#he said I’ve had ENOUGH you’re all MORONS!!!!!

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

“I will not be weakened by my brothers.”

“You already are. Your family is a mess. They don’t obey because they love you, they obey because they’re afraid. How afraid do you think they’ll be when your dad shows up to put you in your place?”

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Part One

No one asked for this, but whatever. Bite me. I’ll get to the asks, I swear

3,516 words

Part Two - Part Three

–-

The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. In a place like hell, where the worst of society sunk together and only somehow seemed to get worse, it was a good idea to not catch other people’s eyes. If their eyes were on you, it was almost never for a good reason.

So when you decided to start working, it made sense you would do something quiet and in the background like data filing for a large media company. While there were many more unsavory jobs that paid more, you wanted to avoid the obvious and dangerous crime life of hell as much as possible in your daily life. You had had enough of being unwillingly tied up in that kind of stuff when you were alive. You might as well spend your eternity in some type of peace, or at least as much as someone in hell can get.

So, you made sure you were presentable as you walked into Voxtekk on your first day to work, dressed simple business attire and keeping a quiet demeanor.

“There you are!” said who you presumed was your new boss, a short man with glasses and a blue hair dye, “Was wondering if you were going to show up!”

“Sorry,” you said, “The traffic was bad.”

“Well, you better get used to leaving early,” he said, “Traffic is always a bitch in this part of Pentagram City.”

He continued to speak as he led you to the elevator.

“So, I’ve been told you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing on earth,” he said.

“Yes, I did library work while I was alive,” you said.

And some smuggling. Especially with weapons.

You didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him that though. The job had come in handy though by giving you a knack for remembering where things were.

“Good, good,” he said, “I expect you’ll be able to figure out how to do this on your own then.”

He led you to a room that was filled with file drawers as well as a large computer off to the side.

“There’s thousands, if not millions, of files in here, both physically and digitally. It’ll be your responsibility to make sure that everything new brought in gets put in its proper place, as well as that anything that is requested can be easily found,” he said, “As the biggest media company in hell, it’s important that we know at all times where every piece of information or media can be located.”

It was overwhelming, like the world’s largest and most complicated library. It made your head spin a little looking at it all, but you always liked a challenge.

“You think you can handle it?” he asked.

You nod with some confidence, though you don’t quite feel it. This was going to take some getting used to.

“I hope for both our sakes you’re right,” he said, “Last filer I hired couldn’t tell left from right and Vox fried me to a crisp. Took me a good week before I was able to regenerate properly.”

Crap, that sounded bad. Note to self, don’t let that happen to you.

“I think I’ll be all right,” you said.

---

It was a bit overwhelming the first few weeks. You were competent enough to keep things in order though. Your experience was paying off, and you weren’t hearing any complaints or news about any assistants getting fried, so you supposed you were doing your job well enough.

Within two months of starting your job, you finally met the rumored big man himself. He had come in one day, visibly in a bad mood as he walked over to your desk, a man trailing behind him.

“I don’t know why I even pay you morons,” he said, “I have to hear important information secondhand from fucking Valentino because you can’t be bothered to keep up with what’s happening in hell.”

“Look, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not tell you,” he said, “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

Vox had stormed over to your desk.

“So you KNEW and thought it would be a good idea to just not tell me at all?” he said.

“T-that’s not it! I just-”

Vox held up a hand to interrupt him before turning to you.

“I want the file we have in here on Alastor,” he said, a static buzz of irritation on the last word, “Now.”

“Of course, sir,” you said.

You hurried over to the file cabinet and quickly located it.

“See, not everyone around here is as useless as you are,” Vox said to his other employee.

You saw the hapless employee mutter something under his breath out of the corner of your eye, and before you knew it a chain had appeared and Vox yanked him closer.

“What was that?” he said

“N-nothing, sir!” said the now visibly sweating employee.

A shock went through the poor guy before Vox released him.

“Useless,” he said, “You know what? I think you need some time learning exactly who is in charge around here.”

Vox pointed a clawed finger at you.

“You,” he said, “It’s your lucky day, kid. You wanna promotion?”

“Um… yes?” you said.

“Great. Samuel, have fun in janitorial work for the next decade,” he said, “You’re being replaced. What’s your name?”

“F/N,” you said.

“Hope you have customer service experience as well as filing,” he said, “You’re moving up to my office. Need someone with a functioning brain to run the front desk. Pack up!”

You hesitated for a minute before grabbing the stuff under your desk. You figured the last thing you wanted to do was piss this guy off more than he already looked.

---

Despite him being in such a bad mood that first day, you soon found that most of the time Vox was relatively calm, at least compared to what you heard about the other employers in this building. While he at times could get pretty irritated with things, especially if a certain never-to-be-named demon was brought up by an idiot intern, he rarely took it out on you. He usually took the daily bothers of running the company in stride.

Besides that, running a front desk of an office wasn’t too different than running the front desk at the library. You didn’t have to do near as much organizing in terms of files, but you still did spend a lot of time making sure that everything in Vox’s life was organized from his meetings to when he had lunch.

He didn’t talk much with you outside of work related stuff, which is why you were so surprised when you found out what he was doing one day.

It was a nice enough morning, at least as much as a nice morning can be in hell. You took a sip of your coffee briefly as you stretched and looked out your office window. While you missed the blue sky of earth, the red sky of hell had its own sort of charm you supposed. You glanced down, looking at the people walking back and forth, small as ants. Running around willy nilly. Someone was moving into the building that afternoon, a common occurrence here, as you had heard talk that Valentino liked to keep his employees in close quarters. Seems like they had a similar taste in furniture to your own. Almost frighteningly so.

Except… wait. Was that your sofa? And your dresser? Your bookshelves? You lowered your coffee to the windowsill as you squinted down at your entire catalog of furniture being moved into the building. Something wasn’t right.

You knocked on your boss’s door and entered in a bit of a rush as you heard him say to come in.

“Vox, what on earth is going on?” you asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“F/N, that could be ten different things. I need you to be more specific,” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he didn’t even look up from his phone.

“I just saw what I’m pretty sure was all my belongings being moved into the building,” you said.

“Oh yes, that. Well, I had wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s too late for that,” he said, somewhat absently, “I hate that you have to take such a long commute to the other side of town. And I know all the apartments there are so run down, I figured I’d just move you into the studio like a lot of our other valued staff.”

What? While it was true your apartment was kind of rinky dinky, it was yours. And you liked the privacy and soft solitude it offered after work. Besides, you didn’t like the idea of your boss just moving you willy nilly without your permission. Still, you didn’t want to show him you were upset.

“Vox, you don’t have to do this,” you said, “I’m ok with where I’m at. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Think of it as a courtesy as my secretary,” he said.

You could feel your entire face tighten as you got more frustrated. Some of it was probably starting to show, despite your best efforts.

“I never asked for this though,” you said, trying to tread carefully, “and I like my old apartment. I… I don’t really want this...”

“But you do want this,” he said, finally looking up at you, “You want to be in a nicer apartment, closer to work, safer, don’t you? You always want to be here.”

That… You supposed that was true. Something about his tone soothed you, sent a pleasant lull through your skull and made your body relax as he looked in your eyes. Your protests now seemed a bit foolish and childish. In all honesty, you supposed it just made sense that you move in to the studio. Everything you needed was here, truly, why would you want to live away from here? You did want a nicer apartment without the stressful commute.

“O-ok,” you said, a small uncomfortable feeling of doubt still in your stomach, “Yeah. That’s true. I do want to be here more… closer to the office...”

He smiled at that and walked over to you. He placed an arm around you, guiding you back to your own office.

“Of course you do! And besides I already had them move everything here, so why don’t you just go back to work, and they’ll have finished moving everything in by the time your shift is done,” Vox said, “I guarantee once you’ve had time to think it through you’ll be glad we did it.”

“If you say so,” you said.

As he walked you back to your desk, he continued his calming chatter.

“That’s a good girl. You and I both have a lot of work today, anyway, so I think we can agree that you should just focus on that for now,” he said as he nudged over to your desk.

You sat down and turned to the planner on your desk as you heard your boss walk into his personal office and closed the door. You just stare blankly for a good minute, feeling a little light, like you were on Zoloft before shaking your head back and forth. Might as well just go back to work. You could think more about this later.

---

It had been happening so slowly. One day, week, month at a time, Vox was implementing himself into your life inch by inch, despite the fact that the two of you weren’t bound on paper. He had moved you into the building, where you knew that you were almost constantly on camera. He kept you so loaded down with work you barely had a social life anymore, with no time to hang out with friends or date. The pay was ok, you supposed, but it felt minuscule compared to the amount of work he was expecting you to do on a daily basis.

And then there was the… weirder things that had been happening. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he had a way of getting you to forget about whatever it was you were upset about, at least for a little while. But it would always come back eventually, and as you thought about it more, it irritating you that he was dismissing your concerns.

You hadn’t really noticed it until he had gone on vacation for a week with the other Vees. You had been quite busy with work, but without him there to calm you down whenever your “concerns” came up, you realized that maybe you had let your priorities get a little askew. You needed a career change.

So, perhaps against your better judgment, a few days after he had returned, you had left a two weeks notice on his desk before he came in. It only took about fifteen minutes after he came in for him to summon you to his office.

“F/N? What is this?” he asked, holding out the letter.

“It’s my resignation,” you said, trying to sound steady and confident.

“I’m sorry… your what?” he said

“I-I regret to inform you that I will be moving out and relocating to the Doomsday Sector in two weeks,” you said, “I appreciate all that you’ve done here for me as I worked here, but I am making a career change.”

He looked baffled for a second, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying before chuckling a little.

“No, you’re not,” he said, “You don’t want to leave he-”

“Stop!” you yelled out with more force than you intended.

As soon as he had started speaking that familiar fuzzy feeling had entered your mind, and you had closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want him talking you out of this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, as you reopened your eyes, but didn’t really look at him, “But I don’t want to talk about this.”

It was awkwardly silent for a minute.

“Is it a pay thing?” he finally asked, “Because that can be adjusted. You do good work. I certainly wouldn’t mind paying you more.”

“It’s not a pay thing,” you said, “It’s not anything. I-I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to go-”

“You’re not leaving!” he said, slamming his fist on his desk.

You jumped, a little surprised at his reaction. While you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, you hadn’t expected him to be so volatile. He was always so calm and collected that this kind of reaction to something so minuscule confused you.

“Vox, I know you like my work, but I think you’re overreacting a little bit,” you said.

“Overreacting?” he said, looking pissed, “Overreacting?!”

He grasped at the air, a look of surprise entering his face when no chain appeared. You look at him bewildered. Had he really just tried to…?

“Vox, we don’t have a contract?” you said, “Did you forget that?”

Had he really gotten so comfy with you that he thought that you were another one of his little pets? To hell with the two week notice, you were going today.

“I think I should go back to work,” you said.

He didn’t say anything as you went back to your desk. You finished filing information extra fast that day, doing a bit of a sloppy job. As soon as it was noon, you left for what appeared to be a lunch break, but you had decided was actually going to be your escape.

This situation was getting uncomfortable. You hurried to your room and haphazardly threw clothes and necessities into your suitcase. Anything you left behind on accident you would just have to replace. On a final note, you shoved your wallet into your back pocket and walked over to the door.

Except it didn’t open. The nob didn’t even turn when you yanked on it. You tried it a few times, to no avail.

“Dammit,” you murmured under your breath, and you pounded your fist on the door.

You were about ready to start kicking it when you heard a burst of static behind you. You turned to see your boss coming in through the camera system. While it had always been an eerie feature to your arrangements, it was a million more times so to see Vox using it to his full advantage.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked.

“I should be the one asking that,” he said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your damn business!” you said, “I don’t know what security you have on this door, but you better take it off now or-”

“Or?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to look tense as he gave you a self-satisfied smirk. You could feel your face flushing in a quiet rage as he spoke. Though you were hiding them behind your back, you could feel your fists clenching, as well as the shape of you mouth hardening.

“Vox, you are being ridiculous! We don’t even have a contract! I’m not bound to you, so you can’t keep me here,” you said.

He cocked his head at you, raising an eyebrow, “Oh really now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his tone only pissed you off more.

“Yes, really!” you yelled, “I’m not staying here. I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”

“And just how do you expect to do that?” asked Vox, “Jump out the window? I mean you could splatter yourself on the ground, but it’d be a bit rude considering I’ll have to send some unlucky interns to scrape you off the pavement and put you back in your room until you regenerate.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and clenching and unclenching your hands with an unnecessary amount of force. You tried to calm your voice down.

“Vox, I understand that you like the work I do for you, but you’re being ridiculous,” you said.

“You think this about work?” he said, “F/N, don’t act stupid. I can get a new secretary anytime I want, ten secretaries. You and I both know that’s not what this is about.”

You looked at him confused. It wasn’t?

“For someone who is so smart with data, you are being so unbelievably slow right now.”

He advanced on you, causing you to shrink against the frame of the door as he leaned over you. He pushed you against the wall and gripped your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. It all happened in a flash, too fast to register, and before you could realize it, he was pulling you into a rough kiss.

It wasn’t what you had expected, though it wasn’t as if you had thought a lot about what kissing your boss would feel like. On the rare occasions when you had wondered about it, you had assumed kissing Vox would be like kissing the screen of a laptop. Apparently though, he had a literal working mouth as you could clearly tell from the sensation of his tongue and even teeth connecting with your own. Your chin ached in his firm grip, which could have been more tender if it didn’t feel like he was keeping you from turning your face away. You tried to do so, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, he was so preoccupied.

He held you like this for a good two or three minutes, his saliva coating your mouth. Though it was barely there, you could feel a slight buzz to it, as if some of his electricity was in his fluids. He finally released you though, some of his spit getting on your lips as he removed himself. A sigh filled the air as your lips parted.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” he murmured

He shifted a bit and was leaning in for another kiss when you kicked him in the shins.

“Ow!” he said, releasing you and giving you time to dart away.

You had moved in a burst to the other side of the room, glaring at him with what you hoped was resentment. There was also something else though. A feeling of deep rooted anxiety and fear was stirring in full force, despite the fact that over the past few months you had been pushing it down as much as possible. You hoped he couldn’t see the weakness in you.

Whether he did or not though, you could tell he was visibly pissed for a minute. He finally got his features under control, but as he spoke his tone held all of the avarice that had left his face.

“Whatever,” he said, “Contract or not, you’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere until you accept that. Throw a tantrum if you want to, but you’re stuck here.”

You watched as he went back into the camera system as easily as he had come. You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your arms.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Part 1/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy overhears a private conversation and uses that knowledge against you. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~3k (of 5.3k) Warnings: Clown abuse, strong language, incorrect use of a straight razor.

Never had you on my mind Now you're there all the time Never knew what I missed until I kissed ya

---

By all accounts, Buggy should be having a great time. There's food, alcohol, gambling... hell, there's even a swimming pool. Not that he can partake, but he can live vicariously.

Instead, he's got a whole school of shark eyes trained on him as he sits on a stool next to Arlong's throne. This water park sucks.

He's not chained up or anything. The threat of a couple dozen sets of teeth ripping into him is reason enough to sit perfectly still, keep his mouth shut, and try to look as small as possible. No sudden movements, no change in expression, no—

"Kiss the clown, marry the waiter, kill Pink Hair."

Buggy sits bolt upright and looks around. Who the hell said that?

Arlong doesn't even deign to look at him. "Hear something?"

Clear. Crisp. With a little bit of an accent, maybe. He's heard it somewhere recently, but where?

Certainly not here. It was a woman's voice, and Arlong Park is a bit of a sausage party at the moment. Not that he can tell on sight with fishpeople.

"Answer me, clown," Arlong rumbles.

He forgets who he's talking to for a moment. "Eavesdropping's an art," he snaps. "You can't rush art."

Big mistake. Arlong responds with a low, wet growl. "It's been three days. My patience is running thin."

Quiet chatter. The clinking of silverware. Someone chewing with their mouth open. The little pirates are at a restaurant, it seems.

He relays this to Arlong. He's less than pleased. He enunciates every word to show his teeth. "Care to be more specific?"

A shudder crawls up the back of Buggy's neck. He takes a swig of his drink to cover it. He places his fingers over his remaining ear, straining.

"You're shitting me." That voice he recognizes. The redhead. The one who ruined his show. The one Arlong's so interested in. Nadi? Nani? Noni?

The other woman speaks. "Nami, you rejected him," she says. "Girl Code only applies if you were dating."

Nami. That's her, the conniving little bitch. "No, not the waiter. I mean you'd seriously kiss the clown? He nearly killed us."

He'd recognize Rubber Boy's voice anywhere, the little shitheel. "And his nose would get in the way."

The mystery woman speaks up again. "That's nothing new. I’ve smacked noses with plenty of guys."

Okay, that narrows it down. It’s not the redhead, it can't be Rubber Boy or the bounty hunter, so that leaves...

...you. Of course it's you. How could he forget you? You're the only one who laughed at Axe-Hand Moron. Granted, it was more like a snnrrrk and you immediately clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror, but it was a laugh all the same.

And in that moment, he knew he liked you. Bad sense of humor. Cute smile. A little bashful. He appreciates that. Sure, you helped humiliate him not an hour after the fact, but all's fair in love and piracy.

"Look, I'm not saying it’s a good idea," you continue, "but sometimes you gotta live dangerously."

The bounty hunter speaks, dry and droll. "Storms are dangerous. Bar fights are dangerous. You're just insane."

"Oh, c'mon, you're not seriously gonna hold Fu..." You pause. "Kiss Marry Kill answers against me."

So that's what's going on. "They're just chattering like they always are," he says to Arlong.

Arlong does not like that answer. He snatches Buggy up by the neck, lifting him clear off the ground with only one hand.

"Wait! Wait wait wait! They're still talking! I might have something!" He kicks and struggles, but it's no use.

You speak. "You think everything pops off? ‘Cause a gal could really— hyurk.”

Laughter all around as you’re cut off by something. Sounds like you choked.

“Thank you, Usopp,” Nami says. “I am not having that conversation.”

