#flashback: slate

[cress-meadowforge]

July 27th, 100

It was early. Earlier than anyone should have been up the morning after the mentor's ball, but the arena was already coming to life with sinister machinations, vibrant and ruthless, and -- in truth -- Cressida had been eager for an escape from Cyber's penthouse.

Capitol Coffee was empty, which was preferable to the bustle and gossip that came like clockwork at this time each cycle. Zelena's minions congregated here, pouring over cutting reviews of the ball's fashion flops and scandalous fucks, and the mentors nursed their hangovers while counting the sponsorship money they'd accrued the night before. Cressida usually enjoyed it (the separateness from it, the observation without engagement), but she was focused elsewhere this morning, otherwise occupied, balancing a large stack of boxes and books and odds and ends as she moseyed to the counter.

Carefully, she placed the towering goods down in front of the register, peeking from around the stack. Expression unnaturally pleasant, smile a tad too wide, Cressida side-stepped out from behind. "Good morning," she chirped, smoothing down the front of her blouse. "Just an iced coffee this morning, please. And one for yourself, if you'd like."

@slate-skylar

[cress-meadowforge]

Cressida turned, and in the darkness, it was challenging to make out any of his features with certainty. Only the angles of his face, the whites of his eyes, teeth glinting. Boyish, soft but scrawny. "I think you'll grow into it." Into his body, into his ego. "If you make it long enough, that is." After all, with such an aversion to any real effort, coupled with that infuriating cleverness, it seemed doubtful that he would make it very far in the Capitol. They'd send him back to Twelve -- or worse. Whatever the fate, she imagined it would be befitting.

"Well, hopefully you don't make her coffee." A genuine sentiment, for Hestia's sake. She may have been the patron of lost causes, but even she had her limits, surely. "And who are you?" It seemed unfair that he should be collecting bits of her -- a coffee order, green sequins, a shamefully large portion of her headspace -- without offering anything in return. "If we're going to keep running into each other like this, we really should get acquainted."

"That's so. It feels great, but honestly, I'm just a humble person like you. I don't want my ego to get too inflated, my head too big, you know?" That was the impression he'd always had of the Victors, but she didn't seem like she had an inflated ego. Not necessarily, anyway.

As for her other question, it was a tough one to answer. She's my mom wasn't right. He hadn't allowed anyone to fill that slot, not even Misty, and he certainly didn't plan on letting Hestia. He may be living under her roof, and (sort of) following her rules, but he wasn't going to get that comfortable -- and he sure as fuck wasn't going to suggest to someone else that he was that comfortable. "I live with her," is what he settled on, as if he were the one in charge.

[merrydock]

The Best the World Had to Offer — Chapter 1: Adrenaline

Older Than the Universe will be a couple of days late this week (sorry, editing turned out to be a bigger job than I thought), so to tide you over I thought I'd post the first chapter of a new story I'm working on!

Based on what I've been seeing on here lately, it seems that people are finally realising the greatness of Gossan/Slate. This reminded me that, buried in my WIPs, I had a half-completed Gossan/Slate fic that I began writing at the same time as OTTU. The outline actually predates OTTU by like, two weeks.

And, well, inspiration struck, so now I'm finishing it. You can read Chapter 1: Adrenaline on AO3 here!

Shout-out to @rondoel for their awesome Gossan/Slate comic, which motivated me to start writing this again. Go check them out, their stuff (Outer Wilds and everything else) is awesome. Some scenes are also loosely inspired by Elwensa's comics (I found some of their work to be very similar to my outline, and now they are forever intertwined in my head), so check them out too if you haven't already!

Anyway, this is mostly pre-canon, following Gossan and Slate from the conception of the space program to Feldspar's disappearance and Gossan's "Incident", through to the return of Feldspar by the Hatchling, with all the ups and downs and drama between. Gossan/Porphy also makes an appearance, towards the end, but it focuses mainly on Gossan and Slate's tumultuous relationship and how it evolved over time. Probably will be something around 30 chapters; I can't for the life of me write something short.

I will update when I have time. OTTU remains my main priority, but this is a fun little side project I'm doing to give myself a break ::)

Ok that's it bye!!

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

funniest disney history facts i can think of atm

literally EVERYBODY thought the lion king was gonna flop and pocahontas would be their greatest movie ever made. people begged to ditch lion king and work on pocahontas.

the reason robin hood ends so abruptly is that there was an actual ending planned and storyboarded but the crew spent too long arguing about everyone’s fursonas to finish animating it

madam mim was way less comedic in the original book but because her character was too similar to maleficent (who was in their latest film at the time), the sword and the stone crew decided to differentiate her by making her fucking hilarious

when making a goofy movie, jeffrey katzenberg (studio chairman at the time) told bill farmer to give goofy “a normal voice.” farmer, who had been voicing goofy for eight years at that point, including in the goof troop show that a goofy movie was a sequel to, was very confused. after making an attempt they decided to scrap that note completely.

as of march 2023, farmer is still voicing goofy, and tony anselmo has been voicing donald since 1986. the 2017 reboot of ducktales, which was slated as “wanting to do for donald what goofy movie did for goofy,” featured both actors as those characters; they had also been doing the voices for the original ducktales and goof troop/goofy movie. all the times goofy and donald interact in the 2017 ducktales however, donald was voiced by guest star don cheadle as a joke

current voice of mickey mouse bret iwan has stated that he has attempted to play kingdom hearts and did not do well

disneyland’s current world of color halloween overlay features a plot that is basically “the disney villains simultaneously adopt a goth kid” and i love it

people will make jokes about “well math says that the beast would’ve been 11 when he was cursed” well that was actually the original intent, but a flashback scene of baby beast was scrapped because he looked “too much like eddie munster”

when disney sent a representative to pixar to check on toy story production, she was like “this is all great! what style of music are you thinking” and they were like “for what” “for the songs” “we uh. we weren’t gonna have. any songs” and she went dead silent and then went “i have to make a call” and left the room

saludos amigos and the three caballeros were made as ww2 propaganda. the government commissioned disney to make movies to make latin america like them so that they wouldnt side with the nazis and provide them an in to invade, and latin america really liked donald duck so

saludos amigos was apparently the first time many usamericans realized that latin american people were like. people. film historian alfred charles richard jr said that the film “did more to cement a community of interest between peoples of the americas in a few months than the state department had in fifty years”

while latin america generally liked both films, chilean cartoonist rené rios boettiger fucking hated the chilean segment of saludos amigos, seeing the main character of pedro the plane as a weakass bitch, so in response he created condorito, the most popular comic character in all of latin america

disney wanted to adapt ts eliot’s old possum’s book of practical cats. his widow adamantly refused, and then sold the rights to andrew lloyd webber bc he wanted to make it sexy and she said “tom would’ve liked that”

in case you haven’t seen the defunctland, walt disney wanted epcot to be a futuristic utopia where he was basically the dictator. then he died so they just made it another theme park

speaking of defunctland the first defunctland video was on disneyworld’s alien attraction and please watch it. please it’s so funny

after the huge failure of the black cauldron disney was going to shut down its animation department. the department tried to convince them to keep them alive by showing them the one scene they had finished for the next movie– the mouse burlesque from the great mouse detective. it worked

the only attraction the black cauldron ever got was in tokyo disneyland where they put a tour under cinderella’s castle where everyone had to escape the disney villains trying to kill them, only to end at the horned king and the cauldron, who would try to sacrifice them to satan. this tour was popular but was closed in the early 2000s as the tunnels didn’t fit earthquake regulations and i want it in disneyworld so bad

walt disney once referred to his unionizing workers, led by goofy’s creator art babbitt, as “commie sons of bitches,” and i want a mickey build-a-bear that calls me a commie son-of-a-bitch whenever i squeeze its paw

[revasserium]

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

[kitkatpancakestack]

Just re-watched some eps in s4 and I know it's all been said before but I'll say it again. My favorite thing about one Evan Buckley? His anger. He has so much pure, burning anger in him. This man is not just a "hothead," he has some mfing demons. The scene when he blows up at his parents? All of his flashbacks in Buck Begins, especially when he crashes his motorcycle? Up until season 4 we just see Buck as this idealistic, kind of ignorant and gullible, boneheaded frat bro with somewhat good intentions. But Buck has been egregiously hurt throughout his life. Also he's enormous. He could be a really mean dude. He could be rough and aggressive and violent and spiteful.

But he isn't.

We are all paradoxical but damn do I love the flavor of paradox that is Buck.

And I know we all like to bemoan Buck's screen time and his storylines but tbh he did start the show in such a place (age, demeanor, kind of an impressionable blank slate) that afforded him an advantageous position. And nothing is perfect but like, his story kind of slaps though. And season 4 cracks him open in such a fantastic way and I honestly wish they would explore the internal struggle of that more. I mean, what would it take for him to snap? How much does he have to battle those demons? Was he always like this or how did he learn to quiet his anger? Show me THIS. The entire lightning strike arc was a big ass flop to me sorry.

Anyway, long story short, the best part about Buck is that he isn't this pure uwu baby that needs to be taken care of and coddled, and I won't let the growing faction of Buck stans who just get hard-ons for pouty white boys, and who have clearly never watched the source material, permanently defile his character. He has some serious darkness in him, and he could have so easily turned out different. Buck is the master of facades no matter how mature he becomes. Choosing kindness and goodness is always more work than the other way around. And that's why Evan Buckley will always have a special place in my heart. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[4th-make-quail]

IWTV Fic Recs - Old Man Daniel Focused

I've been meaning to put together a list somewhere for this, and since I just sent a bunch to someone, here it is finally! it's a mix of Armand/Daniel, Daniel/Louis, Armand/Daniel/Louis in various configurations - please enjoy!

if you read and enjoy these fics, please make sure to leave a comment for the authors on ao3!

Daniel/Louis

Conflict of Interest, by hereticas - T, 2000 words

Louis comes by Daniel's room the morning after they recover their memories of San Francisco.

Very very cute kissing post s02e05 fic!

Daniel/Louis, Daniel/Louis/Armand, Armand/Daniel, Armand/Louis (combo of all)

it seemed the thing to do (what made me think I could start clean slated?), by fastcarmp3 - E, 3900 words, WIP

Louis asked Daniel if he wanted to… now. It wasn’t an empty offer.

Danlou with Armand watching which is SMOKING HOT

Terza Rima, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1700 words

Daniel finally gets what he came to Dubai for, but the aftermath brings even more questions.

INCREDIBLY hot threesome with stellar character voices, bit of Armand Voyeurism (THE GOOD SHITE), bit of Daniel being a slut for being bitten

That's It, Mr. Molloy, by anonymous - E, 4900 words

Daniel finds himself distracted, during the interview. Rashid comes to help, and invites Louis along, too. He snaps his gaze away, clearing his throat. “So, are we, uh…talking about that? Or…” “Talking?” Rashid cocks his head, amused. “Is that what you would like to do, Mr. Molloy? Talk?” As he speaks, he steps forward, walking Daniel backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Daniel looks back, startled, as though he hadn’t realized he was moving, at all. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Molloy?” Rashid asks, gesturing.

that old man gets PROPERLY FUCKED!! bit of a Rashid!Armand situation, bit of massage, very very hot

Push it away but it all comes back again, by butchybats - E, 5400 words

“'Let me get this straight. You left me for dead,' Daniel addresses Louis, who very pointedly does not make eye contact with him. This time Daniel turns slightly to face Armand. 'And you saved my life in the most erotic way possible?'” Or: All Daniel wants is to resume the interview like normal after finding out about the supposed "love of Louis' life". Louis and Armand have better plans.

Threesome sex VERY HOT (includes a bit of flashback to 70s era) with a really fucking excellent Daniel Voice!

Armand/Daniel

were the flowers orange?, by andrealyn - T, 6700 words

Years ago, Daniel cut out the love of his life to save himself from choking on tiger eye, daylily, bird of paradise. Now, in Dubai, suddenly the disease returns even though the only thing that's changed is Rashid became Armand. And yet, the flowers tell him something -- whoever he cut out is fighting like hell to be remembered.

