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discordantwritings · 11 months ago

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Captain’s Orders (Buggy x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, angst, Buggy is bad at feelings, canon typical violence, oral, PiV sex, creampie

WC: 8.4k

Summary: Getting a job as the chronicler of the Buggy pirates was the best, then worst, then best thing that ever happened to you.

Notes: The second I realized I hadn’t done a solo buggy fic I wrote this I’m so sorry buggy

No one tells you how hard it is to keep a job on a pirate ship. Unless you manage to land with a big name captain the chances your job sinks to the bottom of the sea is pretty high. Which is what happened to your last three jobs- you were so tired of ending up on a dingy paddling away from a lost battle that you had no say in. You were a chronicler after all- not exactly a fighting pirate.

Despite being a non-essential crew member a chronicler was a sought after person. Every pirate thinks they are going to be the one to find the One Piece so, naturally, every pirate needs to have someone to log their journey to becoming king of the pirates. It was a little tiring, hearing the same story over and over again, writing the same few chapters only to end up waterlogged and searching for a new ship at the end.

But you needed to eat and you could only afford to live at this tavern for so long. You’d posted your services on the local board, listing your name and where you were staying in hopes of drawing in a pirate captain. One that hopefully won’t be going under in less than a month. And if you were really lucky- one that wasn’t so painfully textbook.

Really you should have known the gods were going to get you for wishing that.

When the clowns first walk into the tavern you wonder if you missed some signage that a carnival was coming into town. But when a distinctly dressed blue haired pirate captain walks in behind them- you put it all together. The Buggy Pirates were docked here. Their chronicler probably had their hands full but at least it wasn’t the same boring-

You notice when the barkeep points Buggy the Clown in your direction. The two of you make eye contact across the room and you quickly run through your memory to try and figure out what you could have possibly done to be hunted down by a big name pirate. As his heavy boots thud against the wooden floors you can’t think of a single time you’ve even brushed shoulders with any clowns let alone pirate ones. As Buggy looms over your table you frantically try and think of a way out of whatever sorry situation you’ve accidentally gotten yourself into only for that hurried train of thought to be abruptly derailed.

“You the chronicler who has that ad posted?”

It takes you probably too long to respond with a squeaky- “Yes?”

“Great!” The clown takes the chair next to you and sits down, quickly putting his feet up on the table. “Do you have examples of a resume or whatever?”

“You don’t already have a chronicler?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying more stupid things.

“Nope.” He shrugs and you see the rest of his crew settle in around the tavern.

“Oh. Well-“ You reach off to your side and take out a leather bound journal that has some of your work plastered in it. “Here’s some snippets.”

As you hand it over to Buggy you feel as his sea green eyes rake over you for a few moments before he finally takes the book. He flips to the first page, looks at it for maybe all of two seconds before snapping it shut. “How would you write about me?”

Then why did he even- “Well I think- see people sometimes assume a chronicler only writes down the basic facts are events but I think a real chronicler tells a story that the average person didn’t get to see or hear about. For example a lot of people heard about the Straw Hats taking you out at Orange Town-“

He sits up a bit, gaze hardening but you quickly continue. “But- I think there’s a different story there! They fought the fishmen so soon after your encounter with them and it’s no secret that the Arlong Crew was pushing their luck in the East Blue. So the story there should really be about how you used your genius to let the Straw Hats go and sent the Arlong Crew after them- letting your opponents fight it out and weaken each other.”

There’s a long pause where you feel the clown practically searing holes into your skin with his gaze until he finally breaks into a smile that rivals the one painted on his face. “That’s exactly it! You get it! People just need to hear the right side of the story! Start writing that down. That'll be your first entry as our chronicler.”

That is probably the most presumptuous way you’ve ever been offered a job but you certainly were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Great!”

It’s only after Buggy then orders a round of drinks in celebration and the cheering begins that you realize something.

“I don’t have to wear a clown costume do I?”

You didn’t have to wear a clown costume but already in the few weeks you’ve been a member of the Buggy Pirates your wardrobe had gotten more colorful. A sequin scarf here- a bright blue shirt there- these things just landed in your bunk and it did help you fit in. You minded it less than you thought you would, being in a crew that actually put thought into how they looked was a pleasant change.

You tied a striped sash around your waist over your pants as you prepared to have your nightly debriefing with your new captain. During the day you flitted about the ship, taking notes on everything that happens. Every night though Buggy always wanted a check in. From letting him know what happened while he was doing other duties, to telling you some previous journeys that he and his crew had been, to embellishing the stories of the day.

It was nice having a captain who actually cared about what you were writing. Most had just left you to your own devices and didn’t much care for your craft beyond the fact it made them look good. But Buggy actually wants to listen to your words and he provides some actual good feedback (admittedly in a sea of crazy unbelievable ideas, but the point still stands).

Journals and pens tucked under your arms you navigate to the captain’s quarters, finally feeling comfortable navigating the large ship after walking this route twice a day. It’s not that long before you’re knocking on the large door and hear Buggy’s voice, muffled through the wood.

“C’mon in.”

You push through the door and see Buggy behind his desk, face laying sideways on a pile of paper. You take a seat across from him.

“You alright?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Being a captain is not all fun and games my dearest chronicler.” He pushes back on the desk, flopping back in his large seat and swinging his feet up on the desk, knocking over the papers in the process. “Responsibility is a heavy burden to bear.”

You look over the mounds of untouched paper work that have been sitting there since you first arrived. “Seems like it.”

“But now you are here to save me. Tell me my story weaver- what is the tale of the day.” When he looks at you you know you have his undivided attention. There was something so fulfilling about capturing his attention, something you’ve learned is so finicky and flighty. But for you? He’s never been distracted.

“Well, it’s been a pretty standard day.” You go into every detail that matters- what acts were practiced, who's flirting with who, what crew member Richie managed to bite a finger off of- that kind of stuff.

“You know- we should have a whole section where we track body parts Richie has eaten and see how many full people can be put together with the parts.” Buggy adds as you finish up your recap and you huff a laugh as you write that down.

“I think we’ll have a lot of spare fingers.” You point out.

“Good point. Full bodies and hands.” Slightly more sensible… kind of.

“Got it. I’ll start logging and asking around for people who have lost limbs to Richie.” You make the note and you see out of the edges of your vision as Buggy’s legs come off the desk and he leans over, getting a bit closer to you.

“Y’know I’ve told you many stories already- what about you?” His head settles in his hands, perched up by his elbows.

“What do you mean what about me?” You tilt your head, genuinely confused.

“Your stories! You said you were the chronicler for a few ships before mine, you must have had some adventures out on the great wide East Blue.”

“Ah, well… no.” You admit a bit awkwardly.

“No?” Buggy raises his eyebrows, clearly looking for more.

“I was just a chronicler. I didn't really do anything on the previous ships I worked on. Hell, you’re the first captain who actually wants to hear about what I’m writing. For everyone else it was just an ego trip to have someone writing for them…” Your pen slips into your journal as a placeholder as you close it and pull it close to your lap.

“That’s…” Buggy frowns. “What losers! Most pirates won’t know talent if it slaps them in the face.”

You try to bite back your smile but it’s pretty ineffective. “You’re very kind captain.”

“You’re going to have to learn to take some compliments because with my crew? We are going all the way to the top and your stories of our journeys are going to be known across all four seas!” As he talked he stood up, wildly gesturing as he talked about his grand plan.

When other captains of yours had talked about getting the One Piece it had always annoyed you for some reason. The hunt for fame and money was… well it was cliche. But there was something about the earnestness that Buggy talked with- the grand scale he always thought on that made you believe it.

“Well, I guess I will have to work on that.” You say as you look up at him.

“Yes. Captain’s orders.” He hops up to sit on his desk just adjacent to you. His right foot lightly knocks against the side of your left calf.

“Then I’ll have to do it.” You smile wide, his energy was infectious.

“But seriously, not a single story? There has to be one fun thing you can tell me.”

“I guess… there was this one time-“

You break into a small, stupid story but Buggy hangs on your every word. The second you’re done he shares a similar experience and you go back and forth like this for hours, journal where you were supposed to write these things down long forgotten. Somewhere along the way you both ended up sitting on the floor, leaned up against the desk and legs side by side as you both gesture wildly through your stories. You don’t know how long this goes on, but when you feel yourself fighting to open your eyes after you blink you think it might be way late.

“I should get to bed.” You nudge Buggy’s shoulder with your own, working up the strength to stand up.

“Oh yeah it’s like-“ His hand detaches and he grabs something off his desk before bringing it down to his face. “Oh shit- 3 already?”

“Wow-“ You look at the clock he grabbed and sure enough, 3:21 am. “Yeah I really need to get to bed. You too, captain.”

You get up with a grunt of effort and once you’re standing you turn around and offer up your hand to help Buggy up. There’s an awkward pause as he looks up at you and he must be just as tired as you are with how long it takes for him to clasp his hand in yours and pull himself up.

“See you tomorrow night captain.” You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking out the door.

You’re not sure why you feel a low buzz in your body, nerves up from some unknown source. It’s not a gnawing anxiety… something else you can’t place. No matter what the second your head hits the pillow you’re out like a light, body getting ready for another long day.

The Buggy Clowns were weirdly affectionate. Not all of them, mind you, you don’t think you’ll ever get Cabaji to even smile at you, but the camaraderie they have is intimate. Most of the time not in a sexual way (though you’d be remiss to ignore the raunchier performers in the circus), but in friendliness and touchiness. Never before have you been on such an affectionate crew.

Every time you put more than 10 seconds into your appearance you got hoots and hollers from most of the crew members. When you grab lunch in the mess people fight over who gets to sit with you and be documented. Even Richie has a soft side- you’ve managed to pet him without adding a body part to the now running list.

It’s been a few months now and they still fight over you at meals- a quirk you would have thought would die out long ago. Everyone is eager to tell you about their day and try and loop you into spending the rest of the day with them. Today the tightrope walkers win out- or at least they think so. Secretly you’ve made a schedule for when you follow each group and no one has caught onto your pattern yet. But it makes it easy for you and makes it so no one is favored.