Arlong saunters over to the pool, carrying Buggy like a ragdoll. He has precious few seconds now. C'mon, he wills them, say something useful!

A slap, a spit, then a couple of hard coughs. “Nice shot,” you wheeze. “Use the unspicy peanut next time. I think I burned my windpipe.”

The new guy — Usopp — scoffs. “Spicy? Please. This isn’t spicy. Baratie spicy is barely a zip. Now, you want spicy, you gotta hit up the Great Pepper Isles. Their chilis are so hot, I had an out-of-body experience.”

And boom, there it is. Right as he's about to be dropped into the water, his ticket to life.

“Baratie! They're at Baratie," he chokes out. "That floating restaurant. That really nice one I got thrown out of, the pricks."

It was Cabaji's fault. Turns out whipping a unicycle out at the bar is frowned upon. Who'd've thunk.

Arlong 'smiles.' All teeth and gums and no mirth at all. "Consult our charts," he says to the nearest fishman. "I'll prepare our compass."

He grabs Buggy by the hair and yanks. In the interest of not getting his neck broken, he separates his head from his body. Unfortunately, gravity takes over and his body plunges into the pool.

Weakness swamps him like a rogue wave. He can't say a word as he's stuffed into a cloth sack and everything goes dark.

In both ears, all he can hear are the sounds of laughter.

---

Someday, Buggy will learn not to run his fat mouth. That day is not today.

Usopp barges into the galley and lobs his head through the air, a low slow toss. He only has a moment to appreciate not being overhand pitched before landing on the floor. Not on his nose, fortunately, but it still hurts.

He points at the blonde guy — Sanji? Sanji. "I can't take it anymore. He's your problem now. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

He tramps off as Buggy flips himself upright. “What’s his problem?” he asks no one in particular. “Sheesh, you make one ‘your mom’ joke and—“

A decidedly unmanly yelp escapes him as he's popped up into the air. The world spins and turns and he braces himself to hit the ground again, only to be caught in soft hands. He's spun around...

...and comes face to face with you, regarding him with curious, contemptuous eyes.

Oh, you're even prettier up close. The redhead's a looker, but she's still a kid. Soft. Pale. Set like a mousetrap, ready to spring and break some poor chump's neck at the slightest provocation.

But you? You're a grown-ass woman. Comfortable in your sun-kissed skin. A twinkle of experience in your eye and the ease of someone who's been sailing her ship for years.

He can't help but smile. "Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, gorgeous," he says with a wink.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Sanji shoot him a glare. Your expression remains cool and uninterested. Shifting his head to your side, you hold him against your hip like a laundry basket. Even through your trousers, the soft swell of flesh warms his cheek.

“Weren't you just on buggysitting duty?” you ask Sanji.

Buggysitting? Really? "I'm right here, y'know," he grumbles.

He's ignored, as per usual. Sanji straightens up and huffs. “New guy always gets the shit jobs.”

“Let’s trade,” you say. “You take my watch and I’ll mind our chatty compass.”

Rude. “I’m still right here.”

Sanji shakes his head. “Go get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, of course."

Wow, that was a bad line. Buggy makes his displeasure known with a retch.

“Sleep is for people who don’t have coffee.” You flap your hand toward the door. "Shoo.”

Sanji glances between you and Buggy, but heads for the door. "Any trouble at all, love, and I’m a shout away."

A little smile colors your voice. "If he starts gnawing my ankles, you’ll be the first to know."

Sanji returns the smile, sickeningly sweet. As he leaves, you sit at the table, placing Buggy across from you.

He wants nothing more than to plant his leg on a stool, lean in on his knee, and give you a toothy grin. But alas, he must settle for the grin. "Alone at last. Come here often?"

You don't even bother to look at him, too preoccupied with picking up a very shiny straight razor and a strip of leather. Muscle ripples under your skin as you slide the blade back and forth.

"So you're the barber," he says. You don't respond. "Can't imagine you're too busy on a ship with a bunch of babyfaces." Still nothing. "Don't suppose I could get a shave, then? Last time I used a straight razor, I ended up like this!"

"Barber surgeon," you say as you inspect the blade. Dissatisfied with some invisible blemish, you continue stropping.

He shrugs, only to remember he can’t. "Say, doc, I can't feel anything below my neck. Could you take a look?”

Irritation tints your voice. “Not a doctor,” you say. You’ve clearly had to explain this countless times before. “Doctors treat the inside. I fix up the outside.”

“Splitting hairs, Miss Sawbones.”

Shiff shiff shiff goes the razor. "If you don't stop talking, we’re gonna see if cutting off the nose really does spite the face. Might be an improvement for you.”

That’s just low. “Keep talking shit and this bark is gonna turn into bite.”

You finally look up. You level the razor at him, glaring down the blade. “You’re the only one talking, clown.”

Damn. Your eyes are pretty. Warm as the first sunbeam of a summer morning, but dark as the blotches he gets in his eyes when he looks into a spotlight by accident. Hot like one, too. Heat lurks below the dark surface, like warm charcoal about to catch fire.

Nerves ball up in his absent chest. He swallows them and summons his bravado. “Can ya blame me? I’ve got shit else to do. I’ve met parrots with more to say than you.”

"Count the cracks in the ceiling."

"One, two, three—“ He gives an exaggerated groan. “Didn't you say you were gonna make coffee? Can I get in on that?"

You scoff, but you do stand. "Last thing you need is caffeine.”

“The last thing I need is to be held hostage by a bunch of greenhorn nobodies,” he says, "and yet here I am."

“Sucks to suck,” you say. You pull a pot out of a cupboard and fill it with water. “How do you take it? Sugar? Cream?”

“Black. Like my heart.”

You let out that snnnrrrrk of a suppressed laugh again. What a nice sound. “Something we got in common.”

“Black heart or black coffee?”

“Yes.”

Such a simple, easy response. Not even particularly clever. But the delivery with no hesitation, no intonation, no second guessing the punchline. He laughs. “I knew I liked you!”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “You try to kill everyone you like? No wonder you have no friends.”

He hops to the edge of the table. Not an easy feat with only a stump. “C’mon, babe. All’s fair in love and piracy.”

Calling you babe was a blindfolded over-the-shoulder shot in the dark, but it lands. You add a smile to your glance. “I’ll give you that and nothing more.”

Somewhere, miles away, his heart flutters. He lets it. “Will you still give me coffee?”

“Only if you shut up ‘til this water boils.”

In this state, he’ll take any scrap of stimulus he can get. He bites his tongue and bites it hard, willing himself not to speak.

Silence creeps in. Silence leads to stewing, and stewing leads to bad thoughts. Bad feelings. Lonely feelings. Like how long it’s been since he’s had a friendly cuppa joe with someone. Or had someone honestly laugh at his stupid jokes.

Especially not someone as quick as you. Or as pretty. Or with such a nice ass. Or who maybe-sorta-kinda-might-possibly be interested in him. Potentially. Hypothetically.

There’s no damn way, he tells himself. You’re humoring him. You’re definitely shacking up with that cook — young, charming, handsome. Or the bounty hunter, maybe — tall, dark, broody.

You wouldn’t give him a second glance. Him, a pathetic, painted, big-nosed weirdo. Who is currently a severed head. A temporary state, but still not a good first impression. Even though his actual first impression was trying to kill you and your buddies. This second first impression is just as bad.

A sharp groan escapes him before he can stop it. He eyes you, expecting you to snap at him or worse.

But you don’t. You pause in your pouring to peer over your shoulder at him, gaze soft. “Y’alright?”

There goes his heart again. Ugh. “Peachy. That coffee done yet?”

You curl your lip. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Just realized I’m gonna need a straw or some shit.”

Still sneering, you set a shallow mug in front of him. “I’ll see what I can find.”

See? You definitely don’t like him. Stupid fucking jackass, letting his hopes get up. This is what he gets.

…A nice, warm cup of coffee. If you really hated him, you wouldn’t have given him coffee, right? Or be looking for a straw?

You’re just humoring him. You just want to save your friend. Catch more flies with honey and all that. He’ll be more agreeable if you’re friendly.

Across the room, you open a drawer. “Hey, bendy straws. Perfect.”

You’re breaking out bendy straws for him? There’s gotta be something there! At least a little something!

No. No way. Coincidence.

You place an oddly long straw into the mug. He realizes it’s three normal ones jammed end-to-end, creating a pipe ending just about level with his mouth.

You just pulled some engineering shit so he can drink coffee with you. There’s definitely something.

An ice cube plops into the mug and you slide back into the booth with your own cup. “Might dilute it a bit, but can’t have you burning your mouth.”

His distant heart flips again. He has to say something. Before he can convince himself otherwise. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“So,” he says, “‘kiss the clown,’ eh?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s the first thing he thought of? Seriously? He braces himself for boiling coffee thrown in his face.

You freeze mid-sip, brows raised. “Excuse me?”

Okay, you don’t look mad. “Don’t deny it, babe. I heard everything. Kiss Marry Kill? Nice job keeping it kid-friendly, wink wink."

You stare at him with those dark eyes. "No idea what you're on about."

"I know you know. And I know you know I know." He waggles his eyebrows, hoping for a laugh, but he gets nothing.

You watch the steam swirling up from your mug. "What do you want me to say, exactly? That I chose you to kiss?"

"I just wanna know what possesses a woman to make her want to shack up with the guy who tried to kill her and her friends." He lips the straw into his mouth and takes a test sip. Still quite hot.

"Circumstance. Process of elimination. Being put on the spot." You pick up the razor. Your fiddling with it belies your agitation.

"Don't lie to me, babe," he croons. "I can see right through you."

You stare at him. "And what is it that you see?"

What does he see? "A woman on a knife's edge of self-satisfaction and self-destruction. Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around the third time, you just can't help yourself."

Your fiddling becomes more insistent. You break eye contact to look at the razor. He's hitting on something. Time to push some buttons.

"You bet on the wrong horse every time. You think it'll be different this time. But it never is." He smiles bitterly. "Something else we got in common. Birds of one ugly feather."

Your gaze softens as you return your gaze to him. "So you found the problem, Doctor Headshrink. What’s the prescription?"

Shoot your shot, Buggy. "Kiss the clown and maybe we'll find out."

You're still for a few moments. Then slowly, carefully, you slide your hand across the table. You pull him closer as you lean lower in your seat to eye level with him.

He can't help the way his breath quickens. It's been so, so long since he had any kind of intimacy. Your reedy fingers trace his jaw down to his chin. Your thumb comes up to pull at his bottom lip, and he lets out a satin-soft whimper as he opens his mouth to you.

You strike like a snake, yanking his tongue out with one hand and readying your razor with the other. His choke turns into a scream as you bring it down, severing his tongue clean at the root.

It's one thing to disconnect body parts. Pop a leg off, drop an ear — he’s used to it. But it's a different story when said part is supposed to be inside of him. His tongue waggles like a fish as he tries to return it to his mouth, but you keep a firm grip.

"You can have this back in the morning," you say.

He wants to cuss you out, but what comes out is ew bihck, whadda fuhck iss won wif ew, gif ih bahck.

You laugh. And lord, what a laugh you've got. Loud, like a party gone late into the hours of the night. Clattery, like a dozen plates shattering on the floor. Full of mirth, like a drunk on payday.

And, for the briefest of moments, his rage is forgotten. He wants to make you laugh like that.

But it returns with a vengeance, replaced with a desire to see you squirm.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[gingiesworld]

We Are Bonded

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

AN: This is a one shot I am thinking of making a story for. Except it may be longer than my Nat x Werewolf reader fic. Please let me know if it is something you will want :)

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

It was no secret that Y/N had an attachment to the witch, although she had something with Vision, who disliked Y/N’s need to be near her. He would scowl everytime the two would cuddle, Wanda loved to run her fingers through their hair and even scratch behind their ear.

“It’s not right Wanda! This moronic claim they have on you is wrong!” He yelled as Wanda was preparing dinner, slamming the knife down as she turned to face him.

“There is nothing wrong with it!” She told him angrily. “Y/N and I are friends! And guess what? Friends cuddle all of the damn time!”

“Wanda.” Vision took a deep breath. “Y/N is a mongrel.”

“I’m a what?” Y/N questioned, hurt laced in their voice.

“Y/N.” Wanda tried as Y/N shook their head, walking away from the witch and Vision. Wanda glared at Vision before speaking. “We’re done.” She told him firmly.

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as she nodded, pursing her lips as she looked in his eyes.

“You have disrespected my closest friend.” She told him. “I can’t be with anyone who would hurt them.” Wanda turned away to look for Y/N.

“What about dinner?” He asked her as she turned back to him.

“You’re all knowing. I’m sure you can figure it out.” With that she left the room, wanting to find Y/N as she searched the compound, only coming up empty. She moved to search outside, where she bumped into Natasha.

“Are you ok?” She questioned the witch.

“Have you seen Y/N?” She asked her, ignoring her question.

“No, why?” She asked her, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Vision and I got into an argument.” She started.

“About Y/N I presume.” She said as Wanda nodded.

“Then they overheard him call them a mongrel, then they left.” She told her.

“Ok, let’s find Y/N before I kill Vision.” Natasha told her.

“I’ve already searched inside the compound and they aren't there.” Wanda told her.

“Ok.” Nat nodded as she led Wanda towards the lab. “Tony, we need to search for Y/N.” She explained everything that Wanda had just told her, the two of them watching as he searched for them.

“They left at around 3pm.” He pointed at the screen showing them leaving. Moving onto another camera to see Y/N get tranquilized and put into the back of a waiting van.

“Do you think you can find them?” Wanda asked, worry laced in her voice.

“I can try to narrow it down to possible locations, but that was hours ago. It can take a while.” He told her.

“Just do it.” Nat told him. “I’ll tell the others we have a situation.”

As soon as everyone was notified of the situation, everyone started to make preparations and plans for when Tony has a location.

“Their ring.” Maria blurted out as everyone looked at her confused. “I gave them a ring, they always keep it on and it has a tracker.” She moved towards one of Tony’s computers as everyone watched as she typed away. “So they are now in Virginia.”

“It looks like an old abandoned factory.” Tony pointed to the screen. “So, I should be able to get the blueprints.” He mumbled as he typed away himself. Soon enough everyone was on the jet and going over a plan. “You are staying on the jet Vision.” Tony stated as they neared the location. “We can’t trust that you will make sure Y/N is safe.”

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as Wanda laughed.

“It appears that is your favourite sentence.” She mumbled as she moved to stand beside Nat.

“We’ll get them back.” She reassured the witch who just nodded, ready to rain fire if anyone had harmed a hair on Y/N’s head. Once the jet landed safely, everyone ran towards the base, taking down anyone who stood in their way. What they never expected to see was Y/N being tortured in their human form.

“Y/N!” Wanda yelled as she heard them yelp as a whip came down on their bare back. She used her powers to throw the agents as far away from them as possible. “Hey, it’s ok.” She cupped their tear stained face. “You’re safe now.”

“Wanda?” They whispered unsurely. “Are you really here?”

“Yes.” She told them. “Let’s get you home.” She helped them to their feet, with the help of Steve, they hobbled their way onto the jet. Wanda came straight to them with the first aid kit.

“Just give it a moment.” They whispered as Wanda tilted her head in confusion.

“They will heal in a moment.” Maria informed her. “They heal faster than Steve and Bruce, but not as fast as the werewolves heal on those TV shows.”

“Oh.” Wanda was shocked, her eyes watching as the wounds slowly healed before her eyes.

Once everyone was back at the tower safely, Wanda made sure to stay with Y/N, waiting as they showered. Sitting on their bed as she stole one of their hoodies.

“Hey.” Y/N greeted her as they left the bathroom. “What’s on your mind?” They asked as she looked at them confused.

“Since when are you a mind reader?” She teased as they dried their hair.

“I guess I can sense your emotions.” They told her nervously. “I feel when you are happy or sad, I can sense when you are angry or calm.” They threw the towel in the hamper. “I don’t understand this connection we have, I haven’t really come across another of my kind to even learn more of who I am.” They sat beside her on the bed. “But I know I am drawn to you, like we are bonded in some way.” Wanda took a deep breath before looking into their eyes.

“I feel that too.” Wanda admitted. “I just, it’s this feeling I just can’t shake.” Y/N watched her intently as she spoke. “I loved Vision, before you came along, I really did but.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “You have changed something in me, like I feel for you what I felt for him, and I don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t have to do anything.” They spoke softly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“But I do.” She told them. “I am just not ready yet.”

“That’s ok.” They smiled as they wrapped their arms around her. “I will wait as long as I need to.”

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Barnes Bakes Chapter 2

A request that turned into a short story. *mudak: moron or blowhard in Russian

Previous chapter Next chapter

From then on, every Sunday night Bucky could expect a knock on his door at about 7:00 p.m.  It was always Y/N, bringing him a new plate of treats to try.  Her bubbly vivaciousness was palpable as she would talk to him and explain what it was she made, then wouldn’t leave until he took a bite in front of her.  First it was classic chocolate chip cookies, then sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin, white chocolate and macadamia nut, and almost every type of cookie imaginable until she moved on to brownies, cake, and now ice cream.

Bucky at first tried to turn it down, but she was persistent, and he would eventually cave and just take the damn treat to make her leave him alone.  He wouldn’t let her see how much he liked her coming by, but would indulge showing her his one bite of trying it in front of her before she left.  After she had come by with mint chocolate chip ice cream, which he really wasn’t that fond of but knew Sam would love so he took it, he closed the door and turned around to find his girlfriend glaring at him.

“Who the fuck was that?” Mandy asked, her arms crossed on her chest.

“My neighbor,” Bucky said, bringing the ice cream into the kitchen and placing it in the freezer.

“No shit, Sherlock.  What’s her name?” she asked.

“Y/N,” Bucky said simply before facing her and crossing his arms.  He hadn’t really told Mandy about Y/N.  It didn’t seem like he needed to.  “She’s a baker and likes to bring treats by.”

“So you know her name and that she’s a baker,” Mandy said, her eye twitching in annoyance.  “What else do you know?  Huh?  Has she been here before?  Are you flirting with her?”