Absolutely DEVASTATING hanahaki fic, this shit is really fucking good!!!

the fog eating the night, by tei - E, 3700 words

If Louis had wanted him alive, he'd have escorted him out himself. But he hadn't. He'd left Daniel standing there stunned, and walked out like none of this had mattered to him at all. Whether he meant to or not, Louis had given Daniel to Armand.

Very tasty post s02e08 turning fic! Really damn good Daniel Voice.

At Close of Day, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1700 words

On a frigid Christmas night, Daniel and Armand celebrate being alone together as they explore their budding relationship.

Really hot with human!Daniel! A top Armand who absolutely ADORES him, it's very fucking cute

Only a Name, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1500 words

In Dubai, Daniel is visited in dreams by an opinionated young man--but there's something terribly familiar about him.

More Rashid!Armand fic, very very fucking hot

strange mutations, by leavethebes - E, 11000 words

Armand’s done it to him once before—gored him through the stomach, gutted him like a fish, snipped his gills off, and drained him right down to the fluttering valves of his heart. Left Daniel little more than a shriveled husk of a person, and somehow Daniel is back here anyway, on his knees in front of Armand and begging for the oblivion that was promised.

Post s2 but before Armand turns Daniel, really fun Armand interfering in Daniel's life post-Dubai and another excellent Daniel Voice!

Devouring, by verimeru - Mature, comic

An 11-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand facing his worst nightmare.

OUGH, MY FEELS.....

Daddy, by GreyGiantess & verimeru - Mature, comic

“What's with the face?” Daniel asked. Armand’s eyes widened slightly, which was probably meant to make him look innocent, but it only made The Face worse. “This is just my regular face, Daniel.” “Yeah, right. You’re up to something.” In which VERIMURU and GRAYGIANTESS team up to give you the Armandaniel age difference COMIC you didn't know you needed! Very loosely related to Baby.

VERY cute age difference comic with human Daniel! Appreciated him still having his parkinson's, and their relationship and dynamic is SO cute

whip in my valise, by firstaudrina - E, 3100 words

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Armand said. “Yeah,” Daniel said, the word an aggravated pull. “Well.” Old Man Daniel goes to Night Island.

Very very good, VERY VERY HOT, excellent level of fucked up with some delicious voyeurism also

[pandorem]

Thinking about Crystal and what how she acts after her loss of memories says about her pre-memory loss, especially when it comes to her parents. Some amnesia stories have their characters become a complete blank slate with no ties to their prior selves but I don’t think Dead Boy Detectives does that, it does a pretty good job of showing that Crystal is still coming from the same basis, she’s just surrounded by less toxic people now who are pulling her in a better direction. She’s still not used to connecting with other people and seeing where they’re coming from and it shows, but she’s learning.

So given that, given how I believe her characterization is good and makes a lot of sense between her old and new self (even if it’s in implications) it says a LOT about old Crystal that new Crystal is so earnestly desperate for her parents, especially her mom. Old Crystal had built up layers of anger and resentment, she even acknowledges this to Esther, but it hadn’t built up enough that without her memories something in her knew instinctually that going to her parents wasn’t an option. She says she feels like people didn’t like her very much, she has that instinct, but not that her parents won’t be scared for her or might not realize she’s gone. She says to Niko that it’s like “I want my parents to help me find my parents”.

What this says to me is that Crystal before she lost her memories is still DESPERATELY hoping for her parents’ attention and love, still earnestly wanting them to take care of her. That her acting out might be at least partially hoping for them to take notice. There’s a moment in her flashback where she gets cut off while saying that her parents’ won’t even- notice probably, but it’s so, so telling that she hasn’t internalized that though pattern enough that the instinct would break through the memory loss.

And that’s honestly more heartbreaking to me, as well as just some great characterization.

[rafecswhore]

almost, always. - r.c x pogue! reader

summary: you and rafe cameron were always on opposite sides of the outer banks—pogue versus kook, wild optimism versus self-destructive chaos. when the relationship fell apart a year ago, you thought it was over. but as rafe reappears in your life with his clean slate and a determination to change, you’re forced to confront the question: is it too late to rebuild what you once had?

present day: first encounter

the sun was low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the quiet gas station parking lot. you’d just finished your shift at the wreck, your body sore and your mind a little numb from hours of work.

you stood at the pump, watching the numbers climb painfully slowly. you weren’t paying much attention—until the unmistakable growl of a truck engine filled the air.

you froze. you didn’t need to turn to know whose truck it was.

still, curiosity won.

a quick glance confirmed it: rafe cameron.

but he didn’t look like the rafe you remembered. gone were the messy blond locks you used to run your fingers through. his hair was buzzed now, a clean-cut look that felt jarring against the wildness you knew he carried.

he stepped out of the truck, his movements casual, but there was tension in his shoulders. topper was with him, rambling on about something you didn’t care to hear. then, like he could feel you looking, rafe’s eyes flicked toward you.

you saw the moment he recognized you. his body went still, his mouth parting slightly like he wasn’t sure if you were real.

“y/n,” he said, his voice carrying across the parking lot.

you wanted to look away, pretend you hadn’t seen him, but it was too late now.

“rafe,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral.

topper, ever the instigator, smirked and muttered something to rafe before disappearing into the truck.

rafe didn’t move. he just stood there, staring at you, his buzzed hair catching the last rays of sunlight.

“you look… different,” he said finally.

you snorted, turning back to the pump. “so do you.”

“yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “trying something new.”

“well, good for you.”

you finished filling your tank, shoved the nozzle back in place, and climbed into your car. as you pulled away, you could still feel his eyes on you.

flashback: how it began

the first time you met rafe, you wanted to punch him in the face.

you were working a double shift at the wreck, exhausted and over it, when he walked in with topper and kelce. they weren’t regulars. kooks usually avoided pogue hangouts unless they wanted to cause trouble.

“what is this place, a charity kitchen?” topper had joked loudly as they sat down, earning a round of laughter from the group. you rolled your eyes, grabbing their drinks and making your way to their table.

“if you’re not happy, you know where the door is,” you said, slamming the beers down harder than necessary. rafe looked up at you, his blue eyes sharp and a little amused. “feisty,” he said, smirking. “i like it.”

“yeah, well, i don’t like you,” you shot back, turning to walk away.

later that night, when you were taking the trash out, he was waiting for you by the back door.

“what do you want, cameron?” you asked, crossing your arms. “just wanted to say sorry,” he said, his tone surprisingly genuine. “and… maybe ask you out.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “not a chance.”

but something about the way he smiled—crooked, a little shy—stayed with you.

present day: the bonfire

you didn’t know he’d be there.

the bonfire was supposed to be a fun night, a chance to let loose with your friends. but when rafe’s truck pulled into the chateau driveway, the energy shifted.

“why the hell is he here?” jj muttered, glaring as rafe stepped out. “sarah invited him,” kiara said, rolling her eyes.

you tried to focus on stacking firewood, pretending you didn’t notice the way rafe’s buzzed head stood out against the crowd.

but you noticed.

it was impossible not to.

he didn’t say much, keeping to the edges of the group. but his eyes found you every chance they could. when you finally stepped away to get some air, it didn’t take long for him to follow.

“y/n,” he called softly, his voice careful.

you turned to face him, your arms crossed. “what do you want, rafe?”

he hesitated, his hands shoved into his pockets. “i just… i wanted to talk.”

“about what?”

“about us,” he said, his blue eyes scanning your face. “about… everything.”

“rafe—”

“i know i messed up,” he said quickly. “i know i wasn’t what you needed, and i don’t blame you for leaving. but i’ve been trying. i swear, i’ve been trying.”

you stared at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice.

“why now?” you asked, your voice quiet.

he ran a hand over his buzzed head, his jaw tightening. “because i can’t stop thinking about you. because no matter what i do, it always comes back to you.”

flashback: the breakup

it wasn’t one fight that ended things. it was a hundred little ones.

but the final straw came one night when rafe showed up drunk to your birthday dinner, hours late and reeking of whiskey.

“you couldn’t even try,” you said, your voice shaking as he leaned against the doorway of your apartment.

“i’m here, aren’t i?” he slurred, his words biting.

“this isn’t working, rafe,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “we’re not working.”

“don’t do this,” he said, his tone desperate. “please, y/n. don’t.”

but it was already done.

a small, genuine smile spread across his face. “as slow as you need.” and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe in the possibility of almost, always.

present day: the second chance

“you hurt me,” you said, your voice trembling as you stood on the dock, staring at the boy who had once been your world.

“i know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “and i’ll never forgive myself for that. but i swear, y/n, i’m not that guy anymore.”

you looked at him, really looked at him. his buzzed hair, his tired eyes, the way his shoulders seemed lighter but still carried the weight of something unspoken.

“why should i believe you?” you asked.

he stepped closer, his voice soft but steady. “because i’m still standing here, trying. because you’re the only thing that’s ever felt worth it.”

your heart ached, torn between fear and hope.

“we’ll take it slow,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓪

Part🥀

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Plus size! Fem!Reader (no mention of ethnicity)

Summary: Trapped in a prison of your husband and your mother’s expectations, haunted by the memory of your best friend, your only comfort is the ghost in your garden.

You thought you would never see him again but when he unexpectedly returns home from the war after 12 years, you’re not prepared for what’s to come.

wc: 6k

Warnings: Feminism doesn’t exist in this fic,  the story is set between 1950-1965, fertility issues, detailed mention of miscarriage, body shaming (not from Steve), implied boner and handjob, violence, terms of endearment (I got carried away jsjs), detailed sexual abuse attempt (not from Steve), domestic violence, flashbacks and small time jumps (I hope it’s not confusing lmao), changing POVs (again, I hope it’s not confusing lmao), please let me know if I missed anything! more warnings to be added in part II.

a/n: This is my entry to @witchywithwhiskey 's Slasher Summer writing challenge, with the prompts: small town and stalker. I've poured my heart and soul into this fic, I had so many ideas I had to cut the fic in half so part two will be posted soon I hope (but it won't be part of the wc given that it ends today hehe) I hope you like it 👉🏼��🏼

This is not beta'd any and all mistakes are my own.

“Move” your mother reprimanded.

You wanted to, you did, but your body wouldn’t listen, your chest was so heavy you felt trapped under the covers.

The sky was so blue, it reminded you of the blue puppies you once had in the garden. You cried all night when you came home from a trip to find them wilted and forgotten by your husband, they were the same shade as those eyes… every time you tended to them, it was like he was looking at you.

“Speak! Do something!” she hissed, the blue sundown behind her, tainted the room slate, and her black eyes became even darker. You noticed as she screamed in your face that her breath smelled of cigarettes, normally you’d be cowering in fear or trying to appease her but you remained frozen not even blinking.

Letting out a snort she wipes the sweat off your forehead with a cloth, “Look at yourself”, the woman grimaced, did you truly look so ghastly? 

You wished she would just leave you, your mother was a busy woman, she had other things to do than take care of you… you hate to bother her.

“if you get any bigger people will know”, you vaguely hear her words,  you tried to care but the sky was so beautiful, so peaceful, something you appreciated given your current state. Your whole body ached and nausea kept you awake every night, you were exhausted, and yet sleep never came.

“You reap what you sow darling, you must've done something to dese- You should be thanking God John hasn’t left you yet! he won’t put up with this for long, he wants a wife, not this” Her hand points to you in bed with a scowl on her lips.

Tears start streaming down your face, you wish the shadows in your room swallowed you. As saliva gathers in your tongue you feel like you’re about to throw up but your body still wouldn’t move. 

She’s still rambling on about your failures as a woman, pacing around the room, so you take a frame from under your pillow, it was a photo of him and you.

Sophomore year, both of you sat on a bench just outside of your high school, he looked so handsome, you remember it well. Right after fall break, he wore a wool waistcoat that was much bigger for his skinny figure, and his hair was perfectly combed.

