#are either dead or they give up writing the series I like

[notedchampagne]

it's after halloween but trick or treat anyway here you go:

flattenings of john as a character, specifically the "deadbeat dad" accusations or referring to alecto's creation as "male gaze-y." he is a demonstrably involved and gentle parent the instant he learns he's got a kid; the issue is not that he's a deadbeat so much as that he set up a society where parenthood and authority are positions of naturalized abuse. Like, he's doing everything right on the surface, it's just that you can't be a good parent and also a god-emperor. You can't help your kid connect with her culture and ancestry when you killed all her ancestors and erased their culture; you can't let your kid inherit what you have when you're never going to die and she's already dead; you can't give her what she wants and have that be healthy when what she wants is a position in the army you run. but fuck if he's not trying to. from a surface level view, he's doing everything right! and calling alecto barbie male gaze-y eliminates the role of larger systems in literally everything john has ever done. is it not so much more satisfying for it to be a completely innocuous and even childish act that still ends up defiling a woman's body because the defilement of women's bodies is so baked into everything that an act as simple as "taking comfort in childhood toys when you're stressed" has the potential to be harmful? He's fucked up, for sure, but like. damn if the ways he's fucked up in canon aren't way more interesting than half the takes.

okay so tridentariicest totally has textual backing and i love that folks explore that, but i also feel like the sexual element of their whole deal is given way too much spotlight. what about all the other totally horrifying aspects of their relationship? there's so many good god diversify it a bit.

kiriona meta that either makes her out to be completely different or completely the same as gideon. this side of her always existed and she is fundamentally changed. if i talk about this too much longer i will write an essay because every time i think about kiriona for a second too long an essay happens but moral of the story she's one of those Characters I'm Correct About and i am sososotired.

buddy youve already written an essay lmfao anyway treat: i like hearing peoples opinions. ive already mentioned my opinions on kiriona and john before (TLDR this has always been gideon and people change/imperialism misogyny and classism is baked into the society john grew up in and it continues to exist as he made this new society). tcest grosses me out on a general level but it Is there in tlt and it annoys me when people boil it down to "oh isnt it so problematic when twins kiss are you offended" instead of exploring how the third house encouraged codependency and fused identity, coronas desperation to be needed vs ianthes desperation to be acknowledged and seen blahblahblah theres just more interesting ways you could explore text within a series about the horrors and unhealthiness of love instead of jacking into a sock about it

[tiger-moran]

Also there's this post going round where someone who I already had blocked for reasons I don't remember though maybe it was that post that made me block them who knows anyway it's them basically mocking people for not reading loads of books per year and saying essentially anyone who doesn't read many books per year, their opinions on everything are uninformed and worthless, and it pisses me off no end.

I mean not only is it condescending as hell

and absurd to make it sound as if reading books is the only possible way to get information and a broader viewpoint on things

it's also basically ableist as fuck too to expect everyone to be able to read countless books

and it's ignoring the fact that many people can't afford to read countless books (and sorry but 'free ebooks and libraries exist' does not solve that problem, there are loads of reasons why both those options are useless for many people, especially many disabled and poor people)

And I am just... I am sick of wasting my time and money getting and reading books that I turn out to hate. Like even only within the past two or three years, just off the top of my head there's been Caroline Akrill's fourth book in the eventing 'trilogy', a series I loved as a child and still liked when I reread it as an adult but I hated the fourth book, it was like she'd forgotten anything and everything which made the original series engaging (possibly not surprising when she wrote it like 30 years later (and it really really showed, despite it being supposedly set right after the original series) and I really genuinely wish she hadn't bothered); Lights of Prague which was so, so boring; some Sherlock Holmes anthology, I don't know which it was since I sold it months ago, which I didn't give a damn about no not even the story involving Moriarty and Moran because it was the standard 'they are awful people and we have to defeat them' shit and despite how other people made it sound they were barely in it anyway while it was mostly about Mycroft, a character I really don't care about; Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell or whatever it's called which had the distinction of being the first book I ever managed to fall asleep while sitting up in the middle of the day reading it because I found it so tedious; the Frey and McGray series which I stuck with despite not liking a lot of elements but I did at least like the main characters (or at least I liked them when they weren't drugged and being horrible to each other) but I enjoyed the last book in the series so little I've now put the entire series in my 'to sell' box; The Magpie Lord which was just awful anyway and contained a relationship dynamic I really dislike as well. There were probably others I've repressed all memory of. Even some other stuff I liked, it kind of... degenerated for me the further it went. Like for example I did quite like most of Caroline Graham's Inspector Barnaby series but I really didn't like the last one, I didn't like a lot of it anyway and then by the end it went way too weird as well.

I am genuinely at the stage now where I just... don't dare risk buying (and therefore reading) any more books because this keeps happening, so many of the ones I do risk buying I do not like at all, but I am sick of there being nothing I want to read, of every single list of 'recommended books' being lists of stuff I haven't got the slightest interest in reading not least because so, so much now seems to be 'young adult' stuff. I do not want to read about children! I do not want to read about teenagers! And I certainly do not want to read about teenagers and their romantic relationships (or usually, it seems, ~love triangle~ shit)! (What happened to books about adults? Because going by most of the lists I've seen unless you want ~classic literature~ books about adults over the age of about 20 barely exist any more)

I'm sick of it being impossible to find anything else I want to read because nobody is writing it or publishing it, stories with the type of characters and relationships and other things I have an interest in... they do not exist. I have searched time and time again and I am not finding anything.

And if I ask anywhere for recommendations mostly all I seem to get is people recommending me stuff that bears no resemblance to what I'm actually asking for (post-WWII is not Victorian!) and where people seem to assume a book simply being ~diverse~ in some way somehow automatically makes it an amazing flawless book that I'm going to absolutely love every moment of reading, also very often all they recommend are ebooks I can't read anyway and/or books that cost like £15 each which I can't afford.

And then those shits start ridiculing and demeaning people who don't read many books.

[girlscience]

I hate getting into something that has a canon(ish) sapphic couple, but I only end up caring about one of the two women 😭😭😭

[gloomwitchwrites]

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price (wc: 420)

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado

@saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @lxblm

@ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow

@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

@lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez

@gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @glassgulls

[raticalshoez]

Funny observations (to me) that I noticed regarding the Life Series

Skizz is a naturally kind, trusting person who has faith in people, but doesn't ever let anyone treat him as a doormat or a pushover. Tango on the other hand is not a very trusting person who can easily pick out suspicious people, and is constantly on edge about who to trust, yet somehow is more likely to be a doormat or pushover than Skizz is???

Lizzie is the least whimsical woman (or rather, feminine presenting person) on this server. You may think that goes to Cleo for their sorta realist mindset and fear mongering status, or like Pearl because of her incredibly depressing lore, or Gem because she can be insane sometimes, but no it's Lizzie. All of them love cute things, but I think the other three fawn over cute things in endearing ways while Lizzie expresses her love very blunt and dry. In the best way possible, she is like the server's cranky old woman to me. Does anyone see my vision or do I sound insane.

People do not talk about or write enough about Jimmy's habit of talking real big and threatening things and sizing himself up to only immediately shoot himself down and run off terrified when challenged by something a bit too threatening or a bit too much for him to handle. It is one of my favorite character defining mannerisms of Jimmy because it's so funny to me. I love wholesome, golden retriever man, but he is also this and I don't see it nearly enough

In Secret Life, when Gem was giving Etho flack for not attacking Cleo during the boogeypocalypse, Bdubs immediately jumps in to defend him by saying "Well, I can't help but notice Scott's not dead yet either, Gem!" Like. Just a moment ago you were scolding him too. He cannot let Etho be in a negative situation for even one second....please get a grip girl he ain't devoted to you rn......you don't have to all that for him...

Etho gets called washed up the most in Limited Life and yet that is the season where he placed the highest and I think that is hilarious

[bunnysbrainrot]

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention. 

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 6k+

A/N: For this chapter, I played with the idea of having Zoro’s POV. It felt necessary for the story progression that I had in mind. This chapter was a tad fun to write, and I hope that translated well into the story. Originally it was going to be longer, but I realized I wanted to save the dinner to go with all the action to end the Episode 3-4 story arc. Thank you guys so much for the love you’ve given this little story. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

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This place is a maze. 

That thought rang true with every hallway you entered and the endless number of rooms within. With every step you took inside Kaya’s large estate, those words kept echoing through your head. How many guest suites could one house possibly hold? But also, why would you ever need so many?

You’d been wandering the halls for what felt like an eternity. Your head poked into each room after a brief knock. Yes, a brief knock before plunging head-first into someone’s private space wasn’t much of a warning but at least you were knocking. 

And all of this just to find Zoro who may or may not help you expose whatever metaphorical skeletons this butler had stuffed in his metaphorical closet. Or an actual closet. The possibilities felt endless. 

You weren’t even sure how you were going to explain to him exactly why you were searching for him without sounding like a creep. You would just have to cross that bridge when you came to it. 

You were about to give up trying to locate him because you were pretty sure you’d just passed that same exact clock for the second time in a row. You let out a raspberry as you placed your hands on your hips. Was it plausible you were lost? Inside a ginormous house like this? Yes, it sure as shit was. Maybe you should’ve been dropping breadcrumbs to find your way back to your own room when this was over. 

Rolling your tongue around your mouth, you looked down to your right and realized there were only two more doors left. What could it hurt just to look? You were already down here anyway. 

With a shrug, you moved towards the second to last door near the end of the hall. You weren’t in a rush to check what was behind either one, but you were also not leaving any stone unturned and all that. If your earlier dozen room checks were any indication of what to expect, you were willing to bet that you were going to find absolutely nothing waiting for you. The joy of joys. 

You were just a few feet from the door when you heard the lock click. The sound caused you to stop dead center, facing the door like an absolutely terrified rabbit caught in the headlights. What were the chances that whoever opened that door was going to be Zoro? And what were the chances that he would be willing to listen to what you had to say? 

The possibility of your questions being answered ebbed the panic in your chest down just a tad. Enough that when the door finally opened and Zoro was, in fact, standing before you, you silently thanked the universe for your suddenly award-winning luck. 

That was until you realized he was just standing there. In a robe. A silk robe with his swords slung over his shoulder and because of his current hold on his swords, said robe in question was flashing a peak of his chest. You immediately wanted to take back your previous thank you letter to the universe. 

This should be illegal. 

The worst part? You were pretty positive from the way Zoro was staring at you - his eyes taking you in from top to bottom lord HELP you - he did not seem as impressed with you as you were of him. Why in the hell couldn’t you say a word? Yes, he was attractive - stupidly so - but he was also just another guy. 

A guy in a thin silk robe and hair still damp from a bath. 

You watched as Zoro’s body began to relax, or relax as much as someone like him could. It was when he let out a sigh as if your very presence was keeping him from something important, that you felt your feet remove themselves from their spot in the carpet and spring you forward. 

There was a split second when Zoro’s eyes registered your movement. His eyebrows raised up in surprise as the almond shape of his eyes widened just a tad before he braced for whatever you were about to do. Zoro was planning on an attack and his body was primed to force you back. Instead of violence, he was met with your hands shoving him back inside his room with your foot kicking the door swiftly closed behind you. 

Once you knew you were both securely back inside the room, you stopped shoving him. You waited for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room before you looked around. It would be embarrassing if you’d done this and someone else - Nami or Luffy or anyone else really - had been inside with him. The only thing you noticed, however, was his previous clothes strewn across the room. 

When your eyes ventured back to Zoro you found his earlier shock replaced by what you could only guess was his usual stonewall expression. 

“Look,” he began the timber of his voice causing you to jump. “You seem nice and all, if not a little disturbed, but I’m not interested.” 

You looked up at him with your confusion knitting your brow together. 

“Not interested?”

You weren’t sure why it took you that long to realize what he meant, but it was dawning on you at warp speed and your confusion was quickly replaced with horror. 

