On my palm I could feel it as if something or rather someone was pressing against her abdominal wall from the inside.

"She always does that when I've eaten too much, probably taking up space. It's just very unfortunate when it already hurts and then further pressure builds up."

Eliza smiled but her eyes had that sad look she's had a lot lately.

"She?"

It was crazy but it was the first question I had. It was still too surreal to even think about it but at the same time it was absurd not to.

"Yes, she. Doc could see it clearly at the last checkup a few days ago. I wanted to tell you earlier but I didn't know when or how. We've never talked about it before. Oh Lena my darling, I am so sorry. I know this is not how you imagined it."

I grabbed her hands and sought her gaze.

"Hey, don't apologize. For nothing here. You're not to blame, okay? Don't even dream of blaming yourself."

Tears formed in her eyes and ran down her face while she hung her head.

"I'm just so fucking scared."

Astonishment spread through me, what was she afraid of?

Gently I wiped away her tears and let her continue talking.

"I just got you back after all, I don't know if I can handle losing you again."

Now she was crying like a waterfall, her eyes were all red, loud sobs escaped her throat and she clung to me.

So that's where the wind was blowing from. My wonderful Liz, why should I leave her? Because she carried a baby inside her which wasn't even her decision?

I took her face in my hands and forced her to look directly at me.

"Eliza, my lioness, my heart. I will always be by your side, from today until the end of our days and even beyond, whatever may come. Do you understand?"

Her eyes widened but she nodded and hugged me to her again.

Never would I leave her, rather I would set the world on fire.

[themurderofcrowscollective]

Because I'm going rabid about this

Have a post about my two pretty vampire OCs (who are twin brothers) and the 141 being pretty because of a post I reblogged that got me mad at the patriarchy.

Fir st and foremost! Meet the twin brothers!

On the left is Nikita, a total sweetheart and on the right is Dmitri. Different styles, different interests, but they both love each other and get along well. The duo were turned into vampires during the 1700s in Moscow, Russia and have been 24 years old for a long time, and no they don't glisten in the sunlight if any of you decide to make that connection, I am gutting you all like fish. Despite their vampire nature, the two take extra precautions in going out in the sunlight with protective clothing, sunblock and umbrellas to give them extra shade. You may be wondering how the two wound up in the 141, and it's a funny story, but the pair of them have been in many squadrons, teams, army corps and mostly fought battles on the side of the good guys so they're both decorated veterans but do they plan on stopping? Not really, and when Price had heard about the duo, he had to get them on his team so he fought tooth and nail to get them. How they introduced themselves was on a mission where the odds were against Gaz, Ghost, Soap and Price. They all tried to get to the exfil location but were held up by more goons, and they already were running low on ammo plus they were sustaining injuries so melee combat was going to be risky until a bladed boomerang came flying from nowhere and took out three of the goons. Confused, they could only watch the remaining 7 goons get taken out by throwing knives, get dragged away into the shadows, or get shot via headshots. When there were two goons left, they got taken quickly by two other men who bared their fangs and drank their blood in front of the team before Price recognized the duo from the reports he received about them. " Price, you know these two? " Ghost mumbles while fixing his eyes on the white-haired vampire with the skeleton mask hanging on his neck, Price stepping forward with a chuckle. " Aye, I do. Gentlemen, meet Nikita and Dmitri Volkov, better known as the twin fangs. " " Price! It's great to meet you in person! " Nikita steps forward after cleaning the blood from his mouth, Dmitri picking up both dead bodies and tossing them aside before cleaning his own mouth and covering his mouth with his mask. Price was expecting a handshake but Nikita pulled the man into a hug, laughing happily before letting him go and letting Dmitri shake his hand. " Sir. " - - - Now you gotta know that the duo are polar opposites of each other; Dmitri is a man of few words but he's a smug bastard and has fought many pastors in a parking lot of a Wendy's at 2 AM on a Wednesday morning, while Nikita is the cutest and kindest man to walk the earth who's always willing to lend a helping hand and find the good in the world. Despite their differences, they've stuck together through thick and thin so where there is a Nikita, there's always a Dmitri and vice versa. Outside of battle, they're inseparable so you'd sometimes see Dmitri having Nikita sit on his shoulders or Nikita carrying a sleeping Dmitri like he weighs nothing around the base. - - - Speaking of, let me tell ya about how the 141 interacts with the Volkov brothers. First and foremost, Ghost and Dmitri. Sometimes when Nikita has to be separated from his brother, Dmitri often sticks by himself or with Ghost. They'd usually just stare at each other quietly but when no one is looking, the two are rather... talkative. They both share the same aesthetics of wearing skulls on masks, both went through hell and back and survived, and their jokes are pure dogshit but they laugh at them either way. Sometimes the two nap together cause Dmitri knows how little Ghost sleeps so he'll drag him off to a quiet and desolate spot and let him sleep. With Ghost and Nikita, it's surprisingly nice to see Ghost relax. Nikita may be polite and willing to help, but he's calm and collected. His way of being friends with anyone is giving them flowers, and since Ghost knows the language of flowers too, Nikita gives him flowers which speak different messages and when Ghost is all tightened up and stressed, Nikita gives him massages.

[deada55]

An Education

crossposting: ao3

synopsis: Rose Explosion handles a crisis.

content warnings: graphic violence

for kloktober day 18: use an overlooked character (I just love Rose so much. Mega underrated. She did some shit. She must have.)

An Education

    While planting a new bougainvillea by the back door of the house, the shovel hit the bodies of ten Fisher-Price little people lined up head to foot in two rows of five each. Every vertical pair was flipped like a proper mass grave. Two of their half-rotten wooden heads were clipped off by the point of the spade.

    A couple months ago, she found four of their 1972 World Book encyclopedias strewn around the floor after a picnic in a cemetery. She was so proud she could have smothered Nathan, but any praise towards him had the inverse effect, and he might never touch those books again. Potty training was a disaster for the ages, but the new pea-green carpet was really holding up after three years. She made him a poke cake to reward his research since he wouldn’t slow down eating enough to question the occasion.

    Before that, his literacy lacked evidence. To her, it made perfect sense that he wouldn’t read out loud, but it was a challenge that Mrs. Chambers, a harpy of a first-grade teacher, wasn’t willing to take on. Every quiz and spelling test she gave him was returned blank. She was perfectly happy to make him repeat first grade, and “keep him in her class as long as it took for him to learn to follow instructions.” The summer was spent taking intelligence tests under two different psychologists along with eye exams, hearing tests, and fighting her the whole way through until the principal let Nathan progress to second grade with the caveat of being switched back starting in October if he was visibly behind.

The school psychologists’ exam was rendered invalid by the same tricks , but the administration took a report from the one they hired. They sure paid enough for a good letter and a shared understanding that diagnostic labels could hurt more than help. The entire recommendation was based on behavioral evaluations performed at-home, which they filled out as honestly as they could, and in a laboratory so obnoxiously red and yellow that it looked like a diner.

Oscar wouldn’t let him go into special education even if he needed it, but school was still important. The other kids were something the psychologist called “behavioral models,” but common sense backed it up. How else was he supposed to talk more if all his parents’ did was let him get away with silence?

Of course she felt guilty, but not as bad as she did when she held out and saw how upset it made him. Not the bratty only-child kind like Oscar’s mother claimed, but like throwing a man out of a wheelchair.