Both of you smiled from ear to ear, he was hunched over while you sat up straight with your knees resting on his.

It felt like it was a lifetime ago, instead of 12 years, you didn’t particularly enjoy high school, but Steve Rogers made it memorable.

Once upon a time you lived in the same neighborhood since you were 8 years old, the first time you saw him he was having an asthma attack as he crashed his bike into some trash cans. You ran to his side and quickly introduced yourself, his scrawny hand shook yours back before you took the white ribbon from your dress and pressed it against his bleeding forehead.

He instinctively reached for his head and your fingers grazed him for just a second, eyes so focused on yours, you realized he was scared, so your other hand reached to comfort him… sometimes you think you’ve held hands ever since, and neither of you could let go.

You couldn’t be separated even if your parents threatened and bargained, inseparable would be an understatement. After the accident, Steve found a kindred spirit and comfort in your friendship, while you discovered fierce loyalty and kindness. 

It was strange that, at such a young age you felt drawn to Steve, and you knew he did too, as children it only made you want to spend every second of every day together.

You’d spend summers, riding your bikes all over town despite your mother’s scorn, listening to Billie Holiday records in Grandma Rogers’ dusty old house, reading in the library until it closed, playing tag in his living room while his mother baked in the kitchen, hiding in his basement every time your dad picked you up. 

When the days you spent together weren’t enough, you begged for sleepovers, your sister had them all the time after all, but your mother thought it improper for a boy to sleep over, so eventually, you fashioned a sheet rope for Steve to climb once everyone had gone to bed, and then he’d sleep by your side.

Some nights you’d whisper what you imagined the past was like, both of you were passionate about history, sometimes Steve would caress your hair while you sobbed into his shoulder, cursing to hell all belts, but most nights you would stay silent, holding hands until you fell asleep, once the sun was up, Steve’s side of the bed was always empty.

This went on for years, even in high school, your love for each other only grew, despite the silly arguments like you spending more time studying than with Steve, or him always getting a black eye never knowing when to stand down. 

The both of you knew this was forever, and there was nothing you could do or say that would make either of you leave.

You tried getting out of his hold, squirming and pushing, if it were anyone else you’d be suffocated, “G-osh Stevie for someone so lean, you sure are strong” you huffed and puffed.

“If my mother finds us cuddling she’ll never let you see me again” You laughed, but you weren’t kidding, young ladies were never to engage in inappropriate behavior with boys your mother would always tell you.

“Yeah, I’d like to see her try” Steve grunted, almost possessively, his arms only squeezing you further into his chest, you couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t because of his bruising hold, chills went down your spine, and butterflies flew in your stomach.

You chose to ignore his comment and what it made you feel, “We have to go soon, Bucky won’t wait for us forever and he’s our ride”, finally you felt Steve’s arms relax but his hands remained on your back, rubbing it.

Catching him off guard, you free yourself and jump out of bed, quickly running to your mirror to check if your hair still looks good and to your relief it does. As you turn back you catch a glimpse of him adjusting his pants which makes your cheeks burn hot, you didn’t understand why that made you proud, and it isn’t the first time it’s happened, but Steve reassured you it was normal…

You weren’t brave enough to ask him if it was normal that you wanted to touch it.

As you walk out to your porch, Steve’s hand reaches for yours, “Promise you won’t stray too far from me, God knows what kind of people Tony invites to his parties”, his eyes search yours for something, you don’t know what, so you nod while your thumb caressed his knuckles, Bucky was already on your driveway honking the horn without any regard for your neighbors. 

“You’re lucky my parents are out of town Barnes!” you laugh as Steve opens the door for you, once everyone has their seat belts on, per your request, you head to Stark Manor.

After a short drive, you enter Tony Stark's ancestral home, it seems like the whole high school was invited. You never liked parties all that much, and neither did Steve but you thought socializing with other people besides each other would do you good, your mother insisted on it.

Swallowing a nervous gulp, you instinctively reached for Steve’s hand, just for a few seconds but then Peggy Carter jumped into his arms with a red smile and an even more gorgeous red dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

She was an exchange student, she was relatively new to the school but she quickly befriended your little group of friends, with her London charm and wit.

Your heart sank to your stomach and a knot formed in your throat when you saw his hands on her sides. Why were you jealous? he’s your friend you had to remind yourself, Steve couldn’t always be by your side, you knew this… and yet you couldn’t help the sickness brewing deep in your stomach when Peggy’s hands roamed all over Steve.

It was obvious Peggy liked him, but Steve’s reluctance to take her hand gave you a moment of relief, but then he was gone, lost in the sea of people. You hugged yourself as you considered asking Bucky to take you back home, but he already had his tongue down Dot’s throat.

Against your better judgment and Steve’s warnings, you found yourself in the bar, admiring all the bottles of liquor that came in different shapes and sizes, the one called Unicum caught your attention but as soon as you smelled it, you put it away.

“Not a fan I take it?” a voice comes from behind, following it, you find the host himself wearing a black turtle neck along with a blazer that hugs him just right, his brown eyes slowly studying you while he takes a sip of his drink.

Putting back the bottle, you chastised yourself for picking it up in the first place, “I’m sorry, this is expensive, I shouldn’t have touched it, I’m- I’m sorry” you sputtered.

You were nervous, but you realized you liked the attention, Tony was every girl’s dreamboat and the fact that his eyes were so focused on your body was thrilling.

With a sly smirk, he walks closer to you, “Don’t you worry Honeybun, that’s my father’s drink, break the damn thing if you want” he chuckled, “You’re Rogers’ little pet, aren’t you? he leave you all alone?”, he sounded a little drunk already.

Before you could get mad at his nickname, his arm wrapped itself around your waist “I think you’re a sweet-tooth Honeybun, you’re going to love Grasshoppers” he stated, without giving you a chance to refuse.

You were delighted to find out you did love the creamy drink, and after a few of them, Tony started to be less annoying to you, and if you squinted you could pretend he looked like Tony Curtis.

You missed Steve, where is he?

As Tony dragged you to the dance floor, squished between the crowd of drunk classmates, you started to feel suffocated and Tony’s grip on your wrist was starting to hurt, but your head was so fuzzy, and the room was so loud, he probably couldn’t even hear your protest.

Tony finally stops, his hands wander down your back until they’re on your waist, and his fingers dig into your dress, making your heart skip a beat, as he starts swaying you, Steve emerges from the sea of dancing silhouettes.

His smile of relief drops when he sees another man’s hands around your waist, you almost push Tony away in response, but you just put on your best smile.

 “H- Hey I’ve been looking all over for you”, Steve says, his tone is friendly but his eyes darken when Tony pulls you closer to him, making you trip a little, you didn’t have your wits about you, and Steve notices.

“Baby I need to get you home” he almost pleaded, you’re shocked he called you the nickname he only used when you’re alone, his perfect blue eyes had… longing in them? that couldn’t be right, especially when you discover the mark of red lips on his cheek, making your blood boil.

“I don’t want to leave Steve, I’m- I’m having fun with… T-Tony”, you tried to sound unyielding but you could feel the tension rise between the two men, you were never good with confrontation.

“You heard her little man, you shouldn’t have left her all alone if you didn’t want someone to steal her from you”, Tony says matter-of-factly.

Your best friend looks stoic, not moving a muscle, he looks intimidating despite Tony being much taller than him. He’s one step away from invading Tony’s space, but you’re quick to place your hand on his chest, and you immediately feel him relax, his eyes soften too when he turns to you.

“Go back to Peggy, I’m sure she’s waiting for you” is all you say with a wavering smile.

His hand wants to reach for you but all he does is nod before he disappears into the crowd, you’re a little disappointed. The rest of the night is eternal, your feet grow sore, and you had your 4th grasshopper a minute ago so your mind is comfortably numb, but every time Tony gropes your hips, or his fingers trace your cheeks, you feel guilt deep in your stomach, and to your dismay the party only seems to intensify.

As you slow danced you tried to ignore how dizzy you felt, but when the song ended you couldn’t help but let your weight fall into Tony’s arms, he just laughed and reaffirmed his hold on you “C’mon Honeybun don’t tell me you’re sleepy, night’s young! I want to show you something”.

You felt him move you before you could even respond, “Wh-where are we going Steve?” you slurred, not realizing you called him by another name, your question was met with silence, Tony just kept on pulling you across the grand hall.

“I want to show you the pretty flowers in the garden Honeybun, no one will bother us” his smile was wide but it did nothing to ease you, he shushed you while you tried to voice your thoughts.

You felt watched… the night breeze flew by your dress and your skin prickled, but it wasn’t because of the night chill. You were too busy admiring the pastoral landscape to worry, your eyes followed the tree-lined path up to a beautiful pond, with pink roses everywhere, but before you could take a step forward, you were being pushed up against a stone wall.

“Ow! Tony what-” His lips crushed yours before you could finish your sentence, he tasted bitter and unwanted, you tried pushing him away but you were weak, the alcohol in you like heavy chains around your arms and legs.

“Don’t you wanna make me feel good Honeybun?” he slurred in your ear, your stomach filled with dread, you almost gagged, “please stop” you begged, but his hand brutishly covered your mouth “Shut up” he spat while his assault continued down your neck, you could hear his belt coming off and alarms went off in your head, a scared whimper managed to escape his hand.

The party was roaring inside, and the music was muffled by the stone walls, you were sure no one would hear your screams, you sobbed at the realization. You were about to accept your fate but then Tony’s thrown back by the neck and into the dirt, it was Steve! 

Before you could react he was already on top of Tony pummeling him without compassion, animalistic grunts escaping his lips as his knuckles bloodied themselves.

“You don’t fucking touch her!” Steve growled, “You’re going to wish you were dead you piece of shit”, the hits kept coming, and you couldn’t stop watching, it was horrifying watching your best friend become this violent, controlled by his dark impulses, but a small part of you, a part of you that you wouldn’t acknowledge felt satisfaction, pride even…

Tony had been unconscious for a minute now and Steve wouldn’t stop, you were surprised he wasn’t having an asthma attack by now, the sickening sound of his fist meeting beaten flesh brought you out of your thoughts, you quickly ran to Steve to make him stop.

You grabbed his bloody fist in the air “Steve stop, you’re going to kill him” you cried, both of you heaving, you sensed Steve was making an effort to hold back, the blue in his eyes was almost gone, with only rage in them, “He should be six feet under just for putting his hands on you” he gruffed, you didn’t know how to respond so you only nodded, taking his hands in yours, and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Seeing your blood-stained lips made him feel unlike anything he’d ever felt before, a sense of ownership pleasantly lingered, but as he searched to see if you were harmed, your tear-streaked face made him move off Tony, and take you in his arms, the warmth radiating from him finally calmed you enough to let yourself feel the terror of what could’ve happened to you.

You let it all out onto Steve’s shoulder like you’ve done countless times before… except this was different, you’ve always felt safe with Steve, but after tonight, you also felt protected.

“I won’t let anybody touch you again baby” he lulls, your arms wrap around his neck and instinctively you rub off on his chest, needing to be as close to him as possible, his scent already soothing your soul.

“I promise”, he whispers in your ear and kisses your temple with such tenderness you barely feel his lips… everything is going to be ok.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice,

then kiss me once again 

It’s been a long, long time 

Haven’t felt like this, my dear since I

can’t remember when

It’s been a long, long time 

          ♫ ♪

“He’s back in town” Peggy repeats after you remained silent for an awkward amount of time, you just couldn’t stop replaying this one song in your head…

“Did you even hear what I said?” Peggy’s annoyance startles you, making you drop the cup of tea you were nursing.

She rolls her eyes at you, while she grabs a dishtowel to wipe the spilled liquid, “Steve Rogers is back” she deadpans, carefully observing your reaction.

“So sad Sarah isn’t here to welcome him back home” you whispered, tears threatening to spill at the memory of the woman who took care of you for so long, far more tender than your mother ever was to you.