But when they cheer and lean into you, arms wrapped around your shoulders you still feel like shrinking away in embarrassment. It’s not bad- you can’t deny the little ego boost it gives you- but there’s something that always makes your face burn. But all that is nothing compared to Buggy.

You quickly figure out that, like all crew attitudes, it trickles down from the top.

Of course Buggy isn’t going around hugging crew members (when he’s sober) and he does lose his temper often, but there’s also a softness to him. He’s got nicknames for everyone, and everyone gets their time in the spotlight. He personally reviews all the circus acts and when someone wants to do something new it’s rare he says no.

Everyone in the crew is a misfit, but because of that, no one is. A group of people who have never felt respected or wanted before suddenly find themselves belonging- it makes sense why everyone was surprisingly warm. But you still have a hard time handling it, especially when it comes to Buggy.

It’s the damn nicknames.

Story weaver, dearest chronicler, writing star. And the worst part? It’s always his.

My story weaver.

My star.

Never in a tone that makes you feel owned or degraded- quite the opposite really. You’re treasured, respected, seen. It’s been too long since you felt that way and the reblooming of those emotions was… uncomfortable.

But you don’t think you’d ever want it to stop.

“My lovely chronicler-“ It’s Buggy who suddenly throws you out of your thoughts with affection and a hand on your shoulder. “I have to cancel our meeting tonight.”

“What? Why?” You want to kick yourself for sounding even slightly hurt.

“Not your fault- turns out I’m a few days behind on planning out supply orders for when we dock tomorrow.” By a few days you know he means he hasn’t thought about supplies since they last docked.

“Oh, well, do you need help?” The second you finish your sentence you feel a light elbow in your side from one of the tightrope walkers but before you can turn to look at him your attention is grabbed by a clap from Buggy.

“Great! See you tonight!” He says, already walking away.

You turn to the source of the elbow. “What was that for?”

“I’m sorry, you totally just got suckered into doing all his paper work.” He says apologetically.

“Yeah, he’s done this with just about every crew member. You’re the only one who doesn’t know his trick.” Another one explains.

“Well, he is the captain, he could just make one of us do it.” You say, still very confused about this whole situation.

“Yeah, but then he has to admit that he messed up and needs someone else to do his work. This way he is just, I don’t know, reveling in his crew’s generosity.” Yeah, that sounds like him.

“I’m not going to get any sleep tonight am I.”

“Nope.” You get a few reassuring pats on the back as you slump onto the table.

“Captain?” Later in the day you knock on his door and come in at his usual ‘come in’.

You walk in and see papers everywhere. There’s no organization, no sense that he’s actually began to work on anything, just papers on almost every flat surface you can see. You don’t think half of these are relevant to what needs to be done.

“My darling most beloved star.” Buggy calls from behind his desk. He’s laying it on thick so you don’t run away.

“Did one of your bombs explode in here?” You carefully walk over to his desk, hopping over random papers on your way.

“Yes?” It’s obvious he’s lying.

“Well… I guess we have our work cut out for us.” You make it across from him and start looking at papers, trying to find some sense.

“Yes. I trust you implicitly- now I’m just going to go-“ He stands up and you glare at him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” You’re a little annoyed, but there’s no real malice in your words. Despite that, Buggy still shrinks back.

“But you’ve got this.” He says, confidence quickly draining from his voice.

“It would go a lot faster if we work together. Come on. We will start by organizing. Figure out what actually needs to be done for tomorrow and go from there.” You gesture to the mess on his desk before you get to work on the papers discarded on the floor.

“But-“

“No.” You cut him off without even looking at him- you know he’s using his puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” He grumbles and you hear the shift of papers that tells you he’s at least pretending to do something.

It takes you hours to get everything sorted but after that the actual work doesn’t take that long. You have a pretty good knowledge of what supplies everyone needs and the average use of those supplies in a day- you write it all down typically. All in all you’re done and dusted just before midnight, an accomplishment really.

Buggy is moping at his desk, the reward of a job well done isn’t really enough for him after he actually had to put in some effort. You’ve set up a schedule for him too- something he’ll probably ignore but you’re pretty hopeful.

“That’s it right?” His voice is partially muffled by his face being smooshed down into the wood of his desk.

“Yes, we are all done for the night.” You reply, straightening out the last stack of files on his desk.

“Yay.” His voice is flat and devoid of all joy.

“You’re pretty childish for a captain, you know that?” You take a seat across the desk, not quite ready to leave.

“That’s part of my charm darling.” He lifts his face so his chin is resting on the desk.

Darling.

That was a new one.

“It’s not your best feature but I guess it is a part of your whole deal.” You admit, still trying to shake off the weird stirring of emotions from the new pet name.

He perks up instantly, sitting up in his chair. “What’s my best feature?”

“Hm?”

“You said it’s not my best feature, which implies you know my best feature. What is it?” His smile is wide, matching his face paint.

“Ah-“ Well. You know exactly what his best feature is but you hesitate to say. It’s not what a pirate captain typically wants to hear but… well he’s anything but typical.

“I think your best feature is that you care. Genuinely. You yell and stomp around at the crew but you always make sure all of our needs are met. To some people finding the One Piece is just the thing pirates do but you care with every fiber of your being. When you want to do something, really want to do it, you throw yourself into it for better or for worse. Your risks end up paying off more often than not and I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

There’s an awkward pause where Buggy’s smile drops a bit and he stares at you and you think that you’ve fucked up. He is still a pirate captain with an ego and not telling him that his strength or intellect was his best feature was a dumb mistake. But then he coughs, a fake awkward cough and you’re not sure what’s going on.

“Oh that’s- yeah- I mean what am I if not the best captain to work for in all of the seas.” The smile returns to his face but there’s something you can’t place and you feel like you’ve misstepped.

“It’s late- I should go-“ You stand up and quickly head to the door but Buggy’s voice stops you right before you exit.

“Hey-“ You turn and look at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There’s more hovering in the space between you but none of it can be put into words.

You leave.

Even if the Buggy pirates were worlds different from any other crew you had worked with they still party like every other pirate crew after a victory. Just a little more explosive. Literally.

You had never seen fireworks before so you were laying down on an upper deck while the loud party raged a few decks down, reveling in the bright and colorful explosions that shattered across the sky. You know Buggy made them all himself, he was surprisingly talented in pyrotechnics. It was overwhelming to your senses in the way that Buggy often was-

You’ve found yourself thinking more and more about him recently. You don’t want to think about what that means so you just shove those things down and focus on the shimmering colors dancing around the sky.

Until, of course, your captain finds you.

“My star! We are all missing our chronicler at the party!” His head peaks up over the ladder as he calls to you but you wave a dismissive hand.

“I’m just enjoying the fireworks, I’ll be down later.” You say, perched up on your elbows.

Buggy pulls himself all the way up the ladder before walking over and taking a seat next to you. “I’m glad someone is enjoying all my hard work.”

“I’d never seen fireworks before tonight.” You admit, laying back down fully.

“Really? Well I’m glad I could introduce you.” He lays down as well, only a few inches separating you two as you both lay flat on your backs.

“It’s- I mean I have no idea how you do it. It’s seriously magic.” You turn your head to look at him, admiring the profile of his face under the multicolored lights of the fireworks.

“It’s all chemicals and patience. I know, surprising that I have that.” He looks at you, a sly smile on his face.

“There really is nothing our fearless captain can’t do when he puts his mind to it.” You half joke, nudging his arm with your elbow. “But really- how do you get all those different colors?”

“Well-“

As the different fireworks explode in the sky he tells you the different chemicals he used to get the respective colors and effects. Somewhere in the explanations and pointing he’s right next to you, arms and thighs pressed together. You can’t help but lean into his warmth against the cool wind of the sea.

“I guess there will have to be a chapter on fireworks in your chronicle.” You say after the fireworks slowly die out, all of them used up by now.

“You can just slide that chapter in when things get too boring. Wake readers up with an explosion!” His hand gestures over both of your bodies.

“I’m not sure there will be any time where your story will be too boring. I’m pretty sure just by being a clown pirate you’re always interesting.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Buggy turn his face towards yours. In turn you move your face as well, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face.

He’s really quite beautiful in the moonlight.

“Do you really think that?” He asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear him over the low drone of the party below.

“Of course.” You answer automatically.

“I uh-“ You see a panic set over his face and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. He sits up and you sit up in turn, confusion on your face.

“I should get back down to the party. It’s been-“ He stands up and practically trips over his own feet. “Nice.”

You watch him quickly descend the ladder and you’re suddenly very aware of how cold it is out on the deck at night.

You’re not sure what you did, but you messed something up.

You stop having your nightly meetings. It’s once a week now and he blames it on the recent partnership with Alvida and her crew but you know there’s something else. You got too comfortable with your captain and distance had to be created. You were disrespectful and you needed to learn your place.

You weren’t his anymore.

Chronicler, sure. Star, sometimes. You almost despised when he used your actual name. The burning feeling of being discarded weighs in your chest every time you see him.

It was only after how painful and hard you took the slightest bit of rejection that you realized you might have feelings for your captain. Stupid inappropriate feelings. You hadn’t put the label on it before, pushing any feelings down into the pit of your gut but with how quickly they turned sour you couldn’t help but feel them rise up and burn your throat.

Stupid how you realize these things too late.

Because now there’s a new crew, a new partnership, and plenty of shiny new objects for Buggy to be enamored with. None of them you.

You still did your job through- dutifully chronicling each day. Your emotions will pass and this job is still far and away the best you’ve ever landed. You won’t throw it away over a stupid unrequited crush.

It’ll pass.

Someday.

But today isn’t that day as a pang rings through your chest as you see Buggy loop an arm around Alvida’s shoulder and pull her in close. You know there’s nothing going on between the two of them (you’re fairly confident Alvida doesn’t swing that way) but seeing him pay attention to someone else the way he paid attention to you-

You sounded like a child didn’t you.

You were just about to excuse yourself from the area when Buggy spots you and calls you over with a quick shout of your title. Taking a deep breath you steel yourself and put on a smile before walking over.