    But, this school year was so far so good... No complaints, no big shows of stony resistance, and no bloody noses while trying to get his shoes on had come up, and it was nearing the end of September! His new teacher begrudgingly accommodated him, but Nathan liked him well enough to do the modest amount of homework he had, tracing pictures of fish in a local game and wildlife brochure for science class. The quizzes were still empty, but this new, young teacher had some “hippy” ideas, and as opposed as they initially were to something that sounded like eco-horseshit, Nathan was going to school without a fight.

She was making ambrosia salad when the phone rang. The hand towel flopped into the sink the moment she reached for it, so she brushed the crumbled boiled egg yolks all over the flowers on her shirt. The eggs “pollinated” her sleeves as she wrestled the cord and realized it was the school board office calling. 

Rose left the phone dangling, bouncing against the wall. Leaving the front door open, she flew down the stairs face-first onto her new concrete pavers and scrambled into the car. Yellow bits of egg mashed into the tan velvet seat.

    On the way towards the highway, she passed the traffic jam of police cars, fire engines, and lingering ambulances making a pit of broken glass and mud where a lifted truck jutted out of the side of the elementary school. Cars piled up and blocked the buses trying to usher everyone out of the building. The horror she saw was lost in the spectacle for the other cars ahead of her in the lane, driving slowly without knowing how quickly she’d flatten them to get onto that ramp.

    When she heard “hospital,” she dropped the phone. Every strip of blown tire on the highway could have been his scalp stripped straight from his head, caught in the brake pad through the spokes of a hubcap and peeled off with half of his sweet little forehead attached. Like wax. And maybe he’d be fine enough to be alive and little else, but whatever made up her son would be lost before she could even discover what he could be. Maybe there wouldn’t be anything left of him to say goodbye to, and maybe she’d be too late and the pile of clean shirts she picked the tags out of with a seam ripper wouldn’t get worn again and the quietest little hellraiser she knew would become the loudest absence. 

The hospital corridor was full of white jackets and grieving parents. The excruciated cries of the lucky children and the shuffling of feet roared over the pounding of her heart. She rushed to the wall like a blinded driver and found Nathan completely by accident, all but shoving a man out of the way to snatch him up from the vinyl waiting bench against the wall before she could even look him over.

Time stopped all but for the feeling of his own fluttering chest against hers and his shallow breathing. So easily overlooked and so quiet, so respectful of the world’s own sound- How dare they stand around and swallow him in their sea of bodies? Why was she the only one who saw him in pieces?

His hair stuck to the tears on her cheeks. Blind, she ran back through the chaos of the hospital, shouldering doors open and bustling through the parking lot. After passing her car three different times, she stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of an aisle and caught a whiff of blood and diesel fuel over his shoulder.

As much as she wanted to say, she was left speechless. 

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 6

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, some fluff, lots of angst in this part Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of stress and anxiety, fist fight Word Count: 7.7k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | You are on Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: Buckle up for some angst.

They say when it rains, it pours and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this expression.

Throughout his college life, Renjun had heard his share of praise from his professors who would tell him that he was gifted in a way not many artists were. But now that the career drives and job fairs had begun, Renjun learnt that at best, he was average. In the real world, he wasn’t ‘golden hands’ or gifted or anything like it--he was just one in a line of millions. Because in the bigger picture, Renjun’s competition was not just people in his school; he was competing with even better artists from even better universities that had even better skills and even better means. His design professor had very plainly told the class one day that out of all of them, maybe one or two would ‘make it’ in the real world, if they got lucky. So Renjun knew that if had to shut up anyone who ever doubted him, compete with the best and place anywhere solid by the time he graduated, he needed to land a stellar internship.

Not that his current internship was going any better. Renjun learnt that even small studios were a handful and that an internship basically meant being an errand boy. When he had taken on the job, he had fantasized about meeting exciting artists and maybe even helping the chief curate his best work yet. But more often than not, he found that he was sweeping the place down, and if he got lucky, he got to make a few calls to potential clients (who would yell at him before hanging up). 

And of course, like any self-respecting college that thrived on the student body’s mental health deterioration, the professors weren’t going any easier on the projects, even with the impending exams. 

On top of everything that was happening, Renjun had developed a constant tension in his neck and shoulders. Jaemin reckoned it was because Renjun was hunched over his paintings all the time as he followed the perfect lighting all over the apartment. You, on the other hand, reckoned it was because of all the stress.

“You’re just carrying a lot of anxiety on these gangster shoulders, Huang Renjun.” you had said as you kneaded your knuckles into his hurt one day as you brought him food. Lately, you had taken it upon yourself to make sure that Renjun was eating and staying hydrated through these pressure cooker times. Because when he was left to his own devices, eating would be pretty low on his priority list, simply because he did not have the time for meals. So you’d bring him a snack any time you saw him on campus, and when you didn’t see him, you’d get something delivered to him and if you couldn’t, you’d text him a reminder to eat. But as one would have it during end-of-semester madness, Renjun had received your food more than your company. Because truth be told, you were just as occupied.

Renjun hadn’t seen enough of you in what he was sure was now going to be a good two weeks running because you had way too much on your plate as well. Like Renjun, you too were swarmed by assignments and exams. But other than that, any time he did see you, you were ‘interview dressed’ for all the on-campus drives that were happening in your department. Renjun had come to wish you good luck on one of them and had seen how distracted you looked because apparently, you had pulled some all-nighters to prepare for this. Donghyuck had been the one to tell Renjun about this little bit. 

Because when you weren’t studying or giving interviews or working on projects, you were preparing to throw an end-of-semester party with Donghyuck. He had to admit, there had been moments where Renjun had been irritated that Donghyuck would know more about what was happening in your life than did he. But then again, who was to blame for that?

Renjun knew it was no one’s fault but his own. Because that’s the dumb precedent he had set from the very beginning--that he wouldn’t get too close. He was paying that price for it because somewhere along the way, you had begun to confide in Donghyuck more than in Renjun, though this development was gradual and subconscious. He supposed that since you had met him, some part of you had learnt that she was walking into a wall anytime things got deep with Renjun. And there are only so many times that people were willing to walk into walls before they learnt their lesson.

Renjun knew that you were always ready to provide emotional support. But he also saw that when you were the one that needed it, you were subconsciously turning to Donghyuck rather than to him. 

And because you weren’t doing so consciously, Renjun couldn’t even be upset with you. Who was he to be upset with you over it in the first place? He had spent all those weeks skillfully blocking you. So, just because he had changed his mind now didn’t mean that he could earn your vents right away. It would take some effort on his part and he acknowledged that.

But it wasn’t you hanging out with Donghyuck that bothered him. It was someone else.

Wong Hendery, it appeared, was always around you these days and for some reason, that really bothered Renjun. You had a lot of friends. You were just the kind of person who made friends wherever you went. His own friends were an example. Lately, any time he ran into his roommates in the living room or kitchen (since all of them were buried in work otherwise), they would inquire about you instead of him. You just made a lot of friends and that was a fact of life that Renjun lived with. And whilst so far, Renjun had been okay with all of them, he had no idea why seeing Wong Hendery around you made him feel some type of way. 

And in the strangest turn of events, he had even found himself subtly voicing this to you a couple of times. It had bothered him even more that you had never taken him seriously any time he brought it up. You had either been distracted or disinterested whenever this came up. Or perhaps you had very tactfully been avoiding the subject. You weren’t exactly the scheming type, so Renjun was sure it wasn’t that. All he knew was that at the end of it, he would just end up feeling stupid, because, well… it was a stupid, baseless feeling to have, whatever this was.