“What?  No, Mandy, god,” Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes with his flesh hand.  “I helped her move some boxes when she moved in and she insisted on paying me with treats, because that’s what she does.  Nothing inappropriate has happened.  Why can’t you trust me to just, I don’t know, know people outside of you?”

“How well do you know her?” Mandy asked, her voice raising.

“Not well,” he shrugged.

“Where does she work?” she asked, her teeth nearly grinding.

“I think she said that bakery on 5th, but I could be wrong,” he said simply, shrugging again.  “I don’t know her.  She’s just a neighbor who likes to bring me treats.”

“Then why did she call you sweet pea?” Mandy growled.

“She just does, that’s her thing,” Bucky sighed.  “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you really that stupid, Bucky?  Some bitch is bringing you food and calling you nicknames and you’re just ‘neighbors’ and nothing more?” Mandy yelled.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Bucky yelled back.  “I told you this jealousy thing has to stop.  Not every woman I walk by or associate with in my life is trying to steal me away from you.  And you calling her names just because she’s being nice isn’t going to make me feel any better about this,” he gestured between them.  “I’m telling you, Mandy, I’ve had it.  I’m done doing this with you–”

“I’m sorry!” Mandy said, suddenly looking sad and pouty.  “I’m sorry.  I was just insecure, alright?  She’s…nice,” she said it like it hurt her to admit.  “Please don’t break up with me over something like this.”

Bucky sighed heavily.  “Okay, okay.  Just please, no more of this weird jealousy thing.”  He walked over and hugged her.  “She’s just a nice person who lives across the hall from me.  That’s all.”

“Okay,” Mandy said, still not sounding sure but accepting it.

***

The little bell rang over the door and Y/N came out from the back to greet the new customer.  “Hello!” she said cheerfully, watching the woman scowl at the bakery.  “What can I help you with today?” she continued, trying not to let the woman’s dislike dampen her mood.

“What the hell kind of name is ‘She’s Tasty’?” the woman asked, giving Y/N a dirty glance.

Y/N’s eyebrows raised.  “It’s based on the fact that all my bakes are named after a typically female name,” she explained, pointing at the menu above her head that had lists of names, categories and what the dessert was made of under each one.  “It’s just a play on words.  Like, ‘Ooh she’s tasty!’  You know?”

The woman grimaced.  “Right.  Well, I’m not here for a dessert.  I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay,” Y/N said, leaning against the counter and frowning.

“Stay away from my boyfriend,” she snarled.

Y/N smirked.  “Okay.  Who’s your boyfriend?”

She looked even angrier.  “Bucky!” she cried indignantly.

“Bucky?  My neighbor Bucky?” Y/N asked incredulously.  “I didn’t know he was even social enough to have a girlfriend.”

“Well, he is, and I’m the girlfriend telling you to back off,” she spat.

“Back off from what, exactly?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head in question.  “I haven’t flirted with him.”

“Yes you are!  You keep bringing him treats!” she said, slapping the counter.

“Okay, hun, just chill out,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.  “I won’t bring treats anymore, k?  I’m sure I’ve paid him back for helping me move in plenty at this point.”  The girlfriend kept glaring at her.  “I was just being friendly and neighborly,” Y/N continued.  “No need to be jealous of some little treats.”

“Just stay away from him,” the girlfriend snapped, then turned on her heel and stomped out of the bakery.

Y/N rolled her eyes again and walked back to the kitchen.  She hadn’t said or done anything to warrant this type of response, but whatever.  She wouldn’t make Bucky’s treats anymore.  The less drama she had to deal with the better.

[robinofgothamcity]

“I just killed a man, she’s my alibi.”

Character: Jonathan Crane / DC

Authors Note: guy, I’m such a slut for Jonathan, as all of you can tell lmfao. Anyway, here’s a blurb for him bc i clearly cannot stop writing for him! Again, not checked for spelling or grammar errors. Also, i think my crush on cillian also contributes to this obsession i have with Jonathan

Being a vigilante had to be one of the hardest parts of your life. Every time a crime happened in Gotham, you were one of the first to be called to be questioned. You really had no idea why Batman or his group of annoying superheroes were always so interest in you being at the center of any crime. You wondered if maybe there was an underlying reason but every time you questioned them, they gave you a flat answer.

Tonight’s crime had been done by two face and gang of gremlins and although you thought that the crime was funny, you immediately knew that Batman was going to hunt you down for it.

“Did Harvey really need to do this tonight?” You asked Jonathan and Edward as you took another swig of your wine, “I was actually enjoying this outing but I can assure you Batman is going to question me as soon as I walk out of here”. Edward couldn’t help but chuckle as he could tell that you were no longer in the mood to drink. “Have you ever thought that it could be because Batman or his group of idiots want you on their side? I mean, you are one of the few vigilantes that can control the supernatural.”

You thought for a moment, wondering if Edward had a point.

“As if, she’s not stupid enough to join them,” Jonathan replied. You gave him a look, “I mean, you’re right but can I be the one to say that?” You said as you looked back to Edward, “I really don’t see why they’d need me. They have enough magic to last them a lifetime so I doubt I’d be useful. Plus, who else would be here to be a pain in your asses if I ran off with the Justice League?”

Not a second after the three of you walked out of the bar you noticed Batman sitting on top of your motorcycle with a smirk sitting on his face.

“Good evening to you Batman, came to bother me?” You asked as you perched yourself onto the bike to look up at the caped crusader. Jonathan felt his eye twitch in annoyance as he could tell that stupid charming personality that Batman had very much worked on you without any real effort, “Is it bothering if I came to question you? There was an attempted robbery Gotham Bank and you were very close to the scene.”

You couldn’t help but laugh sarcastically.

“It is bothering me considering I’ve been with these idiots all night, you can check the camera footage if you don’t believe me,” you smugly as you pointed back to Jonathan and Edward. They gave you a look of annoyance as Jonathan stepped up next to you, “She was nowhere near that moron tonight so you can go ahead and leave us alone,” Jonathan stated as he put his hand on your shoulder.

You stared at him wondering where this genuine look of anger came from. Jonathan didn’t get angry very easily but whenever he did, it was never for something this small. It took a lot of make him upset and with the small interaction with the bat, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something that you were missing to make him that angry.

“Sorry bat, I really was with them. If you want, you can check with Harvey and ask him about his whereabouts,” you replied not really in the mood to be dealing with the same game he always played when questioning you. Batman clicked his tongue as he looked to Jonathan, “would you like to state something? Or you Edward?” Edward put his hands up in defense as Jonathan pushed you farther back to look at Batman,” the girl already told you she was not near Dent or his goons so get to work bat.”

You and Edward started laughing as you watched Jonathan continue to stare him down.

“Come on you big scary man, you don’t need to end up in Arkham tonight,” you whispered to Jonathan as you tapped your fingers on his shoulder. He sighed realizing you were right and walked away from the hero as you gave Edward your keys as a silent indication to take it back to your place.

There wasn’t many times where Jonathan was mad at you but you realized that your interaction with Batman was the primary reason to Jonathan’s anger. You and Jonathan were very close when it came to having partners in the underworld of Gotham but this was the first time that you could see Jonathan’s anger practically boiling over.

“Okay, now that they’re both gone, want to explain why you were about to fight the strongest hero in Gotham?” You asked as you put your hands in your shorts, expecting an answer. He rolled his eyes not wanting to give you a reason but he knew you’d keep pestering him about it if he didn’t give you one, “Is there something going on with you and that moron?” He asked very straight forwardly.

“Me and Batman? First of all, absolutely not. Jonathan, you’re smart of enough to realize that on your own so what would give you that impression?” You asked. He gave you a dry laugh as you pushed you up against a random building, his thumb and index finger pinching your face, “It doesn’t take an idiot to realize that Batman wanted more than that interaction from you and you’re smart enough to realize that sweetheart.”

This time, it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Even if he wanted something more, I’m not going to play justice league today or ever and you know that Jonathan,” you replied as you grabbed the hand that was holding your face and stroked it gently, “Jonathan, if I really wanted to make you jealous, I’d do it with someone more worth my time,” you added on.

Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh as he stared at you with this evil glint in his eyes, “well, I’m glad you know your worth,” he replied as you laid a hardening kiss on his lip, “well, I’m slightly disappointed that you doubted me,” you pouted dramatically.

“Sweetheart, you know that game does not work on me so let’s just forget this little interaction happened and we can go back to my place and finish that last bottle of wine that you didn’t get too last week.”

“Sounds like a great idea Dr.Crane,” you replied as you gave him a wink.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

This idea came to me as I was watching Below Deck! Carmy as a yacht chef and reader is the chief stew. Enemies to lovers vibes!

Below Deck

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem! Reader

Warnings: language, semi public kissing, angst

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 3.1k

“Alright chef, what do we have here?”

I inquired, my eyes glazing over the vast array of delectable dishes.

“We’ve made kobe steaks with a demi-glace. And creamy pesto shrimp.”

I nodded.

“Hm. Looks good.”

I twisted my head to meet Carmen's gaze, hands on my hips. Carmen and I hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye throughout the duration of our employment on this yacht. However, I am impressed with his efforts thus far. I can only hope and pray that he does not give me an excuse to become irritated.

“What are you thinking of making for the vegetarian option?”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow.

“The pesto shrimp.”

There you have it. He just gave me a reason to be annoyed.

“Carmen, shrimp isn’t vegetarian.”

He furrowed his brow.

“Nah, shrimp is vegetarian.”

My face grew hot with rage.

“Carmen, shrimp is pescatarian!”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow. My jaw dropped. Was he being serious?

“Oh. My. God.”

I rubbed my eyes. My day has already been challenging. The last thing I needed was for this moron to ruin the excellent system I had set up.

“Carmen, we have close to fifty guests on this yacht that don’t eat meat or fish!”

I looked at my watch. My jaw dropped. Time was ticking away, and dinner for fifty guests had yet to be prepared.

“Shit. Dinner is supposed to be served in 45 minutes.”

I muttered under my breath. I wiped my brow with my hand, trying to keep my cool in front of his kitchen staff. If we were alone, he would feel the full force of my rage.

“You need to make a completely new dish with no meat and no shellfish in 45 minutes.”

Carmen's eyes narrowed. He had absolutely no reason to be upset with me. It is not my fault that he does not understand the distinction between a pescatarian and a vegetarian..

“I don’t know if I-”

“Carmen.”

I said sternly, cutting him off.

“You screwed up, and now you have to fix this. I expect fifty plates of a brand new vegetarian dish in 45 minutes. I don’t care how the hell you get it done, but it needs to be done, and it needs to taste amazing.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Yknow, Y/N, I’m getting real sick of this fuckin’ shit.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“Sick of what shit?! You messed up, not me! It’s not my fault you’re a complete idiot who doesn’t know the difference between a pescatarian and a vegetarian!”

Carmen took a step forward, decreasing the gap between us.

“Not just this, you’ve been out to fuckin’ get me the entire time I’ve been on this goddamn boat! I’m sick of your attitude, and I’m sick of you praying for my fuckin’ downfall!”

He repeatedly thrust his finger at me, emphasizing his exasperation. I stood my ground, not faltering.

"Look," I said, moving in closer to whisper. The soft clanging of pots and pans stopped as the majority of the kitchen staff listened intently to our conversation.

“I’m sorry that I won’t sit here and kiss your ass. You’ve been screwing up. When you do things, you do them extremely well. But you need to learn how to listen. I won’t pretend you’re amazing if you’re not.”

Carmen's tough exterior had cracked just enough to show his discomfort.

“I am not praying for your downfall, but if you don’t start listening, I won’t hesitate to find someone else.”

Carmen sighed with aggravation.

“You’re a royal fucking bitch, y’know that?”

I waved my hand through the air, dismissing his previous comment.

“You can think I’m a bitch all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that we need fifty vegetarian dishes in-”

I checked my watch.

“40 minutes. If I were you, I’d stop wasting time and get cooking, alright? I’m not gonna sit here and let you make me look bad.”

Carmen locked his gaze on mine. The tension in the air was palpable. This was a competition. A competition I was most definitely not losing. He held my gaze. Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace. But I was not fazed. He eventually realized the jig was up. Carmen sighed deeply, his gaze rapidly shifting away from mine.

“Alright chefs!”

He called out to his staff.

“We need fifty vegetarian dishes in the next forty minutes. I wanna hear some ideas and see some seriously good shit being made!”

I smiled, pleased that I had won the battle. I stepped onto the deck, ready to greet the yacht's numerous guests. The rest of the day was a blur.

The number of times I heard, "Y/N, have you done this yet?"

“Y/N, I need this done right now!”

“Y/N, I need this.”

“Y/N, I need that!”

“Y/N, where’s the owner?”

By the end of the day, my head felt like it was going to explode. I had heard my name so frequently that by the time I was given a break, it irritated me.

I found a secluded area of the dock away from the party's hustle and bustle. I sat in one of the lounge chairs, resting not only my body but my mind as well. I rubbed my temples, trying to work out the various knots that had formed in my brain.

I cast my eyes out onto the breathtaking South Pacific. Wow. What a luxury it would be if I was free from work! What a wonderful life I would have if my only goal was to gaze out onto this beautiful water and drink fruity little drinks with a handsome man by my side.

But, alas, here I am, enjoying my brief respite before the owner summons me.

“What are you doin’ out here?”

My heart leaped. I turned around to reveal the source of the voice, Carmen Berzatto. He stood there with a smug expression on his face, his white chef's apron splattered with various stains.

“What, did Claire not give you enough shit to do?”

He asked, pulling a box of cigarettes from the pocket of his apron. I rolled my eyes.

“She said I could take a break while the guests enjoyed their dinner.”

Carmen popped a cigarette into his mouth.

“Don’t you have to make dessert soon?”

I inquired, hoping to provide an excuse for him to leave. He hummed, cupping his hand around the butt of the cigarette to keep the lighter's flame from blowing out.

“Nah. When dinner’s almost over, I’ll start cooking something up. So, I reckon I got about thirty to forty five minutes?”

The cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke.

“Did you come out here just to annoy me?”

Carmen scoffed, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his inked forearms. I could not help but glaze my eyes over the various tattoos. I wonder if they have any significance.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came out here because I knew it would be quiet.”

I sighed with exasperation.

“I did as well. I suppose I thought wrong.”

He glanced at me.

“I whipped something together for the vegetarians.”

I nodded.

“Good.”

Carmen scoffed with annoyance.

“No need to thank me.”

Carmen chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette before removing it and blowing the cloud of smoke into the crystal clear air. I rolled my eyes.

“I shouldn’t have to thank you after you did what you’re being paid to do. Maybe if you listened and did everything right the first time, I would thank you for your efficiency. But I’m not going to thank you for stressing me out and nearly making me look like a disorganized moron.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Well, Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Y/N, at least give me a little credit! I worked my fuckin’ ass off and prepared fifty vegetarian dishes in forty minutes with no recipe!”

He stated firmly. He would be shouting if his volume rose a few decibels.

“I mean, would it fuckin’ kill you to lose your bitch tendencies for a couple seconds and say thank you?!”

Carmen was flailing his hands around, wisps of smoke trailing the end of his cigarette.

I clenched my teeth. I was so enraged that steam was escaping from my ears. I was tempted to speak. But I was afraid of what might come out. So I simply bit my tongue and averted my gaze.

Instead, I observed the guests rushing around the lower deck. I watched them drink, eat, and laugh. I imagined what they were discussing.

Perhaps the dapper, older gentleman in the blue suit had just returned from his daughter's wedding..

Maybe the young blonde lady in the red dress had a fantastic date last week.

Perhaps the middle-aged man with the big cigar just sold his company.

I tried to push Carmen away from my thoughts. Maybe if I pretended he was not there, he would leave when he realized he was not getting a rise out of me.

“Y’know, it’s unfortunate,” he began.

I jerked my head around to face him. His cigarette had been reduced to a mere inch.

“What is?”

I inquired.

“You’re an attractive lady. You’ve got a drive and passion I admire. You know how to handle yourself.”

He dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe.

“I feel like we could be good friends.”

I scoffed loudly.

“Yeah, right, literally all we’ve done so far is butt heads and yell at each other-”

“Alright, alright, so we don’t work well together. But I think, given the right circumstances, we could get along.”

I considered it for a moment. Carmen was undeniably attractive. I also admired his zeal. And, according to what I have heard through the grapevine, he was very respectful of his entire kitchen staff.

“Is this a strange, roundabout way of asking me on a date?”

Carmen shrugged, placing his hands on his hips.

“If I asked, would you accept?”

I shouldn’t. There is no logical explanation as to why I would accept. I hate him. We’ve been quarreling the entire time we’ve been on this ship.

“Yes.”

Carmen cracked a grin.

“Well, then, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

I nodded.

“I think I would like that very much.”

I patted the empty lounge chair across from me.

“Care to sit?”

Carmen accepted.

It was very easy to get sucked into the bustle of the yacht during the day. It was so simple to dismiss Carmen as a person with feelings and instead view him solely as a body hired to complete a task. However, I felt sorry for him after witnessing him in such a private setting.

“Hey, um-I’m sorry I called you an idiot earlier.”

“It’s all good. Don’t sweat it.”

He looked down at the floor.

“I’m-uh-I’m sorry for calling you a royal bitch.”

It was now my turn to chuckle.

“It’s all good. I was kind of being a royal bitch.”

Carmen cracked a smirk and shrugged.

“I mean, I was bein’ a bitch too.”

Carmen twiddled his thumbs.

“Sorry, I got so pissed at you. You were just doin’ your job.”

I shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s all good. You’ve taken care of it, and the guests are happy. That’s all I care about.”

Our close proximity allowed me to study him. I noticed the numerous cuts on his hands, the ink on his arms, and the sheen of sweat on his brow. He smelled like cigarettes and smoke.

I suddenly felt overdressed in my blazer and heels. I should be wearing a swimsuit and holding a refreshing drink. He should be the one who overdresses. He should be walking along the deck of his yacht in a white button-up and black dress pants, like a true rich man. The sun should feel pleasurable on my bare skin. Instead, I felt hot and suffocated beneath layers of fancy clothing.