“Oh my god! No, no! I was not trying to like, do anything to you like that.”

The disbelief in his eyes told you plainly he didn’t believe you, and by the tick in his jaw something was bothering him about your statement. 

Shit! He thinks I’m a perv 

You wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and die there. You followed his eyes as they trailed down his chest to find your hands were very much still attached to him, practically groping him. 

“Then why are your hands still on my chest?”

A small squeak of surprise left you as you dropped your hands down to your sides and shook them like it would be enough to get rid of the feeling of cupping his very pronounced…chest. You took a step back from him in hopes that giving him space would save the entire interaction. 

“Sorry about all the ugh…touching,” you mumbled. “But I did come here to speak to you about something.” 

“This is going to be good. Is it to convince me you weren’t trying to grope me?”

“God, you aren’t going to let it go, are you?” 

Closing your eyes you took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. When you finished, you opened your eyes again and gave him the best smile you could muster. 

“Okay, let’s start this again. I,” you motioned towards yourself, “have come to ask you if you noticed anything weird.” 

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at you. His arms moved to lock his arms across his chest somehow exposing the peek of flesh from the robe even more. 

“You mean weirder than right now?”

You purse your lips together tightly as you try to exhale all the annoyance from gathering in your body. 

“Let’s just move on from this moment, ok,” you began. “I came to talk to you about the butler.”

Without warning, Zoro rolled his eyes and dropped his arms from his chest. His swords clanging against his leg reminding you that he wasn’t making any move to set them down anytime soon. 

“Here we go again about the butler,” he groaned, and the very sound shouldn’t have sounded as enticing as it did.

Focus! 

“Oh, save it!” You snapped. “I saw you, okay? The way you looked at Klahadore before you followed your friends inside. You looked at him like you recognized him. Like you’d seen him before somewhere.” 

Zoro regarded you coolly. The hardness that had disappeared while he’d teased you earlier slid back into place until he was as unreadable as stone. 

“I’ve never seen that butler before in my entire life.” 

“Why are you lying?” 

You couldn’t keep the exasperation from your voice or how your desperation was starting to creep back in. Could you have been wrong about Zoro this whole time? Did you just see what you wanted to see?

No. You know what you saw and you were not going to be called crazy. You took a step towards him and weren’t surprised when he didn’t move back. Instead, he tilted his chin, his full pouty lips still very much pouting, as his eyes carefully watched you. 

“You know, that I know, that you looked at that guy and went, ‘hmph, something’s not right there’.” 

Yeah, that felt like a solid argument. 

You waited under Zoro’s cool gaze for him to reply. For him to show any sign of anything, really. He was literally the most unmoving person you’d ever meet, and you were starting to wonder if he was even real. The shitty part about waiting in silence, besides the uneasy commentary your brain was beginning to make, was the smell of the vanilla and sandalwood that wafted off him in mini waves that assaulted your senses. 

You were so intently transfixed by trying to match his unblinking gaze that when he finally moved his head down to be eye level with you, you’d almost jumped out of your skin. 

“Is everything okay with you? Do you suffer from any brain damage?” 

You wish you could say you handled the next few seconds with grace and poise. Things that all upstanding future doctors did when faced with adversity. However, that was most definitely not you, and you weren’t able to keep an exacerbated yell of frustration from cairning past your lips. 

“Oh! You are literally the most infuriating man I have ever met!”

“And you are the most perverted woman I have ever met,” Zoro shot back, this time taking a step towards you. 

If he was trying to intimidate you, he should’ve tried back when you weren’t ready to tear him limb from limb. 

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Who just pushes a semi-naked man into a room so they can grope him?”

“I wasn’t trying to grope you! I was trying to interrogate you for information!”

God, that sounded so much worse. 

“That sounds a lot worse, actually.”

Of course, Zoro would state the obvious, and was he - was he smirking? Your eyes rapidly blinked as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing because as fast as you’d noticed it, that devilish smirk had disappeared. Now Zoro once again looked as serious as before. You began to move back towards the door with your hands up in mock surrender. 

“You know what - fine! If you don’t want to help me, that’s your choice, but you know I’m right. And I’m going to prove that something is wrong here with or without your help.”

You shot one last look in his direction before turning on your heel and giving him your back. You were at the door, your hand on the doorknob when Zoro surprised you with a question of his own. 

“Why ask me to help you?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you expected to see that smug smirk on his face or to get the cold shoulder. What you found instead were eyes so intent on you - waiting for your response - that it caused your lungs to collapse. A million replies played over through your mind, but only one of them mattered. 

“Because out of everyone here, I thought you would believe me the most.” 

It didn’t matter if it was the answer he’d been looking for or the one you thought would win him over. You meant what you said and you hoped he’d felt your admission genuinely. If Usopp didn’t want to believe you, and if Zoro, who you still believed knew or at least felt something was off here, wasn’t going to be able to help you, you would just have to do it yourself. 

Did you know what that entailed? Hell no, but Naan didn’t raise a quitter, and you weren’t going to roll over and just give up just because it was hard. Not when someone’s very life depended on you. 

——————

After your incredible failure of finding a co-conspirator to help you on your quest for answers failed with flying colors, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself. Usopp no doubt must have snuck in by now to see Kaya - sans your “gift” - and the others were probably in the ridiculous closet looking for dinner attire. While you could’ve gone just to socialize with everyone else, Kaya had sent a dress to your room. 

Sham had looked absolutely miserable dropping it off and that was a joy all on its own. 

You considered heading to the closet just to see Luffy again. Luffy radiated optimism like sunshine; at the moment, that sort of unyielding optimism was the mood booster you needed. 

Unfortunately, you knew Zoro must have made his way there by now and you weren’t necessarily ready to face him again. The disappointment was clinging to you and that’s what you hated the most. You didn’t understand why you’d seemingly put all your eggs inside the Zoro basket. Just because he’d looked at Klahadore weird didn't mean he’d sensed something off. 

Shit, Klahadore was weird and deserved every side-eye glance he got. 

All it meant for you was going back to the drawing board for a new plan. One that was going to be able to get you next to Kaya. At least long enough so you could perform some kind of assessment. 

You rounded the corner to what you hoped was the hallway your room was down. The earlier thought you’d had about getting lost turned into an accurate one. You’d spent just as much time trying to get back to your room to get ready for dinner as you had searching for Zoro. 

Zoro.

Even just thinking about him made your jaw clench with fresh irritation. What was more infuriating than your most recent conversation was the fact you could still feel the strength of him in the hollows of your palms. The sharpness of his jaw and the high sculpt of his cheeks- 

No! Absolutely not, you chastised yourself. 

It was maddening how little he believed you - mocked you - and yet, here you were acting like some lovestruck teenager. He wasn’t that handsome. 

You were lost in your thoughts to the point you weren’t aware of your body's attempt to warn you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and a sickening feeling began to rot in your gut and made sure all the imaginary - very imaginary - butterflies disappeared. 

The goosebumps that rose along your exposed skin informed you that the grand hallway, filled with all its riches and fine cherry woods was as ice cold as the dead. Has it always been this cold and you just never noticed? Or the eerie silence that made the manor feel more haunted than alive. 

Your feet involuntarily came to a halt in the middle of the hall. You couldn’t explain the panic that was building in your chest, but it felt like you were being watched. Your heart rate sped up until you could practically feel it thundering against your ribs. 

“You are being silly,” you whispered to yourself. “It’s just an old house.” 

“Old houses do have their quirks, don’t they?”

You wish you could say that when Klahadore spoke from behind you, you’d reacted with grace. With dignity. What actually happened was you screamed sharp enough it could raise the dead. 

The whiplash you gave yourself as you turned to face him was dizzying. You wanted to kill the fear that widened your eyes and pressed your brow into your hairline. Your mouth was painfully dry as you took in his presence and the absolute shit-eating grin he wore. 

He enjoyed seeing you afraid. 

“Oh dear, Doc, did I give you a fright?”

Klahadore gently tipped the frame of his glasses with the edge of his palm. You wanted to smack them off his smug face. 

“What do you want, Klahadore?”

You struggled to regain your composure. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you afraid. It was what he wanted after all and didn’t take much to notice. He was already trying to close the few inches your retreat had given you. 

“I was simply wondering why you were wandering around the manor. You’ve been showing highly suspicious behavior ever since you and your friends arrived.” 

Your eyes narrowed in on him and as you held your head high. 

“Have you been following me?”

“Oh, come now, don't be silly. To have someone followed means you’re worried about what they’ll find, and you? You are the last thing I would be worried about.” 

Klahadore dropped his head down until he was eye level with you, but somehow used his size to remain imposing. A thinly veiled threat to remind you exactly what he thought of you; nothing. 

The first time you’d ever received an insult from Klahadore had been just like this. Alone and away from anywhere Kaya could hear him. He’d made sure that Usopp and you were together just so he wouldn’t have to repeat the insult twice. 

“I know you two must feel exceedingly special having Miss Kaya ask for you to come keep her company, but I’m afraid this will be the last time you ever come over unannounced or not. We can’t allow her image to be tarnished from being seen with unwanted children.” “Unwanted?” Usopp had been so confused - he knew he was wanted; wanted by Kaya and you. Klahadore saw in that confusion an opportunity to place doubt in his mind and completely tear him apart.  “Yes - unwanted. So unwanted that your father never returned, and your mother chose death as a final way to be rid of you.” “You son of a bitch!” You’d snarled and snapped. You were only kids.  The world had taught you early on about hardships and fairness; how the world and the people in it could lack kindness. But Naan always made you look for the good in the world, and in the people who sometimes allowed the ugliness of others to warp them into someone they weren’t.  It was a concept child you never understood. Teenage you were barely beginning to grasp it, but when Klahadore spoke those words so full of hate and venom at your best friend: there weren’t enough flames left in hell to cover up your rage.

The memory of that day left a black mark on your soul and you find it replaying at the most inconvenient of times. A harsh reminder of the first time you’d ever considered murder as a means of healing. The world would have to be a better place if someone like Klahadore wasn’t in it. Right? 

Naan, as always, talked you down from doing something rash. From allowing someone like Klahadore to have the last laugh and ruin all the plans you had for your life. 

But Naan wasn’t here to talk you off that ledge or to remind you who she knew you were. Your rage shouldn’t define you. Looking at Klahadore’s retreating back, you weren’t all too sure if it wasn’t you because if he ever showed up needing any form of medical attention, you weren’t so sure if he’d leave on his own two feet. 

A body bag would suit him nicely. 

You watched him until he completely disappeared leaving you alone once more inside the hallway. It felt weird to take those first steps back towards your room. To go inside and see the dress Kaya had sent to your room and know you were going to put it on and share dinner with that man standing in the same room. 

There had to be a way to show everyone here exactly who Klahadore was, and you would spend the whole dinner trying to do just that. 

———————

He’d been searching for a drink since his interaction with you back in his room. Zoro wanted to call you crazy - hell you acted crazy enough, but you’d done something he hadn’t expected. 

You’d surprised him.

He didn’t want to admit it then but he did get a weird vibe from the butler. The minute his eyes landed on Klahadore it had sparked a nagging feeling of a memory he just couldn’t quite place. 

And you’d noticed. 

After you’d left his room, he couldn’t shake the conversation you’d forced him to be a part of. Teasing you had been easy. He’d expected you to be a bleeding heart, but as you’d turned to leave, stomping your feet and spitting back words that stung for just a second, it had been Zoro’s turn to notice something about you. 

It was the fire of your determination that piqued his interest.  

While Zoro wasn’t sure why you held such a stick up your ass exactly about the butler, he was positive you had a reason. Besides the fact he couldn’t seem to pull up a clear memory of why the same butler piqued his own interest, and that was beginning to piss him off. 

What was even more annoying was the fact you’d brought it up enough that he’d asked Nami and Luffy if the butler seemed familiar. He didn’t know why he’d asked. If it had been more for him or for you. 