“Honorably discharged” she continued, probably not even hearing your comment “They even made him a Captain, can you imagine? I-”.

She keeps on talking but it’s all muffled noise to your ears, your mind running a million miles per hour. 

Would you give him a call? 

how much can war change a man? 

would he call you? 

what would you say if you bumped into each other at the supermarket? God, John doesn’t even know about him.

Knowing Steve was home rekindled the heartache you managed to bury in the back of your mind every single day, it took everything in you not to start crying every time you remembered his broken promise, but you learned a long time ago that it was best to keep your emotions under lock and key.

The sound of running water finally distracted you from your consuming thoughts, “Hon are you sure you’re up for visitors?” Peggy sings with faux concern as she does the dishes, “I know you’re still not over the incident but I have to agree with your mother, you need to try harder, this is not normal, when I was preg-”

Willing yourself not to throw the porcelain cup at her head, you grinned, “Maybe we’ll see Steve at the reunion, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you Peggy”, you sassed behind your stiff smile, but of course, she didn’t notice. Her reaction only confirmed what you suspected, like a little girl her ears perked up and her cheeks turned bright red “It’ll be so good to see everyone again” Peggy tried to conceal her excitement.

“I’m sure your husband will enjoy seeing everyone too” you reminded her, too tired to play nice with her.

Peggy’s eyes widen “You see, I don’t think Tony will be able to attend… you know how he is, always work work work” she laughs nervously.

You know better than that, Tony Stark was a sleazy drunk, you knew it since that night back in high school, but as the years passed, Tony’s attempts to hide his transgressions were feeble, by now the whole town knew every time he went away for business to New York City, he was on a bender gambling, drinking and sowing his wild oats, but Tony’s wealth and power always kept him out of trouble.

“Of course, I’m sure he’ll be back from his business trip just in time for the reunion” You pleasantly smiled before getting up and cutting up a piece of pink azalea cake for her to take back home, far, far away from you.

Once Peggy’s gone you start your chores, it was always the same, wash John’s clothes and press them, hang them by the door for the next day, then clean the windows, wash the curtains, scrub the floors until they’re shining, and never mop, last time you did your husband almost burned your books. Dust his trophy cabinet, sweep the garage, and finally make dinner and keep it in the oven so it’s warm when your husband comes home.

After finishing everything up to John’s liking, you always end up in your garden, the joy of your life besides a good book.

Your garden wasn’t grand or exotic like the other housewives’ gardens, Peggy would often say it was dull or pitiful or both, but in your eyes, it was precious and full of life. 

From hybrid phlox, peonies, and hydrangeas to blue holly bushes, you took care of them with love and tenderness, your garden was your comfort in your darkest days, sometimes the only thing you looked forward to in your day.

But your roses… they were your most prized possession, every day without fail you tended to them, making sure they were safe and felt cared for, sometimes you would even sing to them, your roses were your babies, you could never forsake them like he did you.

You cried as you fertilized the earth for your youngling, your tears fell on the little sprout right next to the other roses, now in full bloom. 

Your mind wandered 9 years back to when you first married John. You couldn’t fight your mother any longer, for years you rejected any suitor she brought, doctors, lawyers, professors, none of them compared to the one person you truly loved. Despite your mother’s constant denial, you hoped Steve would safely return and finally admit the feelings you knew he had for you, and take you far away… 

But it was a silly fantasy, he never wrote, not once since you said goodbye that September night, so long ago, you hated him for it, you never understood why he abandoned you like that, you only knew he was alive because of the letters he sent to his mother, but his beautiful eyes haunted you at night, and when you didn’t dream of him you resented him for it.

Then your mother arranged a date with John Walker, he was young, easy on the eyes, and set to inherit his grandfather’s sugar company which was said to be a very wealthy prospect. He wasn't particularly sweet or charming but his easy-going smile helped you ease your nerves.

The first thing he did when he saw you was take your hand and plant a kiss on your knuckles, he was sturdy and his posture was always rigid, but he had this suave confidence that made you think he owned the entire world.

He offered stability and comfort when you needed it the most, so you forced yourself to love him, you told yourself that he would be a good husband despite not knowing his faults or even his traits,... Steve wasn't coming back, so you decided to trust your mother's judgment.

The first year of your marriage you came to accept the fact that as hard as you tried, you would never feel the same way for your husband as you did for your best friend, but life with John had become comfortably dull. 

You never thought your life would turn like it did… 

As you adapted to married life, you found out John’s easy going smile was a facade, he was strict and expected certain things of you. To please him in every possible aspect, that was a wife's duty after all, he'd turn mean and a brute if you failed in your duties but if you followed the rules, he would leave you be to read your books and tend to the garden. You learned the hard way if he came home to find his clothes wrinkly or God forbid the floors mopped instead of scrubbed, you would suffer the consequences.. 

Eventually, you learned to appease his ego and keep your head down, your days went out painfully slow, and you would dread every time the hands of the clock slowly approached the time of his return, each day you wondered what new insult John had prepared to make you feel inadequate. 

Thinking his temper would placate once you carried his child was naive, you realize that now. The first time you got pregnant you were ecstatic to love someone with your whole heart and soul, and for your love to be returned, but soon there was nothing to tell.

It was difficult to keep it a secret from your husband, like your mother, he crushed you under his expectations, the weight of them almost unbearable, and both, always made sure you knew the disappointment that you were.

But missing his smell, the comfort he provided, missing Steve was the most painful.

Tonight was your high school reunion and you couldn’t stop pacing around the living room, it was almost time to leave and you were still waiting for John to come home and change. Given that it was summer, the nights were hotter so you wore a sleeveless, wide-skirt baby-pink dress, adorned with white lace, pearl earrings, and white gloves as the finishing touch.

You were about to call his office when you heard the car park in the driveway. Too anxious to wait for him, you ran outside ready to greet him with a scotch, “Welcome home dear, please hurry, I left your clothes on the bed. If we leave in five minutes no one will noti-”

John slams the car door before you can finish your sentence, “We’re not going” is all he says without sparing you a look, taking the scotch from your hand and drinking it in one gulp.

“Please John, don’t be like this” you protested, “you said we could-”

“For fucks sake!” your husband snapped, his hand hit the hood of his black Chevrolet Impala, making you jump scared, he treated that car like his baby… the alarms in your head cautioned you to choose your words carefully.

“J-John please, be reasonable, let’s go inside I’ll make you another drink” you pleaded, afraid the neighbors would hear you arguing, the street was busy with kids riding their bikes and people coming in and out of their homes.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” he barked out your name like an insult, his body shaking with anger he had to clench his fists, he took a step forward and you recoiled, making him huff in offense.

He took your wrist with force and jerked you towards him, making you tumble on your heels, “Stop being so dramatic” he reprimanded. You didn’t mean to upset him but you didn’t want to go alone, you couldn’t! John had promised weeks ago he would go.

“I fired over 50 of my best workers because they thought they could do whatever they wanted, I will teach you a fucking lesson too if you keep pushing me” he threatened with malice, tears threatened to spill, you didn’t want to look at him but his hand forced your chin up.

You instinctively shook your head, too afraid to even speak, that only fed his ego and in a second he was dragging you through the pavement and into the house, a sick smile displayed on his face. 

“John you’re hurting me” you panicked, holding onto his arms for some support, as he kicked the door close, he dropped you on the carpet of the living room, you almost hit your head against the tube.

Your husband’s chest heaves above you and before he can touch you again you quickly get on your knees with your head looking up, trying your hardest to make eye contact with the man you feared “I’m sorry!” you repeated over and over, the knot in your throat making it painful to speak.

After a long silence, you see his features relax, you’re flabbergasted by his swift change of attitude, his smile slowly widens and you flinch when his fingers wipe a single tear “That’s what I like to hear Sugar”. 

“You know what I think?” he continued,  “You should be at home trying to get pregnant and start our family instead of running off to a party and see some moron you used to be friends with”.

Nausea overwhelmed you at his implication but your mind spun at the mention of Steve, how on earth did he know about him?! Maybe you weren’t as discreet as you thought.

A stabbing pain on your wrist interrupted your thoughts and you reached for it, John comically pouts “I’m so sorry Sugar, work was just so stressful” he sighed while helping you stand up, your scrapped knees shake as you find your balance. You couldn’t be in the same room as him anymore, but your body wouldn’t move, he didn’t like it when you refused to look at him, so he tilted your chin up.

“Tell you what, I’ll let you go to this thing… I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”, he grinned, pulled you close to him and kissed your forehead, making your body tense.

You desperately wanted to push him off of you, and you almost did, but it wasn’t a good idea to piss him off further, after tonight, you weren’t sure how far your husband’s cruelty could go. 

“I need to call Peggy” stated, your voice meek, too afraid he would change his mind, “so they can come to pick me up” you clarify, taking John’s silence as your cue, you took a hesitant step back, and briskly walked to the phone in the kitchen, thankful you had some space from him.

After the 5th ring, Peggy finally picked up and without getting into the details, you explained to her why you needed a ride to the reunion, to which she reluctantly agreed. As you waited, you cleaned the scrapes on your knees, if you put on stockings no one would notice, you quickly re-did your makeup and hair, and It wasn’t more than 15 minutes when you heard Peggy’s tootle.

You were almost out the door when John called your name, clearly asserting once more his power over you, letting out a shuddery breath, you turned to face him with your chin held high. 

“Get me a beer” he commanded, too entranced with the boob tube to even bother looking at you, the room went quiet and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears, you knew what he wanted from you. You wondered if you would ever be free of his torment, but the weight of your wedding ring reminded you of your vows…

Till death do us part.

So you plastered on a graceful smile, walked to the kitchen and returned with an opened can to place in his hand, with a smug smirk, he pats your ass, “off you go” he dismissed, and you promptly did.

The ride to the school was silent, Peggy didn’t question your vacant stare or why you kept rubbing your wrist, her mood seemed sour and you had no intention of untwisting that ball of yarn she called a brain.

As you walked in, you barely recognized the halls you used to walk every day, you remember Steve struggling to open his locker, Bucky flirting with anyone who wore a skirt, skipping Gym class so Steve wouldn’t be all alone in detention.

As you walked into the gym, you admired the decorations, balloons scattered all over the floor, red and pink confetti cascading down on everyone, glimmering under the soft light. You recognized some people but there was so much people, you weren’t even sure you went to class with some of them, the party was in full swing, and people danced as the band played your favorite song.

Never thought that you would be 

Standing here so close to me 

There’s so much I feel that I should say

But words can wait until some other day.

                       ♫ ♪

You are as beautiful as the day he lost you, Steve thought, from all the way across the room, you still hadn’t seen him but he saw you the moment you walked into the room, stealing the air from his lungs.

His heart aches so painfully to be near you he swears it could be a heart attack, he was frozen in place afraid that if he moved you’d disappear, he wonders how long it would take for him to win you back…

Something in you compels you to turn around, and when you do, a gasp escapes you… You couldn’t believe your own eyes, for a moment you didn’t recognize him, he was taller and incredibly broad, nothing like the man you saw last a decade ago, his posture was intimidating, but then you met his eyes, and those were the same. He truly was back, and all those emotions you kept under lock broke free, making your legs move forward before you could think, he immediately did too, and suddenly the both of you were running through the crowd to get to each other.

Without hesitation, you crashed into his arms, and he crushed you to him, easily picking you up, he was definitely stronger. Breathing him in, a sob almost escaped your lips, it was still the same after 12 years, the noise around you drowns out and it’s as if the earth stops spinning altogether… “I’m so sorry you lost your mom”, you whimper, it was the first thing you needed to say.

His hold only tightens, making it harder to breathe, memories of his suffocating embrace making you feel warm inside, you grip the nape of his hair for comfort, “I didn’t get to say goodbye” Steve whispers into your neck. Since you can remember, you always hated when he was heartbroken, his pain was your own, you wished you could take it away. 

“I know”, you nod, before he slowly lets you down, making you realize just how much the height difference is, it made you nervous.