I noticed a food speck on his face. Perhaps some sauce. I cupped his face in my hand, rubbing the stain away with my thumb.

Carmen seized. His face grew hot under my touch. I barely noticed, as my brow was furrowed in concentration.

Before I could completely remove the speck, he began to lean in.

I drew back abruptly, my breath catching in my throat.

My heartbeat quickened.

My cheeks turned bright red.

My jaw dropped to the floor.

Was he trying to kiss me?!

A look of realization wafted over Carmen.

“Oh-oh my God, I’m so sorry! Holy shit, I thought you were trynna kiss me!”

Oh my God. He thought-

“Oh! No, no, no no no. I was just trying to get rid of some food on your face!”

Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ah! Shit I’m sorry!”

I shook my head, dismissing his apologies.

“You’re fine! You’re totally fine! It was my fault.”

Despite the gentle sound of birds and the bustle of people on the lower deck, an awkward silence ensued. Blush was painfully visible on both of our cheeks. Clearly, we both wanted to forget the discomfort that had just occurred. We didn’t even dare look each other in the eyes.

Then, once the silence had lingered, the mood shifted.

We both sensed it.

We exchanged glances, our demeanors tinged with lust.

I could sense the desire swimming in his eyes.

I straightened my back, hoping to calm the butterflies in my lower abdomen.

Carmen and I cocked our heads to the side, peering into the little living area to ensure no one was loitering as we were easily visible through the sliding glass door.

We locked eyes.

His pupils were now blown out with lust, and only a faint circle of blue could be seen.

“Do-”

I gulped.

“Do you think anyone will see us?”

I whispered.

Carmen shrugged.

“Maybe.”

He spoke in hushed tones.

Whatever.

I practically leapt on him as we locked lips. The tension had been broken. As I straddled his waist, I could feel blood rushing in my ears. My heartbeat quickened to the point where distinct pumps could barely be made out.

I’ve never been this worked up over a man in my life.

Carmen's hands reached my waist. He pulled me closer till there was no more room between us. I sighed deeply into his lips, allowing my rigid form to loosen.

I was a sensible woman.

I never took unnecessary risks.

And I certainly wasn’t one to put my job on the line just so I could make out with the head chef.

But Jesus, there was something about Carmen.

There was something so arousing about how taboo this whole situation was.

He made me want to be so… bad.

I threw my arms around his shoulders, tugging him impossibly closer as his tongue slipped past my teeth. It was instantly a battle for dominance. We were two incredibly passionate people. It wasn’t in our nature to fold.

“God, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.”

He mumbled sexily against my lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about having you on top of me.”

My stomach fluttered. I wonder if he ever thought about me in bed, long after we fought. I wonder if he allowed his calloused fingers to slip below the waistband of his boxers.

I ran my nails along his scalp, eliciting a whimper from the back of his throat.

God, he was sexy.

I shifted my weight slightly atop his lap. My clothed core brushed against his erection. I groaned involuntarily, my hips instantly searching for more friction.

“You make me so hard.”

It wasn't just the heat of the day that was making me sweat. Carmen’s hands traveled toward the waistband of my dress pants.

“Please,” he groaned with desperation, “please, I wanna make you feel good.”

I desperately wanted to throw off all of my stupid fancy clothes and feel the sun on my skin while I rode him like my life depended on it. But, alas, I knew it was neither the right place, nor the right time.

“Carmen, I have to get back to work.”

I uttered between heated kisses.

“Later, though, I promise.”

I climbed off him.

Jesus, bad idea to make out with someone in the middle of a shift. Now, I was uncomfortably wet and far too aroused to finish my day with a clear head.

Well, I suppose that’s the price I pay for throwing every ounce of sensibility out the window.

“What time is it?”

Carmen asked, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain his composure.

I checked my watch. My jaw dropped.

Man, my time management skills were awful today.

“Holy shit it’s been half an hour! Your staff is probably wondering where the hell you’ve been!”

Carmen shot up, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Oh my God I still have to make fuckin’ dessert for everyone!”

Although I am all for getting things done on time. Carmen could not go back to work with…

“Y’know, I would advise, um-maybe, going to the bathroom.”

My eyes shot back and forth between his erection and his eyes. Carmen glanced down, immediately getting the memo.

“Shit! Shit, I don’t have fuckin’ time for this!”

I placed my hands on his shoulders to keep him from getting too worked up.

“It’s okay! Just take a deep breath. I’ll tell them you’re dealing with a family emergency or something!”

Carmen shook his head rapidly.

“No, shit! I’m already behind schedule.”

He shrugged my hands off his shoulders.

“I really have to get to the kitchen Y/N.”

He began to walk away, but I grasped his shoulders, spinning his body back around to face me.

“Well, would you rather explain to your staff why you’re late, or why you’re hard.”

Carmen stalled, running his tongue over his lips.

“Yeah, on second thought that’s a good point… alright, we’ll go with your plan.”

I gave him a nod of approval. He turned to leave. But, before entering the small living area, he flipped back to face me.

“Hey, remember to find me later Y/N!”

He shouted.

I recalled our brief, yet passionate moment on the lounge chair. A grin spread slowly over my face.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget!”

[juliusxxxxxx]

How to start your own cult

*this is more or less a crack fic

*au where Scar is trying to use Grian’s watcher power to start a cult

*2000+ words

*probably not a one-shot

Knock knock.

No one’s answering.

Knock knock.

This time Scar banged on the door.

No one’s answering.

“Excuse me?” Said Xelqua. Their face was obscured under the shadow of their ominous purple robe, appearing as a pitch-black void. “What—are you doing?”

“What are WE doing!” Scar corrected the being, then reached forward to pull on their hood. “Take it off. You’re going to make ‘em scared.”

“No! How dare you—” Xelqua clasped tightly onto the inexplicable fabric. It felt cold to the touch and almost weightless in Scar’s hand. “There’s a sacred ritual that needs to be done before we can reveal our faces to mortals—you can't do it right after you just manifested me!”

“You’re here to fulfill my wish, right?”

“Yes…unfortunately! Stop it, mortal!”

But the deed had already been done. After the shadow was lifted, there was a face.

It's just a typical face, belonging to a person who appeared to be male, with blonde hair, black eyes, and some light freckles. Their eyes didn't seem to have pupils. Just black as ink.

“Oh��that’s what you look like.” Scar rested his hand. “I thought you were going to look way cooler. Like a cyclone or something.”

Xelqua rolled their eyes. Two eyes, how disappointing. Scar couldn't help himself but sighed.

“Now, can you tell me why we are here, mortal?” They surveyed the dreadfully dull middle-class neighborhood, under the bright midday sun. All nice houses, with neatly manicured front yards. “You dragged me here without even telling me what your wish was. It is extremely rude, in case you don't know it already.”

“My wish?” Scar puffed out his chest, wearing a bright smile on his face. “I want to start a cult.”

“…What?”

They looked at Scar with clear disgust on their normal-looking face.

“Yeah. Since I had a desire strong enough to summon a literal god, I did my research and…volià, here you are!”

He put his arm around the being's shoulders. There were many things he chose not to mention in the explanation he gave, including the graphic description of too many fresh eyeballs and organs that grossed him out. But it was all worth it in the end, right at the moment this Watcher emerged in the center of the wired rectangle he had made. It was drawn with blood, of course.

Xelqua gave him an unimpressed look.

“You seem to have some doubts,” Scar gave them a tight squeeze. “Alright, picture this: a bright, luxurious convention hall with thousands and thousands of people gathering. I am the super duper charismatic orator, preaching about fighting evil and injustice in the world with the power of true happiness. Someone shouted in the crowd, ‘Scar, how are you going to convince me, a stubborn moron who’s never been scammed in my entire life because I’m so lame and boring?’”

“And?”

“That’s when you come in, and strike ‘em with the power of thunder! Everyone trembles and kneels, offering me their life savings out of their pure, heartfelt faith.”

Xelqua stuck their tongue out.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” They brushed off his arm. “Have fun with your scam. I don't want to be a part of it.”

“No, Xelqua—but my wish!”

“I don't even want your soul anymore. It’s too…morbid for my liking.”

“Please! You haven't even heard of the amazing books I’ve been planning—”

Before he could finish his wailing, the door in front of them suddenly swung open.

“Uh…hello?”

A woman held the door, looking bewildered at the pair.

“Why, hello!”

Scar pulled the being back to the porch and put on his best expression, whether they liked it or not.

“We don't need anything—”

“No, no. We’re not salesmen. Far from them, actually.” He rummaged through his blazer and found a name card, which he handed to the housewife. He was fully prepared for this moment. He had been preparing this day for quite some time, and he was determined not to let it end in vain. “Here, take my card. The first one is for free.”

“Uh…Church of the True Happyness…of the Third Watcher?” She frowned, trying to read the wordy name. “Is this a new religion or something? Why is the ‘happiness’ spelled wrong? And why are there two ‘of��? ”

“I’m not with this lunatic—”

“Yes! A new religion. For true happiness. Just ignore my spelling mistake, please.”

Scar cut them off.

“The two ‘of’ thing is trendy. Just look around the other popular cul—churches, like the one started with an M.” He then reached both of his hands toward the housewife and shook with her eagerly. “Me and this—this—” He quickly lowered his voice and whispered to this extraterrestrial being, “what’s your pronouns?”

“I—I—he him?” The being stuttered.

“This handsome young man,” Scar patted on his back and declared, “are here to help.”

“Help?”

“Uh-huh. The lady who lives down the street mentioned that you have a faulty vacuum cleaner you got from your MLM just weeks ago. How unfortunate.”

“My MLM? Excuse you! What are you talking about? My business is legit—”

“Can I take a look at it?”

He pulled Xelqua toward the doorway and squeezed past the woman.

“This is private property! You can't just come in like this!” She frantically followed them into her own house. “Get out before I call the police!”

Scar began opening each closet in the house, ignoring her warning. It didn't take him long to find the broken house appliance in question, lying lifelessly in the dust.

“Here it is! You are a big beauty.” He pulled it out from the closet and wiped it clean haphazardly. “Xelqua?”

“Wha—you are out of your mind!” Xelqua turned towards the approaching woman and then turned back to face him. “We have to leave! I don't want to deal with your mortals’ cops—they’re notorious, even in my dimension!”

“Come on—” Scar nagged. “You’re here to fulfill my wish, right? Then consider this to be it. Fix this vacuum cleaner then consider we even.”

“…Are you serious right now?” Xelqua dropped his jaw. “You’re going to waste your one and only wish…on this?”

“I don't see any reason why not, since you’re going to leave me anyways.” He said with arms crossed. “Just do it for me.”

“And you’ll let me go?”

The being widened his pupil-less eyes. It was even more eerie than usual.

“Yeah. You are one vacuum cleaner away from freedom.”

“Get out of my house! This is the final warning!”

The woman yelled in fury, rightfully so.

“You came at the right time, ma’am.” Scar turned toward her, putting on his smile again. “We just fixed it. Can you plug it in for me?”

“…Heh?”

She halted.

“Try it out. If it doesn't work right away then we’ll leave immediately, am I right?” He gave the being a nudge.

“…Yes.”

Xelqua answered unwillingly.

The housewife knelt down to plug in the vacuum cleaner, grumbling about how absurd everything was. The moment it was turned on, a spark of purple light emitted from its indicator.

It worked.

“Phew—that was close.” Scar wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead. He should have just lost his soul a second ago, yet he didn't feel anything. Well, maybe he really was the chosen one who didn't have a soul to begin with.

“It…it worked?” She kept pressing different buttons on the vacuum cleaner, and they all certainly performed their functions. “How—how did you do that? My hubby can't do anything about it!”

“By the power of true happiness and the third Watcher, of course. By the way, the ‘happyness’ is actually spelled with an ‘y’, I just decided it. It’s better for trademark legalization anyway.”

Then, he grabbed Xelqua’s robe as the being tried to dematerialize and slip away from reality. A small part of his body had gone transparent already.

“What more do you want?” Xelqua protested, trying to get rid of him. “I’m leaving.”

“Give me a second,” Scar whispered to him and called the woman, still in awe, admiring her newly reborned cleaner. “Could you please help me with something? As a repayment for our service?”

“Uh…I really don't want to pay you. You seem like a scammer.”

“No—not money, yet.” He shook his head. He was rather frustrated that she would think so lowly of him, but he decided to let it pass. “Do you have the business card I just gave you?”

“…Yes?”

She began searching for it as she was instructed.

“There’s a line in the back. Can you read it out loud?”

She turned it around and started laughing immediately. “How am I supposed to read this? This is gibberish.”

“Well—I should know it beforehand…” Scar took a deep sigh and scratched his neck. Guess normal people without any knowledge would definitely not be able to read it, but he had no one to test it out for him yet. “Just repeat after me, then.”

He cleared his throat and started reciting.

“Mggoka ya orr'e.”

“Mgg…oka…ya orr’e.”

The being called Xelqua let out a short gasp as soon as the words left her mouth.

“What are you doing, mortal?”

“Ng ya bthnk.”

Scar ignored him but continued the chant.

“Ng ya b…thnk.”

She was trying her best to speak the obscure language that had been long lost in this mortal land. As each forbidden word was spoken, defying all laws of nature, the being trembled by the power of a divine offering.

“—Xelqua.”

“Xelqua…?”

Right after she finished the chant, the entire room was momentarily illuminated by a cold, purple glow. It happened so quickly, too quick for her to even realize it was emanating from herself.

“Thank you.”

Scar bowed to her, then walked decisively towards the doorway without looking back.

A few moments later, he heard another set of footsteps approaching him.

“How do you know these words?” The being known as Xelqua called as soon as they stepped out of the house.

“I did my research,” he simply said. “I know you’d follow me.”

“Of course I will…you are despicable.”

Xelqua uttered, catching up to him and walking alongside him.

“You sacrificed her soul to me for a…vacuum cleaner?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

Scar raised his shoulders.

“One more soul for you to chew on in the Void. I bet mine tastes awful so—I did you a favor?”

“I don't chew on souls! What do you think I am?”

“But that’s what all you want, am I right?”

Xelqua’s gaze locked on him for a while.

He couldn't read the emotions behind those eyes; it was as if he was staring into the Void itself. They reminded him of the legends he had learned from those ancient books about how the Watcher’s eyes can see through a person's very true self. A self. He often wondered if he even possessed one of his own.

But then, the Watcher laughed.

“What are you trying to do, mortal?”

Perhaps he actually had one after all.

“I want to start a cult!” Said Scar. “I said it from the very beginning. I'm true to my words—well, sometimes.”

“So that is your plan.” Xelqua shook his head. “I get some free souls so that you can start your dream cult.”

“You’re a smart god.” He reached out a hand toward the being. “How’s the deal?

“Sounds fine to me.” Xelqua shook it. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know. Doing the world a favor.” Scar released the being’s hand immediately. “Man, I can't wait!”

He didn't appreciate the being's lack of body temperature. He preferred interacting with real humans, especially someone who is willing to accompany him to a vibrant and dramatic apocalypse. Hopefully, cats and trees will be part of the experience.

“I’m thinking—I’m thinking we should go to a college campus next. Those students are so young and impressionable…and stupid.” He started marching down the street in victory, while the being followed him close behind. “Everyone is so anxious about their futures and—whatever the kids are worrying about nowadays. It’s perfect! You can give them some good grades or the body type of an Instagram model—or drugs, I don't care, then they will be your good little lambs.”

“Why do you hate the mortals so much, then?” After listening to his rambling in silence, the being asked.

“I don't?” Scar stopped sharply, turning toward him. “I love humanity! They are so great. So bright. So wishful and always so creative. I love them. Oh, how can I ever hate them!”

“Then why are you doing this, willing to condemn their souls for all of eternity?”

“For the money, I guess.”

“You can simply wish for it,” Xelqua said, slightly confused. “Many mortals wished for money and I granted them more than their wildest dreams.”

“Nah. That’s boring.” Scar waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be bored to death, and nothing is more scary than that.”

Xelqua looked at him with a tilted head.

“You’re funny.”

“No, tell me I'm charismatic.” Scar continued his walk. “I need to be a cult leader after all.”

[deeplyshalllow]

Omg I’m a moron… for over a decade… I’ve interpreted the DTL lyrics as being:

Nothing matters, [except] knowing [the mantra] “Nothing Matters”.

Like hakuna matata. But just now I realised it’s

Nothing matters, [so] [the act of] knowing nothing [is what] matters

🤦🤦🤦

Still. Oof, depressing.

The causes you care about don’t matter to those in power. Trying to do or say anything about it is not fashionable, nor acceptable amongst your rank of society. It’s futile and only makes you look like a fool, it brings embarrassment and ridicule upon your associates and family, it causes disagreements and fights. All of which will make your life miserable. (There’s a cost, there are things you’ll lose, there are bridges you’ll cross…) So don’t talk about it, stop thinking about it. Heck, don’t think at all. And life will be so much easier for you. More bearable. Yikes to go grimdark, Fiyero is lucky he was just kept away in universities and not sent away for a lobotomy or something, that is if Winkie Country’s politics weren’t aligned with Animal rights

to get lighthearted again:

Don’t wish, don’t start, wishing only wounds the heart. […] Elphaba could be that activist, but Fiyero can’t be like Elphaba….. OR CAN HE *dramatic music change* (❗️Fiyero has been emboldified. ❗️Fiyero no longer gives a twig. ⁉️ Fiyero has been given a gun— wait who signed off on that, wai—)

My ex therapist once said that I overthink and care about things too much, so I’d better stop, because it was making me sick and was going to kill me. And yet, the thinking and caring too much, was also what was keeping me alive. What a Catch-22! /s Go figure!

I also realised:

Make sure you’re where less trouble is rife!

Is not

Make sure you wear less,

And therefore not suggesting that Fiyero’s go-to defence mechanism, if he finds himself in trouble, is to start stripping off. Turn that fight break-out into a fight make-out. Make love not war. For over ten years I’d thought “yeah that sounds like a philosophy he’d have.”