That pissed him off more. 

You seemed to be good at that. Pissing him off and getting under his skin. 

When he came downstairs, Zoro expected you to be there already. A quick glance around the room informed him you weren’t there, but a row of flutes filled with what he hoped was alcohol most certainly was. 

He carefully set down his strap of swords and moved closer to the drinks. No one else made a move towards them and, for a split second, Zoro was worried maybe the flutes were nonalcoholic. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the delicate crystal and quickly brought it to his lips. 

The smell of the liquor hit him first and his muscles relaxed instantaneously. 

God. This was exactly what he needed. 

“Zoro! You gotta try this!”

Zoro didn’t bother looking because he’d seen the appetizers being served when he came down the stairs. He wasn’t impressed. Plus, if he was going to make it through this evening, he was going to need way more booze than what was inside these little Crystal flutes. 

“I got all I need right here,” he replied and brought the glass up to his lips. 

The first sip erased all the tension that had been binding up his muscles. The next pull from the glass relaxed him completely, and he downed what was left in one giant gulp. He placed the now-empty flute back down on the tray and swiftly grabbed another. 

Zoro was vaguely aware of all the chatting going on around him. The sound of Usopp and Luffy sharing stories and Nami doing whatever it was Nami did during fancy dinner parties. He meant what he said - he did have everything he needed to make it through this dinner inside these glasses. At least, that’s what he thought until the sound of a heel echoing off the step brought his attention to the top of the stairs. 

He was sure the new flute with his latest drink was at his lips. Zoro inhaled the sharp scent of liqueur with every breath he took. He just couldn’t seem to make his elbow bend enough to drop it from his face. 

You were making your way down the staircase, oblivious to the world around you as you came down with a hand carefully placed on the railing. 

The dress you wore was covered in article flowers; all of their small bold colors were bright against the backdrop of black chiffon. The top of the dress left your shoulders exposed, and the style you’d chosen to wear your hair, with beads of pearls intricately placed within each strand, made you seem ethereal. 

You looked like moonlight inside a garden; soft and wild and for the first time Zoro forgot that breathing was important. 

Once you reached the last step, your eyes finally moved up from the safety of your feet. Zoro was vaguely aware the rim of the glass was still resting on his bottom lip, and that he’d yet to take a drink. He felt frozen - helpless - until your eyes found his rooted frame - helplessly waiting - and the smile that curved your lips brightened up the room. 

It was in this second that he realized he was fucked, and the annoyance of that realization was enough for him to finally upend the glass in one large gulp. 

——————

Zoro had looked at you for less than a millisecond before he’d upended the contents of his glass in one large gulp. His disinterest was evident enough throughout his entire body. With one last glance in your direction, he turned back to the waiting tray of glasses. 

Well, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expected. 

The disappointment scraped raw across your chest as you watched Zoro take up another glass. His gaze was steadfast at the wall as he downed whatever was inside. What felt more disappointing was the fact you’d cared. 

For all intents and purposes, Zoro was an asshole. So, it begged the ever-present question: Why did it bother you so much? 

Yes, you’d painstakingly gotten ready around the dress Kaya left inside your suite. Was it your usual taste? You weren’t all that sure, to be honest. It’s not like you’d ever been invited to any fancy dinner parties before. You weren’t sure if this was the proper form of dress or if you’d gone overboard with your hair. 

At least Nami had a feather inside her hair and it looked as if she’d given her blood-orange hair some curls. She looked absolutely gorgeous and you made it your mission to tell her.

“Wow, Doc you look-“ Usopp began. 

You turned beaming towards your friend as you waited for him to acknowledge your hard work. Maybe at least Usopp, of all people, would say something nice. 

“Different.”

You could practically feel your smile deflate at the edges. 

“What did you put in your hair?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of meat. 

“Oh yeah, I was wondering what looked different. It’s the hair,” Usopp confirmed with Luffy. 

The both of them smiled and nodded at one another as if they just solved world hunger. Your tongue rolled around your cheek as you debated on what to say. Maybe you’d expected to much out of a bunch of men. 

“They’re pearls,” you huffed. 

“That’s silly,” Luffy chuckled. “Why would you ever put pearls in your hair?”

“It’s to look nice.”

“I never knew hair needed accessories,” Usopp offered before taking a bit of his appetizer.

“Nami put a feather in her hair,” Luffy offered before taking another bite. “Maybe you guys can talk about putting random stuff in your hair.” 

There was no way this conversation could be real, and yet…

Luffy was still wearing his genuine smile while he and Usopp continued to enjoy the appetizers Sham passed around. This evening was turning out to be the last time you’d ever consider wearing anything like this again. What was even worse was that out of the three of them, Zoro was the only one properly dressed. 

While Usopp went with his usual no shirt underneath his jacket, Luffy was wearing just a petty coat and miraculously found dress slacks that didn’t even reach his ankle. They looked like their usual selves, just dressed in black. 

But Zoro…

No! Absolutely not.

“I’ll go look for Nami so we can discuss…putting things in our hair.”

“That’s great! I’m sure it will make her happy. She seemed frustrated earlier when she asked for help.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you mumbled, as you turned to find Nami speaking to Merry. 

Well, it looked like that was going to be a bust too. Man, she really did look very pretty, though. You were considering what your options were. You weren’t comfortable just injecting yourself into whatever conversation Nami and Merry were having, especially not when she was rubbing his arm like that. 

Luckily for you, the sound of Klahadore announcing Kaya’s entrance kept you from having to go with your final option, which was to get a drink. Next to Zoro. 

You all collectively turned to watch as Klahadore helped Kaya make her way down the stairs. You couldn’t help but smile up at her and her current choice of attire. While she’d made you look like a garden, you could only assume she was the sunshine that hovered above it. The only problem you had with the golden silk material was that it somehow made her sickly pale skin appear paler. 

She must have picked the color in hopes it wouldn’t do that, but all it did was raise the alarm bells in the back of your mind. You’d allowed a pretty dress and a fancy meal to cloud the real reason you’d come in the first place. Instead of being a doctor, you were playing dress-up. 

You were still scolding yourself when Kaya finally made it to the end of the staircase. Her smile was bright and happier than it had been in a long time, as she regarded Nami and the dress she’d chosen. It hadn’t even registered that any of the clothes you currently were wearing belonged to her deceased parents. You made a mental note to make sure to take extra special care not to ruin the dress with any droplets of food. 

“Oh, Doc, I’m so glad I picked this,” Kaya breathed. “You look absolutely magical.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at the dress again. It was an incredibly delicate dress. A work of art to be worn on the body. Maybe that was why you felt like such an imposter wearing it. 

When you looked back at her, you tried to give Kaya a convincing smile. One you could even make yourself believe you felt worthy to have it on. 

“Oh, Kaya you are too nice,” you replied, only for her to shoot you down with a wave of her hand. 

“Nonsense. Usopp is always telling me about all the good you do for everyone. It’s time you let yourself be appreciated.”

Your earlier response to Kaya’s welcoming smile was one of your own, but at the mention of your supposed good deeds, you felt it tighten into a grimace. 

It means nothing if I can’t even help you.

Up close, her color wasn’t pale - it was ashen. The whites of her eyes were devoured with a yellowish tint and - 

Like the parasite he was, Klahadore was there pulling Kaya gently by her elbow to lead her back to the conversation between herself and Merry. Your eyes followed him as he made sure to plant her a few feet in front of you; her back excluding you from following to join. 

Once he made sure she was safely away from you, Klahadore stationed himself a few feet away next to the penguin pillar at the base of the stairs. He thought he was sneaky and that he had stopped your trained eyes from being able to do a quick evaluation.

Unlucky for Klahadore you were quicker than he thought. 

You were getting ready to head over to him when you caught Zoro walking back over to the tray. He was doing his usual of placing down an empty glass only to grab a fresh one, except this time he was talking. To Klahadore. 

What a fucking liar!

You couldn’t think straight as you watched the exchange. The way Klahadore overplayed the flabbergasted victim. You didn’t have to be close to them to know what Zoro was asking him, because just like you’d suspected, he did seem familiar to Zoro. 

It felt like you could breathe fire, you were so pissed. 

At some point, Klahadore ended the conversation by interjecting himself into someone else’s conversation. You didn’t care what it was. They could’ve been discussing flying pigs for all you cared. Your eyes were still honed in on Zoro who regarded you for a split second before he sat back down in the parlor’s middle seat. 

You started making your way towards him when Klahadore called out it was time to eat. You suddenly weren’t hungry. 

Zoro must have sensed you coming for him because in one swift move, he was out of the seat and standing. The strap that held his katana’s back over his shoulder as he followed Sham behind the double doors.

“You son of a-“

“Doc!” Usopp whisper-shouted as he nervously took your hand in his. “Sit next to me. Please.” 

You were still seeing metaphorical red. Your brain firing rapidly on only one main thought and that was to get a hold of Zoro and throttle him. 

It wasn’t Usopp’s fault that Zoro was a dick, and he looked genuinely terrified. Stuffing your current bad mood as far down as you could muster (you were about to see said moss-haired reason for your fowl mood in t-minus two seconds), you planted on a smile and gently took Usopp’s hand. 

“What kind of wingman would I be if I didn’t?”

“Oh, thank god,” he laughed. 

The both of you followed closely behind Merry and the others as you were all escorted inside the dining room. Merry quickly took his seat at the end of the table, and you noticed rather quickly Zoro had claimed the seat closest to the door. 

Without thinking, you took the seat beside him and motioned for Usopp to take the last one. The one directly beside Kaya. For a moment, Usopp looked at you wide-eyed and uncertain. You did your best to make him comfortable. 

“You got this, Usopp,” you whispered. “Don’t overthink it.”

His response came in a small nod that did little to erase the terror that shined in his eyes. You gave his arm a light squeeze for reassurance before you straightened up in the chair. Glancing over, you watched as Zoro poured what looked like a freshly opened bottle of wine into a glass. 

You waited patiently for him to finish and when he went to set the bottle down you made your move. With a slight lean to your right, you swiped your hand out to grab a hold of the glass. Zoro caught the movement too late, but you now had his full attention. His nostrils flaring the only indication that he was irritated by your sudden drink stealing. 

Good. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned. 

His dark eyes never left your face as he waited for you to answer. 

“Being petty.”

To bring the point home, you tilted the glass in his direction in a silent salute. You made sure he watched as you brought it to your lips and took a sip of the blood-red wine within. 

Zoro’s jaw ticked in irritation as you gave him a devious smirk, and when Sham came by Zoro waved her over. 

“I need a new glass.”

Now the smile that graced your lips was genuine and you made sure Zoro was aware of it. It was time to have a little fun of your own and that included hogging as much of his alcohol as humanly possible. 

------------------------

As always, thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

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[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : FWB!Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : Jeongin is an extreme asshole in this ; reader is pregnant ; lots of arguing ; one of those super cool fast forward moments so I don't keep reusing the same plot ; Jeongin sort of redemption ark but it came too late ; Word Count : 2.9k Request : no, but he's the last one! A/N : The last angsty dad in the series!!! Gonna miss writing these! Also, this one is definitely getting a part 2 which will have MORE angst but a happy ending.

“That was a nice prank you pulled, bud. Had the whole group laughing.” Jeongin muttered into his phone as he walked down the halls of the JYP building. “It’s not funny to fuck around like that though. Especially not at my job. I know that you don’t really give a shit though because your job isn’t as important as mine and something like this won’t fuck up your entire life, but… Ya know, can’t really have a scandal like that going around even if it is a joke.” 

“You done yet?” You asked, trying to hide your agitation at the belittling of your job and pretty much everything that you do, doing your best to hold it together just long enough to tell him that it wasn’t a prank, that it wasn’t some joke. “I haven’t seen you in 2 weeks, and I honestly couldn’t care less about seeing you… But I needed to let you know, and you suck at answering your phone. I’m pregnant, Jeongin.” 