All in all, Renjun couldn’t tell what matter it was from the pillage that kept his mood sour these days. His failure in the job fairs, his increasing workload, the impending exams, his lackluster internship, or something else. He recognized that a big part of it had to do with not seeing you enough. He wasn’t going to be the idiot that denied that anymore. Since the party at your parent’s house, he hadn’t had a moment with you where it was just the two of you and you could talk about… well, the two of you. Not seeing you enough was making him sour, he knew that. However, not seeing you enough combined with the fact that Wong Hendery was around you all the time was probably pretty up there as a reason for his bad moods. 

The only upside in the end-of-semester times was that the damn virus seemed to be under control. Students could now more freely move about and a lot more cafes and parks had reopened. So, at the very least, Renjun could get a change of scenery whilst he painted or studied because he was getting tired of his apartment and the library and the damn studio. 

Today, he had just grabbed his things and sent you a very persuasive text, because really, enough was enough. Yes, you were both very busy. Yes, you didn’t have any time today. But you could at least give him one study date out in the sun, and finally, for the first time in two weeks, he had felt that happiness in his chest when you told him you’d come.

The two of you sat by the river as Renjun sketched and made notes and you typed away on your laptop. Your hair was done up in a bun and you wore the campus hoodie and you didn’t even look up from your work when Renjun leaned over to feed you some rice. It had made Renjun smile. You looked like every boy’s fantasy of a college girlfriend but thinking about it also made his heart a tiny bit heavy. Because after all this time, the two of you still hadn’t had that conversation. Come to think of it, the two of you hadn’t even kissed ever since that afternoon in the strawberry fields. And maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t sat with you like this in a couple of weeks, or maybe it was seeing you share your time with other people. But Renjun felt that he had to address the some elephant in the room sooner rather than later. Because he didn’t want a some relationship any longer. He wanted more.

“No one’s going to be happier than me when this semester is over.” you mutter as you chew onto whatever Renjun had fed you.

“You and me both. Let’s celebrate our freedom together when it ends.” Renjun suggests as he sits up to stretch his neck. 

“Done deal.” You look up from your laptop to give him a fist bump.

“Hey, I was thinking…” Renjun hesitates. “Let’s go somewhere together. After the semester is over.” He feels butterflies in his stomach even as he asks you that. And he knows why. Because this is the first time he’s asking you for a real date, where he wants to take you out for your company, no opportunistic strings attached. But also, he wants to take you away from everyone else where he would have all of your attention and he could finally tell you how he really feels.

You smile as you shuffle your notes. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere. We could go to the beach and go mudflat fishing. If that’s not your thing, we could go camping instead.”

You finally look at him and smile an undistracted, attentive smile. “I’d like that.”

Renjun looks at you softly as he returns your smile. “My exams end before yours. Let’s go right after your last exam.”

“Oh, I can’t go then.” You say, shaking your head quickly.

“Why?”

“Haechan and I are hosting the end-of-semester, remember?” you remind him and Renjun holds himself back before he could exhale over ‘Haechan and I’.

“Okay, how about the day after?” Renjun asks.

“I can’t go then, either. Hendery and I have to go visit the tower.” you tell him.

This time, Renjun can’t hold back. Because ‘Hendery and I’ was way, way worse than ‘Haechan and I’. Before he could stop himself, he finds himself commenting

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Wong Hendery, huh?” he hadn’t meant for that hint of accusation to lace his tone, but it had come out that way.

“Ughhhh, tell me about it. He says he’d basically be happy never seeing me again once all of this is over.” you say as you steal his bowl of rice and begin stuffing your face. Renjun feels that irritation again because as always, you seem to be blowing this topic off. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to let it go today.

“I just don’t trust him.” Renjun says and he finds himself clenching his jaw a little.

You look at him from above the rice and smile amusedly. “Why though? He’s a cool dude.”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about him. I just… I don’t know, I guess it’s a guy’s instinct.” he says, and like anytime he has brought up this subject before, he’s feeling incredibly dumb.

You raise an eyebrow and look away from him. You don’t seem very impressed by the comment. “Nah, he’s super cool and all of that. You can meet him if you like.” you say in a tone that is way too nonchalant for Renjun’s liking. 

He had met him before, of course. But he didn’t know Wong Hendery even if he did know Wong Hendery. So how could he tell you that the man was bad news based on just a feeling? ‘He’s using you! Why don’t you see that he’s using you!’ Renjun wanted to yell at you. But he says something else. 

“Just, like… I don’t know. He just seems mysterious and unsharing.” Renjun tries to explain.

“So are you.”

There is a moment of silence as Renjun feels a sting and you look at him with no expression. 

You were right. 

Renjun hadn’t shared anything about himself with you. The things you knew about him was information you had probably collected through his friends. The only time he had really opened up to you was that one night in his room. Suddenly, more than irritation, he feels angry with himself. 

What a stupid, stupid, stupid idea it had been to set those dumbass rules with you. How had he expected it would pan out? How did he think he could use you as a means to an end, but not learn anything about you or give away anything about himself? He hadn’t thought this through at all. Then again, he hadn’t expected for it to go on this long; and he most certainly hadn’t expected that he would end up falling for you.

“I just… I don’t trust him around you.” Renjun admits and this time, he has the decency to sound a little ashamed.

“I know how to take care of myself, Renjun.” you tell him quietly.

Renjun looks away because for the first time since he’s known you, you’ve spoken to him that way. He wants to scream and pull his hair because no. You don’t. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. How could he tell you that you weren’t the best judge of character? How could he tell you that you allowed people around you to take advantage of you? 

‘It’s why you’re sitting here with me’ Renjun thinks with another sting. He knew Hendery was up to no good with you because he himself had been one of those people that used you for their own gain. He had used your kind heart and your willingness to see the good in people for his own stupid plan. The stupid, dumbass, flawed plan that he hadn’t thought through in the slightest. He had thought he had, because Renjun always assumed he was smarter than everyone in any room. That was probably his dumbest yet most defining trait; as kindheartedness was yours.

As if to add insult to injury, your phone rings and Wong Hendery’s name shines cockily onto your screen, mocking Renjun in all its glory.

“Hey, are you here?” you say as you pick up. You look around till you spot him and wave at him “Okay, coming!”

Renjun looks to where you had signaled and sees Hendery in his bigass car. He notices Renjun looking, waves at him and smiles. 

Renjun’s eyes close and he takes in a deep breath as you begin collecting your things. He doesn’t know why he’s being this way. He had been jealous before; he was an openly bitter person, that much he knew about himself. He despised every other asshole that did better than him. But this was a kind of jealousy he had never really experienced before. He wanted to protect you, but he also wanted to keep you… because now, he could feel you slipping away from him. 

“I’ll call you, okay? Make sure you eat dinner.” your voice sounds a little resigned and suddenly, Renjun feels his heart drop. It’s a strange feeling, but there it is in the pit of his stomach. Renjun realizes that the feeling really closely resembled fear. And it’s because you’re leaving like this. 

Had this been your first fight? Maybe it had. It hadn’t felt like a fight, because Renjun has fought with a lot of people before, and this was nothing like that. There was no screaming, no gaslighting, no accusations. But it was the tone you had taken with him. Like you were disappointed. Like you expected better. You had never taken that tone with him before. So as you stand up to walk away, Renjun grabs your hand. He looks up from where he sits.

“Hey…” his heart is sinking, he has this awful feeling in his chest and now he no longer knows what to say to keep you. So he brings your knuckles to his lips and presses into them for a few moments before he looks back at you. “Are we good?” He wants to kiss you, he wants to take you in his arms and kiss you and know that nothing has changed. But he knows that Wong Hendery is sitting right there and he doesn’t want you to think that he’s putting on a show of jealous, testosterone fueled possession. 