Ten plus slutty, slutty years

The notion of “you’re not here to be politically controversial, you’re here to promote cheer/ your job isn’t to think, your job is to stand there looking handsome” (a variation of being seen and not heard, oh dear [FOOTNOTE]) … like when Mme Morrible and Glinda prevent Fiyero from speaking to the crowd in Thank Goodness comes to mind. On the one hand, the assumption that he’s incapable of knowing anything would allow him to acquire great information as a double agent, but on the other hand he’s successfully barred from knowing that the public celebration is for his own engagement, which he wasn’t even asked about. They didn’t think he could be trusted to consent to an engagement?? Ouch. And yet they trusted that he would perform/feel socially pressured enough to people-please and accept without fuss.

To take it way further, it could even be argued as if Glinda couldn’t trust him to not be “stupid” and choose the “wrong” fiancée… (even if she thought it would be for his own good and keep him safe from trouble in the long term. If this had been the case it backfired spectacularly)

Fiyero really do be out there getting objectified and treated like an object in Act 2- it seems out of his control compared to Act 1 where it was on his own terms.

What are your thoughts on the engagement, by the way?

Do you think it encouraged any spark of resentment towards Glinda?

If they had gotten married— ie, if there was a larger time gap between Elphaba returning to the Emerald City and Fiyero still couldn’t track her down— do you think Glinda and Fiyero’s married relationship might echo that of Nessarose and Boq? In which one feels kept/caged [FOOTNOTE] by duty, and the other possessive/fearing abandonment?

(Even more grimdark au where this married Fiyero’s growing stress, depression, and risk of disobedience puts him on Morrible/Wizard-prescribed medication, which Glinda wants to believe is helping him stay happy and carefree, when really it’s just keeping his thoughts muddled… I’d cry… why did I make myself sad like that??)

* THE FOOTNOTE: any comparisons of Fiyero with Animals (given his book origins as ambiguously indigenous/a poc) outside his political alignments is unintentional on my part. But the ammo is present, I guess. Dehumanisation is a Wicked theme. But I’m leaving that potential can of worms to the pros though

This Ask turned into a terrible flow of consciousness, SINCERE apologies, *hits ask anyway*

Yeah, honestly, poor Fiyero. I think the interesting conundrum about him, and one of the reasons he's so depressed, is that he should be in a position where he has some power. He's a prince possibly an heir to the Vinkus, he's what everyone in Oz loves, handsome, charming and generally good. But it's very obvious that he thinks he can't actually do anything, so he doesn't try ("those who don't try, never look foolish"). He sort of lets life pass him by at the beginning of the musical, doing what others expect of him.

And then there's Elphaba, who isn't at all what Oz wants, but even so she does fight, she does do what is right and she cares more about her cause than what people think. And I think that is what changes and inspires him - because suddenly there is a way to do good, it opens up a world for him that he wouldn't otherwise know, and by act 2 he is happy to divert from his expected path to explore this.

Fiyero and Glinda, on the other hand... Glinda is who Fiyero would expect to end up with - both personally and by society. It's the path everyone expects both of them to take. It probably would be where he ended (or at least with a girl like her) if it wasn't for Elphaba giving him another option - a path he'd prefer. So Glinda, who is different to Fiyero because she does her best to stick to the path that is intended for her, ends up having to be the one to pull him along that path (hence the surprise engagement - clearly he wasn't proposing fast enough!)

Ultimately, of course, Fiyero is given the option to choose and follow Elphaba (the unplanned path) but had he not? I think had he not met Elphaba, he'd have probably been content enough, not happy but not knowing much better, with Elphaba but no opportunity to leave? Yeah, I think it would be an unhappy marriage, by this point in the musical, though Fiyero and Glinda clearly do care for each other, they don't actually have much in common, especially not in terms of morals. I think Fiyero would resent standing there smiling when he could be doing good, and Glinda would start blaming him for ruining the happiness that she always expected to have when she married him. I think you can already see traces of this in Thank Goodness tbh.

I hope that answers your question :)

[monstersinthecosmos]

First, you write a lengthy post claiming that Marius treats Armand like an animal, and then you wonder why Armand and Marius shippers are seen as outcasts in the fandom. You present humiliation, disrespect and devaluation as something sexual and normal in their relationship. There is a difference between not seeing Armand as an adult and independent person and not seeing him as a person at all. Like, you're literally doing ALL the work for the antis, LMAO.

If Marius sees Armand as a cat, then maybe he shouldn't be left alone with animals

just saying.

Like, 'Armand, Marius picked up a shepherd dog from the street today. You both share the same level of love, respect, and significance! 😍 But don’t be upset; being someone's dog can be great! And remember, you actually like it! 🥺'

BEST GASLIGHTING EVER

Maybe he’s okay with this situation because he doesn’t remember what real kindness feels like? Roleplay in bed for the sake of temporary humiliation is one thing, but to see someone you’re in a romantic relationship with as nothing more than an animal is just messed up. What are you even talking about? 😭

Yknow what.

I’ve been marinating on this all day and thinking about ways to respond kindly, because I think leveraging literacy at people in fandom arguments is really fucked up and that isn’t the person I want to be. I've even had my own journey in VC fandom because when I first joined Tumblr, the big meta writers were condescending as fuck and used to make me feel really stupid for liking Marius, and that's such a destructive and unwelcoming attitude. It took me a really long time to feel brave enough to even share meta, because of those folks, and now I have to worry about you chodes. And it's just a never ending Sisyphean task to cultivate a space where Marius fans feel safe. And that's for EVERY Marius fan, not just the ones you deign pure & good enough to exist. In fact, it even goes for all the book fans in general. I don't give a fuck if someone likes Marius--everyone is allowed to participate if they're not going out of their way to hurt people. You're an adult. Block people and curate your space, it's not my job to do that for you.

Everyone, at every reading level, is allowed to participate in fandom, and I think we can’t be true leftists if we don’t acknowledge the education problem in the US. (Assuming you’re American because Americans Feelings Yakuza tend to behave like this but if you’re not American, good job blending in, it's really embarrassing for you.) I don’t think I can ethically condemn the degradation of our education system and I don’t think I can condemn this sect of fandom’s violent anti-intellectualism if I don’t also show sympathy for its victims. I'm really sorry that your parents/teachers/whoever failed you this badly and I hope things get better for you, because I don't wish this on anybody.

So when I turn into a cunt in thirty seconds, I want you to know it’s not because I think you’re stupid. It’s because I think you’re a fucking asshole. <3  And I don’t care what the fuck your problem is, it’s YOUR problem, and we don’t have to tolerate this type of thought policing and fascism in a fandom space. You don’t get to talk to me like this just because you don’t like stuff that I write.

Having said that, I also am just, particularly fucking baffled by how incoherent and ideologically unsound this ask is, not to mention how blindingly, willfully ignorant it is. Like, I hate to say this, but it’s SO stupid that I almost can’t believe someone would actually say this to me, and it makes me wonder if you’re like, an outside agitator pretending to be one of these Mariusblr morons to bait me. So I wondered if I shouldn’t validate it with a response, but then I thought,

Fandom deserves to see this lol

You actually did a good job of imitating this attitude that I DO see, for real, in this fandom, so like maybe it’s a public service to bait me to get me to talk about it. So I guess I will.

Now, I did talk about this topic here and I said what I need to say. I already said everything I needed to say on the topic of doting upon the cute little mortal, and to send me this anon after reading that post, the reading comprehension is either ABYSMAL or you’re just pulling an OH SO YOU HATE WAFFLES on me which is like. Why. Lol.

And I can’t help someone who’s determined to misinterpret everything I will ever say, no matter what. But again, I’m kinda posting this as a fandom PSA because this is a great example of the braindead nonsense that goes on in Mariusblr and I think the people deserve to laugh at you lol, so if you want to misinterpret me some more, I can’t help you.

We’re not gonna discuss Marius in this post. What we’re going to discuss is the idea that “””THE ANTIS””” are out to get us, and the irony of couching anti hysteria in this exact message.

So let’s go back to basics and refresh on what the fuck a fandom anti is.

So when you talk about FANDOM ANTIS, I actually have to ask: Babe are you seeing yourself right now? Are these antis in the fucking room? Is the call coming from inside the house?

You don’t get to have a little bit of censorship, or a little bit of harassment.  If someone outside of our fandom saw this post, without the existing context of who Marius and Armand are, they’d think YOU were the anti for telling me how to interpret this ship, not to mention whatever the fuck is this weird kinkshaming. Censorship is bad, full stop. It's not, censorship is only bad when it's the thing I like. Same for leaving people twatty anons. Bullying people is still bad, and you don't get decide who deserves it.

You don’t get to cry about antis and then pop into people’s inboxes to ridicule them because they didn’t read the book the same way you did. You don’t get to lecture me about kink and ship dynamics. YOU ARE NOT FIGHTING ON THE SIDE YOU THINK YOU���RE FIGHTING ON.

And isn’t it ironic that I’ve been Mariusing on tumblr for like, unfortunately, eight fucking years now lmao RIP, and I’ve been harassed about Marius MORE by you fuckin dweebs than I have by the actual antis.

Now, again.

I never want to tease anyone for their reading comprehension. I’m not making fun of you. I’m gonna spell this out because I want to help you, because I can see that reading isn’t your strong suit.

The fight about antis & proshippers & censorship is not a crusade about character apologism and defending ships as being moral, it’s about distinguishing fiction from reality and allowing people to enjoy fucked up art.

You aren’t accomplishing what you think you’re accomplishing here. Like, first of all. I don’t give a single flying fuck about “”the antis””. Let them masturbate in abject shame in the privacy of their pitch black bedrooms. It’s not my business. What horrifies me here is that you yourself are the anti in this situation.

You are in my inbox scolding me for my amoral shipping.

You are in my inbox upset with me because I celebrated that a ship I like is fucked up.

A proshipper would’ve read my post and gone “Eh. I disagree but that’s okay.” And kept scrolling. Maybe they even block me! That’s fine too!

But how the fuck are you gonna sit there crying about antis when you’re the one harassing everybody lol.

And let’s not jerk off here; the sincerity with which you are complaining about antis in my inbox is SO fucking lame. Like can we please go outside?

I’m no stranger to fandom drama (like I said, I’ve been Marius Tumbling for like 8 years and I’ve done my time in Sheith Hell) and I understand when these terms are useful shorthand for a fandom-specific problem. But I also think, what if we grow up and speak honestly about what antis are? It really blunts the harm of the entire ideology, especially when you're misusing it this egregiously, and I think there are times when we deserve to take censorship and fascism seriously, because it's not a coincidence that it's spreading inside fandom at the same speed it's spreading outside in the real world, and I want you to think really hard about which side you're on.

Like, what if we use the term “conservative” or “Frollo” or “fandom police” or “FANDOM MAGA” ?? You come to me upset that I’m somehow giving some boogeyman ammunition when like. THEY ALREADY HATE MARIUS, WHO THE FUCK CARES. When you change the topic from “Fiction is allowed to be fucked up” to “It’s okay to like Marius because he actually didn’t do anything wrong” you’re COMPLETELY missing the point, and in the same motion you are upset with ME for implying that Marius did something wrong.

And it’s so fucking hypocritical? Like this is the same as when the fandom conservatives have ACAB in their bio while also harassing people--you are adopting language to fit into an identity when you don't actually understand what you're saying. I would've thought VC fans--especially Marius fans--would be more aware of cult behavior & groupthink and see the red flags more easily. (Again, having sympathy for you: Please escape this cult.)

How often do we see arguments break out in fandom where we go “If you’re upset with Marius, why aren’t you upset with everyone else?” Or like, I CAN ACCEPT THE MURDERING AND RAPE BUT DRAW THE LINE AT WHIPPING THE 17 YEAR OLD. Like. Where do YOU draw the line?

Is it okay to talk about Marius as a murderer? But we’re not allowed to say that he has some emotional problems? Also didn't one of you chucklefucks accuse me of being ablest lmao the irony.

It’s also fascinating that this camp in fandom is constantly crying about how like, antis DON’T UNDERSTAND ANNE RICE and how MARIUS/ARMAND IS CANON and yet …………………. Was anything I said not also canon? And where do you get the balls to use Anne Rice as a shield when she also said the same things that I said. She wrote the fucking book.

You know what.

I feel really strongly that like, in a fandom, people need to have better etiquette when they complain about THE THING vs THE FANS OF THE THING. For example, I have zero problem with someone coming out of TVA disgusted and triggered and writing analysis of Marius being a disgusting creep. We don’t have the right to tell someone not to feel that way.

What I DO have a problem with is when people say “Marius is a disgusting creep and his fans are gross for enjoying it.”

And what YOURE saying, essentially, is that I’m gross for enjoying Marius in the way I read him.

Not to be like, a fucking, egomaniac, but. I have to say this lol. Do you know who I am?

Are you new here?

Have I not worked hard enough to establish that he’s my favorite literary character of all time and I adore him to death?

But I have different headcanons than you so I’m a bad person?

Anyway.

This has gone on long enough, I think I’ve made my point.

I genuinely can’t tell if someone like ChatGPT’d this anon to me just to rile me up and get me mad at that side of Mariusblr, but the truth is that like. I’ve seen them say these things. I’ve been blocked by these folks. Every time I write meta where I acknowledge that Marius isn’t perfect, they vague me to fuck. So honestly like. It’s not out of the range of possibility and I’m going to take this opportunity to talk about it because some of us are fucking normal about a book and we just want to have fun and post meta and write fics and like. If you don’t like my meta and fics you can simply move along.

And you know what else!!

WE ALL SEE THIS. You make fandom uncomfortable for everybody. Every time I do acknowledge this, I get people in my inbox talking about how uncomfortable you’ve made them and how they became hurt and decided not to share in fandom anymore. That’s you doing that. It isn’t ~ the antis ~. It’s you, because you don’t let anybody enjoy the books the way they want to enjoy the books. And I think it’s really interesting that I’ve noticed that half of fandom sort of cannibalizing itself lately. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that  this whole group of clowns blocked me around the same time, when their jackass ringleader originally got mad at me for flagrantly misunderstanding something I said. This is that same abysmal reading comprehension and violent anti-intellectualism coming back to bite you in the ass. And so like, I have to also ask, if you have some issue with me, maybe consider the source, and if this person is perhaps a complete douchebag who will cannibalize their own friends the second they step out of line. And I wonder if there are any receipts for my alleged atrocious behavior, or if I was always just minding my own business and writing fanfic and sharing meta and being nice to people, and encouraging people to ship whatever they want, and allowing people to read the book differently than I did.

You don’t get to tell people what type of content they’re allowed to create. If you’re very concerned about how people read Marius, maybe write your own meta. This is MY space, not yours, and you’re not going to kinkshame and censor me, and you’re not going to bully me.

This is ridiculous and you’re a joke.

[overwhelmedfernfrond]

ivy

(for the writing prompts <3)

Hi, thanks Anon! Got a bit off track w this one, sorry 😅, but I promise it all ties together in the end 🌿

-

one-word prompt: ivy

-

“I’ve been summoned?” Delairea curtsied in front of the throne, hiding her smirk. She tipped her chin towards the ancient stone of the castle walls, covered in trailing ivy and sconces and tapestries of lavish fruit.

“Uh, yeah.” The newly crowned King sighed, reclined on his late father’s throne.

“I need you to interrogate Mikani.”

He pierced her with his icy gaze, lingering on her frilly goldenrod dress, and the crown of woven dandelions she wore. Delairea wondered too late if she was being insubordinate. Oh well, her talents elevated her beyond expendability.

The King continued, “I think she’s plotting something. Poisoning the people.”

Delairea barely suppressed a sigh.

“Riiiight… is this just your father’s paranoia peeking through, or is there some actual reason you’re suspicious of our only herbalist with wits?”, she inquired. Mikani was a good soul, Delairea thought, if a bit… well, incriminating.

The young King replied tersely, “You had one job, to keep nefarious plots outside of this castle. Clearly, you failed, since my father’s dead. I’m running out of patience for you.”

Ditto, Delairea thought curtly. The previous King had been a tyrant and a moron, and it was only a matter of time before he was assassinated.

Instead of voicing her displeasure, she smiled, flashing sharp white teeth.

“Sure. I’ll see if you can trust her. Be back soon.”

With that, she dipped another curtsy and ducked out of the throne room.

She found Mikani where she’d expected to, cross-legged on the floor of the herbalists’ room and surrounded by potted marigolds. She was working diligently and patiently, as she always did.

In a curtained-off area of the wing, less patients than usual slept on cots; only two people appeared to be injured, one a young guard with what looked like a bandaged speargash along his left leg, the other, a noblewoman’s kid daughter with a fractured wrist. The room’s tall windows were wide open, the spring wind blustering through and lapping at Mikani’s long, straight hair. Despite the King’s orders to “interrogate” her, Delairea took a more subtle approach.

“Madam herbalist,” she curtsied with much more respect than she had in the throne room, despite Mikani’s hierarchical inferiority to the King, and her not scrutinizing Delairea. “Your craft is looking particularly icterine today.”

“Please. I’m about to lose this job; call me Mikani.”

Delairea tried not to reveal her intrigue in the tone of her voice. “Oh?”

Mikani grinned coyly at her. “I’m not inept, you know— the pattern is, whenever you mysteriously visit one of us lowly castleworkers, that means the King is suspicious. And the young prince-turned-King seems rather more paranoid than his father, if that’s even possible.”

Dropping the facade, Delairea lowered her voice, as well. “Listen, Mikani, I don’t want you executed for treason. But the King thinks you’re poisoning civilians—”

“What.” The pure disbelief, the pure venom in Mikani’s voice, speaking that one word, was enough to convince Delairea of her innocence. “... Why!? That arrogant prick, what a dolt. Probably covering up his own nefarious deeds. Hmm, no, that can’t be it— there’s been no significant increase in unspecified illness as of late. Or, hm, perhaps it’s economic—”

Delairea cut her off. “Okay, slow down. We can deal with the King later. For now, I’ve got to report back.”