“Yes captain?” You say, overly formal as you hold your journal close.

“I was thinking maybe you could do a few weeks with the Alvida pirates, you know, get a better look at their side of things! Wrap them into the story of the Genius Jester!” He gestured grandly with his free hand.

“Oh, well, if that’s okay with captain Alvida…” You look towards the dark haired woman who shrugs.

“I’ve never had a chronicler before so I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing what it’s all about.”

“Great! Our perfect partnership continues!” Buggy looks at you. “How’s a month sound?”

A month. He wants to get rid of you for a whole month. You swallow down your emotions. “When have I ever not followed my captain’s orders?”

“You are a loyal crew member. And it’s not like you aren’t going to see all of your crew mates! It’s just shifting focus for a bit.” It’s true, both crews frequently overlap ships but you know you’re going to be glued to that gaudy pink ship (not that the ship you were currently on wasn’t gaudy, just a different kind).

“Fine by me captain.” You say, making your voice as cheerful as possible.

“Great.”

“Good.”

There’s a long pause where the two of you are just standing there, Alvida casting glances to both of you.

“Well if that’s all I’ll go pack some of my things for my stay.” You say, already taking a step backwards.

“Yes, good idea! Always taking initiative!” He waves goodbye and you turn around as fast as possible, walking at a brisk pace when you really want to run.

Working with Alvida wasn’t bad at all. You checked in with her once a week and she was pretty receptive to your work, provided you added in a lot of extra pages about how beautiful she was. At first it was annoying, but once you got used to it she was surprisingly nice to you.

You were two weeks into your month with her and she was already asking you about how to hire her own chronicler. It was rewarding to know that you’ve done a good enough job so far that she would seek out someone like you. You were working hard, trying to shift your focus from your emotions into something more productive.

It didn’t work.

Every day you found yourself looking around the decks hoping to catch a glimpse of your captain visiting. He was never there.

You saw plenty of your other crew mates- both crews frequented both ships as you sailed together. It was nice having that familiarity, but the reminder that you were specifically sent away while they got to go back to their ship every night stung.

“Ah, chronicler.” Alvida’s voice shook you out of your thoughts, having zoned out while recording what the meals were for the day in the kitchen.

“Hello Alvida, was there something you needed?” Your finger slipped into your journal as a placeholder as you turned your attention to her.

“Yes. I just finished discussing some business with Buggy and your good work came up.” You couldn’t help but puff up a bit- You did want him to know you were still exceeding at your job. “And then he made me an offer that I’d like to extend to you. He said if I wanted you full time I had his permission, so. Would you like to be my chronicler?”

There’s a full 30 seconds that you have to take to process the words that were said to you and come up with a response that doesn’t sound like your heart just got shattered into a million pieces.

“Oh wow, that’s quite the offer I- uh-“ Your mind is struggling to work under the weight of your emotions and Alvida catches on that you’re overwhelmed.

“It’s a big change so you can take some time to think about it. Just come to me when you have your answer.” She gives you a curt nod before heading off, leaving you with your spiraling thoughts.

You manage to hold back your tears until you’re at you bunk, burying your face in your pillow to catch your flow of tears. There was something so painful about being shipped off to someone else, being so unwanted he couldn’t stand to work with you anymore. You’re not even sure what you did wrong which might be the most frustrating part.

If you could lead this all back to one action you took maybe you could make it better- maybe you could go back.

But you didn’t.

You know when you’re not wanted.

Later that day you knock on Alvida’s door and accept her offer. All your stuff is already on her ship so you don’t ever have to step foot on Buggy’s ship ever again.

It’s easier that way.

A month has gone by of officially being the chronicler of the Alvida pirates. It’s… fine. Painfully fine. Perfectly average.

You stop wearing bright colors, swapped out for the pinks and reds that cover the ship. You still keep your old clothes, tucked away in a box that also has the journal you used to chronicle your time the the Buggy pirates. The sequins and stripes keep it safe and far away from you, letting you pull back at the last second before you obsessively repour over the pages to find where you went wrong.

You were getting better.

You stopped crying every night, you stopped longing looking over the bow at Buggy’s ship, you stopped searching for him whenever your old crew came over.

The lingering feelings will pass soon, and you eagerly count down the days until your heart patches itself up and moves on.

It was easy to ignore your emotions during a storm. All your energy focused on locking up your stuff and going where you were needed- you were a chronicler but all hands on deck meant all hands.

It was a nasty storm- lighting and high waves bashing against the hull repeatedly and ruthlessly. You were down below deck, sent on your own to grab emergency medical supplies from deep storage, two crew members had already broken bones and there were probably going to be countless other injuries before the storm let up. Boxes shoved in your arms you were making your way back up to the medical bay when you heard it- the sound you never want to hear below deck.

The sound of wood breaking.

You hear the hit of a strong wave before the groaning of wood and then that dreaded sound. You only have a second to process it before you hear the flood of seawater rushing in. Dropping the boxes you quickly jump to the ladder, scrambling up as you hear water flooding in behind you.

You make it up the ladder and halfway to the next one before the next wave hits. Your world jolts under you and you’re flung to the floor and the back of your head hits the deck- hard.

Your vision swims as you feel sea water rushing over your body and you push yourself up, ignoring the nausea overwhelming your senses. You crawl to the ladder, water threatening to grab and pull you under. Grasping the rung of the ladder you try to pull yourself up before your realize just how hurt you must be.

The pain, the blurry vision, you barely have control over your body. There’s no way you can pull yourself up the ladder. The sea was going to take you and you didn’t have the senses about you to swim. It was over.

You hang your head, watching the water swell up around your body as you wonder if all your works will go missing to the sea. Maybe there will be nothing left of you. Or maybe someone will find your journal- just dry enough that the words haven’t dissolved and run together. Maybe someone will remember you.

Somewhere in the distance someone shouts your name.

You’re confident it’s your addled mind playing tricks on you until it’s louder and right above you- loud and frantic. You look upwards and see Buggy, rain soaked and panicked.

Now you’re really confident you’re seeing things.

“Grab my hand!” He lays down on the deck above you and extends his hand and everything becomes real painfully fast.

“Get out of here! The water- You can’t-“ You yell out, head throbbing.

“I said grab my hand! Captain’s orders!” He shouts and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so serious.

Gathering up all the strength in your body you pull yourself up a few rungs until you can reach out and grab his hand, quickly being violently pulled up the rest of the way.

“Can you walk?” He asks, yanking you up to your feet. You fall into his body, answering his question for him. “Alright.”

Suddenly one of his arms is under your knees and the other is around your shoulders and you’re being carried, your vision obscured by Buggy’s clothes. It’s better that way, you think hazily, to see him and not your death waiting to swallow you up. Maybe it’s a trick your mind is playing and you’re down in that lower deck, knocked out and drowning. But as you curl up against him and your thoughts fade to nothingness it’s a trick you’re willing to accept.

If your last thoughts are of him it’s not a bad way to go.

You wake up with a start- jolting up in bed before realizing how much that sudden action hurts. Your hand flies to the back of your head and you realize it’s been bandaged up.

“Hey- take it easy.” Eyes flicking up you see Buggy standing up from a chair in the corner of your room.

Your room- back on Buggy’s ship.

“You really should lay back down.” He’s a few steps closer now and in the dimmed light of the room you can finally get a good look at him.

He looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes, he probably hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his normal face paint is missing. He’s down to just his vest and pants, normal bright accessories missing.

The memories of the ship sinking come rushing back to you and a panic sets into your chest. “Wait what happened- the ship- the crew-“

“Hey, hey, it’s alright calm down.” He sits down on the bed and takes one of your hands in his. “Alvida’s ship sank, but we managed to get everyone out and on here before she went down.”

Your breathing evens out and you relax a bit. “Good.”

“We were calling everyone to get on board here right when you had left to go grab supplies- you were missing so I came and got you.” He explains, putting the remaining pieces together for you.

“You-“

“Just wanted to make sure you woke up alright so now I-“ He drops your hand and stands up. “Will go.”

He gets to the door before your words stop him.

“You shouldn’t have done that. It was- you could have easily died. You can’t swim and you didn’t even-“ You screw your eyes shut, brain still putting itself back together from the hard hit.

“Captain’s duties.” He explains shortly, hand still on the doorknob and not looking at you.

“Yeah but, you’re not my captain. You made it painfully clear you did not want to be my captain.” You swing your feet off the bed, glaring holes into his back as weeks of repressed emotions come leaking out the broken and battered seams.

“It’s not like that-“ He says, forehead meeting the wood of your door.

“Then what is it like then? Because I’m just confused and hurt! I don’t understand!” Your hands fist in the sheets of your bed as tears well up in your eyes.

“Please don’t-“ He turns around and you see the hurt in his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

“Then tell me what I did wrong!” You shout, hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Nothing. You did nothing wrong.” He wrings his hands and looks down at the floor. “You’re too- you’re too good for me.”

The words ring in the dim space and confusion comes over your already frazzled mind. “What?”

“You- okay.” He takes a deep breath and shift from foot to foot. “You have this grand idea of who I am. You think I’m smart and caring and a good captain and that’s just not true. I’m not any of those things. I’m just a huge faker. I was never meant to be a captain- I just keep doing it because I have to.”

You look over his anxious form and finally see what he’s been hiding under all those flashy clothes and bright face paint. He was truly and painfully insecure.

You go to stand up, slipping off the bed to try and land on your feet but your vision blurs and you slip and you’re sure you’re going to crack your head on the floor again. But before you can land your being held, Buggy’s hands having quickly detached and grabbed you. The rest of his body runs over only seconds later, connecting his hands back and placing you delicately back on your bed.

You’re sitting up again, Buggy anxiously standing next to the bed as he looks over your body, checking to make sure you’re okay. This time you reach out, taking Buggy’s hand despite the fact you can see him wanting to run away again.

“Buggy, you’re really stupid sometimes.” You see his face shift into pure confusion and you elaborate. “I don’t think those things because of all the acts you put on- I think those things because that’s what I really think after spending so much time with you. I know who you are, don’t think I don’t.”