His hands settle on your lower back while yours rest on the sides of his shoulders, you’re so close, he’s hunched over and you’re on your tiptoes, just inches away from his lips,  his nose nudges your own for a moment, making the butterflies in your stomach wild, you feel drawn to each other like magnets. Steve’s leaning in, and like a bucket of cold water, you remember the last 12 years, you remembered how easily he abandoned you, breaking every promise he made to you.

You quickly turn your cheek and you can feel his disappointment boring into your head, taking a small step back, you hold his hand tightly, not redy to let him go yet, and you shake your head, silently telling him you couldn’t kiss him. 

The soldier had half a mind to grab and kiss you, remind you of what you meant to each other, after years and oceans apart he never stopped thinking about you. You both knew from the day  you met , you were his, and he wasn’t going to let anyone get in between the two of you ever again.

But before he could say anything, Peggy Carter approached them.

“Well well, look at you two chums getting reacquainted”, her smile was sickenly sweet, but her eyes told you, you were caught… How long had she been watching? you ask yourself as anxiety settles in your stomach, and then your husband’s words ring in your head.

“I know Tony and Peggy will keep an eye on you”.

Your heart beats incessantly against your chest, and your breathing becomes shallow, she was going to tell John, you realized… and you were terrified of what he would do.

To be continued… 

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged.

part 🥀🥀

[cress-meadowforge]

July 28th, 100

The finale would come today. There were only a dwindling handful of tributes left, fewer than could be counted on one hand, and that was for the best. It meant the exodus was beckoning, the shuttling of victors back to the districts, and she was desperate to withdraw from the Capitol. Back to One, back to the village, back to the living tomb of her victor home. The Games were supposed to be a reprieve. After all, she'd been tasked with training -- a true role, concrete purpose in this job. But there was no escape. There was no safe place in Panem, no corner that greed could not reach.

She'd sat at the vanity that morning and painted her face, color correcting the bruises along her jaw, layering foundation over the marks on her throat. There were more lower, beneath, but those were easy to cover and unlikely to be seen. And though she hated it -- the vile, wretched addiction that had been forced on her -- she'd downed a vile of morphling just to manage the pain. To stave the trembling. Only then, staring at herself in the mirror, a perfect veneer over a rotting core, did she feel prepared to enter the living world.

But something was different, some illusion shattered and sparking the loss of belief. Her faith was wavering. Hollow-eyed and numb, she stared blankly at the barista, solely relieved that it wasn't him. That this person could be just a means to getting what she wanted -- and as such, absolutely no one. A coffee, she ordered, or so she thought. The specifics were a blur. The size, iced or hot, milk, flavoring -- she wasn't sure what she'd asked for. Perhaps that was the lesson here: that regardless of her status, or her victory, or her talent, it didn't matter to the Capitol what she did or didn't want.

@slate-skylar

[cress-meadowforge]

Cressida looked at him with warranted confusion. Like he had two heads. Like he really was a famished little rat, swimming in his uniform, working his shift at the coffee shop. "Why in Snow's name would you do that? You've reiterated twice already how badly you need this job. You've apparently come all the way from Twelve for it. Why would you turn around and be willfully incompetent?" Cressida gawked, both uncertain and appalled. It made no sense. It was wasteful, and for what? "I don't understand you in the slightest," she agreed, staring intently, certain she was missing something. "But I'd quite like to puzzle you out. Tell me, do you even understand yourself?"

And then he was spouting off again, snide commentary spilling from his clever mouth. But for someone who didn't care, someone who wasn't bothered or affected or touched by anything, he sure seemed rather hung up. To burrow beneath his skin, to rile him up -- it was gratifying in more ways than one. "Oh, well, in that case," Cressida cooed, picking up a third cup, pouring plain, black coffee until it filled the mug. Then she slid it across the bar, right beneath the stranger's nose. The surface rippled and stilled, glossy and reflective. "There you go. Every time you sip, you'll see it." She smiled sweetly, expression smug, taking the milk foam and pouring it into her own cup.

You look like a famished little rat. Slate huffed. She might be pretty, yes, but there was no chance of him letting her know he thought that now. It was what she wanted. That and adoration, yes? Well, he would give neither. He was, after all, a famished little rat. "You misunderstand me, I'm snide and inept on purpose," he replied. It was some type of rebellion though he was unsure its purpose just yet.

"I don't care whether or not I hurt you. Maybe I could, maybe I couldn't." He did care, a bit. Or a lot. He wanted to know if he had power over her, because in this place, power was currency far more than the paper and coins that exchanged from hand to hand. But he wouldn't tell her that. Instead, he leaned against the counter, looking at the cups. "I'd like to see a famished little rat." He used her words, unknowingly proving that they'd bothered him just by echoing them, though he felt he was making some point.

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it Anyway?

A Companion to Owls.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Job 30:29-31 I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls. My skin is black upon me and my bones are burned with heat. My harp also is turned to mourning, and my organ into the voice of them that weep.

Continuing my analysis of the narrator/POV perspective of Good Omens season two with a look at the episode 2 minisode set in 2500 BC, Uz. God, I love this minisode.

For reference & context, I recommend reading these posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

Lens Filters

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

We open our journey into the land of Uz with Crowley giving Job's goats a speech that sounds awfully similar to his own troubled relationship with The Almighty. Crowley is alone here. The episode cold-opens and we've had no lead up to suggest otherwise, so this is Crowley's POV. His hair is short and more vibrant, I'd say this is likely the Black Diffusion FX filter.

Yes for the sake of this post I am doubling down on the fact that there are TWO SEPARATE WIGS. See more here.

Aziraphale arrives, he looks cute and silly, the permit is long, the goats are "destroyed" and they part ways.

The next scene we get is Aziraphale in heaven checking with Muriel and the Archangels that the permit Crowley has is in fact legitimate. This time, we are seeing Aziraphale's POV. Heaven is a stark white office building but the golden hue is almost overwhelming in this flashback. The Bronze Glimmer Glass filter is clearly being used here.

Aziraphale decides he's going to confront Crowley about saving the children, little does he know Crowley wouldn't harm them to begin with but regardless...

When we re-enter the minisode, we do so via a subtle zoom in on Crowley's face in modern day. We then enter the scene through Aziraphale's illustrated Bible and see Crowley asking Job where his kids are. We've again lost the golden glow of the BGG filter, moved back to the BDFX filter and into Crowley's POV. Crowley's hair is still short, Aziraphale isn't present here, he's alone, so these are his memories.

When we see Crowley walking up to the house to find the kids we have switched back to Aziraphale's POV. The scene is extremely warmly lit, it's soft and yellow, and Crowley is now in a different wig. His hair is much longer, softer and more attractive looking. In one of the X-Ray behind the Scenes videos I even caught a screenshot of the film slate from this scene and you can clearly that they've written in BGG as the filter used, so we have confirmation.

We continue through the Job minisode in Aziraphale's POV. The reveal of the goats, saving the kids, the ox rib temptation, the first conversation about loneliness, it's all from Aziraphale's POV. until after he "comes to" in the bookshop in present day.

When we revisit the minisode, and for the remainder of it we are seeing it from Crowley's POV which was an interesting thing to realize. We see Crowley and Aziraphale witness Job speaking with God, saving Jobs children, deceiving the Archangels, and having their emotionally revealing conversation overlooking the beautiful sea all from Crowley's POV. His hair remains short and more vibrant red throughout all of it, we don't see the return of his long long gingery waves. The lighting when the angels are present for the children's "resurrection" is very warm but I'm going to chalk that up to the Heavenly Hosts presence.

It makes sense that this reaction is Crowley's POV. Silly silly angel, did a good deed and thinks he's a demon?! But then he realizes how upset Aziraphale is, how scared and he comforts him. He tells him he isn't going to do anything that would hurt him, that would get him in trouble. Then, something about the fact that what follows is also from Crowley's memories, his perspective...

"That sounds..."

"Lonely? Yeah."

"But you said it wasn't."

"I'm a demon. I lied."

NEXT POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you see the differences between the game and the novel Twisted Wonderland? I didn't notice much until I searched on Youtube, Novel Ace was ready to apologize to Yuu ( in this case Yuuya) for insulting, Malleus isn't our little sweet dragon boy but literally choking Yuuya ?!

Yes, I do keep up with the differences between all official adaptations of TWST! This includes the light novel, which in my opinion has the most frequent and significant deviations from the game. It’s been very interesting to compare the two.

I don’t immediately comment on every change (of which there are many) I see unless specifically asked about it or I notice something pretty major. Some examples of the latter would be the like novels elaborating on Leona’s motives or Riddle’s flashback and the consequences of his actions.

I think this is facilitated by two factors: 1) the light novel format allowing for more space to expand on ideas and concepts, and 2) Yuuya is the most different Yuu we’re gotten. The game Yuu is very much a blank slate for players to project onto in order to easily immerse them in the story. Meanwhile, the manga Yuus tend to be the “helpful” types that move the story along in their own way. This is because the manga has limited space in the magazines they run in, so they need to keep things snappy and follow the main story pretty strictly. The light novel is able to stop and have the POV character reflect, doubt themselves, and refuse involvement because a medium that is inherently mostly words forces you to slow down and take in everything on the page. There’s no limit or demands of a book, so the events have much more time to “marinate”.

Personally, I really love a lot of the minor changes in the light novel. I feel they really flesh out the relationships between characters, particularly Yuuya and his friendship with Ace and Deuce. Ace actually has the guts to realize he was the one who fucked up and apologizes for being an ass. It’s so in line with the brutal honesty he dishes out it to others. Deuce stays up late into the night talking to Yuuya and makes them feel welcome because when was the last time he had done anything like this? Yuuya was always the loner back home, ignored by his classmates and feeling invisible. Now he has loyal friends who got his back and actively tell off mob students who sneer at his enrollment. Moments like this make me really care about their bond and make it more believable that they would trek halfway across Twisted Wonderland to come to Yuuya’s aid in the eventual book 4 of the novelization.

dbksbejwjwwhei The one thing that caught me off guard about your ask was the “Malleus chokes Yuuya” part, which I do not recall ever happening 😅 I went back into the light novel to cross reference just in case I had forgotten! I believe you’re referring to when Yuuya and Malleus first meet in book 2? In which case, I think there was reader misinterpretation involved.

What happens is that Malleus begins to introduce himself, then stops and says he permits Yuuya to pick a name for him. But Yuuya, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of nicknaming someone he just met, asks for Malleus’s actual name (something which game Yuu does not do). This incurs Malleus’s anger—“I have said no. Did you not hear me?” It is then that we get a few paragraphs describing how Yuuya goes “stiff”, a “briar-like tension seizes his body, making it impossible to move”, “fear [making his] heart race”, he “[forgets] to breathe” etc. (Fan translation by Yuurei!)

To me, that… doesn’t read as Malleus choking Yuuya, let alone laying a finger on him. It’s more like Yuuya is so consumed by fear that he finds himself entirely paralyzed and unable to argue back, so instead he submits and lets the subject drop. There’s no mention of Malleus “letting go” or anything either, just the fairy lights brightening again once his mood clears and he realizes Yuuya isn’t looking to defy him. It’s also important to note that, previously, the night in this scene was described as tranquil and pleasant—the emphasis is on how Malleus’s mood shifts the atmosphere and the “feeling” of the night.

So!! The “seizing” mentioned is NOT literal; a feeling could “seize” you too, coming in suddenly and with great power. This is a literary device known as personification, or giving a non-human object or action human-like qualities or skills. When used to describe the briar-like feeling, it’s also a simile, which is when you use “like” or “as” to compare two things.

… Besides, imagine Yuuya being choked out by someone during your first meeting and then no description of him freaking out?? And then still building a whole friendship based on this weird encounter??? Even though Yuuya has a history of catastrophizing and even thinks about Leona explicitly tearing his throat out just because of Leona’s powerful presence???? That just does not make sense. It also doesn’t make sense for Malleus’s character. Yes, he can lash out at people, but here it feels like he’s telegraphing his displeasure (via the atmosphere, similar to how his mood disrupts the weather) rather than resorting to a physical attack (or using magic to bind someone in place).

