#my mind is a hamster wheel and hes the hamster running through it all day long

[devestatedutterlydevestated]

(wearing bloodstained clothes, standing over a dead body) why do i have to be the big person? i dont want to be the bigger person. do i look like a big person to you? i am just a small, tiny, unassuming little guy. look at me! im just a little guy! im just a lil uwu just a helpless lil dude who can do no wrong :3

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [6/...]

— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“On sunny days I go out walking, I end up on a tree-lined street. I look up at the gaps of sunlight. I miss you more than anything."

— Mitski, "Francis Forever"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.  The crew arrives at the Baratie, and several things go down in a matter of hours. Decisions are made, both stupid and not so stupid. Old and new faces come back into your life, and unable to deal with the events in Orange Town, you handle it in the worst best way possible: through the bottle.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, alcoholic indulgence on a catastrophic scale (drink responsibly ppl), blackouts, morally grey reader, violence, mentions of everyone (marine, fish people, pirates, etc.) having a past beef with Reader/"Cross-Hairs", Buggy POV in the end,

A/N: So, since this chapter was delayed, I think it compensates due to the fact that it is approximately 7k words long. The chapter jumps a little between the events of the Baratie, but there's a reason for that: the reason being that the Reader is shitfaced for most of the time during this chapter. Also, shout out to @ay0nha for putting up with my rambles during this period, really appreciate it XD

It hurts. Everything hurts. That’s the first thing he feels. 

His feet, his back, his torso, but especially his head. It’s like a hamster is running on a wheel inside the bones in his skull, squeaking, chirping, driving him insane from the inside. 

The wheel is pounding, and pounding until all he wants is to chuck that fucking hamster into–

“Hey, he’s waking up!”

Shanks? Why is he in his head? Fuck, he takes it back. The hamster can stay, rent-free, for as long as it fucking wants to, as long as it isn’t fucking Shanks—

“Buggy?”

On second thoughts, that voice doesn’t strike any sense of irritation with him. In fact, he finds it comforting, like the morning sun shining atop the ship deck. He doesn’t mind listening to that.

“Buggy?”

His eyes open, and he thinks he's seeing the sun for the first time. The sun and the moon, in fact, at the same time. Golden, blinding, warm, and cold, but he wants to watch them until his vision turns white and all sense of sight abandons him. 

It’ll suck to be blind, but damn, what a hell of a way to go.

The more he stares, however, the more everything else falls back into place. He realizes it’s not suns he’s staring at, but two sharp eyes and a concerned face that makes him feel just as warm.

He’s in a bed, he finally discovers. There’s a pillow under his head, a fresh sheet up until his midsection which strangely smells of vinegar, inside a room he just now remembers is the Oro Jackson’s de-facto ‘infirmary’ which really is just an old storage space that was refurnished when they first got the ship.

There’s something wrapped around his head, tight but not too tight that it’s squeezing. It’s been done by precise and sturdy hands; a professional, someone who knows what they’re doing.

He blinks once, then twice, and everything around him finally settles. Including everyone perched around the bed.

“Ah, Buggy, my lad!” It’s hard not to recognize the booming voice of his captain, who proceeds to lean over him with his hands pressed around his biceps until the massive mustache trickles his chin. “Thought you were a goner for a moment!”

He kind of wishes he was one because the strength of Gol D. Roger is not to be underestimated. His ribs squeeze and it's hard to breathe, but out of respect for his captain, all that leaves his throat is a guttural groan that he hopes conveys the message clearly enough.

Gol D. promptly removes himself from his poor apprentice with his hands raised, and when he steps back, Shanks takes his place next to the bed. “Gods, Buggy! What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed! Rayleigh said you were lucky it was just a concussion!”

That’s when it dawns on him. Riiight, there was a scuttle. Some asshole pirates trying to ambush them, they picked the wrong fucking targets. Some … guy was flying over him? Did that happen, or was it just a fever dream?

He remembers kicking someone in the balls, and then … and then …

Lightning. Making its way for him as the darkness embraced his vision. A line of gold, straight as a sword, narrowing in on him.

Did it catch him before the darkness did? 

He hopes so.

“Lay off me, will ‘ya!” he shouts at his friend, trying to get up. However, the fucking hamster wheel in his head keeps spinning until he settles back down against the pillow. “I was doing good!”

“Yeah, until you weren’t!” Shanks disputes and grabs his fellow apprentice by the collar of his sleeve. “I told you to fucking move, but it’s like you spaced out! She had to carry you all the way back here with your head all bleeding!”

Carry him?

He glances at you, finally. You’re sitting there, hunched slightly over the bed with those eyes looking at him, and he’s thinking you fucking carried him? It’s not that he’s ashamed, not at all, but if anything, he was always hoping the roles were switched. 

He’d be the one carrying you. With your strength, he imagined it would be quite the weight to uphold, but he would do it. For you, he would move the seas if he could, Devil Fruit or not.

“Buggy, are you alright?” 

You’re the one talking this time. Not the captain, nor Shanks, just you. The lighting is here, and he feels his skin prick. It’s electric. Cold. Warm. All and nothing combined. He could listen to it – feel it – for hours, days, maybe even years without ever growing weary of it.

He puts on his best brave face and scoffs, forcing his arms to cross themselves despite the surge of aches that rush through his body doing so. “Of course I’m alright! I’m Buggy! I bounce back, always!”

“Still,” your hands fall on top of his, and he feels his body freeze. “I was worried.”

“’Worried’?” Shanks cackles and gestures to you with his thumb over his shoulder. “You should’ve seen the damage she left behind. The entire place was smithereens, I tell you, Buggy! She knocked over those assholes like frickin’ chessboard pieces!”