If this was a scripted television show, they probably would have added in the sound of a record scratching just to emphasize the way Jeongin stopped dead center of the hallway, his eyes going wide and his heart feeling like it had frozen. “No the fuck you’re not. That shit isn’t mine if you are though.” You knew that this was exactly how it would go down, you weren’t the slightest bit shocked at the disregard and downright arrogant behavior he was exhibiting right now. “I mean, you obviously sleep around, it could be anyone’s kid. Not my problem. Don’t try to stick me with that shit.” 

“It is yours. If you want to do a paternity test, fine, but I honestly don’t give a damn if you’re around anyway.” You retorted, and you heard him scoff loudly as if he didn’t believe you. “It’s not like you’d be a good father. You’re never around. We weren’t even dating.” You continued, and you could tell that he was getting pissed off by your comments, the way his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth and he very loudly ran his hand through his hair. “I just wanted you to know that you will have a child in the world, although I’m sure this one isn’t the only one considering your track record.” 

“Have you always been this big of a bitch or is it the hormones?” He snapped, and you suppressed the chuckle that threatened to escape your pursed lips. “And I’ll have you know, I’d be a great fucking dad. I’d be there for him or her whenever they needed me. And don’t try to be a cunt and keep my kid from me either. I know you’re that type of person.” 

“Aww, baby bread sounds a little upset.” You mocked him, and you could tell he was seething, harsh breaths shooting through clenched teeth whistled through the speaker of your phone. “I thought you didn’t want to be stuck with this shit? Sounds like someone changed their mind.” 

“Fuck you. Set up the paternity test and let me know when it is. If that kid ain’t mine though… I’m fucking done with you.” Jeongin hissed, and before you could sarcastically comment back, he had hung up the phone. 

There was no doubt that the child was Jeongins though. You were quite loyal to your beneficial relationship, and while the agreement was that neither of you would catch feelings, it was kind of hard to not catch feelings. Jeongin was the biggest sweetheart behind closed doors when it was just the two of you together. Sometimes he made it feel like you were dating, but that bubble burst just as fast when he’d leave without a kiss goodbye. He didn’t have any feelings for you. You were simply there for his satisfaction and that was all. 

///

“I told you that you were the father.” You mumbled as the test results were handed to both you and Jeongin on separate papers. You didn’t need to stay in the doctor's office any longer though, you had gotten the answers that Jeongin wanted, and now you could leave. “Do with that information what you want, but I was serious when I said I didn’t need you. You don’t have to prove anything to me, and you don’t have to prove anything to the baby.” Was supposed to be the final remark as you got up and started to head out, but Jeongin was quick to follow after you. 

“You might think that I’m an asshole…” Jeongin began and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, walking faster now to try to get away from him, but it was easy for him to keep up. “Just because I don’t want to be with you doesn’t mean that I don’t want anything to do with my kid. It’s my responsibility and my right to be a part of my kid’s life. You don’t get to decide whether I can or can’t be there.” 

“Thank you, Jeongin, for that… sweet sentiment. Make sure you tell all the reporters about what a nice guy you are so that all the fans will love you more.” You spat the words at him as you, quite aggressively, pushed open the door of the office. “I’ll keep you updated. Thank you for coming out today.” You started to walk towards the bus stop, but Jeongins hand wrapped around your elbow and tugged you back towards him. “The fuck are you doing?” 

“You’re carrying my child. You’re not riding the bus.” Jeongin said it as if it should have been obvious as he walked you towards the car that he had rode in. “Get in. And let me know when all of your appointments are so that I can have someone come pick you up and take you back home.” There wasn’t any emotion when he said it, it was all very bland, as if you should have known better than to take your usual way of transportation. 

“This is ridiculous…” You mumbled as you climbed into the backseat, but deep down, you were grateful that you didn’t have to hunt for a seat on the bus like usual. You’d be able to sit comfortably, at least for the next 8 to 9 months. “I still have to take the bus to work so I can afford my appointments and everything that I need.” 

“That job isn’t safe for you in your condition.” Jeongin said, still void of emotion. “I’m going to take care of my child, and my child is currently residing in you, therefore I’m going to take care of you as well. Again, you might think that I’m an asshole, but I’m not going to let you strain yourself and potentially lose the baby. I know it would hurt you, and whether you believe me or not, I’d be upset as well.” 

Although there wasn’t a hint of kindness in his tone, the words alone were enough to show that he did care. It was hard to hate him and be mad at him when acting like this, but you knew that it wasn’t because he cared about you, it was because he cared about the baby… And truthfully, that’s all you could really ask for. “Thank you…” 

///

“Why didn’t you call me first?” Jeongin asked, having spent the better half of his morning pacing the practice room, screwing up his dances, unable to focus at all due to the fact that you didn’t contact him like you usually would. Now that he finally had a break, he was able to call you, which shouldn’t even be a thing considering you didn’t have to work anymore and he was taking care of everything. The least you could do was keep up with the scheduled calls. 

“Because I woke up this morning and things just felt a little… weird… ya know…” You sarcastically stated back, and he hated the fact that you couldn’t just be clear with him. Everything had to have just the tiniest hint of sarcasm in it. You were 8 and a half months pregnant and his worries for the baby were through the roof. He didn’t know when you’d go into labor, he didn’t know anything, and of course, you just had to be a smartass. “So I’m in the hospital-” 

“Hold up! You’re what?!” Jeongin screeched, not even waiting to hear the reasoning behind your sudden trip, he just wanted to get to where you were as soon as humanly possible to make sure his baby is okay. “I told you to stop trying to clean the damn house by yourself. That’s what I hired the maids for. I hired literally everyone that I could to make this easier on you, yet you still act like a fucking idiot. What’s wrong with the baby? Is she okay?” 

“Don’t be a dick.” You huffed, and Jeongin could faintly hear the sound of a machine beeping during the short moment of silence. “Sorry that she doesn’t work around your schedule, but your daughter decided that she wanted to come out today. So, if you feel so inclined to do so, you can come see her be born. I’m not sure how much time you have, I’m already like… I think they said 5 centimeters dilated so… better haul ass.” 

And that he was. He never thought in a million years that he’d be skipping out on practice without even saying anything to one of the guys to watch his beneficial friend give birth to the daughter that he was already devoted entirely to. It was crazy how just the prospect of being a parent made him want to be a better version of himself. “Well tell the doctors to shove a cork in there or something, at least until I make it to the hospital. I’m not missing it.” 

“Will do, buckaroo.” He could just hear the eye roll that came along with it, but then he heard the sound of your pained, labored breathing, and the beeping of the machine sped up momentarily before going back to a steady rhythm. “Just hurry the hell up, I don’t think she’s waiting for anyone. She wants out.” 

///

Raising a child was hard, being an idol and a father at the same time was hard, but coparenting with the girl that you had managed to catch legitimate feelings for over the last 6 years was even harder. How could he not fall in love with you though? Watching you with his daughter was the most strangely attractive thing he’s ever witnessed, and he regretted not asking you to just be his officially when he first found out you were pregnant. That would have saved him from the feeling of jealousy and anger that he felt when you started going out on dates. 

“I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time on these low grade losers. You could do so much better.” Jeongin called to you from the living room as he sat at the makeshift table where he was currently being served Cheetos and a Caprisun by his daughter. “None of them are good enough to even get close to my baby anyway. I feel like I should have a say in who you potentially start bringing home around her, shouldn’t I?” 

You peaked your head out from around the bedroom door and he swears, he’s never seen you look more beautiful. He hated whatever guy was lucky enough to be going out with you right now. “Coming from the biggest eff word boy in the industry… I think that’s quite hypocritical of you.” You teased, sending him the most gorgeous, heart stopping smile, even though he knew it was supposed to irritate him, it only made his stomach fill with butterflies. 

“I’ve changed my ways. The only two beautiful girls I want to spend my days with are Jeongsoo and you.” He leaned back on his hands so he could try to see through the bedroom door where you were getting ready, hoping to see some kind of reaction, even just a smile at his flirtatious attempt. Sadly, Jeongsoo wasn’t too keen on the idea of not being the center of her fathers attention, so she walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder, his gaze quickly turning to look at her sassy, cross armed stance, trying hard not to laugh. 

“Dad. You are gonna go to tea party time out if you do not play right. Do you want to go to tea party time out with Mr. Oink?” She pointed her little finger into the corner of the room where her stuffed pig was sitting staring at the corner and Jeongin quickly shook his head no. “Good. No time out for you.” She nodded her head before going back to her play kitchen. She was almost a carbon copy of you, at least in the attitude department, but he absolutely adored her and he couldn’t imagine a world where she wasn’t sassily living in it. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind babysitting her? I know you’d rather be out with the guys right now.” You said as you came out of the bedroom, the little dress that you were wearing hugged all of your curves, and while Jeongin didn’t know anything about the guy that you were going out on a date with tonight, he hated everything about him. “I’ll pay you back tonight for watching her.” 

He rolled his eyes, wanting nothing more than to get up off the floor and go over to you and grab you by the waist and kiss you, but the thought of being in tea party time out was keeping him from doing so, especially since Mr. Oink had been staring at the corner for a good hour and a half now. “You don’t have to pay me for spending time with my daughter. It’s not even considered babysitting. I think you’re forgetting that she’s literally half me.” He commented, hoping that maybe pointing out the fact that the daughter that you both loved so much was the most perfect blend of the two of you would have you second guessing going on that date. 

“Well I’ll still pay you. I think the girls you hook up with at least deserve a good dinner before they find out they’re just your friend.” You teased, but he knew that was also a jab at the way he had gotten with you. He had only taken you to McDonalds once before taking you to his bedroom, and for that, he feels like shit because you did deserve better, you still do. “He’s here. I’ll be back in an hour or two…” You said, and he absolutely despised how giddy you looked to go out and meet this stranger who was most definitely not good enough for you. 

You ran over to where your daughter was still working at her play kitchen, ruffling her hair and then bending over to press a kiss to the top of her head before telling her you love her. “Call me if he does anything weird. I’ll have a guy from security pick you up. Just let me know where you are.” Jeongin said as you headed towards the door, and while you always thought that it was simply because he didn’t want anything happening to the mother of his child, it was because he didn’t want anything to happen to you. He loved you, and every single time you walked out that door to meet someone new, he was one step closer to never being with you at all. 

The door closed behind you and he let out a heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair before taking a sip of his juice box and falling flat onto the floor. “Daaad!” Jeongsoo whined when she heard his head land against the hardwood floor. “You getting sleepy? You didn’ even finish your cheetos.” She huffed softly, the sound almost like a recording of your own voice. “Whatchu wanna do now?” She asked, and Jeongin pushed himself up off the floor, scooping her up into his arms in the process. 

“Let’s watch a movie. Get Mr. Oink out of time out real quick though, I think he feels a little sad.” Jeongsoos mouth popped open in shock as she ran over to retrieve her forgotten stuffed animal before returning to the couch and sitting next to Jeongin. “We’ll watch a movie and eat some ice cream, and then it’s time for bed, okie dokie?” She nodded her head in agreement as Jeongin flipped through the movies on the tv. 

It was a good night, he tried to remind himself of that as his daughter peacefully slept curled up against him. The movie was turned down almost completely, the only sound filling the silence was Jeongsoos soft snores. He waited for the text from you, telling him to send someone to pick you up and bring you back home to him and your little family, but it never came. He didn’t want to go out with the guys tonight, he didn’t want to meet anyone else… All he wanted was you. How perfect the night could have been if you had been here, sitting opposite of Jeongsoo, his arm draped over the back of the couch to gently run his fingers through your hair as you both focused on the movie in front of you. That would never happen though. He was too scared to ask you now, and surely there would be someone else out there that you thought was more deserving of your love than he was… And maybe you would be right… He had let you go, and now he had to sit back and pretend that it didn’t break his heart each time he’d watch you leave. 