He watches as your face softens. You crouch so your face is levelled with his. You keep holding your bag that’s slung over your shoulder with one hand. With the other, you gently hold onto his cheek and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“We’re good.” you say and you smile and then you lift back up to turn around.

Renjun watches unmoving as you walk away from him and drive off with Wong Hendery. He keeps watching till the car makes a turn and disappears from view.

Though you had told him that you were good, that sinking feeling hasn’t left his chest. Because Renjun realizes that what you had done had felt a lot like a goodbye kiss.

Renjun doesn’t get time to dwell on his aching heart too much, because soon after, exams begin. 

It is as if a lull had taken over the entire campus. Everyone around him had their heads down as they studied and slept and slept to study. Jeno and Jaemin had taken over the living room table as they crammed and kept each other awake through their all-nighters. Jisung would try to take some motivation from them but the boy had never been too fond of studying, so he’d end up asleep on the couch whilst Jeno and Jaemin took the floor. Even Donghyuck--who had insofar made it through college based on pure intelligence--could be seen bent over his notes in the library. For a week, each student on campus had a similar schedule; like someone had hit the pause button on everything else in life.

Perhaps it had been the exam stress. Perhaps it was everything that was happening culminating in Renjun’s mind, but that sinking feeling hadn’t completely dissipated from his chest. He had no way to explain what it was or why it was. But if Renjun had to describe it, it was as if a sixth sense was warning him. What the warning was about, he had no idea.

But as fate would have it, Renjun’s hardships were only beginning. Because right before his first exam, he had received a call from his mother. 

He had picked up because this had been maybe her third phone call to him this entire year. But two minutes into the call, Renjun wished he hadn’t. 

Questions were asked as if out of duty: if he was still in school, if he was still living with his friends, if he was looking for a job. And though Renjun hadn’t even asked for it--how she couldn’t send him money for the next couple of months because the Covid situation wasn’t doing any wonders for their restaurant. Although the conversation hadn’t even lasted a full 10 minutes, Renjun’s mind was fully fucked by the end of it. Why the fuck did she have to play with his head like this, just when he was about to go in for an exam? 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. His mother had a way of sensing any time her son was emotionally strained, because she would always show up right on time to add to his burden. This is how it had been most of his life. She would appear usually when Renjun was at his lowest and remind him that he was a useless fucker that nobody cared about. And because she was his mother, she knew exactly what buttons to press to positively fuck him over. 

Fuck this. None of it was fair. It wasn’t fair that she had called him after months and months. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t even want to know how he was doing. A global pandemic had turned the world upside down and she didn’t even want to know if her son was surviving through it. She just wanted to call to give him another reminder that she couldn’t take care of him. Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck everything. Renjun didn’t need her or his father or anyone else ever again. Fuck all of it.

Renjun had hung up bitterly and that should’ve been the end of it. But for some reason, she had kept calling after that, which made Renjun throw his phone against a wall. Fuck that. She doesn’t get to call him to rub more salt to his wounds. He wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

It’s funny how when you’re truly feeling fucked, you tend to isolate yourself from the people who really care about you. And that’s what Renjun ended up doing following that phone call. Almost as if in self-sabotage, he started avoiding everyone and hid himself away. Because no way did anyone really need him, anyway. Renjun knew that even in his friend group, he was the one the others could do without.

Jeno and Jaemin had one another. They would babysit Jisung well enough, and when they didn’t, Jisung had Zhong Chenle. His housemates didn’t really need him, so hiding from them was easy. Lately, he had also stopped hanging out with Yangyang because he was afraid he’d run into Hendery. Lee Mark hadn’t really hung out with him ever since he joined the 127s. And Donghyuck… well, he had you. 

So even you could do without him. You had been doing just fine without him these past couple of weeks. You had still been bringing him snacks, even after that study date. But Renjun wondered if that was because of your bad, kind habit rather than anything else. Truth be told, Renjun didn’t want your snacks anymore. Because each time he got them, it reminded him that he was nothing special to you. He wasn’t any different to you than Jaemin or Jeno or Donghyuck. He was just another guy that you were kind to out of habit. Fuck that. He didn’t need your kindness, or anyone else’s. He was fine on his own.

But on the night after his last exam, he finally picked up the phone he had thrown and read his messages through his cracked phone screen. Just to see if someone missed him. As expected, no one did. But there were some messages from you.

‘Hey shoulder gangster, remember to put on pain patches before you sleep!’

‘I ordered some chicken for you guys, eat well and study well.’

‘Hey, I tried calling you. I had gotten you coffee, but I couldn’t find you so now hyuckie is drinking it.’

‘Ayo. I hope your exam went well. Sending some Chinese food over, so eat before you study!’

‘Hey, Jaemin told me your phone is busted. Idk if you’re gonna see this message, but just wanted to know you’re doing well.’

‘I tried to see you before you went in for your exam but Jeno said you had already left.’

‘Hey… I hope you’re not still upset with me. I’m gonna stop bothering you so we can both study, but I’ll come see you soon.’

‘Okay, I guess i’ll see you after exam week? Meet soon.’

That was the last of it. After that, you hadn’t sent him anything at all. Even you had stopped reaching out to him. 

It seemed that when it came down to it, no one would ever fight for Renjun. No one would want to find out why he was in hiding, or why he hadn’t replied. When worst came to worst, Renjun was always left to fend for himself. He was all alone in this world. 

Jeno and Jaemin would always know what the other was feeling without having to use the words. Neither of them had to explain to the other what was on their mind. They just… knew. When one was in trouble, the other would come running. When one was down, the other would pick him up. Neither had to ask; the other would just sense it and be there. Jisung and Chenle had a similar connection. 

But no one ever sensed Renjun’s heart. No one just knew when he was sad or upset or angry or in trouble. No one would pick him up because no one loved him enough to know his mind. No one had ever paid any real attention to him to know when he was struggling. No one had ever held his hand and taken him out of his despair. No one would even notice that he was in despair. Because he wasn’t anyone’s special anything. 

He had been hiding away for an entire week and no one had even noticed his absence. No one had called in to check on him. Because no one really needed him. Not his friends, not his family. Not even you.

They say when it rains, it pours, and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this phrase. Because just when he is about to put his phone away, he receives a text from his mother.

‘Renjun, I didn’t want to tell you this way. But you’re not picking up my calls. Come see me. Your father and I are getting a divorce.’

Renjun had never really been a big drinker. He’d drink some with the boys every now and then. But that was it. But tonight was an exception. Tonight, it was okay to turn to the drink. Tonight, he wanted to forget.

After the kind of day he had had, he thought that even his demons could give him a break. He felt drained. Like his mind was slowly giving up and his body was doing all the heavy lifting. Putting one foot in front of the other. Making him breathe in and out. Keeping his heart beating. It would be doing his mind a favor, drinking. His mind needed numbing, then maybe his body could follow.

He walks into the bar a broken man. And he wonders if that’s how all men are when they walk into bars. Maybe that’s why men who walk into bars make such good punchlines for jokes. He certainly felt like one. Because the people that should love him seemed to treat him like one. Who was he to think any better of himself?

He had made peace with the fact that his parents never wanted him. He had accepted that they were happy to get rid of him. Then why did he still expect their love every single time? What was it that made him go running to them any time they asked? Why had he expected that somehow visiting them would fix everything? 

Had he expected that they would sit him down and peacefully explain why they were parting ways? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his mother would cry and apologize for putting him through this? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his father would own up to his mistakes and call him his son? Of course, he hadn’t.