[revasserium]

chapter one: a shadow of the past

roronoa zoro; 3,225 words; angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, mostly enemies in this chapter, tragic!backstory, flashbacks, slightly canon divergent, baroqueworks!reader, no "y/n"

summary: in which zoro will always find you, even if you don't want to be found

a/n: not much to say here other than enjoy! :)

< to the table of contents

It would be months before he sees you again, months before he runs across the typeset of your codename, on a wanted poster with an obscene amount of Berry tacked underneath — more, he thinks, dully, than the last time he’d seen it.

MS. DOUBLE-NINES — WANTED — 90,000,000 BERRY.

“Agent from Baroque Works… seems like a bad lot,” Sanji says, frowning as he squints at the poster, smoke curling from between his teeth.

“Yeah, dunno about that,” Zoro reaches out to rip the poster from the wall, crumpling it in his fist.

“There a story you wanna tell us, moss-head?” Sanji asks, slating Zoro a long glance.

Zoro scoffs, “Barely,” but at a hard look from Nami, he relents, rolling his eyes, “they sent someone called Mr. 7 to recruit me a while back.”

“And…?” Nami asks, probing as the three of them turn back towards the bustling street market, Usopp and Luffy already halfway down the street, chattering about lunch.

“And nothin’. I took care of him.” Zoro makes to toss the crumpled poster onto the ground but he pauses, glancing down at his hands, “the Marines still owe me his bounty though.”

Sanji laughs, even as Nami scoffs.

“Well, let’s try to stay out of their way till we get out of here,” Nami says, eyes caught on the poster in Zoro’s hands, “at least in the Grand Line, there’ll be bigger fish for them to fry.”

Zoro wets his lips, staring down at your disfigured face before tossing it aside.

“If you say so.”

— — —

You have the most delicate hands — nimble fingers and soft, marshmallow palms. You’d cradle the miniscule wooden knife just so, slipping the dulled edge along the tops of the homemade wagashi, making marks in perfect intervals until the cake resembled a flower, just so.

“Okay, now who wants a piece?” you’d ask, giggling as the boys all scrambled over themselves, raising their hands and hooting like monkeys.

Zoro always held back, feigning disinterest, even though his mouth would water just the same.

“Here, a piece for you too,” you’d say, after giving everyone their due share. Behind you, the other boys would always be squabbling for an extra slice, fighting over the crumbles left on the thin rice paper packaging.

“Don’t want it,” he’d say, looking anywhere but at the tantalizing slice of wagashi, the soft lotus-paste insides nearly translucent, the pastel mochi exterior the perfect amount of sticky and sweet.

His mouth goes dry as you hold it up in front of him, cupped in your palms like just-found treasure.

“Everyone else got a piece,” you say, as if that’s reason enough for him to forgo his abstinence.

He swallows.

“Don’t move.”

His eyes flicker open to the shape of you, crouching by his hammock, a knife held to his throat. Outside, the night is thick and moonless, the seawater lapping softly at the sides of the ship.

Zoro huffs out a breath, “Or what?”

He blinks, the afterimages of the dream still solid behind his eyelids.

“Not sure yet, but I’d bet you wouldn’t like the answer, either way,” you say, your voice barely more than a hiss as you shift the blade from one hand to another and he feels the sharp edge of it skim along his skin.

You’re careful not to break any skin as you pull back, ever so slightly, allowing him to sit up.

“What’dyou want?” he asks, moving slow, fingers inching towards his swords, propped by the hammock’s side.

“Nothing too much,” you answer, “just a free ride off this island. And the next time you dock, you’ll never see me again.”

Zoro scoffs, “That a promise?”

Even in the dark, your grin slants crescent-moon sharp. Zoro blinks again, his mind fighting to reconcile the image of you as a child over the shadow hunched over him now, holding a knife to his throat.

“Something like that,” you say, your eyes flickering down to where his fingers are inches from his swords. Zoro sighs, tugging his hand back.

“Fine — but one condition,” he says.

You hike an eyebrow, “From where I’m sitting, you’re not exactly in the position to be making demands.”

Zoro smirks, folding his arms across his chest and stretching out on his hammock.

“And from where I’m sitting — we’re one alarm away from my entire crew wakin’ up. And… they might not be as good as you one on one but… all together?” he shrugs, “I mean, you do the math.”

Your lips curl into a contemptuous snarl, but you don’t fight him on it. Instead, you pull the knife away, tucking it into your belt.

“Fine. What’s your condition?”

Zoro peers at you from a half-lidded eye, “Tell me what happened to you.”

You puff out a laugh, leaning back against a wooden barrel, propping your arm on your knee.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

Zoro motions towards the darkened window, “We’ve got a lotta time.”

You turn your head away, “Maybe tomorrow,” you say, your voice low and fractured.

Zoro frowns, “You made a promise.”

You cast him a faint, woeful smile, “Yeah, but I never told you when I’d tell you the story.”

— — —

The next morning, you awaken to a wide-eyed stare from a boy who couldn’t have been much older than you, grinning ear to ear.

“Hi!”

“W-what the —”

You scramble backwards before realizing that your back is already pressed against the wall.

“Oh! Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up!” the boy leans back, still grinning, propping both his hands on his hips as he stares down at you. Behind him, you can see the shape of Zoro, leaning by the door, swords at his side, a smirk on his face.

“What the hell’s going on here?” you ask, shooting him a dirty look, “you made a promise,” you spit the word back in his face.

Zoro shrugs, “Yeah, but I never said your free ride would be a secret.”

Your eyes narrow into slits as the boy standing over you claps a fist to his palm, turning towards Zoro.

“Oh! I remember now — we saw her on one of the wanted posters! You’re uhm — Ms… Ninety-Nine?”

You wince, sighing as you push yourself up and dust off your trousers, “Miss Double-Nines, but… close enough.”

Zoro snickers.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m the Captain of this ship! But… I gotta say, your name is way cooler. Did you get to pick it yourself? Or did someone at Bara-Rock Works give it to you?”

You fight down the twitch threatening your left eye as your gaze slingshots to Zoro and back to Luffy again.

“Uhm — someone… assigned it to me. And it’s Baroque Works.”

“Right! Yeah — that one!” Luffy smiles, seemingly unbothered by the implications of you being a member of a known criminal organization.

“Breakfast! C’mon — before it goes cold!” a voice calls down the hallway and a moment later, a blond-haired man in an all black suit peeks his head around the doorframe.

“Ah, our special guest is awake — so what about it, Ms. Double-Nines? Any requests for breakfast? I could do a few eggs, sunny side up, with a side of toast and some freshly made tangerine-butter. Or, we’ve still got some batter left over from the blueberry pancakes yesterday. Take your pick.”

You blink at the man with one shoulder propped against the doorframe, the other supporting a half-done cigarette, bringing it to his mouth for a casual puff.

Zoro lets out an annoyed grunt, “What blueberry pancakes? You gave me left-over potato mush for breakfast yesterday.”

The blonde turns to Zoro with a vindictive smirk, “You really think I’d waste the good stuff on someone with the palette of a forest slug?”

“Oh! I want the eggs! And can you make the sausages you made the other day, Sanji? Those were the best!” Luffy bounces out of the room with a bright smile as Sanji chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to wait a bit for those!” he calls down the hallway after Luffy’s rapidly retreating form.

You glance from Zoro to Sanji and back again, your stomach a mess of knots, your heart skidding strangely inside your chest.

Sanji slates you a helpless look and a lopsided smile, “C’mon then — can’t miss breakfast. Most important meal of the day!”

Introductions, as they are, take the better part of the morning. Though by noon, you’re still unsure if you’d stepped into some strange alternate universe where you’d miraculously escaped the dark tangles of your past, and into some idyllic, sun-lit story full of great friends and endless adventures.

“Mm, that’s a pretty name, but I still think Ms. Ninety-Nine is cooler,” Luffy says, when you finally tell them your name — the one that had been yours for your whole life before you’d been forced to become someone — no, something else.

“It’s Ms. Double — nevermind,” you sigh, shaking your head, feeling an incredulous laugh bubble out of your chest.

“So… you trying to leave Baroque Works?” Sanji asks, casually adjusting his fishing lines as Nami pours over a hand-drawn map of the East Blue, a pair of tiny glasses perched on her nose. Of all the members of the Strawhat Crew, she’d been the least overtly welcoming, staying quiet and keeping her distance.

And, judging by hardness that lies just on the other edge of her smile, you can’t blame her. She knows a liar when she sees one; you do too.

“Something like that,” you say, glancing away.

Zoro lounges against the main mast, his eyes closed.

“So! You must be a really good fighter!” Luffy says, tugging on his own fishing lines till Sanji nudges him away.

“I —” your voice catches and you look away, “I’m alright.”

“I heard that only the best fighters in Baroque Works get codenames with numbers,” Nami says without looking up, her tone casual. Her hand is steady as she traces a long line through the center of the map.

“It’s… a bit more complicated than that,” you say, your fingers twisting in your lap.

“Complicated how?” Nami asks, finally looking up, her gaze bright and hard and unrelenting.

You lick your lips, shrugging, “It’s just… you don’t have to be a great fighter to be… useful.”

And something about the way you say that makes everyone stiffen. By the main mast, Zoro shifts, peering open an eye to stare at you. But before he can say anything, Luffy jumps up, pulling hard at his fishing rod.

“Look! I think I caught something!”

That night, when they drop anchor, the ocean is still, and the summer air is almost too sweet. Luffy proposes a toast, to a new friend, he says, and Sanji has never turned down a toast to a pretty girl. Even Nami, who had been cautious all day, lured by the sweet tangerine wine and the tantalizing summer air, flashes you a small grin as she raises her glass.

You manage to choke down the wine passed the scream curdling at the back of your throat.

And then later, when the Millions come calling, no one notices the way you slip away, pulling all the fire towards you until you’re too far to be saved.

“Stay back!” you call, even as one of the Millions hauls you onto the deck of a smaller ship by the hair.

“Gum-Gum —“

“Wait,” Zoro places a hand on Luffy’s arm.

“Huh?”

Zoro frowns, pointing to a spot of white on the railings. Luffy stares down at it for a second before Sanji peers over his shoulder, reaching out to dab at the smear of white powder.

“It’s… rice flour.”

In the kitchen, they find a tray with a series of tiny wagashi mochi’s, simply made, but each perfectly shaped and dusted with a fine powder of sweet rice flour.

There’s a hastily scribbled note that just says — Thank you. I’m sorry.

— — —

It takes them the better part of a two weeks to track you down.

And when they do, it’s to an island of sand and trees and not much else.

“What… is this place?” Nami asks as they all hop onto the bleak little stretch of beach.

“It’s a holding ground,” a voice answers, rich and feminine. They all look up to see a tall figure, arms crossed, a cowboy hat perched atop her head. Her hair looks like it’s been cut with a slide-rule. She makes no move to attack, but Zoro still finds his thumb ticking at the hilt of his sword.

Beside him, Sanji looks conflicted at the thought of fighting such a beautiful woman.

“Miss All Sunday,” Nami says, her bo staff clicking clicking into place as she takes half a step forward.

The woman allows herself a grin, dipping the brim of her hat.

“Ara… if it isn’t the Cat Burglar.”

Nami scoffs, “Let’s cut the song and dance — we’re looking for a friend of ours. You might know her — goes by Miss Double-Nines, I think.”

“Friend?” Miss All Sunday lets the word simmer in the air between them, blithely checking her nails before pinning them all with a hard look, “we at Baroque Works aren’t known for making friends outside the organization.”

“Yeah well, maybe our friend’s just different!” offers Luffy, grinning widely, his chest puffed out.

Miss All Sunday regards them for a moment more before shrugging and slipping into the shadows of the giant tree she’d been leaning against. Zoro and Nami share a look before stepping forward to follow her, Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp half a step behind them.