Buggy practically collapses, sitting next to you on the bed. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” You grip harder on his hand, pulling yourself closer to him.

“Because I don’t want to disappoint you.” He admits, his voice cracking under his emotions.

“You- all this time- Buggy, look at me.” You pull at his hand, urging him to follow your directive.

He does and you see all the emotions you’ve been feeling swirling in his eyes. “I care about you. And I don’t care if you think you’ll disappoint me! I just want you.”

You feel something break as you stare into each others eyes and in a flash he’s on you- lips pressing harshly against yours. He’s messy and harsh and frantic as he overwhelms you and you let him. Your freehand tangles in his hair and holds his head close. Neither of you break the kiss until you absolutely need to, pulling away gasping for air as spit still connects the two of you.

“Do you mean it?” He whispers, forehead pressed against yours.

“Did it feel like I meant it?” You grin, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know… I might have to check again.” You see a smile creep back onto his face and you pull him in again.

He kisses you like a man starved, eagerly throwing himself into you. He nips at your lips, pulling playfully as he slides on top of you, your body sliding down into the bed in turn. You can’t tell if his hands are attached to his body or not as you feel them wandering your skin, pushing up under the hem of your shirt and grabbing onto your waist. You whine into his mouth and he pulls away quickly.

“Did I- sorry is this too fast we can-“ You shut him up by pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“I want more.” You say against his lips and he nods so furiously you think his head might fall off.

His lips trail down, kissing where your jaw and throat meet. As he does so you feel a deft hand undo the fastenings on your pants and sliding into them, plunging past the hem of your underwear and to your folds. Your hips buck up as his fingers ghost over you and you hear him chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You lightly hit his back, unable to stop smiling.

“I’m not, I’m not.” He claims, but you know otherwise. It’s hard to be mad at him though when his fingers pry open your folds and he sucks in a breath when he finally dips in. “Fuck you’re wet.”

“All for-“ You’re cut off by your own moan as two fingers press into you. “All for you.”

His motions still for a second before he’s biting into your neck as his fingers sink all the way into you. “Can’t just say that stuff. Fuck you don’t know what you do to me.”

You feel him grind up against your leg and that sends a thrill through you and you push further. “Missed you so much- thought about you every day-“

“My lovely star-“ He breathes into your skin, fingers pumping in and out of you.

“That- I missed that. Missed you calling me yours.” You admit through moans as his fingers stretched you out.

All of a sudden his fingers are pulling out and you whine as he sits up. In a flash hands are tugging your shirt up and off your body while he shimmies down your bed. Once your shirt is discarded he can pull down your pants, hands smoothing over your thighs. He takes a few moments to just look at you and your face heats up.

“See you still need to learn how to take a compliment.” He jokes as he lays back down, pushing apart your thighs so he can settle between them.

“This is not the same.” You try and argue, your hand drifting to his bright blue hair as he kisses up the inside of your thighs.

“Whatever you say.” You want to argue further but all coherent thoughts leave your brain when you feel his breath on your folds.

You feel his fingers spread you apart before he dives in, tongue eagerly lapping up your slick. Your hand fists in his hair as he pushes his tongue into you, the thick muscle a welcome sensation. When his tongue leaves you, you whine but it quickly dissolves into a moan as he wraps his lips around your clit.

“Fuck- Buggy- Just like that!” You buck your hips up into his mouth and you feel his fingers slip back into you.

He listens, repeating the motion and adding a third finger inside you. His other hand comes around to the back of your leg, hiking it up over his shoulder so he can have better access. His tongue swirls between your clit and thrusting in with his fingers. As your orgasm builds up you pull tighter at his hair in warning and you feel him groan into your folds. The vibration against your clit edges you ever closer so you pull again, not missing the way his hips jerk up against the bed as you do.

He sucks on your clit as his fingers curl inside you and the dam breaks, orgasm washing over you. Buggy slowly pulls his fingers out of you but you still feel his tongue on you, lapping up your slick as you come down.

You gently pull on his hair, urging him to come closer to you. He gets the message, sliding up your body until he’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your juices.

“Can I repay the favor?” You ask, your hands sliding down his body until he shakes his head.

“Baby- if I even see you on your knees in front of me I’m going to blow my load before I can get inside you.” His confession makes your skin run hot as you surge up to him, kissing him deeply.

“Then get inside me.” You say when you finally pull away, your own taste lingering in your mouth.

“Oh, who’s the captain now?” He grins as he slides off the bed to quickly take off his vest and pants.

You can’t help but stare at his cock, long and curved and you need it inside you now. He sees you staring at it’s the ego boost he needs as he crawls back in bed, slotting his hips between your thighs. His hand guides his tip to rub against your clit and you whine impatiently. He chuckles but lines himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing in.

“You’re so- warm- tight- fuck-“ Buggy thrusts into you despite himself, every inch of him inside you all at once and you practically scream his name.

“Can’t help myself baby you feel-“ His body covers yours as he mouths at your collarbone and throat and whatever skin he can find. “So much better than I thought.”

“You thought about me?” You manage out, breathless.

“Every damn day and night I-“ His thrusts are erratic but you can’t bring yourself to care when he’s still making you feel so good. “Sometimes, after you left our meetings I’d- I’d touch myself the second you left I couldn’t stop imagining you on my desk I- fuck-“

Knowing he thought about you like that did things to you and you drag your nails down his back and hook your legs around his waist, unable to verbalize through your moans. You can tell he’s close already, the throb of his cock and the way his filthy words are getting increasingly slurred. You’re close too, and you reach up and grab Buggy’s hand, urging it down to your sensitive bud. He takes the direction well, his thumb rubbing right circles that make you see stars.

“Where- I’m so close-“ He chokes out and as he goes to pull out you clench your legs tighter, trapping him inside you.

“Fill me up, please Buggy.” You whine and that’s it for him.

You feel hot ropes of cum fill you up as he groans into your neck. He manages to still work your clit so it’s only a few moments after him that you’re orgasming again, milking every drop of cum out of him. Breathless, he collapses on top of you, softening cock still in you.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight as though letting him go means he’d drift away from you again. He nuzzled into your neck and must sense that somethings up.

“‘m not gonna be that stupid again.” He says, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Not gonna let you go.”

“I’m your chronicler again?” You ask, voice weak with emotions.

“Until the end of time.” He promises, and you trust him completely.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader

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writing-mlm · 19 days ago

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Hello!!!!!! I was wondering if you could do a Damian Wayne x sick male reader and how he would take care of them? It could be hcs or a while fic, I don’t care lol I’m sick right now and honestly really like Damian haha (BTW I LOVE YOUR WORKS!!)

Do as I say, not as I do

Summary: An alien sickness is running through Damian’s house and he’s confident he can beat it. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male!reader Wc: 1.6k tags/warnings: sick fic, alien sickness, fainting, general illness stuff A/n: hopefully you’re not still sick ik this took 4everrr

It’s not that Damian doesn’t like when you wear his clothes— you’re his spouse, of course, he absolutely loves when you wear his clothes. His pants, his shirts, sweaters, hell, he’d let you wear his socks if you’ve asked. It’s just… not while you’re sick, man.

He watches as you cough into the sleeve of his Nightwing hoodie, resigning himself to hand washing it before putting it in the washing machine once you’re done. He hides his negative feelings; not quite distaste, not quite annoyance. It’s a third emotion he hasn’t found just yet. You inhale and he can hear the mucus getting sucked back into your nose before you hack a flurry of coughs. A nearby tissue gets attacked with the boogers that went from your nose to your throat.

Despite the… disliking for germs and all things that could get him sick, Damian is not far from you. He hasn’t been more than ten feet away from you at any given moment. You smile when you see him walking back from the bedroom with a mountain of blankets for you to choose from. You’d said you were cold and when prompted, you simply said blanket. Never mind there were nearly twenty tucked away in one of the various dressers.

“Habibi, which one would you like?” He asks, showing each, still folded, blanket in his arms.

“The—“ Which comes out as a wheezy da. “— tiger one.” Amazing choice, he would’ve picked that one if he had to. Carefully, he shakes it open and goes to drape it over you when he sees you looking up at him expectantly. He sets the blanket down and leans over, wiping the sweat from your forehead before he kisses the spot. You hum, eyes closing at the warmth that spreads to your face when he holds you so tenderly. The blanket slides over you and he checks on the fireplace, adding another log for good measure.

He silently curses Jon for giving you some alien sickness, deciding that he’ll give him yet another earful when you fall asleep. Thankfully it wasn’t deadly, confirmed by J’onn, but it was a nasty sickness all the same. Expected to last nearly half the month but could last longer depending on your conditions. And Damian prides himself on his abilities; abilities that include making his home stress-free and sterile. Not clean. Sterile. He won’t allow even a single molecule of dust to enter the house without wiping it away. He, even though it pains him, had temporarily set up Alfred and Titus back at the manor until you were well.

You told him that part wasn’t necessary, but he insisted and you especially understand just how stubborn he can be.

Of course, at the news of this alien sickness, Bruce (and let’s be honest, anyone with a working, unbiased, mind) had requested you be set in the WatchTowers quarantine zone where you could be closely monitored. Damian refused, declaring himself the perfect doctor and he doesn’t need anyone subpar attending to his husband.

Just don’t let him know that every time he leaves the room you see one of the members at the window taking random tests to check up on you. A couple of times one of the speeders has done a drive-by blood sample or something else that requires being in close contact. It’s something you intend to keep a secret from him for a while.

Sinking into the soft pillow, you watch as he turns the channel to something more pleasant. He doesn’t want you watching crime or medical shows while you’re recovering; he thinks it’ll prolong your sickness with the stress. He also doesn’t want to bore you with documentaries. Or stress you with horror or thriller. He doesn’t want to watch RomComs because they’re either too good or too bad. So, cartoons it is.

“I don’t wanna watch Bluey,” You whine. “I’m a grown man.” He raises an eyebrow at you and you huff. To your horror, a booger flies out from your nose, landing on the floor several feet away from you and you try not to laugh and/or hide in embarrassment.