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[carmenized-onions]

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different— The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug.  They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

[harfanfare]

I like to think that romance with Idia widely differs depending on the time you’ve been in a romantic relationship.

1. “Just started dating” stage.

If you're reading Idia fanfiction, there is an 80% chance this is the stage your relationship is on.

Idia is… treating you like a very precious stranger. He's on his toes and seeks your approval in whatever he's doing. He is going to great lengths to understand the theory of dating and your hobbies - so you can maybe share even more interests - but won’t really act on anything.

He’s constantly surprised by every romantic move you make and you have numerous occasions to adore his cherry blush and various puckles of hair igniting with pink and red. He stutters a lot and can’t focus on anything in your presence.

Idia will outright reject any suggestions for bolder moves. He’s unprepared, and although guilt is eating him from the inside, he is not up to anything you two weren’t doing as friends. Well, maybe handholding, kissing, and cuddling get a (hard) pass, but you are the only one initiating these things.

He will try his best to reciprocate effort, though.

2. “Have been dating for a while” stage.

It’s an interphase between two very different stages, so he’s a funny mix: a very shy outsider and a cocky genius at the same time.

Gaming sessions will be the centre of your couple's time. Idia regularly invites you to his dorm, sometimes even on spontaneous sessions when a new event comes up or he has found a new game that looks very cool. You share snacks, drinks, and clothes (read: you have unwritten permission to claim his blouses).

This boy would be dead without you and Ortho, and with that knowledge, you make it your mission to (somehow) tidy up his room, buy some cosmetics, healthier food, etc. If you are up to organizing a “self-care evening”, he will be hesitant at first but will be looking forward to it after a while, with some older anime. (I like to think it would be a magical girl series like Sailor Moon, Tokyo Mew Mew or Chobits, or some shoujo).

In exchange, he might construct some little gadgets (maybe anime-themed?) for you, helps you get the merch you want, and supports you in your games.

At this point, he doesn’t weigh his words much. He’s still easy to fluster, but he comes with comebacks right away. The most flirty he gets on the phone when it’s late at night and you are using a chat to talk, especially when you are not in the same room. 3. Long-term relationship stage.

He knows you are doomed to him and shamelessly takes advantage of that.

He has no claims against calling you in the middle of the night to watch him sharing his screen when he pulls for a character he wants to get in the gacha system. He believes your presence brings him luck, so he must have you when he does crucial things!

Idia disses your taste in fictional men. Sometimes, he reads the dialogues out loud from the otome games you play. He may alter them, which can make you either huff or laugh. If you read or write fanfiction, he might read them too, giving you an out loud commentary on some fragments and asking you if you are that desperate for dates so you are sending fanfiction to inspire him. If you say yes, he will hum and return to whatever he was doing before, but he might plan something out that you will preferably be able to do in his room.

Chatroom with him and Ortho is quite calm, almost polite, but your private chatroom with Idia is the most chaotic one you’ve ever been. You learned to not leave your phone openly if you don’t want to explain some inside joke with a layered backstory. An app you use to chat with Idia is the one your screen time is counted on most, and writing with Idia is your guilty pleasure.

If you are interested in IT, he might program you an app or something to help you with it! He will give you the best feedback ever, and although it may be harsh, the last thing he wants is to discourage you from learning further.

On one anniversary of your dating, he will gift you this kind of couple bracelet which lights up if the other person touches it. He created them himself. When he receives signals throughout the day, he thinks of them as a promise from you, that no distance can sever your bond.

If you bring up some serious talk, you will be bullied with memes. It’s Idia’s coping mechanism. He will plan his future with you, don’t worry, but wait for him to muster up the courage to get on one knee and ask the question.

[stevetonydatingsim]

Steve/Tony dating sim announcement & writer casting call!

The best part about a multiverse is all the different Steves and Tonys we get—and imagining them meeting. And kissing. And flirting. And maybe doing something a little spicier.

But why stick with imagining that when we can make it a reality? When we can make a Steve/Tony multiverse dating game? 

That’s right, we’re making a game and it'll be free to play! What exactly does that entail? The Steve/Tony dating sim (name TBD. We’re all ears for any ideas you have) will be a visual novel-style game that’s mostly dialogue with some simple minigames thrown in. You get to play as a Steve or Tony from one of the many universes that exist who’s thrown into a rift in reality with a bunch of other Steves and Tonys. You’ll get to decide whom to work with to invent, fight, flirt, and date your way back home. 

We’ll be sharing updates on the game development and launch on this Tumblr so make sure to follow us!

Who we are

The Steve/Tony dating sim team is made up of passionate Steve/Tony fans who have come together to write and illustrate the dating game of our dreams, coded by the wonderfully talented VTsuion/@v-thinks-on. You can read more about us here.

How this works

In order to make the game, we need writers for the player and love interest characters, artists for the visuals, and more. At this point, we’re looking specifically for love interest writers, but make sure to follow us as we’ll be looking for volunteers for other roles in the coming months!

Love interest writers can either work on their own or with a partner(s) to plot out and write a simple narrative arc and series of dates for a potential love interest character (a character that the player can choose to interact with and date). They construct the foundational beats for the story and dialogue for the love interest character, and they provide choices for player responses (you can indicate that the player can respond angrily, morosely, or happily to a certain line, but you’re not writing the player dialogue yourself). Later, player writers will insert responses to the existing love interest’s dialogue you wrote. It’s kind of like roleplay! 

For example, your script may look something like this:

Tony616 “So, you’re a Steve, huh” If <angry response>: Tony616 “Sorry I asked” If <happy response>: Tony616 “You’re a cheerful one, eh?” [the player gets closer to Tony616]

To get a more detailed understanding of how this works, see this guide here. We’re also happy to answer any questions, and we have a Discord server where we brainstorm and talk as a group.

Existing love interest storylines (more to come later!)

The following characters have arcs that are outlined already, and their writers are looking for a partner to collaborate with. Here are short pitches to give you a sense of each character’s emotional journey through the game.

616 Tony 

Iron Man V.1 128 Tony is newly sober for the first time and still hiding that he’s Iron Man. The player can either help Tony open up or drive him to drinking again. 

1872 Tony

Pre-canon Tony has lost faith in humanity and himself. Will the player convince him to get back on his feet? Or will he think everyone's better off with him at the bottom of a bottle?

616 Steve 

Avengers V4 Steve has just returned from the dead after his fight with his Tony about the Superhero Registration Act. He wants to trust Player, but can he?

MCU Steve

Post-2012 Avengers Steve is lost and doesn't know his place in the new century. Through his interactions with the player, he finds his home and purpose.

Don’t see a character you want to write for on this list? 

You can volunteer to write any Steve or Tony you want! In fact, we actively want more Steves and Tonys. This is a multiverse dating sim, after all, so the more the merrier. Just contact us with the canon character you’re interested in writing for and whether you’d like to work solo or with a partner(s).

How to apply

Please email stevetonydatingsim@gmail.com with the following information:

Confirmation that you’re over 18 (just let us know you’re 18+; we’re not asking you to share personal info)

The best way(s) to contact you

What character you’d like to write for (universe and name). If you have multiple, please order by preference

Do you want to write alone or with a partner(s)?

A writing sample focusing on Steve and Tony (link or attachment) - minimum 1,000 words, ideally with a good amount of dialogue. This doesn’t have to be a complete piece with a beginning, middle, and end; it's more to get a sense of your style and understanding of characterization, so all we ask is that it’s easy to follow. This can be something you’ve already written or you can write something new for this application

Availability from now to the end of 2024. We’re pretty flexible and you can work on your script over several months, but it helps us to know how busy/free you are and when

Contact us

Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you have any questions. You can reach us by email, Tumblr Messenger, askbox, or Twitter DM. Thank you!

[mtchee]

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold - [Tenya Iida] SOULMATE SERIES | GN

blurb:

Your spitfire attitude is a stark contrast to your sister Ochaco, but that doesn't stop you two from having each other's backs. Through your gruff exterior, Ochaco knows you're well meaning and understanding--even when you tend to snap back. That's why it baffles her when you become dead silent after you're scolded by class 1A's class president, Iida, for an outburst in class. When usually you'd scoff at him, you'd reeled back and sat in your seat. But now... you won't talk at all.

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, Ochaco is your twin, fighter not a lover to lover AND a fighter, i love writing character/reader siblings its so fun, [name] is actually rather anxious, tsundere but not the annoying kind, Iida is an understanding sweetheart, protective Ochaco!, onesided (but not really) admiration

| masterlist | boku no hero academia collection |

[2.8k]

Ochaco was worried about you.

Between the two of you, you've always been more of the fighter. Her sweet nature contrasts starkly to your own spitfire attitude. Although you were rough, you always took care of her, and in turn, she's always had your back.

Through thick and thin since your very birth, you stuck to each other like glue. Eventually, her more outgoing nature prompted you to give her a nudge, to let her bloom on her own.

While she nervously went out of her way to chat with a few others on your first day at U.A, you stuck to the back and kept quiet.

You made quick friends with Kirishima and Jirou, sometimes rough housing with the former and taking the time to chill with the latter. You never went out of your way to really talk to anyone else, though you had decent enough manners to reply if someone did want to talk.

You weren't a jerk without reason.

You didn't really talk to Ochaco's friend group, but you would nod a curt greeting to them in passing.

The class learnt you were a bit snappy, though not quite to Bakugo's extent. Ochaco sweatdropped when you first got into a verbal battle with him, and it just went on and on and on...

Aizawa had to separate you in the end.

Lately though, you've been more quiet.

Scarily so.

Sure, she knew you weren't the talkative type, but you were never one to hold your tongue either. So when Bakugo barked at you one day during training and you shrugged him off, she panicked.

Then you guys moved into the dorms, and the only time she seemed to hear you speak was when you two were alone.

The last time she witnessed your fire was three weeks ago, when Bakugo had provoked in the middle of Japanese Literature, where you'd unintentionally interrupted the class to bite back at him before Iida scolded you in front of everyone.

Ochaco doesn't really remember what he said, but Iida had never been the harsh type. Stern, yes, but never mean. And you weren't someone who would take it to heart anyway, usually dismissing anyone who'd tell you off.

But, maybe he did strike a nerve...?

"Move it, hardass," Bakugo shoulders past you purposefully, throwing you a challenging sneer meant to rile you up. He narrows his eyes and huffs boredly when you only scoff and glare at him in return.

Ochaco shares a worried look with Kirishima at your lack of reaction and, unbeknownst to you, even the agressor himself glances back wearily at your odd demeanour.

While you take your usual lunch seat next to Jirou, your sister also decides to sit with you this time. While Bakugo and Sero where still filling out their trays, Kirishima and Denki sat across from you.

They seemed nervous while you poked at your food.

You deadpan at them, "What?"

"N-Nothing!" Denki gives you a not at all convincing smile, immediately stuffing his face with his pork tonkatsu.

"Mm, well... It's just," Jirou sweatdrops, "you've been kinda quiet lately."

"Yeah," Kiri gives you a reassuring smile, "we were just wondering if everything's okay!"

You look at your sister who shrugs sheepishly, and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, 'm fine."

"I mean, you say that but..." You spy Bakugo growling at a panicked Sero for his meal choice while Ochaco thinks about how to continue, "how do I say this... you're not, uh, you're not as fiery anymore."

Jirou nods along.

"Yeah, I never hear you talk in class anymore."

"And you've like, stopped fighting with Bakugo," Denki looks at you worriedly, "and you always fight with Bakugo!"

"Oh."

Ochaco furrows her brows at that, you seem oddly taken aback.

"You noticed?" You don't give them a chance to respond, continuing while scratching the back of your neck laxly, "'m kinda stressed, I guess."

"Why? Exams aren't for ages." Denki shoves a bunch of noodles in his mouth.

Jirou squints at him, "Exams are in two weeks."

"See? Aaaages!"

"Stressed?" Kirishima tilts his head, and you glance off at another table to the side.

"I met my soulmate."

"YOU WHAT!?"