The forest is a twist of ancient trees, their canopy high and thick enough to completely blot out the sun. Beneath the preternatural dark, the woods are spine-chillingly quiet. There’s no rustle of leaves, no hush of wings or skitter of claws. Nothing moves, save for their slinking guide and their own, weapon-laden bodies.

No one dares to speak; even Luffy keeps quiet, his mouth set in a straight line, his eyes tracking the lithe form of Miss All Sunday as she leads them through the undulating terrain.

“Ah… you’re in luck,” Miss All Sunday says, her voice a silken whisper as she stops in front of a massive tree, it’s roots as thick as the Merry’s main mast, it’s trunk so wide it’s impossible to see around. Miss All Sunday adjusts her hat, sweeping her hand through the air much as a hostess would when presenting a prize, “she’s awake.”

It’s you, or at least the shape of you, caught in the massive tangle of tree roots, your arms held to your sides, your body half-swallowed by the trunk of the tree itself. Your lashes flutter open at the sound of Miss All Sunday’s voice, and when your gaze finally lands on them, it goes wide —

“W-what —”

“We’ve come to rescue you!” Luffy says, grinning even as he revs up his arm.

The cigarette dangling from Sanji’s lips falls he leans back to inspect the grotesque sight before him.

It’s Nami who catches Zoro with an arm around the waist, tugging him back to relative difficulty. It’s only then that Zoro realizes how hard he’s breathing, how there’s red seeping like spilt blood into the edges of his vision.

“I — I told you not to follow me!” you say, your voice cracking over the words, your skin nearly translucent as it strains over your ribs.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Yeah well — we never said we’d listen.”

You drop your head, your throat bobbing around a mirthless laugh.

Everyone jumps at the sound of clapping, loud and slow and measured. A moment later, a man in a fur-lined coat with a thick set of stitches across his face steps out from behind the massive tree, a cigar caught between his teeth, a steely glint to his eyes.

“Well done, well done — if it isn’t the infamous Strawhat Pirates,” the man says, crossing his arms and taking a long puff of the cigar.

Luffy takes a step forward, “We are just here for our friend!”

“Your friend?” the man says, an eerie smile splitting his lips as he takes the cigar between two fingers and glances towards you, “you didn’t tell me you’d made new friends, Miss Double Nines?”

You wince at his words, twisting your head as he blows a stream of smoke at your face.

Zoro jerks forward, only to be caught again — this time by Sanji and Nami both.

“Ah, but this is wonderful! We should give your new friends a proper welcome, no?” the man opens his palms, laughing heartily before the forest around them shudders. And then, everything beneath them turns to sand.

It is not a long fight, and Zoro only remembers it in faint flashes — the base rumble of the earth shifting beneath them, the sky-splitting crack of tree trunks as the forest around them roils and breaks. Through it all, he remembers the sound of your voice, calling out something before it’s muffled by a pair of too-large hands —

And it isn’t till he finds himself standing on the thin stretch of beach with the rest of his crew that his mind returns to him, jarred and unsettled, but lucid.

The man with stitches across his face grins, your body caught beneath his arm like a rag doll. He laughs as he tosses you down onto the sand at this feet.

Both Zoro and Sanji charge forward, only to stop in their steps as the man cocks a gun and levels it at the back of your head. He grins, tilting his head.

“Go on,” he says, “she’s right there, isn’t she?”

Sanji crouches down, his eyes narrowed. Zoro’s jaw clenches as he adjusts his hold on his swords.

You shake your head, your hair a dark spill around your shoulders, peppered with sand as you push yourself up onto hands and knees, your gaze imploring as you look up at them.

“Don’t.”

Zoro feels something inside him snap at the broken register of your voice.

He charges forward just as the man reaches down to grab a fistful of your hair and tug you backwards, pressing the muzzle of the pistol to the side of your head.

“Let her go, and I might let you live,” he snarls between gritted teeth.

The man grins, savage and unbothered, shaking you like a marionette on tender strings. You let out a soft groan as he digs the gun further into your temple.

“Ah… I’m not sure I like being threatened on my own turf,” the man says, his voice soft as he trails the gun along your face down to your throat before pressing it the soft spot just beneath your chin. Your eyes squeeze shut.

“Wait —!” Zoro’s voice cracks like a gunshot over the word, desperation wriggling it’s way up his throat till it’s spilling out of his mouth.

The man’s eyes go dark at the sound, his mouth splits wide on a savage grin as he trails the gun back up to your temple, caressing the trigger with almost lethargic ease, clicks down the safety — and shoots.

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect @lodeddiperrodrick @not-a-glad-gladiator @vinskyspuff @itsagoodluckkiss @blondethinkpink @ellelowthere

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[nishisun]

2. How you met him & how he broke your heart.

A/N: THIS WHOLE CHAPTER IS A FLASHBACK! OKAY OKAY SO, YES, THIS IS AN SMAU, BUT ITS GONNA HAVE MORE WRITTEN PARTS 😁

NOTE (2024): this was made over 4+ years ago when i was a beginner writer so the writing is pretty much horrible. but im feel nostalgic and this has been sitting for the drafts for years that i thought, why not post? anways pls enjoy my very mediocre attempt at writing. there’s multiple parts so ill post until there are none anymore

flashback.

On December 21, your parents told you that they were separating. Your father claimed he fell out of love with your mother and already had a family in the US. You were devastated, to say the least. But mostly, you were confused. How could he? How could he do this to you, your sister, and your mother? They seemed so happy together. They never argued, well, not in front of you and your sister at least. They were the perfect couple. You looked up to them. You wanted to have what they had with your future significant other, and now your parents were telling you that they are separating because your father fell out of love?

pitiful.

Your father said he was leaving to go to the states in 6 months. Out of anger, your mother decided it was best to move, without leaving a trace of your father. She called this a clean slate. Moving meant you had to transfer schools. You were a third year, who was now going to be attending Itachiyama Institute, while your younger sister who was still in junior high was attending Okojo Middle School. Still, you couldn’t believe it. Your own father, the person you looked up to the most, was abandoning you, your mother, and your sister. Why weren’t you guys good enough for him? How come it’s so easy for him to leave? It just wasn’t fair.

What is love? Well, there are many ways to interpret the word “love”. When we love someone we experience positive thoughts and experiences with them bur we also experience a deep sense of care and commitment towards that person. Love means to be deeply committed and connected to someone or something. The feeling of love should be mutual with you and your significant other.

You loved Sakusa Kiyoomi. He was your first love.

You remembered the day you met. It was your first day at Itachiyama Institute  and your previous school was Nekoma High. You were the manager for Nekoma’s volleyball team, which meant that you’d go with them to practice camps, games, and you’d stay after school hours to help out, which was why you were so close to Kenma and Kuroo. You met Kenma and Kuroo when you were a first year, you and Kenma were in the same class and you volunteered to be a manager for the volleyball team, which resulted to you becoming bestfriends with Kenma and Kuroo. You both were now finally third years, Kenma was captain of the team after Kuroo left and Kuroo couldn’t have been more proud. At first, Kenma didn’t want to be the captain because he claimed it was “too much work”, but once you and the other team members forced convinced him to try it out, he ended up loving it.

Your first day at Itachiyama was okay, you didn’t talk much, or really make new friends. It was the same old, you’d introduce yourself in front of the class, then they’d greet you and ask you questions on how your previous school was or why you moved. At lunch, you sat outside, alone, until you saw two boys walk in front of you. One was wearing a mask and the other was smiling and waved at you.

“Hello! My name is Komori Motoya and this is my cousin. We have class together, right?” he said as he brought his right arm out, offering to shake yours.

“Oh, um yes, we do! Hi Komori, my name is L/N Y/N.” you said, shaking his hand. Once you both let go you looked at Komori’s cousin who was standing next to him, but was slightly behind him.

“You must be Sakusa Kiyoomi, right?” you said walking towards him. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded while his hands were placed in his pockets.

“Uh, how did you know that?” Komori asked as he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, I know your name too. I’ve seen you and your team play! You guys are really good.” you explained, Komori shook his head in excitement.

“Oh, really? Are you into volleyball? Do you play?” He asked.

“Well, I’m not really good at it. I used to play in junior high, but I stopped once I got into high school. I love watching the games though! I was the team manager at my previous school.”

“Really? That’s amazing! Our team is looking for a team manager! You should really apply, i’m pretty sure the coach would be happy.” Komori said.

“Oh! Well, that’s great! I’ll check definitely come visit tomorrow after school.” You said as you started to pack your things because lunch was ending soon.

“That’s great y/n!” he said, “Well, we’ll see you around in class.”

“Yeah, bye!” You waved at the two and they waved back.

“Everyone, gather around! Meet the new addition to the managers for the team! The coach said.

“My name is L/N Y/N! I’m new here and I just transferred from Nekoma High!” you said, bowing your head. Some of the teammates were whispering once they heard you mention Nekoma. “I’m hoping to get to know you all better! I’ve seen you guys play before and it’s an honor to be working with you all! you said.

“she talks a lot.” Sakusa thinks, having a bored look on his face and makes a mental note of this.

“Trust me y/n, the pleasure is ours!” the coach chuckles.

You suddenly realize how the gym is full of boys who are basically towering over you and awkwardly laugh back, followed by an awkward silence. You then remembered about the homemade granola you had made for the team, which you had been carrying this whole time.

“Oh! I almost forgot! I made some homemade granola bars to show my gratitude towards you all.” You started to pass the bars out to each team member as they thanked you and praised you for how good the bars tasted. You were making your way to give a bar to the last person who hasn’t received it yet, which was Sakusa Kiyoomi.

He was taller than his other teammates, wearing a mask and it almost seemed as if he was giving you a look of disgust, judging by the way his face was scrunched up. He looked intimidating, but you didn’t want to judge someone off of their looks, so you walked up to him and tried to start a conversation with him.

“Hello, Sakusa! I just wanted to thank you and Komori for coming up to me yesterday. It meant a lot considering the fact that I was new and i’m not very good at making friends-“

“You talk a lot.” Sakusa interrupted, his cousin heard him since he wasn’t that far away from you both and quickly walked up to him.

“Sakusa! It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice and not so upfront all the time!” his cousin said.

“I’m kidding!” sakusa says to his cousin, shaking his head and chuckles, then turns back to you.

“I’m kidding,” He repeats once again, “Sorry that I wasn’t really talking yesterday. I’m not good with people either.” He says and you both laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’re the person i’m supposed to be showing the school around to tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. You don’t really have to if it’s going to-“

“You really do tend to ramble a lot.” he interrupts once again. He won’t tell you, but he finds it cute how flustered you get, you seem so innocent.

“Sorry, it’s a bad habit of mine.” you scratched the back of your head and laughed a bit.

“All right everyone, Time to pack up!” the coach said, getting up from the bench.

“See you tomorrow?” Sakusa says.

“Yep!”

“Bye Y/N!” Komori says as he waved at you. You waved back and started to pack things up and went home.

1 and a half years later.

“Omi, have you seen my shampoo? I left it here at your place and I checked the bathroom and it wasn’t there anymore.” you said as you walked out of his bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel.

“No babe,” Sakusa says, “Just use mine. It isn’t that big of a deal. We can buy you your shampoo once you finish taking a shower if it’s bothering you this much.”

“It’s fine. I was just checking to see if you saw it, it isn’t that big of a deal.” you assured him with a smile.

“Maybe I should join you in the shower?” Sakusa suggested, “saves more water.”

“You’re too much.” you laughed, “let’s go shower!”

You and Sakusa finally graduated high school and decided to take a year break before attending college to spend time together since Sakusa wasn’t planning on going to college. You guys didn’t live together, He had an apartment of his own that was near your house and you’d stay there most of the time. Which meant, more sex.