“I’ll put on Miraculous Ladybug, then,” He grabs a tissue and wipes up the mucus from the floor.

“Oh, yes.” The show plays and Damian starts on dinner. He’s a little unsure of what to make; he wants something healthy but nothing too healthy so you’ll eat it without fuss. He tried feeding you nothing but vegetables blended together the first night and you threw it up as soon as the bowl was empty. He knows you’re also tired of soup; he would be too if it was all he ate for nearly every meal for the past week.

He thinks for a moment, looking at the fridge doors and pictures of what foods are in there. There’s a lot, considering he’d allowed Dick (read: Dick begged him until Damian agreed) to help him with grocery shopping only for Dick to show up with a shopping cart filled with food. Not that he was upset; he even said thank you before slamming the door shut. He’d seen how Dick had an open wound on his face and he wasn’t going to risk any type of contamination.

His fingers drum on the countertop as he thinks before he stops and opens the door to double-check something.

“Beloved, how would you like a poke bowl for dinner?”

“Yes, please,” You cry at the idea of not eating yet another soup. He nods and begins to work, listening to your breathing and stopping every so often when it changes to something too harsh for his liking. You eventually sit up, cracking your back and watching as he chops up the avocado slices, splaying them nearly on top of the rice and other assortments. He drizzles on the kewpie mayo and sriracha like they do in recipe videos, cleaning the sides of the bowl with a napkin until it looks pretty. It’s like watching The Bear. Or BingingWithBabish.

Changing the channel to something you both enjoy, you open the blanket up for him. He sits close to you, your thighs touching despite the warnings that the illness is communicable.

You eat, happy that it’s staying down because it tastes so fucking good and you’d hate to throw up again. At some point you, though, between chewing on the last bite and setting the bowl on the coffee table, you knock out.

It startles Damian as he grabs you once he notices you were going down, suddenly limp. Putting a hand to your forehead, he chews at the inside of his cheek when he sees your feverish skin against the back of his hand. It’s not dangerously hot, just a little above your normal temperature. Checking your pulse, he finds that it’s normal and listens to your breathing; also normal. So, nothing that’s immediately alarming.

Perhaps you were simply fatigued, but he wasn’t going to take his chances. From a small box on the coffee table, he grabs a small flashlight and checks your eyes. They dilate as they should. He then goes into the closet to grab his inflatable cuff, which he would later tell you was exactly why he’d insisted on having one in the first place and tested your blood pressure. Normal. That’s good. In the same box, the cuff was in, he takes the glucose meter and pricks your finger.

Low.

Not dangerously so, but lower than he’d like it to be.

He doesn’t want to leave you on the couch but he needs to as he fixes a cup of a sugary drink and a small plate of your favorite cookies before he returns to the couch. You’re stirring at that point, grumbling as your eyes adjust to the lights.

“You worried me,” He admits, sitting at your side, gently brushing his fingers against your face. “Here, your blood sugar is low. Eat as much as you can manage,” Nodding, you take a long sip of the drink, relishing the feeling because Damian insisted on those crazy superfood drinks with nothing but kale and spinach.

“I apologize,” He blinks down at the floor. “I neglected to realize how important eating… fun foods are as well as healthy foods.”

“It’s okay,” You shrug, eating the cookie and then offering him one. He shakes his head, insisting you eat them. “How long was I out for?”

“No more than ten minutes,” He assures, putting the items back into the box but doesn’t put the box away. He inhales and checks your forehead again. It’s the same, of course.

—

That routine continues for another week. A week of tissues and sore throats. Not that you minded all that much, it wasn’t so bad spending all that time being doted on by Damian. At least until you woke up to the sound of him coughing his lungs out, reading blindly for his shirt.

“I’ll get the soup ready,” You hum, tossing the overs off and stuffing your feet into your house slippers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll go to the quarantine ward in the WatchTower.” He shakes his head. “You’re just getting over being sick, stay here.”

“Damian, no,” Pushing him back to the bed, he glares and grabs your hand.

“I do not want to get you sick, your body shouldn’t be under stress after you’ve just gotten over being—“ He’s forced to stop as he can no longer hold back his own coughs.

“I think I remember the recipe you like,” You mutter, checking his temperature. “I’ll tell Bruce you’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“I’m going to the Watchtower,” He insists, following you out of the room. “I’ve already contacted Father and he agrees. He’s on his way now,”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m keeping you safe.”

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x you #robin x male reader #robin x reader #damian al ghul x male reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne al ghul #sick fic #damian wayne sick fic

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foxglovegames · 2 months ago

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DEV LOG: 2024 Recap

Helloooo everyone!

This year genuinely flew past us. As a studio, we had our ups-and-many-downs, but we're feeling more positive going into 2025. Let's start with what we got done this year before moving onto our plans for the future! :)

⭐Released Trouble Comes Twice: Bonus Stories!

Feels like we released this ages ago, but it hasn't even been a year yet! Back in April, we released the first (and only) public DLC for Trouble Comes Twice. For us, Bonus Stories was a satisfying goodbye to these characters after spending years with them; we hope that players who decided to give the DLC a chance feel the same.

It'll always be a bit bittersweet moving on from a project you've worked on for so long and dedicated so much towards. There's always going to be what-ifs, but we're mostly just proud of what we did achieve and kind of relieved we made it to the finish line haha. If you're interested in reading more about our experience working on Trouble Comes Twice and what we learned, do check out this post mortem we wrote! We hope it offers some insight for players who might be curious and other vn devs who'd like another dev's take.

⭐A tumultuous start for our next visual novel Burn the Midnight Oil

Since the end of 2023, we've worked on and off on our next visual novel Burn the Midnight Oil. The plan was to launch a Kickstarter campaign and demo before the end of 2024 - since it's now Dec and that never happened, you can imagine things did not go as planned ahah... Unfortunately, we experienced several setbacks, one of the biggest being that our lead artist had to leave the project some months ago due to health issues.

It took us a minute to find the right person to step in and take over the character art, but we recently welcomed a new lead artist whom we're incredibly excited to be working with!

So, where does the project stand right now?

Our new character artist is chipping away at the sprites and CGs for the game, which are the main assets we're still missing to finish the demo.

Script is written, edited and coded in

BGs are completed and the UI is close to completed

We're planning to tackle the soundtrack in the coming months, but our composer BellKallengar has already finished an amazing main menu theme! We can't wait for you to hear it.

For our own sanity and the expectations of our players, we're not making any promises or guesses on when you can expect the demo, Kickstarter, or official announcement until we know for certain. The only thing we can confidently confirm is that it's coming in 2025 (unless we're struck by the worst bad luck ever).

We're going to resume regular monthly updates when the game has been announced, but until then, we're sticking o quarterly updates instead so the next one would be in March. (Unless we manage to announce the game before that! A dev can dream.)

⭐PLANS FOR 2025

There's only one concrete plan - officially announcing Burn the Midnight Oil, releasing the Kickstarter demo, and launching our crowdfunding campaign! Melli and I already finished the demo script earlier this year, so we've been working on outlining (and writing) the routes for the full game. We hope to make as much progress as possible on that before the Kickstarter launches. Hopefully, that should save us a lot of time in the long run.

We hope everyone's having a fantastic holiday season! See you all in the new year! 🥂

#monthly update #visual novel #interactive fiction #foxglove games #burn the midnight oil

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morbethgames · 3 months ago

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Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

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

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year ago

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Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 1

What's this? Two posts for WIP Wednesday??? I said I was gonna spoil you guys. Now, I originally planned to do Carry Your Heart. Figured the top and bottom choices from the WIP Wednesday poll would be fun. But both stories are at a point where Danny is taking Jason to Frostbite and I just didn't feel like writing the same scenario twice, even if the details and POV are totally different.

So I went to the third place option.

If you want a say in what I work on this week, check out the poll!

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3 (user locked), Tumblr

Word Count: 1.5k

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Jazz tapped her finger on her phone as she waited for the Dunkin employee to call out her order. Red Hood was supposed to arrive any minute. She’d left her dorm a full two hours ago and led Agents K and O on a merry chase through Boston before finally losing them at Quincy Market. Then she’d doubled back and was now near Northeastern. She had no reason to be here, so hopefully it’d take a little longer to track her down.

And that’s when she felt it—a ghost or liminal was nearby.

Pushing his way in the building was a tall man with a red beanie covering dark hair. He had on an unbuttoned flannel jacket over a Dumpty Humpty T-shirt and jeans with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He glanced around before his eyes settled on her and he grinned.

“Hey, Jazz, right?” He held out his hand. “I’m Todd.”

Jazz couldn’t say anything and just stared in horror. Red Hood couldn’t be liminal. Had she just led another liminal to the guys in white? Did he even realize he was considered an ecto-entity under the anti-ecto acts she’d introduced him and Red Robin to?

“Jazz? Are you okay?” he asked, dropping his hand.

“Order for Jazz!” called out the barista.

Jazz shook herself and grabbed her drink with a smile for the employee. Then she grabbed Todd’s elbow and dragged him over to the tables.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting—” she cut herself off. She had no idea what he knew and what he didn’t. And the agents could come get them at any moment. Instead she pulled out her phone started turning off every security setting. “Never mind. Do you want anything?” she asked with a gesture at her own drink.

“I’m all right. But, are you? What happened?”

Jazz let out a laugh; if the way Todd’s eyes widened was any indication, it was a tad more hysterical that she would’ve liked. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened.” She looked down at his shirt. “My brother loves Dumpty Humpty, you a music fan?”

He seemed nonplussed at the topic change but shrugged. “Sure. Music is good, but I stole this shirt from one of my brothers. I don’t know if I could name a single song by them. How about you?”

Jazz grinned and forced herself to relax as she logged out of her school email on her phone. “I’m a huge fan of any sort of self-expression, including music. Actually, my plans for tonight involve music, so I hope you like the indie scene. Might be a bit intense for a first date, but I’ve always figured, why not jump right in? Show ‘em the crazy from the start and see if they can keep up.” She leaned forward over the table and winked at him. “Think you’ll be able to keep up?”