And so, she did.

The King was as impatient as he said he would be. When Delairea returned to the throne room, he was pacing petulantly, accomplishing nothing, as per usual. His watery blue eyes fixed on her as she strode in.

“Well? Did you find out if I can trust her? Is she really stealing medicine?”

Delairea had to suppress an eye-roll; the King had previously accused Mikani of poisoning civilians, and now he’d switched to theft. Clearly, he had no idea what he was doing, nor saying.

“Well,” Delairea sighed, “You definitely can’t trust her—” she did not add, because you are an incompetent King who should be deposed, “— but she didn’t poison anyone, nor steal anything. She’s caring and a good, smart herbalist.”

Even as the King narrowed his eyes at Delairea, she traced her gaze along the long trails of ivy on the throne room walls, thinking:

Perhaps it’s about time the royal lineage took on a new offshoot.

-

Sorry for the inconsistent paragraph formatting 😭😭 Tumblr decided to ruin all my formatting when I copy-pasted this from its document I was working on it in

Anyways, TYSM for reading!! Any thoughts? Comments are always welcome 🌿

[mellyssageversee]

Eclipsed - Chapter 7

A ZoLu/LuZo fic (AU Nika Sun God)

AO3 Link

Summary: Sun God Nika is accused of a crime he did not commit. Nika goes into hiding to avoid being hunted by other Gods who wish to have him replaced. This inadvertently plunges the world into darkness, triggering an ice age. Only one human has faith that Nika will return the Sun.

For links to other chapters, please view My OP Story Masterpost

✨✨✨

Much to his annoyance, Zoro found himself confined to the bed longer than he wanted. The doctor, an endearing creature who introduced himself as “Chopper”, flitted around him with an intense level of concern. Despite his small size, Chopper’s presence filled the room as he continued his work. His hooves moved with surprising skill, checking vitals, applying ointments, and changing bandages, all while fussing over Zoro with unrelenting care.

At some point, Chopper even managed to shoo Nika away, which disappointed Zoro. Without the God clinging to him, Zoro felt an immediate absence of warmth, as if the comforting fire from the doctor’s hearth had been snuffed out. He told himself it was better this way to keep his longing at bay, but there was no denying the hollow ache it left behind.

“It's a good thing you came when you did.” Chopper said as he dabbed a minty-smelling ointment over Zoro’s shoulder. His small hooves were surprisingly comforting with the way they worked over the healing wound. “Your injury was already showing signs of frostbite. I was able to clean and suture it before an infection could take hold.”

Zoro grunted in acknowledgment, though he didn’t miss the way Nika’s face tightened at Chopper’s words. The wrinkle of worry on Nika’s brow deepened, his usual brightness dimming.

“Tch... I’ve had worse.” Zoro said, hoping to dismiss Nika’s concern. His attempt seemed to work, as the wrinkle softened and Nika’s eyes sparkled with awe instead of fear. However, Zoro’s comment had the opposite effect on Chopper.

“Well, if ‘worse’ had happened, you’d have lost your arm, idiot!” Chopper snapped.

Zoro didn’t argue, though his jaw tightened. The thought of losing an arm, and the ability to fight to protect Nika, was enough to make him endure the doctor’s sharp tongue without complaint.

“What’s that stuff you’re putting on Zoro?” Nika asked, leaning closer to inspect the ointment. His cheek pressed against Zoro’s as he sniffed the air. The sudden closeness caused warmth to flood into Zoro’s chest once more. “It smells kinda nice.”

Without waiting for an answer, Nika swiped a finger across Zoro’s shoulder, scooping up some of the salve and, before anyone could stop him, popped it into his mouth.

Zoro raised a brow, watching in amusement as Nika jumped back. The God’s face immediately scrunched in disgust, his whole body shuddering as he slapped both his hands over his mouth.

“BLEH! That tastes nasty!” Nika exclaimed, his voice muffled by his hands.

Chopper bristled with outrage, his fur puffing up as he flailed his hooves, swatting at Nika with surprising ferocity for someone his size.

“Of course it tastes bad! It’s medicine, you moron!” Chopper yelled, pushing against Nika’s chest in an attempt to get him away from Zoro. “We don’t have much of it, so don’t waste it! If you’re going to act like this, I’ll make you wait outside!”

Zoro’s amusement faded at Chopper’s last words. He straightened despite the stiffness in his muscles, his gaze sharpening. 

“What do you mean you don’t have much medicine?” Zoro questioned keeping his tone steady, but was unable to hide his concern. “You’re a doctor. Shouldn’t you be well-stocked?”

Chopper froze mid-swat, his ears drooping as his fiery energy deflated. His shoulders slumped, and his gaze flicked away.

“It’s… complicated.” Chopper muttered, his voice quieter now. 

Zoro’s brow furrowed. He exchanged a quick glance with Nika, who looked equally concerned despite his earlier antics.

“Explain.” Zoro said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Chopper hesitated for a moment before sighing, setting the glass jar of ointment aside with a soft clink. 

“Supplies have been hard to come by lately.” Chopper admitted. “The herbs I need for basic treatments, like frostbite and other injuries, I can grow myself.” Chopper motioned towards a  nearby wall lined with planters. “But the ones I need for more serious illnesses? Those are rare and expensive, especially with the trade routes being dangerous in this weather.”

Zoro’s chest tightened at the implication. His injuries, which had seemed like nothing more than a nuisance to him, now felt like a burden. He thought of the townspeople, struggling without access to proper medicine, and guilt settled like a heavy stone in his gut.

“I didn’t mean to be a burden.” Zoro muttered, his eyes dropping to the blanket draped over his lap. “We don’t have much to offer in return for your help, but-”

Before he could finish, Chopper cut him off with a firm swat of his hoof to the back of his head.

“Don’t apologize for getting hurt, you dummy!” Chopper scolded. Zoro glanced up, meeting the doctor’s fiery gaze. For such a small creature, Chopper could summon an impressive amount of authority. “I’m a doctor! I took an oath to help anyone who’s sick or injured, no matter what!” He huffed, crossing his tiny arms. “Besides, your friend already offered me some of your tangerines, so consider us even.”

Zoro blinked, his brow raising in surprise. He turned his head toward Nika, who stood a few feet away with a wide grin stretched across his face.

“You offered him tangerines?” Zoro asked. It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, but at the same time, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

“Yup!” Nika nodded, his eyes bright with satisfaction. “He can use them to trade for stuff, like more medicine. That’s what Nami said we should do with them!”

Chopper nodded approvingly.

“Your friend was right. I know someone who would trade me rare ingredients for fresh fruit. So, thank you.” Chopper hopped off the stool beside the bed and shuffled to a desk where a well-worn medical book lay open. “I have one patient in particular who really needs my help. These tangerines should get me the last ingredient I need for her medication.”

Zoro felt his chest loosen, the tension ebbing away. Hearing about a town struggling with limited resources wasn’t easy, but at least this situation wasn’t as dire as others he’d encountered. Unlike Nami’s village, no one seemed to be holding these people's supplies hostage.

“Thank you for everything,” Zoro said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The familiar weight of his injuries settled in, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the feel of solid ground beneath his feet. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”

Chopper’s head snapped up, and his eyes widened in alarm. 

“H-hey! You just woke up!” he fretted, hurrying back toward Zoro with small but urgent steps. “You need more rest before you go anywhere!”

Zoro shook his head, already reaching for the three swords leaning neatly against the bed. He had no doubt it was Nika who had placed them there, knowing that Zoro liked to keep Wado close. 

“I heal fast.” Zoro said simply, brushing aside the doctor’s concern. “And we have important matters to attend to.”

His gaze shifted to Nika, who had been watching him closely. As their eyes met, Zoro caught the unmistakable glimmer of excitement dancing in the God’s expression. Nika practically buzzed with energy, his body leaning forward as if he were ready to spring into action.

Chopper let out an exasperated sigh, his small shoulders sagging as he turned toward a nearby drawer. He shuffled through a stack of neatly folded fabric and pulled one out with a flourish.

“At least bundle up your shoulder more.” Chopper said sternly, his no-nonsense tone making it clear that he wasn’t about to compromise. He approached Zoro, the cloth in his hooves meant for extra padding beneath his clothes. “The cold slows down an injury’s healing process, so make sure to stay warm.”

Zoro sat still, allowing Chopper to tie the fabric neatly over his bandages, securing the cloth snugly in place. Zoro admired the efficiency, even if he found the whole fuss unnecessary.

Once Chopper was done, Zoro grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head with care to avoid jostling the wound too much. As he did, Nika drifted closer, his gaze flickering toward Zoro’s injured shoulder.

“Don’t worry!” Nika said. He beamed with pride as he held out Zoro’s thick coat. “I’ll make sure he stays nice and warm!”

Zoro glanced at Nika, suppressing the faint smile tugging at his lips. Of course, the Sun God would be concerned about keeping him warm. It was such a natural thing for Nika to say, radiating the same warmth as the sun itself. If they weren’t so concerned about keeping Nika’s identity hidden, Zoro would’ve teased him for it. Instead, he silently accepted the coat, shrugging it on and letting the heavy fabric settle over his shoulders.

With one last nod of thanks to Chopper, Zoro and Nika stepped outside into the crisp winter air. The warmth of Chopper’s cozy home was immediately replaced by a biting chill, the wind slicing through the darkness. Zoro tugged the coat tighter around himself, his breath visible in the cold.

As they walked further into the open, Zoro finally had the chance to take in the area. The rolling hills surrounding them were a stark contrast to the flatter terrain of Cocoyasi Village. The moonlight bathed the landscape in a pale glow, but the open space felt oddly muted, almost somber. Down the hills, Zoro’s sharp eyes caught sight of the shoreline, where tall masts pierced the night sky. They bobbed slightly with the movement of the water, their jagged silhouettes reaching up like skeletal fingers clawing at the heavens.

“Are we in that boating town Nami mentioned?” Zoro asked, breaking the quiet as his gaze lingered on the masts.

“Yup!” Nika replied, his enthusiasm shining through even in the cold endless night. He spun around to face Zoro, walking backward with an energy that seemed to defy the chill. “This is Syrup Village. With so many boats docked at the shore, I’m sure we’ll find someone willing to let us borrow one!”

Zoro grinned at Nika’s optimism. He doubted anyone would give them a boat to borrow for free. Zoro’s steely gaze lingered over the masts. The way they bobbed felt like the masts were boney fingers beckoning them closer to some unseen danger. It reminded him too much of his nightmare and the weight of Kuina’s warning.

Instinctively, Zoro shifted closer to Nika.

“Promise to stay close to me?” Zoro asked softly. His shoulders tensed as the unease crept back in, like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

The request seemed to catch Nika off guard. He stopped walking backward, his grin faltering as he gave Zoro a curious look.

“Of course.” Nika said, his tone soft yet absolute. He tilted his head, like the answer should have been obvious. “I wouldn’t go anywhere without Zoro.”

Zoro nodded, his eyes narrowing as he tried to push the lingering tension aside, but no matter how much he tried to shake it off, the feeling of something looming wouldn’t leave him. It had only been a dream… hadn’t it? So why did Kuina’s words feel so real, like they were burned into his very being? Whatever it was, Zoro knew he couldn’t let his guard down again. Not here. Not now. He had to be ready for anything. Nika could have chosen any mortal to travel with him. So Zoro had to prove that Nika had chosen the right person to stand beside him.

“Zoro’s not disposable.” 

The sudden seriousness in Nika’s voice stopped Zoro in his tracks. His head snapped toward Nika, eyes wide in surprise.

“W-what?” Zoro managed to breathe out, his heart skipping a beat. Could Nika read his thoughts?

Nika stepped closer, his eyes faintly glowing of crimson in the moonlight. There was an intensity to his gaze, fiery yet soft, like the warmth of the hearth from Chopper’s home.

“Zoro’s not disposable to me.” Nika repeated, his voice quieter this time but no less firm. “What that cat-god said was wrong. Zoro isn’t disposable.”

Zoro swallowed hard, the sincerity in Nika’s gaze making him feel exposed, like the Sun God could see straight through him, into the insecurities he tried so desperately to bury. He averted his eyes, turning his head to the side, but Nika wouldn’t allow it.

Strong yet gentle hands cupped either side of Zoro’s face, turning his head back down so their eyes met again. Nika’s expression softened, his thumbs brushing lightly against Zoro’s jaw.

“I wanted to tell you that as soon as that cat-god said those awful things.” Nika continued, his voice unwavering as he looked up into Zoro’s eyes. “I’ve seen how hard Zoro’s been on himself since he woke up, and I hate it. So stop it.”

Zoro’s throat tightened as the weight of Nika’s words settled over him. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. The God of the Sun, with all his warmth and light, was shining on him in a way that Zoro wasn’t sure he deserved. Despite his doubts, Nika’s hands didn’t waver, and his gaze didn’t falter.

Always finding it hard to deny Nika’s requests, Zoro finally answered, “…I’ll do my best.”

The radiant smile that spread across Nika’s face was a reward Zoro hadn’t expected. It was the kind of smile that seemed to cut through every doubt, every lingering shadow in his mind. The unshakable joy in it tugged painfully at something deep inside him, a longing he didn’t know how to conceal. He wanted to reach for Nika, to hold him close, to somehow bask in that light a little longer. Instead, Zoro forced himself to stay steady, anchoring himself with a quiet breath.

“Good!” Nika said simply, his hands falling away as he stepped back, his usual brightness returning.

Zoro exhaled slowly, his chest tightening before he could push the emotions back down. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t let his feelings distract him, especially now.

As they continued their walk, Nika’s arm slipped around Zoro’s injured one, a warm and grounding presence. Zoro stiffened at the touch, unsure how to react without giving too much away. He felt Nika’s grip loosen, the God’s auburn eyes flicking up at him as if silently asking if the contact was unwelcome. Why did Nika always have to look at him like that… like Zoro’s comfort mattered more than anything else? That look stirred something hopeful, something dangerous to his self control.

Unable to stop himself, Zoro placed his free hand over Nika’s, letting their fingers brush together. Nika smiled wider at the touch and, for a moment, the cold air around them felt less biting.

The chill in the air seemed to sharpen as they approached the heart of Syrup Village. The faint hum of activity buzzed around them as villagers bundled in thick layers shuffled through the streets, using the brief break in the storm to clear pathways and tend to neglected tasks. Zoro’s sharp gaze swept over the scene, noting the sparse food stalls and the cautious energy of the people. Each villager kept a wary distance from the others, their movements tinged with unease. 

As Zoro observed the town, his attention snagged on one figure in particular. A young blonde woman, wrapped tightly in a thick coat, moved slowly through the crowd. The villagers parted around her, giving her a wide space as if she carried some unseen threat. Despite her heavy clothing, she shivered violently, her hunched frame and faltering steps betraying her struggle. Her arms clung tightly to herself as she pressed forward with determination.

Something about her pale sweat-dappled face, or perhaps the sheer willpower in her eyes, made Zoro pause. He barely had time to process the thought before her knees buckled, and she crumpled toward the frozen ground.

Zoro reacted instinctively, surging forward despite the dull throb in his shoulder. He caught her just before she hit the earth, her limp body falling heavily against him. She was burning up, her breathing shallow and ragged. For a moment, Zoro half-expected her to stir, to clutch at him or attempt to stand, but she remained unresponsive, her strength utterly spent.

“You should be keeping your distance from her!” A villager called out from a nearby stall, his voice muffled by the scarf he raised to cover his face. “That one’s always sick! You don’t want to catch whatever she’s got!”

Zoro’s gaze snapped to the man, his expression sharp and cutting. The villager faltered under the weight of Zoro’s glare, quickly retreating behind his stall.

Scooping the woman fully into his arms, Zoro ignored the sharp protest from his shoulder. His eyes darted to Nika, who had already moved to his side, looking at the woman with concern.

“We have to take her to Chopper.” Zoro said firmly. 

Nika nodded without hesitation, his usual cheer dimmed by the urgency of the situation. Together, they turned back toward the small house they’d just left.

With Nika leading the way, they made it to Chopper’s in no time. Nika didn’t even bother knocking. He barged through the door, catching the doctor off guard.

Jars rattled as Chopper, in the middle of grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, flailed his small arms in alarm. “What the-?!”

“Chopper! Zoro found a sick person!” Nika announced, his voice ringing with urgency as he held the door open for Zoro to enter.

Zoro stepped inside, the warmth of the small home instantly warming his skin. Chopper, who looked ready to scold Nika for his abrupt entrance, froze the moment his eyes landed on the woman in Zoro’s arms.

“Kaya!” Chopper exclaimed. He scrambled down from his workbench, rushing toward them. “What are you doing out of the house?! You’re supposed to be resting!”

Kaya didn’t answer, or rather couldn’t. Her ragged breaths came in uneven gasps, her flushed face now alarmingly red as if her body was fighting against her. Zoro adjusted his grip, lowering her carefully onto the bed he was in not even an hour ago. Chopper frantically pulled supplies from a nearby cabinet.

“What happened to her?” Chopper asked, his voice steady despite the urgency in his movements.

“She collapsed outside.” Zoro replied, his voice low. He stepped back, giving the doctor space to work. “She was already burning up by the time I caught her.”

Chopper’s frown deepened as he placed a hoofed hand gently on Kaya’s fevered forehead.

“Her fever’s returned… I just got it down earlier this week.” Chopper muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “She’s been overexerting herself again…”

Nika hovered close. His auburn eyes, wide with worry, never left Kaya’s flush face. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She will be once I stabilize her.” Chopper said firmly, his hooves already moving to gather supplies. “But I’ll need time and quiet. You two should step outside until I’m done.”

Nika hesitated, his gaze lingering on Kaya as if willing her to open her eyes. Zoro noticed the way his hands twitched at his sides, caught between the urge to stay and the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything more for her.

Gently, Zoro placed a hand on Nika’s shoulder. 

“Come on.” Zoro said quietly, steering the Sun God toward the door.

Nika reluctantly followed Zoro back out into the cold. The two stood in silence, while Nika lingered close to the door, his head tilted against it as if straining to catch any sound from within.