Of course, it took sakusa some time to be comfortable to have sex with you, but he trusted you a lot. he knew you were clean and you took proper care of yourself

not staying abstinent from sex is something you regret, but are happy that you forgot to take the pill that one day. If you had, you still would’ve been with Sakusa. But since you didn’t, you ended up pregnant and gave birth to the person that makes you the happiest, your daughter.

You remember taking the pregnancy test, your heart dropped.

“fuck. i’m fucked.” you muttered.

Your hands were shaking as you held the pregnancy test, which said “positive” and your fingers were slowly becoming more cold by each passing seconds and your anxiety was getting the best of you.

what is sakusa gonna say? he already said he didn’t want kids. what was your mother going to say? Oh, your mother was going to kill you. Sakusa isn’t gonna like this at all. Maybe he will? Maybe he’ll tell you everything is okay and that he’ll be with you every step of the way. Should you tell Komori to tell him? No. Sakusa won’t believe him and it’ll result in him asking you anyways. Kenma! text Kenma. Then text Akira. They’ll know what to do. Wait! you need to make sure you’re 100% pregnant. This is only one test. there’s no way you’re pregnant.

So you took 2 more test. All of them were positive.

“shitt.” you took a deep breath in and closed your eyes. Tears were threatening to spill and the once appetite you once had was now gone. You were in Sakusa’s apartment bathroom, he had gone to go pick up the food you had ordered for the movie night you and him were planning to have.

You quickly got out of the bathroom and made your way to your phone to call Kenma and tell him. By now you were sobbing.

“Y/n, are you 100% sure you’re pregnant?” he said in a firm voice. He too was trying not to panic.

“Y-yes! I’ve taken like th- three test now!” you said, you were breaking down and it was hard for you to even speak clearly. “Kiyoomi i-is not going to be happy at all. I only missed one day of not t-taking the pill.”

“Y/n, i’m going to need you to breathe for me. You may not believe me now, but everything will be okay. You have to tell him. He will still love you. Isn’t it his baby?” he asked, this annoyed you. Why did he even ask that? obviously it was his. Kenma didn’t mean any harm when he asked you, but you took it to offense.

“O-obviously kozume. Why would you even ask that?” you were pacing around in the living room, trying to calm yourself down. “Kenma he’s here. He just texted me he’s outside and he’s-he’s coming. I’m scared, i don’t know how to handle this.”

“Y/n, please breathe. Everything is going to be okay please calm down, okay? You got this. If you want me to come over I can. Do you still want me to stay on the line?” he asked.

“N-no, I’m fine. Thank you Kenma. I’m gonna hang up now.”

“You’re welcome y/n. I love you.” he said, a smile resting on his face.

“love you too.”

you quickly went back to the bathroom to throw the pregnancy test away and hid it further in the trash so Sakusa wouldn’t find it. You quickly washed your face, so it would look like you weren’t crying and if he asked you why your eyes were so red you’d just say soap got in your eyes. Right when you finished washing your face, Sakusa entered the place, immediately heading to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

“Hey,” he said grabbing the soap next to him and rubbing it with his hands.

“Hey.” you said softly, placing one hand on your opposite arm and walking towards him to embrace him.

“Happy anniversary, I love you so much.” He said, hugging you and burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

“I love you more, Kiyoomi.” you said. He pulled away and stared at your face in mischief and then squinted. 

“You don’t usually call me Kiyoomi unless you’re upset or worried about something. What’s up?”

Shit.

It was a bad habit of yours. When something was bothering you, or when you were upset, you’d usually call Sakusa, Kiyoomi. Usually you’d call him by his nickname, which was Omi.

“It’s nothing, Omi. I’m hungry! Let’s eat!” you say as you tried to hug him again, but he doesn’t budge.

“y/n, come on, i know you.” he says softly, as you both stood in the kitchen. He stares at you for a little longer, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ear, easing your tenseness so you could feel comfortable enough to talk to him and then cupped your cheek. “Talk to me- wait, have you been crying?”

Ugh.

you’re crying again. you’re crying really hard. Sakusa starts to panic at the random burst of tears that are falling at a rapid pace and pulls you in for a tight hug, not caring that you haven’t washed your hands yet.

“hey, hey, y/n shh, it’s okay.” Sakusa says, stroking your hair softly. “baby, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

You sob on his chest, he slightly cringes at the thought of your tears wetting his shirt, but he doesnt mention it.

“N-no, I cant. You’ll hate me.” you say, burying your face in his chest. Sakusa lets out a sigh of confusion and continues to stoke your hair.

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you y/n. I love you, dummy.” he chuckled, you laughed as well and let go of him and wiped your tears. You took a deep breath and then let a out a forced laugh and then faced Sakusa.

“Okay,” You said letting out a sigh, “I’m,”

“you’re?”

“Never mind, I cant do this.” you walked away from him and ran to the bathroom and locked yourself there and started breaking down. Sakusa was quick to follow you, but you locked the door. You were confusing the hell out of him. He thought you were trying to break up with him.

You couldn’t tell him. Not when he had already told you he didn’t want kids. Did you even want kids? Aborting the baby was not an option. Knowing the type of person you are, you’d probably feel too guilty and you didn’t need that guilt following you for the rest of your life.

“Y/n, I understand you may need space right now. Whenever you’re ready please talk to me, I love you.”

Why was he so good to you?

About 30 minutes later, you finally come out from the bathroom and you see Sakusa scrolling through his phone. The food he had ordered was still on the table, probably cold by now.

“Hey,” you said walking up to him and sitting next to him on the couch.

“Hey,” he smiled, “you ready to talk to me now?”

“uh, yeah.” you took a deep breath, and Sakusa patiently waited for you to speak up.

“So, you know how I’m on birth control?” you asked, he cocked his head and furrowed his brows, wondering what birth control had to do with what was bothering you.

“yes..”

“Oh, okay.” you said, you took another deep breath in, then out, then you closed your eyes because you felt tears rushing down again.

“Y/n,” sakusa says softly, You rest your head on his chest once again, and he continues to softly rub your back. “Y/n, you’re scaring me. Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” you say as you lift your head up to face him. You cup his cheek gently and give him a soft smile. “no, i’m not baby.” You put your hand down and faced forward, while sakusa was staring at you from your side. Sakusa gives a sigh of relief.

“I’m pregnant.” you blurted out.

“what?” he heard you, he just didn’t know if he heard it right.

“Kiyoomi, i’m pregnant. it’s yours.” you’re facing him now, but he looks away. He lets go of the hand that was once holding yours and faces forward.

“Omi, please say something.” you say, you started to get worried and you felt a weird sensation in your stomach as if you were about to throw up.

“Are you sure y/n? Is this some type of prank because if it is-“

“no, it’s not a prank. i’ve taken three test and they were all positive, kiyoomi. i’m pregnant.”

“holy shit.” is all he mutters, he places both of his hands together and they land on his face and the face he was currently making was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if he was mad or upset, but he certainly didn’t seem happy one bit.

“is that seriously all you’re gonna say?” you scoff, he doesn’t look at you, he’s still facing forward.

“take another test,”

“what?”

“take another test,” he repeats, now getting up from the couch and pacing up and down the living room. “you need to take another test.”

“i already told you, i took three and they were all positive-“

“just take another test y/n, damn it!” your eyes widen at his sudden burst of anger, he’s staring at you, boring his eyes onto you and then he quickly looks away and takes a steady breath in. “i need to see this for myself, just take another test, okay?”

you scoff.

you wipe of the tears on your face and you walk to the bathroom rather quickly, sakusa following not far along.

you open another one of the test that you haven’t used yet without saying a word to sakusa, he’s leaning on the bathroom door with the same bored expression he usually has on his face.

once you’ve finished, you wait a few minutes for the test to see it’s results.

positive.

“are you satisfied? or do i need to take another test?” you mutter, sakusa looks at the test that is now placed on this sink, crossing his arms.

“we can’t keep this baby-“

“what? what are you talking about?” you interrupt him. Is he being serious? He doesn’t have a say on what whether you keep the baby or not.

“y/n, think about it!” he explains, walking closer to you, “we’re 18, and i have a career that i’m working hard on and you have college-“

“are you being serious right now, kiyoomi?” you raise your voice and back away from him with a hurt expression on your face.

“Y/n, it wouldn’t be smart to keep this baby. We can’t be parents right now. I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he’s not raising his voice because he’s trying his hardest to avoid an argument. “I cant- i can’t do this.”

“w-what?” you feel tears forming again. What can’t he do? What is he trying to say? “Kiyoomi, look, I know this is a lot. Trust me it’s a lot for me too! But i’m keeping this baby. It’s our responsibility since we weren’t responsible enough.”

He scoffs at this and shakes his head “we? we weren’t responsible? last time i checked, you were the one who didn’t do your part. all you had to do was take one damn pill. is it seriously that hard?”

He can’t seriously be blaming you right now.

“I’m sorry y/n, but i seriously can’t be a dad. We already said that we’re not having kids. They’re messy, annoying and not to mention, they cause too much stress. You have to abort the baby-“

“I don’t have to do shit,” you interrupt once again, you were crying, you were so upset. This was so unlike kiyoomi. you felt nauseous, and it wasn’t the baby. “And i never said i didn’t want kids, we never even agreed on that, you just said you didn’t want them. What happened to you? Yeah, we’re young, but i’m willing to make that sacrifice. All you’re worried about is your stupid volleyball career. I told you i’m keeping this baby and if you aren’t okay with that, then maybe we should break up!” You were yelling, too caught up in the moment to realize what you had just said, it was a lot for Sakusa to process. It’s only normal that he’d be suprised but it doesn’t mean he had to put all the blame on you. You were already aware it was partly your fault, and now you were willing to own up for your mistakes. Why wasn’t he? He looked at you in shock, then walked back and forth and you kept your eyes on him wondering what he would say next.

“you think so?”

“There’s no point in being together if you don’t want to be in this baby’s life, Kiyoomi. You know this.”

“So what, you’re just gonna let go of what we have that easily?” he asked, everything he was saying was getting on your fucking nerves.

“You think it’s easy, Kiyoomi?” you let out a humorless laugh, “You think it’s easy for me to let you go? You are literally my the love of my fucking life. The first person who made me have butterflies in my stomach when all you’d do is just stare at me. Now that a baby is on the way things are obviously going to be changing and i need to put this baby first before everything and you’re obviously not willing to do that and It hurts- it fucking hurts that you didn’t even assure me that everything was going to be alright. That you’d still love me and be right by my side even though Ive decided that i am keeping the baby. I had to call kenma right before you came and even he said you’d assure me, but you didn’t. I’m not even upset at you for being suprised, but there are better ways to react Kiyoomi, especially in situations like this. You saying you’re not ready to be a dad is okay, but the fact that you aren’t willing to make the sacrifice hurts. So don’t say it’s easy for me when you’re the one that’s letting go.”

By the time you finished speaking, you were choking on your own sobs and you could barely even speak clearly. Sakusa looked like he was on the verge of tears, but he probably didn’t want to cry in front of you. He didn’t say anything either or make eye contact with you either. He just headed to the kitchen and started cleaning out any leftovers that were too old in the fridge. You aren’t even suprised. You see, Sakusa doesn’t like opening up to people. The thought of being so vulnerable and opening up like what you had just did scared Kiyoomi. He wanted to be the one that would cheer you up when something was bothering you but when it came to him, he’d keep his emotions or how he was feeling to himself. It was a bad habit of his but you still loved him and understood that it would take some time. Yes, it does hurt that he didn’t say anything after you literally opened up, but maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

You looked at him with such disbelief. You scoffed and then wore your jacket and shoes and left.

He didn’t chase after you, it’s not like you would listen anyways. All he did was say that he wasn’t ready to be a parent and how you should abort the baby. Did he think you were ready? Because you weren’t. But you were willing to make a sacrifice for this baby of yours. There’s no point in forcing him to become a father if that’s clearly not what he wants. That’s fine though, you know you’d have other people support you, even if it meant that Sakusa wouldn’t be supporting you anymore.

“Goodbye, Kiyoomi.”