You scowl and slam your fist down on your tray to at their obnoxious chorus.

"KEEP IT DOWN," You close your eyes with a sharp intake of air, counting slowly before releasing your breath, "... you're too noisy."

"Are you kidding!?" Denki ignores you completely, leering over the table at you excitedly, "Mx. Stronghold over here found their soulmate! That's amazing!"

He laughs giddily.

"Dude, for real?" Kirishima beams, "that's totally awesome! Where'd you meet?"

"Yeah, and you're only telling us this now?" Jirou nudges you good naturedly.

"S..Soulmate?" Ochaco echoes, eyes wide, "So, you're soul words--"

"He doesn't know it's me."

A cold silence instantly sets them all on edge, you're admittance piercing them in their chests.

Denki blinks, "W-What?"

A silver lunch tray slams onto the table between you and your sister, and she shrieks, flinching away from the harsh impact as Bakugo scowls at her.

"Beat it, floaty. Go back to your own table."

"Oi," Your warning tone makes him huff, and he taps his foot impatiently, waiting for her to move.

"A-Ah.. it's okay, [name]," Ochaco smiles nervously, quickly picking back up her own tray and waving to the others, "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"'Kay." You wave her bye, and Sero takes a seat beside Kiri.

Elbow boy quirks up a brow at the stiffness of the others.

"So... what was that about?"

"Nothin'," You shrug, getting back to your meal.

"Like hell it was." Bakugo narrows his eyes, but ultimately decides he doesn't care enough to push for more and starts shoveling in his rice and curry.

You glare at the others threateningly, and the dutifully keep their mouths shut and eat, though the tension from your prior topic lingers.

As Ochaco makes her way back to her normal table, she can't help but dwell on your words.

She thinks back on your unusual change in behaviour, where now you sit still in class as though trying to slink by unnoticed, when before your presence was proud and fiery.

Very rarely are you two apart for long, so everyone you've met, she's met. She ponders on all your interactions in the last three weeks. She doesn't remember you outwardly reacting to anyone strangely.

You'd gossiped about soulmates before, and how you'd probably feel once you meet them. She's known how nervous yet excited you've been--to meet someone that the universe deems to be your other half. To have someone meant for you.

But, you didn't seem all that happy.

Actually, now that she thinks about it, you looked rather... sad. Not disappointed, but more so disheartened.

And you haven't really had any outbursts since--

As she sets her tray down beside Tsu, she gasps when looking at Iida, a lightbulb going off in her head.

"It's you!"

Iida responds with a polite hum, and Shouto blinks with Midoriya and Tsu looking back at her in confusion.

"So, you know how you and Bakugo got into a bit of a spit a couple weeks ago?"

You growl irratedly, failing to throw your nosy sister off your trail on the way back to the dormitory.

"And how Iida kinda stood in to settle you down?" She keeps going, ignorant of your flaring temper, "well, I know you've been kinda quiet since then which I thought was really odd. To be honest, I started to miss how snippy you get--"

"Ochaco, drop it." You huff.

"--but I thought, 'there's no way that actually upset you,' so I started thinking some more; and then you told us about your soulmate! Well, not really, but you said that you met your soulmate, and you know, you've never really talked to Iida before without me or Deku or someone there, so you never needed to anyway--"

"Ochaco."

"--and I remember! You didn't snap back at him!"

Your shoulders tense and your stomach churns uncomfortably.

She's getting way too close.

"And ever since then you've been so silent! We never hear you talk in class anymore, and you haven't been bothered to sit with us for lunch. So that's when it all clicked!"

She turns to you with a beaming smile, bouncing in front of you with her arms held out wide.

"Iida is your soulmate!"

"I said drop it." Your gaze is sharp and defensive, tone gruff and dripping with danger.

Ochaco falters, "But... [name], isn't that great?"

You scoff, "Yeah, whatever."

"Hey..." She frowns when you shove past her, "why're you... [name], you've been so excited to find your soulmate. And you're not too shy to talk to him. What's the problem?"

She has to double her steps to keep up with your hurried pace.

She winces, "Do... you not like Iida?"

"Ochaco.."

Her heart tugs at the exhaustion in your voice. You stop in your wake, features carefully slated except for the singular shine of hurt in your eyes. You don't look her way.

"Just drop it."

"[name]," Ochaco plants herself in front of you sternly, "you can't be like this. It's hurting you, and it's not fair on your soulmate. Iida is my friend! He's a great guy, and our class president! Trust me, you've got nothing to worry--"

"Damnit, I know!" You hiss as her probing reignites the spark of your temper.

"I know, Ochaco! It's why I can't let him know I'm his soulmate!"

Your words stunt her, and she reels back.

Her frustrated frown creases into one of worry, puppy eyes glistening as she stares at you in disbelief.

"...What..?"

"I-I can't--" You scunch your nose, closing your eyes and breathing in sharply, "--Ochaco, you know why. It's obvious."

Your shoulders sag from their defensive position and you roll you head to ease the stress caused crook in your neck.

Of course it's obvious. He's nice Iida. Handsome Iida. Intelligent Iida. Way out of your league Iida, who wouldn't spare a rascal like you a single look because all you do is spit fire and scowl.

"We're not a good match, sis. He... He wouldn't want me. It's obvious from my soul words."

You tentively inch up the blazer sleeve on your right arm, small golden words inked neatly onto the skin of your outer forearm: 'Cease this behaviour! You are much too astute to be acting in such an irresponsible and disruptive manner!'

"Oh, [name]..." Ochaco's eyes flutter, and when she looks back up at you, her heart breaks at the sight of your ever so subtly trembling lips and glossy eyes.

You crunch your nose at her distastefully when she coos at your reluctant sniffle.

"Hmph," You glare at the ground to keep your fruitless tears at bay, "we're just too different. S-So he won't know that it's me, and he'll find someone better."

She frowns at that, "You can't decide that."

"Well, I did."

You frown daringly right back at her.

But your sister's always had your back, for better and for worse. Even when you don't want her to.

Especially when you don't want her to.

You growl angrily at the incessant knocking on your door.

For the past two weeks since you stupidly confided in your sister she's been hounding you about your soulmate business. Your soulmate business.

Meaning, not her business.

So each morning you'd avoid her and every afternoon, if you didn't plan on training, you'd lock yourself in your dorm where she's been following to bug you.

Sometimes you'd throw yourself into your homework and studies and blast music obnoxiously to drown her out, but the sound of her knocking is just so annoying.

"Goddamnit," You've just about had enough of her, eyes ablaze, you almost snap your pen and ruin your paper.

"For the last damn time, Ochac-- oh, shit." After violently flinging your door open, you pale at the sight of not your sister.

Iida, from where he stands in your doorway, looks about just as shocked as you--though not with the same horrored expression that you harbour.

With a quiet gasp, the spectacle eyed male feels the skin on his chest tingle pleasantly, and you spy a subtle golden glow through the material of his blue collared cotton shirt.

Oh, shit.

Although your features are hardened, you swallow anxiously as you await his further reaction.

Iida's eyes daren't stray from your form, lips parted ever so slightly in shock from the truth of Ochaco's earlier information. He lets out a controlled, gentle breath.

"It is you."

You step back abrasively when his face brightens with an awed smile and a light pink blush across his cheeks.

All in a sudden moment you feel giddy and flushed and nervous before you quickly crush that hope with skeptical eyes and a defensive stance. Your heart thrums in your chest, and you can't help but berate yourself for the mere notion of him getting you afluster.

"Oh my," Iida sounds breathless and dazed, and his glimmering eyes have you frozen in place as he steps toward you, "you are my soulmate, indeed."

"Ochaco told you," You're quick to deduce, and you notice him swallow thickly at your evident displeasure.

His focus narrows in on your body language: how you shuffle back ever so slightly, chest stuttering with each deep breath, your thumb pressing into your closed knuckles by your side--you're on the defense.

"...You're not happy?"

"I'm not hopeful."

Your dismissing muttering peaks his interest, and he raises a pointy brow.

"Pardon?" He decides to keep pushing when you avert your gaze to the side, "what do you mean by that, exactly?"

"I'm-- we're not.." A flash of insecurity passes your features, but he's quick to catch it, "--this just isn't a good... match."

Something in his gaze hardens, and his chest expands with a sharp intake of air before he speaks, "I beg to differ."

When you glance up, you see a red blush tinting his ears and underlining where his glasses sit.

"I'd be quite dismayed if my soulmate were someone other than you."

"Eh?" Comes your eloquent response. You deadpan with disbelief.

"Ochaco put you up to this," You growl at him threateningly, "I don't need your pity!"

"I bare no form of pity," He frowns, "I'm telling the truth."

At his insistence you huff, crossing your arms over your chest with a 'whatever'.

"Shove off, I'm too irresponsible and brash for you."

He looks taken aback (and almost hurt) before his frustration becomes palpable, and he steps past the threshold of your doorway after a moment of hesitance.

"Pardon the intrusion; but that is utter nonsense and what I'm saying is true," He speaks with a firmness that demands your attention, and you send him a disgruntled look which he ignores, "from what I recall, while my words may have first been, unpleasant, by no means does that dictate how I perceive you."

"Oh yeah?"

He feels the urge to reprimand you at your challenging sneer. You grin victoriously when you pick up on his irritance with your behaviour, as though proving your point.

Instead though, he rolls back his broad shoulders with a quiet sigh.

"While occasionally explosive, and impossibly headstrong--you have a good heart."

"Hell are you on about?" He hushes you quickly, as one would a noisy child, and you frown.

"Let me finish. I mean it, [name]. I know how you are, we've consistently been around each other. I've seen how you treat Uraraka, how you look out for her while letting her pull her own weight. I've watched you converse with Kirishima and Jirou, and pull Bakugo down a few pegs."

You bite back a smug smile when he puffs out a bemused chuckle at that.

"We may not have spoken directly until as of recent, but even though, we already know one another very well," He clears his throat gently and holds out a hand, "now, it's just a matter of knowing each other on a deeper level. I-If you accept, that is.."

You scoff at his stumble, after having the gall to shush you and barge in like that. Still, you eye his hand--his implicit invitation--temptingly. You've always adored the prospect of soulmates, and it seems that despite your aggresive reservations, yours is more than accepting of you as you are.

Looking him up and down, you snort quietly at his obvious nerves. Iida's posture is staight, wide shoulders held high and stiff with one hand outstretched robotically while the other sweats, tucked behind his back.

Your eyes soften, and you plaster on a downturned smile.

You clap his tense hand with your own, only able to look at him briefly before sickeningly sweet fluttering in your chest becomes way too apparent.

"Sure. Yeah, soulmates or whatever," You bite the inside of your cheek as you turn your back to him, feeling a humiliating heat crawl up your cheeks, "just so you know, you're stuck with me now. No take backs--and you can't regret it!"

Unbeknownst to you, a wide smile crosses Iida's squared features, and he heaves out a massive sigh of relief. He positively beams while gazing at your turned back, chuckling softly with a sheepish blush as he observes your stewing bashfulness.

"Believe me, I would never."

[radioisntdead]

This is my first time requesting anything from you so I hope this idea is okay but would you be willing to write something where the reader is Alastor's child (I live for Dad Alastor) and they meet Susan? Maybe they get really attached to her so every time they visit Cannibal Town Alastor has to reluctantly take his kid to see 'Grandma Susan' and be civil around her?

Only if you're up for it though! I love your blog so MUCH and I live for both the platonic Alastor and Susan content you do

-TheAmberFist ♡

Good evening my dear! I did headcanons I hope that's alright, I adore your blog's content as well! I reread your "leave it all on the dance floor" series often! I positively adore how you write Alastor's and the readers friendship! Also thank you so much for requesting this because that gives me an excuse to bring back this header!

Papa Alastor doesn't like Grandma Susan.

Alastor & child reader, Susan & adopted against Alastor's will grandchild reader.