Todd played the game perfectly and looked her up and down like they really were about to start a first date. “With you, sweetheart, I’ll follow anywhere you lead.”

Jazz laughed and stood. “Come on, then. We’re going on an adventure.”

Todd grinned and joined her. “Lead the way.”

Once out of the building, Jazz led them away from the university. This being Boston, it wasn’t long before they came across a homeless man begging on the side of the street.

Wincing internally, she gripped Todd’s arm and said loudly, “Honestly, I don’t know why the cops don’t do a better job of keeping away the beggars.”

Todd looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about? They have a right to exist and we should help them.”

“They’re probably fine. Everyone knows they only use the money they’re given on drugs and alcohol.” She pretended to glance at her phone before reaching back to shove it in her back pocket. Only to miss so it fell to the ground. “Ew, he’s looking at us. Come on, let’s cross the street.”

She could feel the way Todd tensed at her words, but he let himself be led across the street.

As soon as they were out of hearing shot, he turned to her and hissed, “What the hell was that?”

Jazz glanced back and saw the man picking up her phone. She looked away before he could catch her looking. “Come on, I’ll explain.” She grabbed Todd’s hand and led him down an alley to a much busier street. “I had to ditch my phone. I logged out of everything and left it unlocked so he can use it or resell it. I needed to make sure he wouldn’t try to return it to me and, well, what better way than being the worst person you can imagine?”

And now he was staring, open mouthed.

“They’ve had remote access to my phone for months and I couldn’t let them track us!” she insisted. Habit had her looking around for any sign of a white suit.

“Who can’t find us?”

Jazz shook her head. “The guys in white. Look, this is too public. I can’t say much else here. But meeting you, everything had to change. You’re in danger just by being near me and I refuse to be the reason you get hurt.”

“Why am I in danger?”

“Later!” Jazz hissed before wincing and looking around. She forced a smile back on her face and asked, in as normal a tone as she could manage, “What time is it? Do you know?”

He looked down at his phone. “Uh, looks like it’s almost five.”

“Oh great! Plenty of time for us to get something to eat before I bring you to our surprise destination.”

And from there, Jazz led Todd on a convoluted tour of Boston. They grabbed food at the Pru, then she took him to the green line. Where they traveled four stops before she jumped up in feigned surprise that they were on the wrong branch. So then they got off and hopped on the train going in the opposite direction.

Which was where she wanted to be going all along.

For once, she was happy the orange line was still under construction, because the shuffle of passengers from trains to buses and back just made their journey that much more complicated and harder to follow.

By the time they finally got to their stop, the sun had mostly set. The station was mostly empty and Jazz looked around for any sign of white suits or vans, but even when she didn't see any, she couldn't relax.

“Where are we going?” Todd asked for probably the dozenth time.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “We’ll be there in five minutes and then you’ll find out.”

She led him to the street, the crosswalk had lights over it, but the rest of the road was shrouded in darkness. They ran across without waiting for the walk symbol.

Once they crossed what was basically a divided highway, Jazz led them along the poorly lit and cracked sidewalk. Ahead of them they were approaching a river.

“It’s before the river,” muttered Jazz to herself. “Is this it?” She hesitated at the top of a sloping, unpaved drive that led to an industrial building that sat on the waterfront. “I think so. Apparently this building used to be a coffin factory. Cool, huh?”

“I don’t care for coffins,” was Todd’s terse reply.

Jazz flinched slightly. She knew he was death-adjacent. Should’ve known better than to mention coffins. “Right, sorry. Well, they aren’t made here anymore.” She made her way down the steep drive, Todd a step behind her.

“What is it now?”

“Apartments, I believe.”

Once at the bottom, she looked around and saw the old loading dock. Entering, she looked for the door on the left.

Only to hesitate once more. Two doors were on the left. She hadn’t heard anything about there being two doors. Taking a chance, she opened the first one.

Inside was a table where two women sat in front of a metal box. On the wall were a set of pegs already mostly filled with coats. And inside milled probably thirty or forty people.

The women smiled at Jazz. “Hi, have you two been here before?”

Jazz shook her head and pulled two twenties out of her wallet. “No. But I had a classmate come here and tell me about it. When I realized you had something going on tonight when I had a date? Figured it was a great place to come with my partner!”

She laughed. “We’re definitely unique here at the Night Cap.” She stamped their hands. “Show starts in half an hour, but feel free to mingle until then. Bathroom’s through the kitchen.”

“Thanks! We’re looking forward to tonight.”

Todd nodded his own thanks and followed Jazz into the room.

“What are we doing here?” he whispered in her ear.

“Hiding,” she whispered back. “I’ve never been here before. Never even taken this stop on the T before. When we leave here, we’ll get a motel room or something and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Is this necessary?”

“Without a doubt.”

Jazz could tell Todd didn’t fully believe her, but he dropped it. Jazz found a few people who were discussing that evening’s performers and the two of them joined the conversation.

-----

Part 2

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

So, I had a lot of fun with this section. The place Jazz takes Jason to? Real place. Though Night Cap isn't what the residents call it. Honestly, the real name is also impossible to google. If you don't know it exists, you would never find it (why Jazz runs from the GIW there). Out of respect for the residents of the apartment, though, I changed the name. I went to a show there and it was super weird trying to find it. Like, the directions in my email seriously said "enter the loading dock of the former coffin factory, find the door on the left, and slip the person standing there $10-20 cash. Don't touch anyone's personal belongings, please."

As we waited for the bathroom during set break, two of the residents were cooking dinner at the stove and we were chatting about how Regan was the worst.

10/10 would go again.

Anyone who has spent any time in Boston knows what I mean about the T being under construction. Annoying as hell, but it worked out for Jazz this time.

(The T is the name of the Boston train/subway system.)

The Pru refers to the Prudential building. The bottom level(s) are full of restaurants and shops (basically a high end shopping mall) and upper levels are offices. The top level is an observation deck that's open to the public, though I've never been.

#dpxdc #jaosn todd #jazz fenton #eventual anger management ship #i may have flexed my boston knowledge #this chapter is totally self indulgent #but the plot is about to ramp up #just need to get jazz confident they'll have privacy #and she has good reason to be paranoid #jason is just along for the ride

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riofann · 5 months ago

Text

6. tempestuous

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Friday April 17, 2020

“The popular bar behind me became engulfed in flames in the early morning of Wednesday April 15th. Firefighters and police officers are conducting an investigation as foul play is suspected. The identity and current status of the two people entrapped in the flames has yet to be released as investigators are seeking answers.”

You groan and turn your head reaching at what you thought was your bedside lamp to turn off the lights

You hear commotion followed by your mothers voice “OH MY GOD My baby Y/N! Y/N! Go get the nurse Daniel!”

“What’s going on?”

With tender hands she caresses your “Oh honey there was a fire they had to save you”

“Fire?”

“Hey, you called!” the nurse speaks

“Nurse is here” your mother speaks to you

“Hi Y/N my name is Lisa your nurse can you tell me what day it is?” she asks as she logs into the computer in the room you looked around the room to see your mom and dad standing close by

“I’m in the hospital” you comment

The nurse nods her head “Yes ma’am can you tell me what day it is?”

“It's not Wednesday is it?” you add

“That’s right it's Friday April 17, 2020 you are at Detroit Medical Center do you remember what happened?” she asks as she gets ready to do her assessment. You groan feeling your head “Oooh! Be careful” she gently removes your hand from your head “you got some bandages up there” she gently removes your hand from your head

You swallow feeling your mouth dry “I walked in with Gracie and i can’t remember the rest” you croak out

“That's okay, don't worry about it, just try to get some rest and hopefully it comes back to you as the days go by, I paged the doctor he will be here shortly. I’m just gonna do a quick assessment and when the doctor comes we will do a more in depth one okay?” You nod “Great!”

You turn to face your parents “Is Gracie okay?”

You see your parents look at each other then back at you “Honey” your dad starts

Take some deep breaths the nurse coaches as the monitor indicates your heart rate going up

“Where’s Gracie?” you ask them more directly. Your dad holds a somber expression “No dad No! NO!”

“Its okay calm down sweety” your mom coaches seeing the panic seep into you

“Where is she?!” You demand answers

Your mom comes to cradle you “No mom where is she? Where is Gracie?”

“Heart rate is spiking need to calm her down” you hear your nurse say

“Y/N I’m the charge nurse Michelle”

"Where’s Gracie?!" you didn't care about what the nurses were saying to you. You only hoped the reason your parents were refusing to tell you what happened to Gracie is because she was in a coma in the ICU somewhere else but what you feared the most

“We’re gonna give you some medicine only help you calm down okay?” the nurses speak to your mother gently pulling her away from you “No where’s Gracie mom dad" you reach for them

"We’ll come get you when she’s calm I promise"

Monday May 4, 2020

You lay in bed thinking about how this came to be your mind flashes back to when you agreed to work with Alejandro.

Flashback

“My bosses don’t take no for an answer chiquita and they are tired of waiting” new threats were added to the mix. Threats that you couldn't ignore.

You sigh “I am putting myself at risk here”

He chuckles “I already told you we will take...”

You cut him off “Yea yea I know”

He extends his hand “so it's a deal then?”

You hold your breath and extend your hand “deal”

You try to figure out where things went wrong. It was smooth for the first few months then all of a sudden the switch flipped and Alejandro was more aggressive and dangerous than Rio. His temper was a force to reckon with. Like jekyll and hide one minute he is okay the next you are constantly looking over your shoulder and spending sleepless nights. It went from simple drop offs to no you need to sit while we finish counting, accusations of shorting the Guerrero family. Payment ready at delivery to you’ll get your cut later. It didn’t take you long to realize you were being heavily monitored and everything you were saying and doing was being captured. And when you inquired you weren’t given a reason but more threats of death and bar being burnt down.