But he also hadn’t expected that neither of them would want anything to do with him after they parted ways. He hadn’t expected to be the collateral damage of a failed marriage that neither party was willing to own. He hadn’t expected to be summoned just so his parents could have a screaming match about whose son he’d be after they divorced. And that both would want to shift that burden to the other.

It suited them, Renjun thinks as he downs whatever the bartender had handed him. It would’ve been more unsettling to have made the trip to find something understanding and amiable. This was on-brand for them. This is how it had been since he was a child. They’d fight and Renjun would be collateral damage. This was the perfect ending to their twenty-one year old saga. Renjun had expected it.

So, why was he feeling like he had lost everything?

“Huang Renjun?” he hears a voice call out to him as if from miles away. Was he drowning? Then why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe? Why did the voices around him sound like they were coming from far away?

“Yoo Jimin.” Renjun finds himself automatically answering. He looks up and let’s his eyes focus and there he finds her. He smiles. Of course. Who else would’ve been the guest of honor in his pity party?

“What are you doing here?” she asks him and Renjun finds himself making a face.

“Drinking.” he says as he lifts up his shot glass.

“Did you follow me here?” she asks cryptically. Typical. Of course everything had to be about her.

“How would I know you’d be here?” Renjun says, looking away as he downs another shot.

“I told everyone at the party I was leaving to be here.” she says and her eyebrow is cocked as she comes closer.

“Party?” 

“Haechan’s party? All your friends were there. Weren’t you there?” she asks cautiously.

Ah, yes, the party. The end-of-semester party. Here he was, drinking his pain away. And his friends, the people who should be concerned about him were partying. It was all very fitting he supposed. This perfectly fit into everything in his life at this moment. Including the fact the Yoo Jimin had been the one to find him when he was at his lowest.

“I didn’t feel like a party.” Renjun replies.

Jimin scoffs. “Typical. Of course Huang Renjun thinks he’s above a party everyone would enjoy.”

Renjun doesn’t answer. It’s an annoying remark and part of him wonders why it is irking him so. His heart was burdened by bigger things. Perhaps his mind thought that being annoyed at Yoo Jimin was an easier emotion to address. This was an emotion he understood. It was an emotion he could process right away. So he turns to her and finds her sitting on the stool next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, because really. Why is she here, talking to him, sitting next to him?

“Oh, don’t worry, Renjun. I’m only waiting for someone.” she says, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair.

“You can wait for someone over there.” Renjun points to a place far away with his glass.

“Okay, you don’t have to be an asshole. I just came in to see why you were drinking alone while all your friends are at that party.” she says and now more than agitation, Renjun feels anger.

“Why do you care if I drink alone, anyway? You’re the one that broke up with me.” he spits out.

“Renjun, seriously, what is your problem? I’m only trying to be nice to you. You don’t have to come for me like that.” Jimin’s eyebrows are high on her forehead as she matches Renjun’s tone.

“Well, thanks a lot, Yoo Jimin. Thank you for your gift of empathy, but I don’t really need it. Not after everything you did to me.”

“Renjun! Seriously, what is it that I did to you? What did I do to you?” she raises her voice in agitation.

“Well, other than abandoning me? Pretending that you were happy with me then pulling the rug from under my feet and breaking up with me? Not even waiting a month before moving on?” Renjun spits venom right back. Who did she think she was, coming here and speaking to him like that?

“Jesus Christ, Renjun. Would you listen to yourself? Does it ever occur to you that you could’ve been the asshole in this relationship? That maybe I broke up with you because you were the jerk?” Jimin’s face is contoured as she yells at him. It’s good that the bar is relatively full, otherwise this could’ve been a scene.

“I was nothing but nice to you. I treated you so well and you treated me like dirt!” Renjun hisses.

“Renjun, that’s your problem! You only see the faults in others and never in yourself! But you’re not ready for that conversation, so let’s not have it!” she yells and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, no, by all means, let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about all the times I mistreated you, please.” Renjun mocks. He was already too used to being gaslighted by his parents. Jimin could join that club. This was already the worst day of his life. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Renjun, this! This right here. You never respected me. You never treated me like an equal. With you, I always felt like some stupid, airheaded trophy. I always felt like everything I wanted was superficial and shallow and not worth anything!”

“And whose fault is that.” Renjun laughs darkly.

“Renjun, you can’t even see what you’re doing! You just think you’re so much better than everyone else! You think everyone around you is a degenerate and that you’re the smartest person to ever walk this earth. I can’t believe I let you treat me that way for so long.” Jimin’s hands go from balling into fists to animatedly helping her point. “Renjun, I wanted to be a model for the longest time. But I didn’t, because of you! Because every time I’d post a picture on my Instagram, you’d tell me it was because I love getting validation from strangers. Every time an agent reached out to me, you’d tell me how showing off my looks wasn’t going to be a long lasting career. You just never respected me or my aspirations. Because all of them were so beneath Mr. Intellectual.”

Renjun turns away. He pours himself another shot and downs it. He didn’t want a lecture. Who was she to show up like this and give him a lecture unprovoked? 

“If it weren’t for Jongin, I would’ve believed everything you ever said to me. That people would only like me for my looks. That what I wanted to do was superficial and shallow and that I would never amount to anything if I followed my heart.” she goes on and Renjun has had enough.

“Save it, Jimin. We’re broken up now, so what does it matter?” he doesn’t look at her. She could yell at him all she wanted. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“I only came to you because I saw you drinking alone. And I know that’s not like you. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” her voice has lowered significantly, but the agitation hasn’t left her tone. Renjun wonders if she has more to say, because he certainly doesn’t want to listen to any more.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m fine on my own.” he says coldly, still not looking at her.

Jimin sighs. “Renjun, when will you realize that the whole world isn’t out to get you? I know your family isn’t perfect. But you’ve got friends that care about you. You’ve got people around you that love you. If only you could stop being an asshole to them for one hot minute and see that.”

Renjun still doesn’t turn. Because she doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t know his life. She doesn’t know how alone he feels. She doesn’t know jackshit about what he goes through, what he has been going through. Who is she to comment on his life and stand there like that and lecture him? She didn’t know anything. Fuck her for making him feel like he was the asshole. The world was taking a giant dump on him, and she was making him feel like he was the asshole. Fuck that.

She grabs her purse and gets off the stool. “I’ve got to go now. I just hope you feel better. Whatever it is that you’re going through. Please don’t go through it alone, Renjun.” she says before she walks away.

Renjun feels a lump in his throat. How could he not go through it alone? Who was going to be by his side? No one. So what use were his tears? He wouldn’t let them fall. He swallows that lump away, and when it doesn’t work, he takes another shot. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He could just go home and sleep. Maybe that would work. The alcohol wasn’t numbing anything. It was just making him more bitter, but for more reasons than what he had come in with.

So he finds himself walking home. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in and out. Keeping his heart beating.

He felt so alone. Was he the loneliest man in the world? He could bet money that he was. No one knew what he was going through. And that’s what made him feel most abandoned. But then again. Fuck that. He didn’t need anyone. What good were friends anyway? Friendships really meant nothing. Renjun finally realized that what he had were not friends, but connections. Because at the end of the day, that’s what this goddamn college life was all about. Making as many connections as you possibly could, so you could reap advantages from them later on life. All of his relationships were opportunistic. And realizing this was giving him the worst headache of his life. Like all the alcohol was thrumming in his head and blinding him.

He arrives at his doorstep, punches in his code, walks in and freezes at what he sees. 

Jeno, Jaemin, Jisung, Donghyuck, Zhong Chenle and you were all in the living room, drinking and eating and laughing. None of them had even noticed that Renjun had walked in. Because they were all too busy bellowing together. 