Warnings: Cannibalism also reader is a fawn because deers.

HEADCANON TIMEEEEE

Much like my other Papa Alastor fics, he either picked you up off the streets, or you just straight up followed him home like a stray puppy.

He unwillingly became a father.

I imagine he was talking with your Auntie Rosie and You wandered off to explore Cannibal town!

Despite being in hell, it seems safe enough for children considering there were other children around.

Anywho you stumbled upon a cranky Susan and just immediately started going

"I like your dead rodent scarf!"

"It's a fox, what are you blind?"

Long story short she unwillingly became a grandmother that day because you would NOT LEAVE HER ALONE not that she minded

Alastor has to deal with you whining that you want to see Grandma Susan, dude does NOT want to call her your grandmother, in his eyes you only have one grandmother above that you will unfortunately never meet.

"I wanna see Grandma Susan!"

"She's not your grandmother, why in the devil's name would you want to see her?"

"Because she's my grandma,"

"No she's not."

"yes she is!"

"No."

"Yes!"

Que a repeat of no's and yes until he eventually relents because you are NOT TAKING NO FOR AN ANSWER.

I imagine Susan enjoys your company but also uses you to peeve off the embodiment of red-40 that is your parent.

Like Alastor leaves you with her for whatever reason and is just like

"Don't give them any candy, no more then two juice boxes anymore and they get rowdy."

Guess who got a little goodie bag of candies and had a whole box of CapriSuns?

Also I imagine you as a fawn, specifically one of these [no this totally isn't an excuse to show the deer pictures I have saved noooooo]

Susan puts either a bow or bow tie on you, I imagine she breaks into the hotel sometimes when Alastor is out and is just like "I'm taking my grandchild out, fuck off!"

Vaggie tried to stop her once and nearly lost an arm, so far the only ones that are successful in getting Susan to not kidnap you is Angel dust [aka your favorite babysitter] ,Rosie, Alastor himself, for everyone else they have to risk losing limbs, Charlie could probably coax you away from Susan.

They banned her from the hotel, set up security measures.

She keeps getting in they don't know how, they're terrified.

Nothing stops Susan.

Alastor keeps cordial with Susan because he can't do anything to Susan because of Rosie and also because much to his displeasure you are attached to the ornery old bitch.

Alastor wants to take you on a father-child day? Torturing sinners, getting cannibal ice cream, getting souls,

He can't BECAUSE Susan snuck into the hotel and snatched you up!

On the flip side, Susan wants to take you shopping because the modern [1920's-1930's] clothing Alastor dresses you in is horrendous, Her words not mine

But no Alastor literally just picked you up and teleported away, how rude! How dare he keep her from her grandchild?? Ungrateful brat who raised him? [She's lucky Alastor did NOT HEAR THAT, just because he's dead and his ma is in heaven does NOT MEAN HE'S NOT STILL A MAMA'S BOY the good version ]

I imagine as a consequence Susan starts acting like Alastor's parent, like threatening to ground him, telling him to go in the corner and think about what he's done, chastising him for his awful haircut, then grabbing a bowl and scissors.

Alastor hid behind Rosie while Susan and you looked for him because she was definitely planning on giving him a bowl cut.

Good evening folks! Oh how I've missed writing for Susan! I missed our grumpy grandma, I hope you enjoyed this! As per usual thank you for tuning in I hope to see you again soon!

[ramblingautisticman]

Here is part 1 of my new series 'And They Were Gamers!', a series in which Logan and Wade play video games and be cute and gay- enjoy!

I'll be posting it here and on A03! I've got about three-ish chapter ideas/things I'm writing, any suggestions or idea please comment!!

(Based on this post!)

(Tagging @ineffable-monster-romancer because you gave me the idea for the tiny house and flowers!!)

------------------------------------------

It had started simply. Wade scrolling through YouTube at 3am due to insomnia, and wasn’t that how most things started?

He was used to staying up late, his body refusing to give in to the tiredness running through him. Logan had tried to get Wade to sleep easier- tried to find a way to get him relaxed enough to pass out- but nothing had seemed to work, so he did continued to do what he always had, didteacting himself with his phone until he either fell asleep or it was morning.

Eventually, he moved from tiktok to Youtube, and after awhile he found a video that seemed interesting. Something about a game called Minecraft. He had heard of it- the kids at the mansion had talked about it briefly when he was there a few months ago- but he had never actually seen it. So he pressed play and lay in bed watching it, finding himself quickly enamored in the video.

Before he knew it, he had spent the next 5 hours watching videos and looking up the different versions, and quickly it had become something he needed to play.

It seemed like a fun little time waster for when he couldn't sleep, plus, it seemed very relaxing compared to the other games he enjoyed.

So when Logan finally stirred, Wade had quickly started rambling about it, telling him anything and everything he could about the game- coming up with 100 and 1 reason as to why he should buy it- and even if Logan had no clue what was happening, when he left to go shopping and left Wade to watch even more videos about this game, he threw in the copy of Minecraft Wade had wanted (and yes, he had to message Laura to ask what one Wade needed for the switch thingy he played on, and spent a good hour being annoyed at how many different versions of it there seemed too be).

When he came home, Wade had helped bring the groceries to the kitchen, spending the whole time talking about a video he had watched about someone making a castle in the game- and by the end of his ramble- the only thing left in the bag had been the game.

Wade had nearly exploded with excitement when he saw it, quickly wrapping his arms around Logan in a bone crushing hug and thanking him about 50 times, before grabbing Minecraft and rushing over to his Switch.

And that was Wade for the next 3 days solid. It was all he did, and thank god they had no missions, cause honestly? Wade would've probably just taken the thing with him.

Luckily, Logan found his excitement over it cute so he was allowed to get away with not doing much else. And it seemed to be helping Wade when he couldn't sleep which was a bonus.

After about a week, Wade had greeted him at the door after walking Mary Puppins, tears in his eyes as he held the screen up for Logan to see.

"My dog died!! I had him since the first night! And now he's dead and I didn't even get to finish the dog house! Stupid fucking skeleton shot him!! I'm such a bad dog owner! Don't let Mary near me!!" He cried, tears now rushing down his cheeks, a frown on his face.

And Logan really didn't know what any of that meant, but he didn't like Wade being this upset. And he didn't like hearing him think he was a bad dog owner. "Hey, it-s okay- you are a real good papa to Mary." He said softly, gently holding the dog closer to Wade, watching as she licked his face.

It seemed to help alittle, Wade gently holding her with one arm, kissing her forehead before looking back to the screen of his Switch. "I wanted to make him a house...I was so close to getting a nametag for him.." He muttered, looking back up at Logan with those big sad eyes that made his heart ache.

"I'm sorry baby, why don't we cuddle up on the couch? You can show me the monster farm thingy you were making, yeah? Maybe you can get another dog?" He suggested, gently guiding Wade to the couch and gently sitting down, listening as Wade slowly explained that the monster farm was called a 'Mob Spawner', and that he didn't know if he could find another dog because of where he lived.

Logan thought that maybe it would pass in a few days, but Wade was still heart broken about his Minecraft dog, and Logan needed to fix it. So, he devised a plan. Well- him and Laura.

It seemed that Wade had messaged her about it, because she knew exactly what Logan was on about when he had sent her a text for help. Initially, he just thought that Wade could find another dog, and even though that was technically true- Wade didn't seem very happy at the idea of going and getting another one. Something about not wanting to go exploring and loosing all his XP if he died.

So Laura suggested something else. She had suggested that Logan learn to play it so that he could go and find Wade a dog himself. Which made him very very confused. He wasn't good with technology- had only just figured out smartphones- but he wanted too. Wade deserved to have his dog back, and here he was, sneakily using Wade's switch to try and learn the game.

It took a few days to get the controls down, but Logan quickly got used to them- and honestly? He began to understand why Wade loved it so much. The relaxing music, the cute animals, the addition he was gaining to mining.

Now, playing it himself, Logan understood why Wade had gotten so upset when his dog died. It was easy to get sucked into the game- to shut your brain off while collecting wood or getting attached to a chicken you managed to hatch from a random egg- and it made him want to get Wade his dog even more. That, and play it with Wade himself.

It took another few days to get a dog. He had to wait for Wade to go on a mission, but as soon as he left the apartment, Logan booted up Wade's world and got to work. He still wasn't good- he had to Google a few things- but eventually he found and tamed a dog.

Logan spent about an hour getting it back to Wade's house, and then proceed to spend another hour figuring out how to fish for a name tag. As soon as he started fishing, he realized that maybe he was enjoying Minecraft more than he had expected. It surprised him to enjoy a video game- he had only ever really played a few in the 80s with the kids at the mansion- but here he was, 4 hours later still playing.

He hd originally just wanted to get a dog for Wade, name it Mary Puppins and be done, but he couldn't help but get more and more into it as he contuined to play.

At first he realized Wade didn't have an anvil, so he went mining for iron. Then he needed some more levels for the name tag to make sure he didn't used Wade's, so he went and killed some mobs. Then he decided to make the dog alittle house, even if it was just a square of wood, then he found some flowers and decided he wanted to decorate with them.

Before he knew it, Wade was opening the door and loudly announcing he was home. Logan tried to save and exit the game quickly- but as usual- Wade was faster than he was, quickly looking at Logan with a confused expression.

"What is this??? Your using technology beyond an old android? Am I dreaming?" Wade said dramatically, taking his mask off and plonking down next to Logan on the couch. "Wait...why are you on Minecraft?.."

Logan looked up from the Switch and over to the man sat next to him, blushing slightly, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh well- you seemed so sad about your dog- ya know? And I wanted to cheer you up, so I messaged Laura and she said about me finding you a dog so you didn't die with your XP, so I tried to join on a different profile thing but I couldn't, so I logged in on your one- I promise I didn't lose any of your XP or use any of it- and look! I found you a dog- and I called her Mary Puppins, and I even made her a house! Also, I found some red and yellow flowers, so I thought that would look nice....." He rambled, suddenly worried he had upset Wade. Should he of asked before he played? Did he mess the world up?

He held the screen infront of Wade- the same way Wade had done to him a week and a few days ago- and glanced at it, pointing at the little dog. "It's a grey dog, so I thought she kinda looked like Mary, ya know?.." Logan added, looking back at Wade, who seemed to be crying? Shit.

"Sorry- did I ruin it? I just wanted to help- I can get rid of the dog hou-" like usual, Wade interrupted him.

"Oh my god! Peanut! That is the most amazingly romantic thing that someone has ever done for me! You learned how to play it- and then got me a new dog?? And you got yellow and red flowers to decorate? Our colours!? You are the most amazing boyfriend ever!! I'm going to keep her so safe in her adorable little house and-and I'm buying you a Switch and we are going to play together and make a house together and we can put our beds together!" Wade rambled, somehow with on breath, and Logan couldn't help but smile widely at his excitement.

He kissed Wade's cheek softly before handing over the console. "Yeah, that sounds good...I've already been looking at one actually- Minecraft is really fun. And I'm glad your happy." Logan said softly, laughing alittle at how stupid it was he was nervous about this. It was a video game, why did he need to be anxious?

"Oh, I am buying you whichever Switch you want, I'm buying you Minecraft, and we are going to spend the weekend making the best house ever." And honestly? Logan wasn't going to argue.

[bookuce]

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it. 

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book also uses the actual names of the wrestlers. Gionna is Liv Morgan, Austin, is Xavier Woods, Josh is Jey Uso, Jon is Jimmy Uso, Trinity is Naomi, Alina is just Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE.*

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 1,827

PART TWO

PART THREE

“Say, I have a question for you,” Austin says, giving Alina a bright smile. She smiles back at him, a sign of friendliness. 

“What’s up?” She asks.

“How does one manage to be as beautiful as you? I mean, you are stunning, whew!” He exclaims. Alina giggles softly at the compliment. She places her arm on the back of the couch, propping herself up on it. 

“That’s really sweet to say, Austin, thank you.” She grins.