When you heard them speak of Marcus and killing him to bring Rio out of hiding you knew you had to take action and warn Rio at least, if nothing to spare Marcus life. They knew everything, things you knew but didn’t tell them. Things you didn’t even know. Where the stash houses were, where the money was kept, his banker, his lawyer, his shipment schedules, his connections in El Salvador and Mexico.

Rio was right, you didn’t know what you were getting into. And his “good luck” rang like a bell summoning an omen in a horror movie. Every time you think about it you shiver knowing all that had transpired after that night.

“Someone’s here to see you” your mother speaks, bringing you back to the present time. You look to your bedroom door and see Rio walk in. You have been home for 2 weeks now.

You turn the other way your back to him, embarrassed “how you holding up mama?”

You hear the door open before shutting again. You grip the pillow tightly feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

“Were you at the funeral?” You ask

He clears his throat “Yea”

It’s silent. Not comfortable, it's awkward. You close your eyes squeezing them shut praying this was all a nightmare.

“Don’t worry, I told the cops I didn’t know anything” you say

He clears his throat “Wasn’t worried about that.” There’s silence again “Your parents want you to eat something”

“I’m not hungry”

He nods looking at your body, you had bandages on your torso and thigh “well then ima go”

You turn to face him before he fully walks out the room “Why didn’t they kill me?” He stops in his tracks and turns to face you, closing the door “why did they have to kill her?” as much as you tried to make sense of the situation in the end Gracie died for nothing He sits down, and you stare at him waiting for an answer “Because”

“Because what?”

He looks at you “if they killed you then it would be a full out war, and they can’t handle that right now” “Is there not a war right now? What’s the difference?” He pauses “this is different”

“So why burn down my bar? Why kill Gracie? She didn’t do anything to them” None of it made sense to you why would they kill her when it was you that was making money for him and them “Send a message to me”

“To you? I thought you left Detroit?” “I did”

“I don’t understand” He interrupts you “One day it will make sense. Get some rest yea? I’ll be around”

Saturday May 30, 2020

“What are you doing here?” You ask Rio as he walks in

“Came to see you” “Okay” you say as you resume your position on the couch

He sits next to you picking up the remote to pause the TV “what you been doing?” “Nothing” “I can see that I texted you” he comments “I haven’t checked my phone” you lie

“For a week?” You shrug “so what you just gonna sit here and let them win?” You give him a look refraining from saying what you wanted to say, “I thought you were stronger than that” You face the TV “Well you’re wrong and if it's money you want they took it all cleared out my safe” “That's not why I’m here” You sit up to analyze him “So you’re here to berate me?” you stand up from the couch

He shakes his head “Nah, I came here to check on you”

You stand up from the couch walking into the kitchen feeling yourself get irritated and these days anything gave you a headache “Well you’ve seen me so you can go” you didn’t need him to trigger you

He pauses, following you and stopping by the entry way of the kitchen watching you gulp down medicine “I warned you” You snap your head in his direction to look at him “I gave you an option me or them” You turn to face the sink “I didn’t have a choice Rio” you mumble He snickers “You did mama you just didn’t pick me” “I did not Rio” you stress turning to face him, they had promised to kill your family and burn down the bar leaving you with nothing. “You could have told me I would have taken care of him, taken care of them” he gives you a half smile

You nod slowly looking at him wondering why he seemed delighted by your demise “so this is a long awaited I told you so? Is that it? Is that why you’re here?�� He releases a deep sighs “no, I told you I came to check on you”

“Why are you here? I thought you left town?”

He shrugs “I came back”

You scoff “Why? I’m sure you can find other people to wash your money literally anywhere else” He smirks “I wanted to, it’s my city anyway”

“That you handed over to the Guerrero’s.” you argue

He chuckles “nah mama I handed you over. I didn’t hand over my city.”

You nod “So I meant nothing to you all that talk about partnership an....” “You really wanna go there?” he asks

You swallow knowing it was you that betrayed him for once this time

“So you used Alejandro to punish me for not picking you?!” you hypothesize He shrugs

“Gracie died!”

He nods “I know”

“They burnt her alive”

“I got the details of what happened”

You scoff “You’re un-fucking-believable!”

“Part of the game darling”

“What do you want Rio? Why are you here? Do you want to continue punishing me? Why are you here?”

“I told you I came to see how you were doing mama” “Well now you’ve seen me!” You lift your shirt “My bruise is finally fading away” You pull down your pants, showing your thigh/ass area “The burn is starting to heal up rreeaalll nice per the doctor, challenging walking or sitting or sleeping or standing because it's still painful and sore. I still get intense headaches where they kicked me from time to time. I can barely eat/sleep/or drink anything and every time I close my eyes, I see Gracie laying on the floor as they doused her with gasoline. There now you how I’m doing, you can leave”

“What are you gonna do with the bar?”

You throw spur hands up in frustration “So that’s why you’re here? To see how I can continue to make you money? Wash your fucking monopoly money?”

He pulling his lips in he shakes his head before speaking “not at all darling” “Well too bad for you I plan on doing nothing its burned down, I’m not doing anything to it, I’m gonna sell it”

He sighs “Rebuild I’ll front you the money”

You shake your head, “No, I’m done with this,” you gesticulate crossing your arms in front of you repeatedly “I’m done with this shit! I’m done with you!”

“So, you’re letting them win?” You look at him like he has 5 heads “You did, you let them burn down the place that was washing well over a million dollars a month. I didn’t do that you did” He bobs his head from side to side “if you put it like that”

You feel the rage bubbling inside “get out!”

“Think about it. Gotta run see you around yea?”

Friday September 25, 2020

“We are here at the re launch of Cure with owner Y/N. This is such a touching redemption arc story that speaks to community and how people come together. The community of Detroit were able to raise funds, the city’s best contractors offered assistance, along with Mayor Nick Serrano all came together to see this relaunch possible. Y/N how does it feel?” the interviewer asks you

“Its really emotional I didn’t think this was possible.” You pause to take a deep breath feeling like you were going to cry “I can’t thank the community enough for being amazing and supporting myself as well as Gracie's favorite charity throughout this time” “With this relaunch we heard there’s a corner dedicated to Grace your former manager that passed away is that true?”

You nod “Absolutely there’s many places in the bar as well as menu items that are dedicated to Grace and the staff. I want it to be a reminder for anyone that walks in the amazing person she was and the amazing people that work at this bar who bring light and joy into everyone’s lives.”

“This is such a heart touching story. Tell me what Grace’s favorite things were” You smile “Sure Grace loved the Blue cheese sliders that we offer” “Oh yum I heard those were good!”

“How was the relaunch?” you hear from behind you as you walk into your home that night

“Fucking!” you hold your chest “what are you doing here?!” you hadn't seen or heard from him in months “Checking in on you” He smiles at you

You sigh throwing your keys down “How the fuck are you getting in?!”

He shrugs “got my ways” “Again if you want money it's all out and I used all of the bar insurance money to rebuild”

He shakes his head “Not here for the money”

“Why are you here then?”

He smiles at you “Just told you”

You scoff and roll your eyes “bar is open it was good lots of people showed up but not sure if they will come back”

“They will” he reassures

“How do you know that” “Because Cure is the best bar in Detroit”

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

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@katymae12344, @yinmaggiorebass , @flirtyjen, @wnbweasley, @meadows5, @ffenthusiastt, @rio-reid-whoreee, @belezaya, @meera10, @aunicornmademedoit, @stilestotherescue,

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sashi-ya · 1 year ago

Text

𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑳 𝑨 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻. Trafalgar Law x F! Reader

🌨 a/n: so I recently been to Austria, a country I often visit since it's literally like a dream. (plus, my mom knew she was pregnant with me there, so I was used to come back to Innsbruck as much as I could with her). But in any case I got inspired there to write this little fic, that might -or not- be a multi chapter one if you all like it. The place exists and the scam part, happened to me -kinda, the airbnb existed, but not as it was listed :P- but in any case, please enjoy and don't forget to leave some feedback if you want more~ ❄ tw: a very sfw story, that might evolve into something else if you want me to keep writing about their trip 😏 ☃ wc: 2.6k

Hijacking for the first time, what could go wrong? Maybe everything, maybe nothing.

A two-month long trip all around Europe has found you on a little village of Austria. Your boots are cold, but luckily they are snow proof ones. Your skin all bumpy, your cheeks irritated. It’s been snowing all night, and despite the sun rising for now, some clouds in the sky menace with more white blessing to fall upon your shoulders very soon.

Those little mountain streets around the Alps are wonderful, they surround mountains going up and down and in a spiral way. But those are wonderful, as long as you can drive a car with heating. And you don’t have one right now.

The crunchy sound of the snow beneath your boots mix with the melody of a glacial river running in between the mountain and the road. It is certainly beautiful, the little rocks and stones being bathed by such pure and cold water, the rests of dry leaves and some moss growing on an everlasting shadow casted by tall, enormous peaks. Everything is worth taking a picture, but you should prioritize your battery life this time around. The GPS is sometimes wonky, being that high can affect the service.

Many cars have passed by, but none of them have stopped. Little lorries carrying logs pass, cars completely drenched in dirty snow and that mix of salt that roads have during winters.

However, just when your hopes for finding someone to at least give you a ride to the next village were about to run out, the yellow shine of an old VW ban flashes before your eyes.

There, behind a curve -a very dangerous one if you ever went to the mountains- something smells like smoke and a tall man of white furry hat swears up to the skies.

You walk towards him, carefully. Who knows what is happening? Who knows who that man is capable of? There is one thing you are sure, however, and it is that this man is absolutely mad at his old van.

When peaking behind a dark wooden tree that’s now covered in spots of white snow, you discover the annoyed man is a young -handsome- one.

His van, a little rusty but still cute, seems to be having problems to keep going and the smoke coming from it shows it very well.

“Sir? Sir! Your van is catching fire!” you announce, realizing the smoke is indeed a very serious issue.

The guy of chocolate skin and tattooed hands turns around to look immediately at you and then to the back of the van. Those 70’s vehicles had actually their engines right in the back instead of the front.

And Indeed, you were right. Apparently the climb had been too tough for the poor old VW and its engine couldn’t take it any longer.