“Nika… we shouldn’t linger.” Zoro broke the quiet, trying to pull the God’s attention back, but Nika’s focus didn’t waver from the closed door. “We brought her to Chopper. He knows her condition. He’ll take care of her. We should be continuing our journey to Ohara.”

A gentle breeze swept past them. Nika remained silent, his expression unreadable as he stood rooted in place.

“You saw the others, didn’t you?” Nika finally said, his voice lower than usual, almost pained. His gaze dropped to the snow-covered ground, his shoulders tense. “Everyone saw that she was struggling, but no one wanted to get near her.”

Zoro stayed quiet. His mind drifted back to the villagers and their cautious, almost fearful glances, along with the way they’d kept their distance. He remembered the stall owner’s hasty attempt to cover his face as if the mere sight of Kaya’s frailty was contagious.

“They were afraid of getting sick.” Zoro said at last. He glanced at Nika, whose expression hadn’t shifted. “Chopper said medicine is harder to come by now. In these conditions, illness can be a death sentence. It makes sense that people don’t want to risk it.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Zoro saw Nika flinch as if struck. He stiffened, immediately realizing his mistake. His statement could only be taken one way by the Sun God.

Damn it.

“Nika-” Zoro started, but the God still didn’t look at him. Nika’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as he stared down at the snow.

“They’re scared because of me.” Nika murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried so much pain that Zoro almost flinched in turn. When Nika finally lifted his head, his auburn eyes shimmered under the pale moonlight, filled with a sorrow that Zoro wasn’t sure he could ever fully take away. “If I’d just stayed… if I’d kept the Sun in the sky, maybe medicine wouldn’t be so scarce. Maybe the storms wouldn’t have gotten worse. Maybe people wouldn’t be so afraid to help each other.”

Zoro’s heart twisted, his chest aching at the guilt on Nika’s face. He couldn’t bear to see the Sun God blaming himself for things no one could control. 

“Nika, this isn’t your fault.” Zoro said firmly, stepping closer. He reached out, his hands hovering just above Nika’s shoulders before settling lightly on them. For a brief moment, Zoro considered shaking him, as if that could rattle the guilt loose, but the tension in Nika’s frame held him back. He didn’t want to risk making it worse. “The world is broken in more ways than we can count. You’re not responsible for every storm or sickness that happens.”

Nika’s lips parted as if to argue, but Zoro didn’t let him.

“You’re doing everything you can.” Zoro pressed, his grip tightening. He knew he should step back, should loosen his hold, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. “That’s why we’re going to Ohara. That’s why I’m here. To help you set things right.”

For a moment, Nika looked at him as if he didn’t quite believe the words, but the tension in Nika’s shoulders slowly ebbed away. His hands unclenched, and the faintest flicker of light returned to his eyes.

Then, without warning, Nika leaned into him.

Chills raced along Zoro’s skin as Nika pressed his head against his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around Zoro’s middle. Zoro couldn’t draw breath. He remained frozen, unsure of what to do. Even his hands hovered uselessly in the air, his usual stoic confidence entirely shattered by the unexpected intimacy. 

The moment stretched, every beat of his heart was hammering harshly into his ribs, urging him to do something. He could step back, he could pretend this didn’t shake him to his core… or he could give in.

Once the shock faded, Zoro let himself relax. He wrapped his arms around Nika, one hand rested at the nape of Nika’s neck, fingers threading lightly through the dark strands of his hair while the other pressed against his back. Zoro pulled him a little closer, feeling as though he was holding something he didn't deserve to touch. His chest ached, but not in the sharp painful way he was used to. This was a different kind of ache, a longing to keep this moment forever. 

Zoro closed his eyes, memorizing every line and bend of Nika’s body against his own, the way he fit so effortlessly in his arms.

Gods, I’m so hopeless, Zoro thought bitterly, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

“…Thanks, Zoro.” Nika said quietly, his voice muffled against Zoro’s chest.

Zoro swallowed hard. He wanted to say something, anything to let Nika know that he didn’t need to thank him. That Zoro would always stand by him without question. Instead, he did what he could. He tightened his hold ever so slightly, letting his actions speak for him.

Nika tilted his face until his gaze aligned with Zoro’s. A tendril of black hair fell across his brow, but Zoro barely noticed, too caught in the pull of those auburn eyes. Their faces were close together, and there was nothing more than a breath between their mouths.

Something flickered in Nika’s gaze… something burning, something that sent a sharp twist through Zoro’s stomach. Was it real, or just his own desperate imagination betraying him?

It was maddening, how unreadable Nika could be. Meanwhile, Zoro felt utterly exposed, his emotions laid bare in a way they had never been before. Did Nika even realize what he did to him? How his mere presence made Zoro’s resolve feel like nothing more than paper-thin defenses?

His thoughts raced, caught between the overwhelming want tightening in his chest and the sharp, nagging voice in his mind that told him this wasn’t his to have. Should he step back? Say something? Do something?

Before Zoro could think too deeply on it, the sound of hurried footsteps cut through the moment.

Zoro stiffened instinctively, the sudden intrusion snapping him back to reality. He reluctantly began to pull away, but before he could fully step back, Nika’s fingers curled tighter onto his coat, as if trying to anchor him in place.

The God’s expression was unmistakably displeased, his lips pressed together in what could only be described as mild frustration. It was so damn endearing that Zoro nearly forgot they weren’t alone.

Still, he managed to regain his senses enough to create some distance. He loosened his hold, though he allowed one of Nika’s arms to remain latched onto him; a small indulgence he couldn’t bring himself to deny.

Then, finally, his attention snapped toward the approaching figure.

A man with a peculiarly long nose was running down the hill toward them, arms swinging wildly to propel himself forward. Snow kicked up in a flurry behind him as he barreled closer, his breath visible in frantic puffs against the cold air.

“Woah… that long-nose guy runs really fast.” Nika murmured in awe, tilting his head to the side.

The man reached them a moment later, doubling over with a sharp gasp, one hand bracing against his knee while the other clutched his side as if trying to soothe a stitch. He sucked in deep, ragged breaths, his shoulders heaving from the effort.

Nika raised a curious brow. 

“Hey, did you need help.” Nika questioned.

The man shook his head, still struggling for air, but then, as if reconsidering, he gave a frantic nod instead. His curly dark hair bounced with the movement.

“My… wife…”He finally managed, his shoulders trembling with exhaustion, but the fear in his eyes burned stronger than any physical strain. “She wasn’t… home…” Panic cracked through every syllable, raw and unrestrained.

Zoro’s eyes sharpened.

Zoro’s and Nika’s eyes widened at the same time.

The man lifted his face fully then, his wide, pleading eyes darting between them. “I’m hoping she’s… here with Chopper.”

“Is your wife the sick blonde lady?” Nika asked bluntly.

Zoro shot him a sharp glance before correcting, “Kaya.” He turned back to the man. “Is your wife Kaya?”

The man bolted upright at the name. His gaze snapped to Zoro, desperation carving deep lines into his face.

“Yes! That’s her!” He blurted, the relief in his voice almost frantic. “Is she with Chopper?! Is she alright?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. His feet were already moving, urgency propelling him forward.

Zoro stepped away from Nika and caught the man’s arm before he could barge inside. His grip wasn't aggressive, but it was enough to halt his momentum.

“Chopper is with her now.” Zoro said evenly, meeting the man’s frantic gaze. “He said he needed quiet while he worked.”

The man froze, his body still coiled with tension. His hands clenched at his sides as if sheer willpower alone could force him through the door. Zoro could see the war happening in real time; a fight between reason and desperation.

His shoulders sagged, though his fists remained tight. Reason won out.

“It’ll be okay.” Nika chimed in, his voice warm and reassuring. “I was really worried when we brought her here, too. But talking to Zoro made me feel better.” He flashed a small, encouraging smile. “And I’m sure he can help you feel better too.”

Zoro parted his lips, completely caught off guard, but nothing came out.

He turned to Nika, who met his gaze with absolute trust, because in Nika's mind: of course Zoro could ease anyone's fears. 

Zoro swallowed hard, forcing his attention back to the long-nosed man before he made a fool of himself. Zoro loosened his grip on the man’s arm, but he didn’t let go entirely.

“If you're already familiar with Chopper, then you should know she is in good hands.” Zoro winced the moment the words left his mouth. Hands. Right. Chopper had hooves.

The man didn’t seem to notice Zoro’s stumble. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled, his fingers slowly uncurling from the fists they’d been clenched into.

“I know you’re right,” he admitted, his voice steadier now. “He’s been treating her for a while.”

His eyes finally lifted from the snow, properly taking in the two of them for the first time. He hesitated for only a moment before nodding in gratitude.

“Thank you.” He straightened, brushing snow off his thick coat before his gaze flicked between them. “I’m Usopp, by the way.”

Nika beamed, as if he had been waiting for the introduction. “Luffy!” he said brightly, his alias rolling off his tongue with pride.

Usopp blinked at the enthusiasm, then smiled.

"Thank you, Zoro. Luffy," Usopp's voice softened, his gratitude clear in every syllable, "for bringing Kaya to Chopper."

Zoro didn’t answer right away, but when he glanced at Nika, he found those auburn eyes still watching him, full of unshaken faith. Zoro had to look away, before it made him hope for more.

“We’re glad we were there to help,” Zoro said, turning his attention back to Usopp. “It didn’t seem like the rest of the town was too keen on stepping in.”

Usopp’s expression darkened. His shoulders tensed, and for a moment he didn’t respond.

Then, he exhaled heavily, his breath misting in the cold air.

“We had a plague sweep through the town a couple of months ago.” Usopp said at last. His voice was quieter now. “With limited medicine, it nearly wiped us all out. Even our Doctors fell to the disease. Everyday people were either burning bodies or watching their families waste away.”

Usopp hesitated, swallowing hard. He crossed his arms tightly, as if trying to hold himself together.

“My mother… even Kaya’s parents…” Usopp’s voice broke, and he grew quiet.

Nika inhaled sharply beside Zoro, his expression shifting, brows furrowing in concern.

Zoro remained silent, absorbing Usopp’s words as the man took a shuddering breath and forced himself to continue.

“Now, everyone’s afraid.” Usopp went on. “Any sign of illness, even a simple cough, sends people into a panic.” His jaw tightened. “Luckily, Chopper was passing through and decided to stay to heal our sick. If it weren’t for him, we might’ve lost even more people.”

Zoro could hear the gratitude in Usopp’s voice, but it was strained, layered with something bitter.

“Kaya was one of the last to recover.” Usopp continued. “She survived, but it left her weak. Her immune system never fully bounced back, so anytime she gets too cold, she gets sick again.” He exhaled through his nose, glancing away. “People think that means she’s still contagious.”

“That’s why no one helped her.” Zoro muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Usopp nodded stiffly. 

“They’re scared.” Usopp replied. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

Zoro didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. He agreed. Fear was powerful. It stole away hope and twisted people, made them selfish. 

Beside him, Nika’s expression had become somber, a sadness lingering in his eyes as he listened. Then, after a long pause, he spoke.

“If Kaya gets sick in the cold, then why was she out walking alone?” Nika asked, tilting his head.

Usopp winced, as if the words had struck him.

“I… I think-”

Before he could finish his thought, the door to Chopper’s home creaked open.

Zoro turned as the little doctor ‘peeked’ outside, although peeked was a generous term. Chopper was standing there, fully visible, yet still holding the door as if it could somehow obscure his presence. One of his wide, expressive eyes remained hidden behind the edge of the frame, his small hoof-like hand gripping it tightly.

When all three sets of eyes locked onto him, Chopper stiffened as if caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Kaya and I thought we heard Usopp’s voice outside.” Chopper explained quickly, still not stepping out from his ‘hiding’ spot. “She asked me to check.”

Usopp straightened at once.

“Kaya’s awake?! Is she okay?!” Usopp’s voice cracked on the last word, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He bolted through the doorway without hesitation.

Nika followed right on his heels, eager as ever.

“Hey, wait! Give her some space, you idiots!” Chopper scolded, scrambling after them.

Zoro exhaled through his nose, lingering behind just long enough to close the door securely behind him to keep the heat from the fireplace locked inside.

His gaze drifted across the room, landing on Usopp and Kaya.

Kaya still looked fragile, her complexion pale, but the warmth had returned to her face. Her golden hair spilled across the pillow as she smiled up at Usopp, her eyes shining with undeniable affection. Usopp, in turn, knelt at her bedside, his fingers carefully smoothing over her hair before sliding down to cup her cheek.

For a long moment, he simply held her like that, then leant forward to press his forehead to hers, as if he needed the reassurance that she was safe.

It was such a simple, tender gesture.

Zoro looked away, feeling like an intruder on something private. He recognized the tug of longing in his own chest and ignored it, pushing it down the way he always did.

“Why would you go out in the snow like that?” Usopp questioned with that same pained look on his face.

Kaya averted her gaze, her fingers curling over his hand as if to anchor him there.

“You didn’t come back yesterday… or even this morning.” Kaya admitted. “I was afraid you tried to get Merry to sail again.”

Ah. Zoro understood now.

At the word sail, Nika’s head snapped up.

“Merry?” Nika suddenly popped up beside Usopp, leaning in far too close with the eager curiosity of someone who had completely forgotten the concept of personal space. “Is Merry your boat?”

Both Kaya and Usopp jumped at his sudden proximity.

“Uh…” Kaya blinked, startled, before turning back to Usopp with clear confusion. “…Usopp, who is this?”

Before Usopp could answer, Nika took it upon himself. 

“Hi! I’m Luffy!” Nika beamed at her, flashing all of his teeth in an overly enthusiastic grin. Then he jabbed a thumb in Zoro’s direction. “The one who carried you here is Zoro. He’s the one by the door.”

Zoro, who had been watching in silence, gave an awkward half-wave as Kaya’s eyes landed on him.

Her gaze lingered only a moment before Nika leaned in again. “So about this Merry-”

Thwack!

A hoof came down hard on Nika’s head, sending him straight onto his ass.

“I said to give her space, you big dummy!!!” Chopper fumed, hooves still raised from the strike.

Nika winced, rubbing the top of his head.

Zoro didn’t intervene. As much as he disliked seeing Nika get smacked around, he had to admit the God needed to learn some discipline… and for once, it wasn’t coming from him.

“Ow… I just wanted to know more about the boat.” Nika mumbled, his lower lip jutting out in a pout as he averted his eyes to the side.

Kaya, who had been watching the exchange, suddenly let out a soft chuckle. There was a warmth in her expression now, a glimmer of understanding. Gently, she shifted, reaching for Usopp’s hand. Without a word, he adjusted his grip and helped her sit upright, careful not to strain her.

“I recognize you now.” Kaya said, her voice sincere. Her gaze found Zoro again, gratitude clear in her features. “Thank you for helping me. I’m afraid I’d still be face-down in the snow if you two hadn’t turned up.”

Zoro stiffened at the direct thanks. He was used to being run out of towns, not appreciated. It felt… odd. His face grew warm under her gratitude, and he quickly looked away.

“It was nothing.” Zoro muttered, brushing it off.

“Zoro was really worried when he saw you fall. We both were.” Nika added, now back on his feet. His previous pout had vanished, replaced with his usual bright energy. “I guess it was pretty lucky, though, since we need a boat and you guys seem to have one!”

At that, Usopp’s expression darkened. His jaw tensed, and for the first time since they’d met, he looked truly displeased.

“The Going Merry is not for sale.” Usopp said firmly. “She was a wedding gift from Kaya’s parents.”

NIka blinked in surprise. 

“We don’t wanna buy her. We just need to borrow her. Or have someone sail us to-”

“I’m sorry.” Kaya interrupted, her tone gentle but no less stern than Usopp’s. “But you can’t sail with Merry.”

There was something deeper in her voice now. Zoro could tell, just from the way she spoke, that this wasn’t simply about attachment to the ship.

“We would never let her get far from home,” Kaya continued. “But even if we did, there’s no way you could set sail. It’s too dangerous.”

Her gaze drifted to Usopp, who had remained silent beside her.

“The shores of Syrup Village are nothing but a sea of rotten ice.” Kaya explained. “The long icicles pierce through wooden hulls like spears, dragging ships under. We lost too many people to disease and even more to those waters.”

Zoro’s brows furrowed. Rotten ice?

Kaya lowered her gaze, as if the thought itself unsettled her.

“That’s why I went searching for my husband.” Kaya said, her fingers curling against Usopp’s sleeve. “He’s always working on Merry, trying to make her strong enough to sail through our frozen waters.”

At that, Zoro glanced at Usopp.

The man had gone rigid, his eyes fixed on a distant point beyond the room. He didn’t meet Kaya’s gaze.

“If I can’t get her to sail…” Usopp finally spoke, his voice strained. “Then I can’t fish. If I don’t fish, we have no income. And if we have no income, we can’t help Chopper get the medicines Kaya needs.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. The weight of it pressed on everyone.

“Luffy gave me fruit for payment today.” Chopper suddenly piped up.

Usopp and Kaya both turned to him, blinking.

“I can get excellent ingredients from these.” Chopper explained, motioning to the small bag of fruit Nika had offered earlier. “I can make something that will help Kaya.”

For a moment, neither Usopp nor Kaya spoke. But then, as the realization sank in, both of their expressions softened.

Relief.

Pure, unfiltered relief.

“It seems we have more to thank you for than just bringing me to Chopper.” Kaya smiled briefly at Nika, her eyes warm. She turned back to Usopp expectantly, and though no words passed between them, it was clear they were having a silent conversation.

Zoro recognized that look. He’d seen it before. Not between them, but between himself and Nika. That quiet understanding, the way a single glance was enough to communicate everything.

Eventually, Usopp exhaled, a small tired smile tugging at his lips. Whatever Kaya had silently asked, he had agreed.

He turned back to Zoro and Nika.

Kaya nodded in agreement before adding, “We’d love to treat you to some delicious pike fish for dinner. I’ll even break out the wine.”