Suddenly, Renjun feels his blood boiling hot in his veins. How dare they. How dare they look like one big happy fucking family right in front of him. Renjun pushes back all emotions he’d been feeling and holds onto one: red hot burning anger. He heads in.

“Hey, hey! Look who’s finally back!” Donghyuck says mid-laughter as he finally notices him. “Come join us because Mark is passed out on your bed, by the way.” he laughs but his smile slowly fades as he watches Renjun’s expression. 

“You okay, man?” Jeno asks slowly.

The others slowly start reading his energy as well because his demeanor has gotten everyone’s attention. Renjun wants to pick a fight. He wants to fight with all of them for not being there for him. But he looks around for an easy target. Someone he can direct all his ruthless anger towards. And his eyes zero in on you.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asks you urgently. Like you’ve done something wrong. 

“I just got you some food. We all thought we’d eat with you since you didn’t come to the party.” you say and you get up smiling and take Renjun’s wrist “Come, sit.”

But Renjun roughly snatches his hand away from your grip, making you look up suddenly. Your eyes are round, but you don’t look angry. You perhaps look shocked, but mostly concerned. And that makes Renjun want to hurt you more.

“You can’t just show up here unannounced. I didn’t invite you here.” Renjun spits at you.

“Hey man, easy. We invited her.” Donghyuck gets up and puts himself between the two of you. 

“Well, this is not your house, either! You can’t just invite her without asking me.” Renjun scowls at the boy.

“Renjun, I just got you some food. I just wanted to make sure you had eaten.” you say gently, stepping up from behind Donghyuck to speak to him.

“Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.” Renjun snaps and he finally watches the hurt he wanted to see on your face. He also sees Jisung’s scared expression and Jaemin’s disappointed one.

“I…” you begin “... I know… I just… I came here with the guys… I…” you begin, but Renjun yells again.

“You need to leave. You can’t just show up whenever you want.” Renjun continues and takes a step forward but Donghyuck holds a protective arm in front of you. Whoop-dee fucking doo. Now his friends thought he was some sort of a savage. 

“No, Y/N, you shouldn’t leave.” He says then turns to his friend. “Dude, what is your problem?” But Renjun keeps attacking you.

“These people are not your friends, okay? They are my friends. You’re crossing a line and you need to leave right now.” Renjun loves the reactions he’s getting. He loves that he has provoked every single person in the room. Because Jaemin has gotten up and taken your hand protectively whilst Jeno has joined Donghyuck in blocking you from his view.

“Hey, man. Easy.” Jeno warns. Jisung and Chenle watch this strange confrontation with worried looks on their faces, eyes darting between him and the others. Renjun can’t believe it. All his friends were protecting you. All of them. He was the fucking monster in this room, too. 

“Renjun, I just… I just came here to see you.” you say, but there’s no accusation in your tone. Just annoying, tiresome understanding. He fucking hates it and all his friends can see that he does.

After everything he had been through, after all his life was putting him through, he was the asshole, he was the monster once again. 

Well, then. If everyone thought him a monster, he should become it completely.

“Y/N.” Renjun laughs as he looks away. Then he looks at you with that sinister smile still on his face. “Y/N, the only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother. So you can leave now.”

That did it. 

Because Donghyuck’s eyes have closed as he stands in front of you and Jeno’s eyes have widened. Jaemin just looks shocked as he holds onto your hand. As do Jisung and Chenle. But you.

Your face has hardened. He doesn’t see shock or disappointment or the kind of reaction that would’ve given him full satisfaction. He sees your stone face as you finally say something with a hint of venom in your tone.

“Well, in that case, Renjun, you’ve been wasting your time. Because I got you a slot with my brother right after our first date.”

Renjun stands speechless. 

He would’ve remained speechless if you hadn’t pushed past Jeno and him and headed straight for the door.

“Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out and goes after you. Renjun watches the others. Jaemin and Jisung have looked away and he sees nothing but pure disappointment on their faces. Jeno, on the other hand, is looking straight at him. Renjun looks back. Good. He wants everyone to hate him. This was exactly right. 

He hears Donghyuck barge back into the apartment as the door bangs shut behind him. 

“Dude what the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yells and Renjun finds himself shoving the boy, pushing him so he wasn’t in his space.

“What’s wrong with me? Please, Donghyuck. Don’t even pretend like you haven’t been using her the same way I’ve been. You’re not any better.” Renjun punctuates the last bit with another shove and Donghyuck grabs at his collar and roughly pulls him by it. Before it can escalate, Jeno and Jaemin rush forward to break the two of them apart. Jeno grabs onto Renjun, Jaemin onto Donghyuck, prying him off and creating some distance between the two. Jisung and Chenle look from the couch, mouths hanging open, visibly distressed.

“You didn’t have to do that, man. You didn’t have to be an asshole to her.” Donghyuck accuses as he tries to free himself from Jaemin’s grip and come face to face with Renjun again.

Renjun laughs bitterly. “Well, now that I have been, you can have her. Live your happy fucking life.” Renjun spits at him and he gets the reaction he was looking for because it makes Donghyuck lunge at him once again, making Jaemin tighten his grip and pull him back.

“What is wrong with you? You fucking asshole! Why do you think everyone’s out to get you? Stop acting like a little bitch and start acting like a man for once!” Donghyuck shouts and that does it. 

Renjun feels his headache blinding him. And yet, he doesn’t know how he frees himself from Jeno’s grip. But before he knows it, he has balled his hand into a fist and aimed it straight for Donghyuck’s face.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[wornoutmouse]

Baby Daddy Shigaraki fanfic pt2

It was a miracle that no one questioned the name put down when Shigaraki had to sign the birth certificate. You summed it up as fearing for their lives but it could be many things you try to convince yourself as the reality of your new life truly set in.

The after birth pain, though constant, was numbed whenever you looked down on your son's face. He had yet to do anything more than sleep, much to your annoyance. And was aggressive when breastfeeding  much to Shigaraki's enjoyment, "Just like his father." 

Dabi was the second one to hold Daiki after Komugiri but the look of horror on his face when you fully released the baby into his arms was one that deeply concerned you. "It's breathing." He whispered to you eyes wide.

You signal for Komugiri to stand close behind Dabi just in case he really lost it. "Yeah Dabi.....he is breathing...cause that's what living things do." 

Time skip

You sigh as you finally set Daiki down inside his new bed for a nap. His small face looked so delicate surrounded by soft lavender blankets. His whole room theme was a soft purple as preferred by Komugiri. 

You closed the door till there was only a sliver of light coming in just in case he woke up again, then you headed to your living room. 

Shigaraki sat on the couch shirtless and flicking through TV channels. "Why are you still here?" You ask as you walk to the kitchen to find your tea. "What do you mean?" You stir four teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. "I got Daiki under control, you don't have inconvenience yourself."

Tomura flicked through the channels once again. "You and Daiki are not an inconvenience, you're both my responsibility now." You release the spoon causing it to clink loudly against your ceramic cup. "I don't want you to force yourself to be here, you've obviously proved that you don't really want to be apart of this."

"Y/N come on now this again?!" "Yes this again!" Shigaraki groaned scratching idly at his neck. "I've already missed the hidden trailer off Daiki's life I'm not going to miss the prequel sequel." You groan softly, "Stop talking in video game terms you know I don't understand!"

Shigaraki stands up and walks to the kitchen now leaving only the island separating you. "Look you can hate me all you want, I don't care, hell I'm used to it. But you are not keeping me from my son." You shudder at the tone Tomura spoke at.