“No, thank you for blessing me with your presence. I can end the night now knowing I got to talk to you.” She rolls her eyes at his words. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to do and why he suddenly took interest in her, but who was she to be rude? They’ve talked a few times in passing, but it was never for long. “We should get you on UpUpDownDown.” He says. She immediately begins to shake her head.

“I don’t really play video games. I’ve never been good at them.” She answers honestly. To let her come on the show would be a waste of time. She also wasn’t comfortable embarrassing herself like that in front of several people. She has watched a few episodes and knew it was a fun show, but her participating? Not happening. 

“I doubt you’re as bad as you say you are.” He assures her. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” She promises. “I am terrible at games.”

Jon still had an amused grin on his face while he watched the two talk. This man is stupid, he thought. Either Austin was crazy, or he didn’t care. Shit, probably both. “That man is going to kill his ass,” Jon mutters to Trinity.

“That’s on him.” She says, not looking up from her phone. “He warned him.” Jon looks up, catching the moment Josh pauses in his tracks at seeing Austin and Alina talking. 

The eldest twin taps his wife’s thigh. “Look, look, look…” He points in Josh’s direction. This was going to be good.

Josh was happily on his way with Alina’s drink until he saw Austin had done the opposite of what he told him. They were sitting close, too close for his liking, and they seemed deep in conversation. Alina would smile at him, and Austin would smile back.

Nothing he says could be worth smiling over like that, he thought. Josh glances down at the drinks in his hand. Just go over there and give her her drink. He’ll move. Don’t cause a scene. It’s nothing, he tells himself.

If jealousy could kill, Josh would be dead ten times over. He craved the attention that everyone else got from Alina. The way she smiles at them, the way she talks to them. He wanted her to do the same to him. Instead, she’s awkward and quiet at times. That was frustrating to him. She never really hints at what goes on in her head. It made him question whether or not he should even feel how he felt. Then he’d see her trying with guys and failing, and it would make him feel some way. He just wanted to make her happy. 

Josh sniffles, quickly regaining composure. He resumes his stride over to the group. When he approaches, he holds Alina’s drink out between the chatting pair. He was purposely blocking Austin’s view of her face. Alina turns to look up at him. “Ay, I got your drink.” He says, his eyes fixated on the guy next to her. Alina slowly takes the drink from him.

“Thank you, Josh…” She says. 

“No problem.” He says quickly, now slowly swaying from left to right, a sign of impatience.

Alina continued to stare at him, but he would never meet her gaze. No, he was watching Austin, who was smirking at him. “You gonna sit down, Uce?” Jon asks, leaning forward. The elder twin was ready to jump up to stop his brother from doing anything stupid. 

“Nah, I’m good.” He says, not breaking his glare. “You good, Uce?” He asks Austin. That was him telling Austin to move. Here he goes, Alina thought. She finally looks away from him, her lips touching the brim of her cup. She slowly tilts the cup back, drinking the cup full with no breaks.  It’s going to be a long night. Austin scoffs slightly, his smile still intact. 

“You got it.” He says finally, putting his hands up in defeat. He moves back into his previous spot. Josh moves to sit down in his seat. 

“Was that necessary?” Alina asks.

He reaches down, grabbing her legs and pulling them between his own. “Yep.” Alina probably shouldn’t have giggled, but the two mixed drinks she shotgunned and tequila shots were beginning to creep up on her. He shouldn’t grab her like that.

“And who are you supposed to be?” She asks. Josh doesn’t answer her. Instead, he takes a swig of the beer in his hand. She places two fingers on his left cheek, forcing him to look at her. She lifts her eyebrows, waiting for a response. One never came. “That’s what I thought.” She drops her hand from his face. They would exchange stares until Josh would glance down at her lips. Lina would suck in a deep breath before inevitably looking away. He shouldn’t look at her like that. “Well, I want another drink.” She mutters to herself. “Who wants drinks?” She asks. 

“I do,” Austin chimes in. 

Alina moves to stand but is pulled back down to Josh. She plops into his lap, a gasp leaving her lips as she does so. He really shouldn’t grab her like that. “Nah, get someone else to do it.” He says. Alina’s brows furrow at him before she reaches down to remove his hand from her thigh. 

“Please, go to hell.” She says, prying his hand off of her. 

“Or I can go with you to the bar. How about that?” When she stands, so does he. She doesn’t argue with him, but she does roll her eyes. Alina turned her attention to the group again, only to find them staring at the pair. They weren’t sure what they were seeing. Was it fighting, flirting, or some sick combination of both? “Drinks?” She asks, gesturing to everyone.

“Get me another beer, Uce,” Jon says.

“Vodka Cran for me.” Orders Trinity.

“Two more shots of tequila.” Gionna requests.

“I’ll have a beer too.” Austin adds. 

Alina steps around the couch, marching over to the bar. Josh follows behind her, leaving the group once more. Everyone exchanged glances at each other after the exchange. “They get like this every time they drink together,” Jon says, shaking his head. “How long before they fight and get us kicked out?” He asks, looking at Trinity.

“Depends. How many fruity drinks have Alina had?” She asks. It was always the fruity drinks that got poor Alina. 

“Just one so far.” Gionna answers. 

“It’s that bad?” Austin asks.

“Yes, fool!” Jon exclaims. “That’s why I said leave her alone! Them folks are crazy!” Alina and Josh, with alcohol in their systems, are a match made in Hell. Josh had been drinking since before Alina got to the club. The beer in his hand was his seventh. He had about three more in him before he was at the point of no return. Alina was on her third mixed drink, two of which were fruity. The tequila shots would bring her up to five drinks in total. She swears she has a high tolerance for alcohol, much like Josh does, but doesn’t. Neither of them do.

Separately, they were fine, but together? It’s a whole other story. 

Josh follows behind Alina, his pace slower than hers. To him, it seemed she was trying to put space between them. She would tell him he was correct if he had to assume out loud. She shouldn't be turned on by the way he was acting tonight, but here she was, practically foaming at the mouth. Alina makes it to the bar, eyes fixated on the alcohol on the wall before her. The bartender would immediately come to her, ready to take her order. “One tequila sunrise, three beers, and a Vodka Cran.” Alina orders. She turns to Josh, who’s watching her. “I’m forgetting something.”

“Gigi’s shots.” He answers.

“Oh, right! And two tequila shots!” She says, turning to the bartender. The bartender walks away, leaving the couple alone. Josh placed his beer on the bar top and leaned in towards Alina.

“You look good.” He tells her. 

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Okay.” 

 “Here you go.” He huffs, shaking his head at her. 

“What do you want me to say? Thank you?”

“Uh, yes? That’s the normal thing to say to compliments, Alina.”

She wasn’t much of a compliments person. It makes her feel like someone wants something from her when she hears them. The people pleaser in her would forever deliver even when she didn’t want to. “Thank you, Joshua.” She says finally.

“You’re trying to be funny.”

“I said thank you!” She says, laughing. Josh places his hand on the barstool behind Alina, blocking her in. After a bit of silence, she turns to him. “You look good too.” She says, leaning into him. The bartender put out her tequila sunrise, and she immediately grabbed it. 

Josh glances down at his appearance. “Do I?” She nods. “I put this on for you.” He jokes. Alina would take a sip of her drink, humming softly at it. “Is it good?” Josh asks, leaning into her again. 

“Yeah, taste it.” She brings her glass to his lips, all while still holding his gaze. Her stare always made him weak in the knees. All she had to do was look at him, and Josh was under her command. He’d part his lips slightly, allowing the rim of the glass to touch his lips. She’d tilt it back, letting the orange liquid touch his tongue. The taste of Orange Juice came and went quickly. All that was left behind was the strong taste of tequila. Josh pulls his head back. “Yeah?” She asks, lowering her drink.

“Nah,” He says quickly, shaking his head. “That drink is strong as hell.” They both start to laugh. God, they were drunk. Alina leans into his arms, burying her face in his chest. His hand would move from the chair and touch her back. That touch was the catalyst for what was to come. His fingertips would trace her spine, sending shivers along her body. She’d arch towards him, lifting her head to look at him. They were very close, their noses almost touching.

“You shouldn’t touch me like that.” She whispers.

“My bad.” He whispers back. His hand would curl against the small of her back, now closing and opening in a scratching manner. She shakily breathes, her head tilting down to break his gaze. “Lina.” He calls to her.

Ah, fuck it, Alina thought as she pulled his face to hers in a bruising kiss. 

NEXT PART

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A/N: So y'all blew the first and second parts of this up...that's cool lol.

Thank you to everyone who is reading this so far! I really do appreciate all the kindness and support I am receiving! It means a lot to me!

Stay tuned for part four!

🏷️list: @paigereeder @wrestlingprincess80 @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @alichesmi @reci1996 @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @trashbin-nie @meannaim @siriuslycee

[vigilskeep]

i have never thought of the bg3 paths as railroaded before but oh my god... i see your vision. i think that, for all that can be picked apart in the writing of dragon age, the worldbuilding in that series is so so interested in complicating all factions that you can envision a character who /makes sense/ while bouncing through various ideologies. and the sort of fantasy writing in (most of) the forgotten realms doesn't really allow for that.

dao is particularly the light of my life because the origins mechanic is specifically intended to let you create a character who has a distinctive perspective on the world that’s grounded in the worldbuilding. one of my favourite aspects of this is several origins having completely different codex entries on their own culture as opposed to those an outsider would get. it’s really good! it’s also a reasonably grounded world (while obviously silly) because, like, the basic fundamental premise of thedas, from which they ikea flatpack built almost every feature, is “how would people react to magical and fantastical diversity? the same way they react to human diversity.” you’re meant to feel like, aside from i guess the darkspawn, people are normal and have real motivations. sure it has to fulfil certain roles in a story, and dragon age was manufactured too quickly and purposefully for everything to land feeling authentic, but evil in dragon age should feel recognisable. and in most of the origins they give you a chance to do something that is bad, but also totally makes sense, because of the context of your character belonging to this world where these things happen

in dnd/the forgotten realms it’s a bit different because capital e Evil exists, so there are people and deities and devils (and, to open another can of worms, races) whose entire goal is to Do Evil. it’s also harder to produce grounded evil because in a world where i’m being given basically no context and just told to make whatever i want, i don’t have an inch of the kind of social information i get from for example a dao origin: what my character has been taught to believe they should do to survive, who they are willing to sacrifice, whatever. bg3 also happens to have a main plot goal that is, at least for the first part of the game, broadly selfish (“i am sick, and i need a cure”) which works really well for getting a bunch of people with vastly differing moral standards to band together for the same goal, and not so good for any kind of “greater good” type blurred morality, so that’s out too

however much the worldbuilding factors into this, bg3 specifically went for quite a clear distinction between the good path and the capital e Evil Path, and i find it pretty hard to vary up the good path. when i say railroaded i mean you either do the specific thing that gets you a quest down the line or not. i was really disappointed actually in my playthrough where i totally fucked up in the druids’ grove and caused a fight to break out, because it immediately instakilled tons of characters i knew i would need down the line. the few it spared needed some of the dead ones to stay alive in later quests, so it’s like... oh. that’s just... over. for both factions. bg3 arguably lets you do basically anything you want but they are able to do that because if you fuck around it just breaks the entire quest line from coming up again, which means playing a character who fucks up is not even really going to get me consequences it’s just going to cut content from the game. does that make sense? and then the Evil Path is just straight up evil, like... there’s no way for me to complicate and empathise, here, especially playing a blank canvas character whose motivations i would have to make up from nothing, and who faces basically no consequences for not doing this. the only neutral/cowardly/self-interested option in act 1 is to do neither path, which gets me the least content because i literally don’t get to play the fucking game

i don’t know, i’m not saying it’s necessarily bad just that it’s hard for me, personally, and how i like to create characters. especially when you have my constant restart disease and you have to do this all over again a dozen times just for a handful of different dialogue. does any of that make sense