He quickly opens the back door, maybe searching for a fire extinguisher while you grab fistfuls of snow in an attempt to put down the incipient flames. Quickly enough, and with not many damages to count, the fire stops, and the only thing left is a big black spot on the back of the caravan.

“Thank you” he says, as dry as hopefully your socks. “No problem. What happened? Did the engine over heat?” you ask, curious despite his “I don’t want friends” face. “Yes; these hills are no joke. This never happened to my Polar, but there is always a first time…” he sighs, assessing the damage with a sad expression.

Apparently his van has a name; “Polar”. That’s very cute, and his eyes too. A golden shine in them looks even beautiful with the pristine white around. His tattoos do as well. You wonder about his name, and what is he doing on the road, but you are not sure if it’s proper to ask. However, he asks first.

“What are you doing here? do you have a car?” he mumbles, his voice is as attractive as he is. His eyes scan the place, but nothing catches his attention.

“No, I am actually hijacking. No one stopped so I started walking before the sun starts going down. I definitely got scammed; the Airbnb I was supposed to stay in didn’t, in fact, exist.

He grunts, almost silently. Apparently he is not happy with what happened to you but that’s it.

“Well, that’s so unsafe. I am sorry I can’t give you a ride right now. Apparently none of us have been blessed with good luck today” he says, walking around his vehicle with long legs covered in spotted jeans.

You nod. Your tongue is aching to ask about him, but you clearly catch the hint… he doesn’t want you there.

“Yep. Well, I wish you luck! I must keep going” “Same to you, be careful”

He doesn’t even look at you, something that makes you -somehow- very sad. In any case, you start walking away. There is no point in staying there… even if you have great mechanical skills that could help.

And as you do, you also have a very, very loud consciousness voice screaming at you on how could you leave him with no solution if you know it…

“Sir, you should check your water level…” you shout, a few meters away from him. The sound of your voice echoes in the huge natural immensity of the Alps and his golden eyes finally fall upon you.

He stops moving for some seconds, lost in you. You, as well, wait for him to say something else. Something like “stay with me” or “don’t go”. A total stranger you want to hang up with. A total unknown woman he wants to protect.

“You know how to fix this?” “I do…”

Or so that was what you thought.

No more than a couple of minutes took you to help him out. VW vans are noble machines; they are durable and easy to fix despite their particular design. And soon, as a part of your payment, the man that you learned is called Law and you drove away through intricate roads and huge snowflakes.

“Where are you going, (Name)-ya?” he asks, handing you an old cover from an old comic, Germa 66.

“I was supposed to stay for a couple of days in Bad Goisern, and then I thought of visiting Salzburg. I am on a long trip through Europe. What about you?” you ask, cuddling with the blanket. A certain blessing for your freezing hands.

He nods, checking the breaks before going down the hill.

“I am too. I just graduated medical school and I thought of taking a little vacation before my residency starts. I’m going to be a surgeon. A cardiac surgeon” he tells, full of dreams he fails to cover up behind a tough guy expression.

You celebrate his success, and the next couple of hours become a ping pong of questions and answers. A smile on your face that leaves your cheeks hurting accompanies you until the sun hides and the little lights on the mountains start to scatter.

You didn’t want to go down in the first village, nor the second, nor the third. Law, didn’t want you to go down his van either. You named Salzburg, and he promised you to take you there.

But the night found both of you, and apparently your mechanical skills weren’t as good as you thought the would… Polar decided to stop, in the middle of nowhere during a dark, very dark winter night.

You close your eyes as the sound of rusty gears fail and Law’s annoyance grows stronger than ever. When Polar finally loses all of the power, Law manages to agonizingly park on the side of the road and a huge sighs escapes his lips.

You peak through your left eye; his DEATH tattooed fingers squeeze the wheel, and you know he will snap at any moment. But he doesn’t…

“I’m sorry. I thought- I-“ you try to give a plausible apologize, even though you had nothing to do with it.

“No. It is not your fault… it is mine- As we didn’t stop, I have completely forgotten to fuel Polar up” Law says, absolutely mortified for such stupid mistake. Apparently you were enough distraction to keep him from the basics of road tripping.

You breath alleviated and try to stop your upcoming laughter. Your grimacing did nothing to hide it, and a big burst of laughter took over the van and everything around.

Law looks at you pissed, but a soft smirk garnishes his lips. You can’t stop, perhaps it isn’t that funny… but you feel so happy right now. And you have no idea why, since you are literally stranded in a very dark wood with temperatures below 0C and snow pooling on top of that van.

“Welp, it’s ok. We should wait until tomorrow, then” you say, knowing the risks. “You- you prefer spending the night in here? aren’t you afraid of dying?” he asks, surprised.

“I am, in fact, scared of dying. That’s why I know very well I can’t walk during a snowstorm in the middle of the night in the Alps. Plus, you are too sweet to be considered a threat” you joke, searching for some chocolate inside your backpack.

Law narrows his eyes, deepening his frown. Apparently being called “sweet” and “not a threat” is not something he enjoys.

“I could cut you open and took all of your organs out during the night” he says, serious as hell. “Go for it. Don’t forget to steal my heart, doctor” you laugh, taking your jacket off.

Law is flabbergasted; he has never confronted someone like you before… but he is beginning to like it now.

A bar of chocolate that you had kept in your backpack for too long lays too close to his nose. You shake it, offering its sweetness to him.

He takes it but doesn’t eat it. Instead, his hand gets pressed against the window behind you. Law has pinned you against the door of your side. He is not a very muscular man, but he is indeed very tall and lean… if he wanted, he could do anything to you.

Your eyes widen, big as the moon. You swallow, thinking maybe walking through the forest might be a safer option.

“L-Law… I- didn’t mean to-“ you tremble, asking yourself where did you put the Victorinox blade you bought in Switzerland… it should be enough to defend yourself, right?

You notice his chest is also tattooed as his clothes open just a little. His arms, are too. His scent, despite the danger, smells deliciously tempting…

“Don’t trust strangers that easily, (Name)-ya” he whispers, a few centimetres from your lips. Letting you go after and biting the chocolate bar as if nothing has just happened.

You remain there, frozen up with your eyes widen and your lips softly trembling. He is, in fact, very right. Law is indeed a stranger, after all.

When oxygen finally begins to reach your lungs and brain again, you move and blink the dry eyes away. Silently you sit back, properly. You aren’t able to say anything, somehow you have run out of words.

You squeeze the blanket he gave you, covering you as much as you could, making yourself as tiny as possible on that old leather seat.

“Are you ok?” he asks, so nonchalantly.

“Ye-yes, I’m… ok” you mumble back, almost sticking yourself to the passenger door. “Is it ok if I go to sleep? I’m tired”

Law nods, confused. Maybe he was just joking around, but it did scare you big time. He goes down the van and opens the back doors. You look at him disappearing in the darkness until a very little glimpse of silver light coming from the moon filters through the doors.

But, soon after, fairy lights illuminate the back allowing you to discover a very cozy space behind the front seats.

“I am glad I installed this independently from the fuel tank. I have a little power generator for the back. It’s not a hotel bed, but it does the job” he says, showing you a precarious mattress covering the entire floor of the vehicle.

You smile softly, it looks cozy and pretty. The walls are full of random posters and maps, and there is even an old picture of a younger Law with three more guys wearing fancy hats with something written in the snow. You take a closer look at it, to discover it says, “Pirates of Heart” and you giggle. What a peculiar gang name.

“Law, this is really cute. You even have a lot of blankets and cushions!” you chime, easing a little bit.

“My best friend Bepo decorated it for me, I only helped him with the lights” he says, a little embarrassed.

You jump right back, leaving your backpack in the front seat and forgetting everything for the moment. What a reckless lover girl.

“I am going to sleep in the front seat, don’t worry. Use as many blankets as you need” he informs you, closing the back doors and leaving you there. You most probably were to say “no, stay here” but you simply couldn’t.

After all, this tattooed doctor is a gentleman. Right?

You let yourself rest for a bit on that improvised bed, with your sight blurring while looking at the fairy lights. The scent of the blankets and pillows is the same as him, something you secretly enjoy without even knowing. You catch a glimpse of the reflection of him sitting in the front through the back windows, at how he takes his hat off revealing a dark shade of onyx spiky hair.

For the next half an hour, or maybe less, you both become silent. The only sounds are the huge slaps of snow falling from the sky against the van and the subtle whistle of the wind filtering through the doors.

It is cold, but it’s probably colder in the front as Law is only using his Germa 66 blanket to cover up…

“Law? Are you awake?” you ask, shyly.

“Mh? Yes... why?” he asks back, with not much emotion but a soft tremble on his voice. He is probably cold, very cold.

“I feel bad for you; you must be freezing. There is plenty of room back here, you could sleep here. It’s ok with me” you say, taking advantage of not being in front of him.

Law takes a few minutes to move, but he ultimately does. He hops to where you are and sits there crossing his long legs. He is not wearing his black leather boots, so you can see Sora’s socks.

“Cool socks” you say, sitting right in front of him watching his cheeks go blushed. “Here, cover up. You are freezing, doc”

Both of you cover up with heavy blankets and fall into the mattress at the same time, facing each other.

Maybe, it is too strong to deny it. The attraction is natural, and you both can’t stop it… Exactly like the wind and cold reaching your skins.

“I am still cold” you mumble.

“I read in one of my books that the best way to keep the warmth of our bodies is to share it… skin to skin” he whispers, unable to take his eyes away from your lips.

“Is that so?” you breathe, coming closer to his embrace, allowing his arms to surround your frame and your hips to join with the other’s.

His forehead slowly touches yours, the bridge of your noses do as well. Your fingers, playfully but slowly, crawl to the crook of his neck. While his, squeeze your waist with delicate dominance. A leg that snake into the other’s, crossing, tangling…

Lips coming closer, so close. Breaths warming up, going faster and bumpy. Hearts that indeed had been stolen, the first kiss of two strangers, meeting for the very first time like two snowflakes join while falling from an endless sky

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWill they continue their journey together? 🦢

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