There were very few times when you've heard this voice and luckily it was never directed to you. This voice meant that what he said was final and he would not go back on it no matter who got in his way. "I would love to have you in his life Tomura, but I don't want what comes with it." You finally say, making Tomura throw his hands up in defeat.

"What do you expect me to do woman?! Make him tag along on "Bring your child to work day?" You turn away trying to contain your annoyance in fear of waking up the baby. "I'm giving you one chance to get your shit together, don't mess it up." Behind you, you could hear the steady steps of Tomura retreating, "And I'm giving you a chance to see how stupid you're being right now."

Before he completely walked away he stopped, "I am going to check on Daiki since it seems like he's the only one that appreciates my efforts."

Once you heard the familiar creak of Daiki's bedroom door you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "How did I get like this?" 

It of course was on a Saturday, as all good stories do. You were working a waitress job at Denny's as a way to earn some pocket money for your first year in Japan. 

"Table 3 we got your Bourbon Chicken skillet, Fish and chips, two waters, and a cherry sprite." Your say setting down all your items before walking to the booth next to them. 

"Hello welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you all tonight?" Dabi at the time, had a nonchalant hand over Twice's mouth most likely to stop his internal bickering. Komugiri was navigating the kids menu with a then 15 year old Toga. Spike ordered some Fish and Chips as per usual and Shigaraki was starting at your tits.....

Shigaraki was staring at your tits.....

He was STARING- I think you get the point

"Hey birthday bitch what are you ordering?" Dabi said snapping Tomura back to the present. "Uh.. get me a steak skewer." Dabi gasped, "I spent all my time and hard work scrounging up money and you get a damn steak skewer for your birthday?!" 

The five stages of grief came over you internally as you had been standing there way past your recommended time. "If you guys aren't ready to order, I'll just come back-" 

"No no no, we are ready. Can we get chicken on a stick with a side of grapes and fries for the young lady. Steak and eggs for me...Dabi? Dabi leaned back simultaneously releasing twice. "We would like a 3-egg omelette-with some cock!" 

You didn't get paid enough for this.

"I'll get you the omelette but I'm afraid I'm out of stock for that last part." You smirk, putting down the orders so far. Dabi snapped the menu shut, "Do y'all have chicken tenders?" Dabi asked, looking at you hopefully. You nod and he fist bumped Twice for some unforeseen reason. 

"Uh get crusty over there a Supreme Sizzling Skillet." "Wait why can all of you get chicken but I can't?!" You wrote down the orders and glanced at Shigaraki who was now looking directly at you as if you held all the answers. "Okay for drinks?"

   As you got off work, you took the back alley entrance to the bus stop. "Hey." Your scream and toss a punch into the darkness effectively making skin to skin contact. "Ow what the fuck?!" "What do you mean what the fuck you're the rapist!"

Shigaraki's signature light blue hair appeared from the shadows almost glowing from the dim alley light. "Rapist? No, I'm more on the lines of stalker." You stand there for a moment rethinking your life choices. "Yeah okay well I'm going to go-" "Wait!" 

You feel half of a hand grip onto your wrist stopping you in your place. "I uh... Think you're cute and, ah crap what did Dabi tell me to say?!" 

As he mulled over his choice of words you hesitantly reach into your purse for pepper spray. "Uh I was wondering if I could get to know you?" He finally ended off staring at you expectantly. You looked back at him expectantly.

"I know this seems creepy but I'm not exactly good at talking to people that are not my friends so you're kinda boss level interaction." For a while your stare at each other as the cold fall wind blew past the two if you. Giving up, you sighed and pulled out a price of paper, "Look, if I wake up tomorrow and none of my underwear is missing and window is not mysteriously open, I'll give you a call, but don't expect it!"

And he didn't expect it. To your surprise, you never found any ominous signs of entry into your substitute home, and he never 'conveniently' showed up at your job. 

Even so, the very fact that you called him was during a moment of weakness. You were extremely home sick and you had just moved into your new home that was only equipped with a fully furnished bedroom and a microwave. 

When you heard the hesitant knock on the door you quickly put your cup of noodles down and opened the door. In your face was a rose...a single rose in a pot. 

Thats different

"It was short notice and it's not like any flower places were open.... So I stole it." You gingerly take the plant into your hands, "It's the thought that counts (?) Come in." You shut the door behind him and set the plant in the kitchen. 

"You must forgive the dryness of my home, I just moved in so there isn't much going on." Tomura hummed as he felt his bones relax as the warmth of the house filled his body. You stared at each other for a while, awkwardly sweating back and forth. Finally, you both opened your mouth to speak up.

"I didn't know I'd get this far so.."

You blink at each other before you double over with laughter. "Uh okay, well how about we watch a movie, get comfortable. The TV is in my room so I hope that doesn't bother you." 

You put on Wall-E for lack of better mood as Tomura hesitantly settled on your plush bed, hands clasped tightly between his thighs.

You two watch these movie in silence and shared popcorn. It wasn't awkward silence though, it was needed. A unspoken message saying that you both acknowledged that this was weird but it was a good weird. Both of you were willing to give it a try.

"Hey pass the popcorn." Tomura said blindly patting the air in front of you. "No you've ate most of it already!" You opted to keeping the bag as far as possible. "It's good popcorn now hand it over." You continue to resist but he was more stubborn.

Unable to think of any other way to save your beloved popcorn you clench your eyes shut and deliver a small peck to the tip of Shigaraki's nose. 

Almost as if shocked, he slides away holding his nose gently. You huff with airy laughter at his flushed face, "Told you, this is my popcorn." 

You smile softly at the memory wiping away a stray tear from your face. "One chance... I'll give him one chance."

You tiptoe to Daiki's new room and peek inside. It was too dark for you to see inside so you opened the door completely. You blankly look into the empty room before falling to your knees. "SHIGARAKI TOMURA I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" You scream into the night air as you glared into the baby less crib.

"Man are you sure you should have him here? He's still a newborn and nothing's baby proof, hell this is a bar so it's far from sanitary!" Dabi said glancing into the baby carriage. Daiki sleepily gazed up at Dabi and babbled. 

"Y/N and I are going through a small set back so I decided to give her some space." Tomura unclipped Daiki from his carseat and picked him up holding his head in a four fingered hold. "We decided to give her some space isn't that right?" He cooed at Daiki who gingerly hit his nose.

"Dude stop, seeing you with a baby is giving me the creeps." Shigaraki glared as Dabi took a shot, "Ignore your uncle Dabi he's just mad he's not as cute as you."

Komugiri was washing dishes until a shiver went down his mystical spine, "I feel a disturbance in the force.

[yandere-daydreams]

darling escapes from atsumu & runs to osamu for help, not knowing that the twins share the same feelings for her

I try to keep my Reader-Inserts gender neutral as often as possible, but I /love/ the idea of escaping from one brother, only to fall into the loving arms of another. At least Osamu’s a little nice, or, he can be, at least. He tries to be. Sometimes. Maybe. If you’re really, really lucky.

Title: Trade Off.

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Dehumanization, and Slight Infantilization.

~

Osamu greeted you with a hug.

From anyone else, it wouldn’t have been surprising. What kind of friend wouldn’t hug you - a missing person, a victim of something awful with the evidence littered all over your skin, in burns and cuts and too many bite-marks to count, but Osamu had always been reserved. A hug from him was like rain in the desert, snowfall in the tropics, and despite everything you’d done to earn something more than just a stiff embrace and a moment of uncharacteristic affection, you’d cherished it. You’d fallen into it. You’d wanted it and you’d loved him for it, if only because it was something Atsumu’d never do. If only because it reminded you how different he was from his twin, despite their identical appearances.