“Although I doubt you’ll find a boat that can sail through this ice,” Usopp spoke up, “you’re both welcome to stay with us.” His smile widened slightly, more genuine this time. “We’d like to properly thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Zoro perked up at the mention of alcohol, just as Nika lit up at the mention of food.

“You’ll really give us food?!” Nika’s excitement nearly shook the room. “That’s almost better than the boat!”

Kaya brought a hand to her lips, trying to stifle the laughter that bubbled up. It was a warm soft sound, one that lifted the lingering tension in the room.

“Would you like to join us as well, Chopper?” Usopp asked.

Chopper shook his head. 

“I still want to get started on that trade for ingredients, so I’ll have to pass this time.” Then, his expression turned serious. “But you better bundle Kaya up properly before taking her home! And someone needs to carry her so she doesn’t overexert herself!”

Usopp straightened at that, puffing out his chest with an almost theatrical confidence. 

“I can carry her, no problem!” Usopp declared proudly, striking a heroic pose. “After all, I once carried a 5,000-pound Elephant Bluefin Tuna all by myself!”

Nika’s eyes went round, shimmering with unfiltered amazement. “Woah, really?!”

Usopp nodded smugly, clearly enjoying the attention. 

“It was bigger than Chopper’s house!” Usopp continued, waving his arms wide for emphasis.

“WOW! I didn’t realize you were that strong, Usopp!” Chopper gasped, just as awestruck as Nika.

Zoro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was an obvious lie. Elephant Bluefin Tunas didn’t grow larger than 1,000 pounds. Even if one somehow did, there was no way Usopp (such a scrawny man) had carried it on his own.

Zoro cast a sideways glance at Kaya. She didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she looked at her husband with quiet amusement, as if she had heard this story before. Maybe even dozens of times, but she didn’t challenge it.

Instead, she listened with the same fondness someone might have for a fairytale, one they knew wasn’t real, but still wanted to believe in anyway.

Zoro glanced at Nika, who was still hanging onto Usopp’s every word.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, but he said nothing. For now, he let them have their moment.

It wasn’t long before they bundled Kaya up for the short journey up the hill home.

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

Despite all of Usopp’s vibrato, Zoro was the one who carried Kaya home.

[Next Chapter]

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter is already finished and will be posted on Valentine's Day.

[jekacatrina]

I finished the next chapter of Nobody Else! Can you believe after this one, we only have 3 chapters left??? I can't believe we're so close to the end. I'm going to be able to say I wrote a whole Pacific Rim AU for Bakudeku!

I'm doing some editing before handing it out to my beta Bella, but here’s a sneak peek:

“I can handle all the talk,” Izuku offered.

Kacchan gave him a look so incredulous, as if Izuku had offered to flash the press. “The only person worse than me at this shit, is you. So not exactly as reassuring as you might think, Deku,” he gave Monoma and Shinsou a look. “Okay, maybe the purple morons will be worse.”

“We’ll do great,” Monoma said, with a confidence Izuku didn’t believe. Not when he was holding Shinsou’s hand tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“I’ve never heard you say something nice,” Kirishima said.

“I say nice things to Hitoshi all the time.”

“Let me rephrase it for you, man,” Kaminari lifted a hand. “I’ve never heard you say nice things to anyone you don’t want to see naked."

“That’s because I don’t like you," Monoma said. “Besides, I don’t need to say nice things to get him naked.”

“If you want to keep it like that, you’re going to stop talking, Neito,” Shinsou warned.

“I’m sorry to interrupt such a riveting conversation,” said Aizawa-san, joining them. Everyone blushed, but Shinsou went white. In a moment like this, Izuku was glad to be an orphan.

I don't think there's one scene I don’t love this chapter! But the end? Man, the end is something I had been saving since before I started the story and I'm so proud of it... You'll see.

[summerwritesfics]

🗺️I Swear When I Grow Up I Won’t Just Buy You A Rose

Pairing: Raiden/Kuai Liang Length: 1772 Words Rating: Teen Warnings: Modern AU, Flower Shop AU, Florist!Kuai Liang, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Gift Giving, Fluff AU-Gust 2024 Day 17: Flower Shop

AU-Gust 2024 Masterlist

Notes: Okay gonna be real with you, I have no idea about the pricing of flowers especially the pricing of flowers in dollars, and my attempted research on the topic kept coming up with wedding prices. So, I have no idea if what I wrote here is a reasonable price or flowers, or if it’s too little. If someone would like to correct me, feel free, but I swear I tried 😭 Title is from The Gambler by Fun.

“I never know what to buy people for their Birthdays,” Kung Lao complained, placing his arms behind his head as they walked down the street.

Raiden chuckled and said “it’s not that hard, is it? You always manage to get me stuff I like.”

“That’s different, I’ve known you forever. I could give you a somewhat interesting looking rock and you’d be over the moon with it.” Well, he supposed Kung Lao had a point there. For him it was always the thought that counted in terms of gifts. “But we’ve only known Kitana and Mileena for a couple of months. What the heck do I get?”

“You could go halves with me on some flowers,” Raiden offered, thinking it was the easiest option. Lao was right, they hadn’t known the sisters that long, but he had talked with them enough to realise they both like flowers.

“No offence, but I don’t want to be that basic.”

“Are you calling me basic?” Raiden gasped in mock offence.

“I mean I’m not calling you complex,” Lao replied with a cheeky smirk. Raiden rolled his eyes.

“Well, have fun figuring out what non-basic gift you’re going to buy them,” Raiden claimed as they came to the flower shop he’d had in mind. Lin Kuei Florals was a relatively new shop, a small family run business from what he could tell. He was all about supporting small businesses rather than corporate conglomerates. “I’m gonna go buy my flowers now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna go see if I can find something in that clothes shop over there.” Lao pointed in the direction he was going.

Raiden just shook his head as he went to enter the flower shop. As he stepped in he was immediately met with the floral smell, making him glad he didn’t have any allergies. It was a small shop, but absolutely packed to the brim with plants of all kinds. It wasn’t just bouquets either, there were some plants in pots, including succulents and cacti. There were some cute hanging baskets, and even a rack of seeds.

“Welcome to Lin Kuei Florals, how may I help you?” A voice called to him from the counter, and when Raiden looked up, he actually felt himself go a little hot.

The man behind the counter was a bit shorter than Raiden, wearing his long hair up in a bun. He had a scar over the one side of his face, and two flowers, one yellow, one blue, tucked into his ear. Usually, Raiden wasn’t one to be distracted by someone’s looks, but something about this man made him feel dizzy.

“Are you alright sir?” The man asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Raiden’s eyes flicked to a little name tag on the man’s apron that read “Kuai Liang”.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry,” he said in a hurried tone as Kuai Liang came from behind the counter to approach him.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Kuai Liang asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Uh. Flowers.” Raiden wanted to just slap his face with his hand because of course he wanted flowers, that’s why he was in a flower shop. Kuai Liang probably thought he was stupid or something.

“Well, you’re definitely in the right place for that,” Kuai Liang giggled, and it just made him even cuter to Raiden. “Any particular flowers you’re looking for?”

“Pretty ones?” Oh. Good. If Kuai Liang didn’t already think he was a moron he definitely did now. “I’m so sorry. I’m not normally this dumb, I just have no idea what I’m actually looking for.”

Smooth. Maybe Raiden had saved himself there.

Maybe.

“I’m guessing you’re buying them as a gift for someone?” Kuai Liang enquired, reaching for a notepad in his pocket and a tiny pencil.

“Yeah, I’ve got these two friends, they’re twins so their birthday is coming up.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I know they both really like flowers so I thought a bouquet might do it.”

“Any ideas what kind of flowers they like?” Kuai Liang scribbled something down on his notepad.

“That’s the thing, I think it’s like… All flowers.” He tried to think of something that might help Kuai Liang out. “Ah, one sister really likes the colour blue, while the other loves pink.”

“Were you hoping for separate bouquets for them?” He continued to ask, writing more things down.

“Yes I think that’d be for the best.” He was sure, being twins, they got people treating them like they were the same person all the time. And even in the few short months he’d known them, he’d definitely come to appreciate that for all their similarities, they were still quite different people deep down. “So maybe one with mostly blue flowers and the other mostly pink?”

“Alright, give me a minute.”

And like that, Kuai Liang was darting around the shop, picking up various items. Raiden watched in silence as he grabbed ribbons, pruners, and paper. Then he started going between flowers. He grabbed some deep blue ones, paired with some lighter blue and some that were bordering purple. A couple of smaller white flowers too. He put them on the table together, before returning to look around again. This time he was gathering flowers of various pinks, some deep magenta and some more dusky baby pink. He also grabbed a couple of yellow flowers.

“What do you think? Before I commit to putting them together?” Kuai Liang asked, taking a step back to really observe them. Raiden wandered to join his side, looking over. He really didn’t know much about flowers, or which ones look good together, but even he could admire these flowers all complimented each other.

“They look amazing,” Raiden whispered. His personal favourite of the flowers was actually the smaller white ones, there was something delicate and sweet about them. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Ah, well, I’ve done some casual courses for flower arranging.” Kuai began to wrap the blue bouquet up, in a light pink paper Raiden now noticed. “But I’ve loved plants since I was a child, and my Mother brought me a pack of wildflower seeds to grow.”

“So, is this your shop?” He asked, because from what he knew this was a family owned business.

“Technically it’s my elder brother’s I suppose, but he did buy it for me, so.” Kuai shrugged, wrapping a sparkly blue ribbon around the bouquet and tying it in a bow. “My younger brother helps me out sometimes, but he isn’t quite as interested in plants as I am.”

“Huh.” His brother must be pretty loaded to just casually buy him a shop. Still he didn’t voice that, instead saying “you definitely seem to know what you’re doing.” He frowned, remembering something he’d read about once. “Is that stuff about flowers having meanings true or is that just a myth?”

Kuai Liang laughed as he moved onto the pink bouquet, wrapping that one in a light blue paper.

“There are some agreed upon meanings, but they’re not nearly as important as fiction would make you believe,” he said while smiling ear to ear. “That said if you ever need a bouquet to be extremely passive aggressive towards someone I can definitely help you with that.”

Raiden spluttered and covered his mouth with his hand. As he stood trying not to laugh, Kuai Liang finished up the second bouquet, scooping them both up and handing them to Raiden. They were beautiful and he was certain Kitana and Mileena would love them.

“Thank you so much,” he replied, following Kuai Liang over to the counter. “You’re amazing.” He realised what came out of his mouth and his face dropped, Kuai Liang was looking at him with an amused smile on his face. “They- they’re amazing. I mean. Sorry. Sorry.”

What is wrong with me today?

“Well, that comes to $60 all together,” Kuai Liang stated without missing a beat. Raiden reached into his pocket, passing Kuai the money he required. He opened the cash register, placing the money in and waiting for a receipt to print. Once it had, Raiden noticed he picked up a pen from the desk and wrote something on it. He didn’t think too much of it, probably just had to tick some boxes or something. He took the receipt as Kuai Liang passed it to him and said “thank you and I hope your friends like them.”

“I’m sure they will.” He gave a little bow of respect. “Thank you again.”

He might have rushed a little too quickly to the door so as not to make even more of a fool of himself. He gave a massive sigh as he went back out into the fresh air. From across the street, he saw Kung Lao.

“Hey- wow.” Kung Lao stood mouth agape at him. “Okay, going to be honest, those are way nicer than I was expecting.” He put his hand under his chin, and smirked. “How much did those cost you?”

“$60,” Raiden explained and Kung Lao blinked.

“Wait? Seriously? Only 60? When I looked it up online it was all saying in the 100’s?” Kung Lao questioned and Raiden snorted.

“You probably got results for wedding bouquets, they always put up the price for weddings,” he laughed, but it seemed Kung Lao wasn’t having it.

“Let me see the receipt.” Lao held out his hand to demand it. Raiden rolled his eyes and placed it into his hand.

Lao looked at it, eyes scanning before he reached the bottom and his eyebrow raised.

“Uh. Raiden? Have you actually looked at this?”

Raiden was confused, taking the receipt back and scanning it himself. Down at the bottom, in handwriting, was a series of numbers, sighed “call me ;) KL xx”.

“Oh.” He chuckled nervously, and there was the heat again, only now he could feel it down his neck and chest as well. His eyes were wide as he looked at Kung Lao. “Oh.”

“Seems like you managed to pick up more than flowers, huh?” Kung Lao gave him a very pronounced overdramatic wink and Raiden groaned.

“Shut up,” he muttered as he began to walk off, but he carefully put the receipt in his pocket so he didn’t lose it.

“I get to be your best man right?” Lao continued and Raiden groaned.

“Shut uppppp,” he whined, trying to drown out Lao’s teasing. Despite that though, he did find himself smiling. Maybe his awkwardness had come off as charming or otherwise endearing. It didn’t matter, all he knew was he was definitely giving that phone number a call later.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP | NOT ALLOWED TO DIE | WC: 695

a/n: speculative ficlet on the end of bnha. manga spoilers.

//

His whole body ached. This was nothing new to Tomura, who had been plagued with an awareness of bodily discomfort since he was conscious enough to register it, but unlike before, there was no way he could relieve himself of the pain.

He could not lift a limb; he could barely turn his head.

Beside him on the torn-up battlefield, Midoriya wheezed and wept dry, rasping sobs. He looked even more of a mess than Tomura, and the insides of Tomura were still churning with the stupid, indigestible truth that deep down, he was a pitiful child wanting to be saved. The ghosts had been ruthless in their excavation.

“Shut up,” Tomura managed, and his lips curled weakly to bare his teeth. “Just--would you shut the hell up and kill me already?”

Midoriya twitched. Unlike Tomura, Midoriya was laid-out flat on his back, face turned to the sky and all four limbs stretched out like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard. The kid didn’t even bother twisting his neck. He just side-eyed Tomura with unwarranted incredulity.

“A hero wouldn’t hesitate. Not after all I’ve done.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do,” Midoriya said, unsteadily, “for the past hour?”

“You’re trying to be the good guy. ‘There’s always someone to save.’ Ugh.”

The doctor had subjected him to intense electric shocks, conditioning his body before the transfer of All for One, and the Quirk still hadn’t integrated peacefully. Star and Stripes tried to smother him in the ocean and obliterate him altogether. In neither of these cases did Tomura cry.

Tears were beading up now, threatening to spill over and soak the ground. Tomura crooked his fingers against the dirt, seeking Decay in the fiery ruins of his veins, and tasting blood when all he turned up was more pain.

“I can’t do this,” he gasped. “I can’t look at--at all their stupid faces--and listen to them tell me that I was wrong--”

Unbelievably, Midoriya wrenched himself to the side and reached over to grab a fistful of Tomura’s hair. He said, “You don’t get to die.” He sounded like a hero; he sounded like a maniac who would see Tomura thrown into some asylum for ‘recovery’ when all it would really be was an indefinite term of drugged incarceration. “One for All didn’t go away so you could die. I told them I’d save you, and I will.”

“You and what Quirk?! You think you count for anything now? Even All Might’s word doesn’t mean shit!”

“You’re Quirkless too, now!” Midoriya fired back.

Tomura clenched his jaw. Maybe if he ate enough dirt, he’d throw up, choke on his own vomit, and die before any medical assistance reached them. Like being unable to use a Quirk mattered to the terrified, paranoid judicial system. He’d dusted both of Overhaul’s arms up to the elbows and they booked him in Tartarus anyway.

“I won’t let you disappear,” the boy swore.

“Moron,” Tomura spat. “I’m telling you over and over again, it doesn’t matter what the hell you want. You’re gonna stand against the heroes when they drag me to prison? You’re gonna ask them to go easy on me with the sentencing? It’d be more merciful to just kill me!”

Midoriya yanked on Tomura’s hair, and Tomura wailed a long, despairing cry into the dirt. Would anyone else help him? Dabi--useless. Toga--useless. Spinner--gone. Mr. Compress--imprisoned. All Tomura had left was Midoriya, and he hated Midoriya, but not enough to suppress Tenko’s needy want for a friend. 

“If they take you, I’ll find you. I’ll ask All Might to find a safehouse in the country. I’ll make sure you have dogs to take care of.” Midoriya released Tomura and rolled himself completely to his stomach. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Exhaustion weighed on him as heavily as the hurt did on Tomura. “Don’t you want to live?”

This was the final straw, amidst the many final straws that had edged their fight further and further in Midoriya’s favor. Tomura had no desire to voice Tenko’s want, so he scrunched his wet eyes shut and screamed into the shattered earth.

Next to him, Midoriya waited.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Just so you know, if you’re subscribing to the whole “publicity” thing, going out there to troll or trash Alba, or just generally being a bit of an idiot about him or her, then I’m blocking and unfollowing.

Not because I care, but I DON’T.

I don’t believe it’s publicity. I really don’t. And I think anyone who does is just delusional and desperately wishing for some strange reason he was still single. But that’s my opinion. You are, of course, entitled to yours. Just as I am entitled to not want to read or see it.

And FYI, whilst we’re at it, writing untruths whilst they’re presented as facts (such as things about no leaves being green this time of year- news flash, THEY ARE… or comments about how she Alba possibly be in the country/state due to Visas. Again, BULLSHIT, trust me, I’ve had enough experience with visas for the US to last me a lifetime) is really fucking sad and dangerous.

You parasocial fucks are the reason the majority of us normal guys are now not seeing much of him at all. He said his break from SM was for the summer, I’ll be surprised if he ever comes back at all. So yeah, nice work, morons.

I find it all gross and just a bit strange to be honest. But what I find more gross is how now these people are going for him and her and their looks and how they’re both “gross” and “ugly”, how he’s “losing his looks”, “looks haggard,” “ageing rapidly,” and that she’s a “plain Jane…” bla bla bla. That’s disgusting. And I hope when you finally grow the fuck up, you really understand how shameful that is.

The marriage might last. It might not. But I really think you all need to take a long hard look in the mirror.

This fandom is toxic. And I want nothing to do with that shit. My writing blog is going on indefinite hiatus. The only stuff you’ll see coming from me will be what I’m beta reading or contributing too with my writing partner. I’m out, and need well away from this crazy.