If only because, from that point forward, you’d been sure you made the right choice by running to him, before friends and family and a dozen more reasonable choices. You were still sure.

It’d proved he cared about you, and that was something his brother could never do.

Even now, his protective fondness hung in the air, laying over you and keeping you warm like a blanket of worried glances and soft touches, Osamu taking any excuse to rest his hand on your shoulder or let his fingers brush against yours, little things to reassure himself that you were there and you were real, even if hours had already passed since you turned up on his doorstep. You’d already told him about Atsumu, how he’d turned into a monster overnight and the more palatable parts of your captivity, and he’d sat across from you in the cramped living-room, nodding occasionally and letting you speak, getting you a cup of something hot and herbal when your eyes went cloudy and your hands started to shake. You drank it down, thankful for the excuse to stifle the words you found pouring off of your tongue, despite your best efforts to hold them in.

Osamu took your story in stride. With his chin resting on his fist, he scanned over you, his gaze lingering passively on Atsumu’s shirt, the only piece of clothing you’d been able to grab before you fled, and a particularly bad bruise over your shoulder, dipping down until it reached your collarbone. “Want to use my phone?” He offered, his voice flat, but the question itself full of concern. “Your folks must be worried sick. I wouldn’t blame you for wantin’ to get out of here sooner than later.”

You should call someone, your parents, the police, someone, but a selfish, exhausted part of you just wanted to curl up on Osamu’s couch and spend a few more days in denial, pretending the past few months of your life hadn’t happened or dismissing the fact that they’d continue to take a toll on you. Embracing the idea wouldn’t be a good idea, but it couldn’t hurt to indulge it. Get a few hours of sleep, see if you could find a decent pair of pants. Take in Osamu’s hospitality rather than try to tell yourself you didn’t need it. “I need a little time,” You said, shaking your head idly. “You don’t mind if I hang around for a while, do you? I just… I’d like to get my story straight. Saying ‘my famous boyfriend locked me in his basement because he loved me’ might not go over well with the police.”

That earned an airy chuckle. Osamu stood, taking you by the hand to help you do the same. “C’mon. I have a spare room I’ve been fixin’ up, you can stay there for as long as you need to.”

You smiled up at him, and he smiled back. You weren’t sure whether it was relief, joy or gratitude that flooded into your body before you could remind yourself to be cautious, but you let Osamu guide you through his home without complaint, only letting go of his hand when he came to a white door at the end of a long hall, and Osamu had to fish through his pockets to find its key.

‘Fixing up’ had been an understatement.

You weren’t sure if Osamu and Atsumu had a younger sibling, any cousins they favored, but if they did, those kids must’ve been spoiled rotten. The walls were painted a rich, pastel pink, the desk and the bed both new and trendy and absolutely covered in trinkets and toys, things that fell somewhere between decorative and unnecessary. There weren’t any windows, but with a flip of a switch, a small army of lamps lit the room with a soft glow, making you want to fall onto the plush rug that covered most of the floor and lose yourself in the unadulterated homeyness. You couldn’t say you were difficult to impress - with Atsumu, your ‘room’ was either an empty, darkened closet or a crate, sometimes big enough to accommodate you, sometimes not. This felt… extravagant, in comparison. More than you deserved. More than you could accept without paying a price.

It made sense when you heard the door close behind you, a lock clicking into place and Osamu’s key slipping back into his pocket. Your heart still froze into your chest, your pulse slowing down and racing at the same time, but it made sense.

You swallowed your nerves hastily, forcing yourself to turn around and cross your arms over your chest. A futile gesture, considering Osamu’s height and your blatant frailty, but it was too early to grovel. If he wanted to push you around, you’d prove you could push back. “Let me out, now. I don’t know if you think this is funny, but--”

“I started putting this together the day after ‘tsumu got to you. It was already too late, no one knew what ditch you’d died in, but what the hell, right?” He walked past you swiftly, not bothering to acknowledge your rebellion. He didn’t speak loudly, nor was he any more imposing than he’d been a minute ago, but what he was saying, how casually he was saying it, was enough to render you speechless. Absentmindedly, he slid open the closet’s mirrored panel, rummaging through its contents as he went on. “It wasn’t hurting anyone, and if I was gonna get my hands on you eventually, I’d have a plan. He’s too impulsive, never had to wait for anythin’ in his life. I was worried he was gonna break you, for a few weeks.” He paused, pursing his lips as he found what he was looking for. Clothes were thrown at your feet, a full outfit too sheer and too minimalistic to be for your enjoyment. “Change. I’ve wanted to rip those fucking rags off of you since you got here.”

You didn’t bother responding to that. You had a feeling it would only fuel his smoldering hostility. “This isn’t--” You bit your tongue before you could finish. ‘It’s not fair’ was something a child would say, and you were an adult, a capable, independent adult. Clearly, you’d already done something to make the Miya twins think otherwise. “You have to let me go, Osamu. I just got away from your brother, I just got free, you can’t take that away from me. We’re supposed to be friends. You’re supposed to care about me.”

“I’m doing this because I care about you.” On their own, the words might’ve been kind, empathetic, but whatever warmth his gaze held was balanced out by the way his lips curled back, how his tone turned into a snarl so easily. “What would you do if I opened that door? Run off and tell the cops? Knock on doors until you find someone willing to believe that a celebrity and his twin both tried to kidnap you, back to back? Or, would you go crawling back to ‘tsumu, see if he still wants you after you let his brother put his hands all over you?” He had a way of laughing at his own jokes, the noise so arrogant, so confident, so annoying, it was hard to believe he��d ever found anyone else funny. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t. “I’m trying to be nice, but if you make this hard for me, I’ll make it hard for you.”

You grit your teeth, but your body betrayed you, eyes flickering down to the cloth at your feet. “I can manage on my own--”

“Don’t lie to me.” His fingers were in your hair before you noticed he was moving, forcing your head to bow as his blunt nails dug into your scalp. “You’re helpless, and you know you are. If you aren’t in ‘tsumu’s bed, you’re gonna be in mine, and you’re smart enough to make the right choice. Fucking change, before I start to think it’d be easier to throw you out myself.”

You stiffened, going rigid under his palm. Then, you kneeled, taking up the silken fabric and casting him one last glare before retreating to the other side of the room, turning your back to Osamu as you slid Atumu’s shirt over your head. 

 Just exchanging one kidnapper for another.

~

Silently, Osamu watched as you fled and regrouped, facing away from him to hide the way your shoulders trembled, your body shaking so violently, Osamu couldn’t be sure whether or not you were trying to make him pity you. He didn’t mind, though. He’d been waiting months for this. Years, honestly, but Osamu’s teenage daydreams hardly centered around taking in his brother’s wayward brat. If Atsumu had tried to train you, he’d done a piss-poor job. You were as obedient as you would’ve been fresh-off the streets, and now you knew all the tricks and tactics of a well-worn captive.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he was disappointed. Already, a collection of incentives were burning holes in his mattress, tucked under his bed and waiting to be used the first time you acted-up with something more aggressive than words. Luckily, you were too preoccupied to notice his mouth moving in a silent prayer, words of thanks that you’d turned down his offer to use his phone. If you thought to go through his messages, his call history, you wouldn’t have liked what you found. He was already planning for how… distressed you’d be, at the next trade-off.

If you were this fussy to fall into Osamu’s care at all, he couldn’t imagine how you’d act when Atsumu’s next turn came around.