“What did I always tell you?” Gol D. slams a hand on top of your shoulder, knocking you slightly forward. “She’s got eyes sharp enough to cut through steel, and pirates too, apparently.”

You laugh awkwardly. “I didn’t cut through them, really. I just … knocked them a little over.”

Shanks cackles. “Don’t be humble. You should’ve seen the guy who knocked you out. I swear, none of his bones were where they were supposed to be. He won’t be walking, or doing much of anything, ever again.”

Buggy can imagine it, but also not. He looks at you now, and he sees his concerned friend with those kind eyes that contain both the sun and the moon. He’s always known you’re strong – the strongest person he knows of save for his captain, but not unkind. Not cruel. Not sadistic.

Yet, if what Shanks just said carries any weight, it confirms what he’s always known. 

You’re a beast, and beasts only follow their prime instincts. They don’t allow others to harm what or who they consider theirs.

And it means that you consider him yours. 

Maybe in a different way than he’d prefer, maybe in a way that’s different from the kind he harbors towards you, but it still confirms he’s yours. 

He will never want to find himself on the opposite side of that. Of you. Never you.

When he looks at you again, looks down at where your hand is pressed on top of his, he takes it in his own. 

“I’m fine,” he finally says, his lip tugging in what is supposed to be a smile. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, though.”

You chuckle softly, and he smiles. Fuck, how can he not? He remembers it all so clearly. The way your dimples are shaped, the length of your hair, the soft tint of your lips.

“You? Never.” You finally say. “Never you”

---

You reflect on how it's weird that some things change whereas others don't. 

Flowers prosper and bloom and die. The sun ascends, stays up for a few hours, then descends back into the horizon. 

Friendships grow strong, stay strong, then they aren't.

Some things change, some don't. 

Baratie being among the latter.

It's bright enough inside to momentarily blind you, just like it was a little over ten years ago. Save for new faces with the employees and some design choices, the overall place has stayed the same. 

There are people there of prestigious backgrounds - both pirate and not - and you think of how receptive the restaurant must've been to make both parts come together without any regular scuttles. 

A neutral ground for all to come and enjoy the feast. Well, that is the principle, but not everyone abides by it.

It’s been a while since you last visited the establishment, and last time, you were banned for life. 

Frankly, you don’t recall much of the events; too drunk on rum at the time.

What you do remember is that it involved a few broken bottles of Baratie’s finest wine, some mashed-up furniture, and cutlery, a rival captain who wouldn’t take a “fucking get lost” for a “no”, and it ended with you standing surrounded by a bunch of broken bodies of your own making.

Needless to say, Zeff was pissed. 

More than pissed, actually. He was fuming.

He probably still is.He has a thing for grudges if he’s still alive.

Maybe … Just maybe the old man’s chewed off something more than his leg and kicked the bucket? That’d be a sight to see considering he only has one remaining foot.

"My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

The waiter - Sanji - is fine, not going to lie. A good fighter, too, if his little display seconds ago is a testament to that. A bit too young for your preference, with a nose too small, and hair too bright and blonde. Not quite blue colorful enough.

All in all, not a bad look at all. Just for the aesthetics, though. A solid 7/10, you conclude.

"One of everything, please!" Luffy requests enthusiastically.

For whatever reason, Sanji does not seem to share your general affinity for the restaurant. That’s odd. Most people who work here tend to boast about their occupation in the famed restaurant.

Though, if you have to make a guess, Zeff is likely a contributing factor behind that disdain. He’s tough on people, even tougher if he likes someone.

As discontented as Sanji seems, however, it does not keep him from trying to withhold his flirtatious demeanor with Nami. A Casanova, it looks like. Funny.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?" Zoro asks, fed up with the one-sided dalliance going on between your shipmate and the waiter.

"Two beers!” Usopp promptly adds. “though, I usually have three."

"And one milk!" Luffy chimes in.

"Three beers and a milk," Sanji notes. His eyes land on you, and that signature smile falls to his lips. "And for the ladies?"

You’re already here, you think to yourself. Why not make the most of it? For nostalgia’s sake.

"A bottle of Baratie's Finest," you request, your chin resting in your palm. "Not the kind you keep for customers, though. Pick one from Zeff's private stash, if you can afford to smuggle it past his bushy nose?"

"A classy beverage for a classy lady, I see." A mischievous glimmer shines in his eyes and smile. "Although that stash is off-limits, what kind of a man would I be if I refused a lady her desired beverage?”

You tilt your head a fraction to the side. "I'm sure he won't mind. At his age, he needs to watch his liver."

"That is true,"

Quite frankly, everything else evades your attention the second the waiter arrives with your order. Sanji brings you your meals, and your pricey bottle of Baratie's Finest, and it’s the Red Apple edition.

Perfect.

You eat, and eat, and drink, and then drink some more, not even stopping to concern yourself with the price tag. 

The food at the Baratie's has not been in decline when it comes to quality above all else. It's delicious, and not a lot of places have earned that kind of claim in your life.

The food is good, but the drinks are ethereal. 

One glass turns into two, and two promptly becomes three. So forth, and so forth. Anything to dull the tightness lodged in your chest. 

A tightness that has not left you alone in the past couple of weeks.

You've developed a pretty good tolerance over the years, and after several more units, you begin to feel the tickle on the edge of your hands. Baratie’s Finest indeed.

After five, the feeling settles on the tip of your spine.

After seven, you start to wonder what went wrong. It's a dangerous area to indulge in, especially if liquor is involved, but you don’t stop.

What went wrong?

What did you do wrong?

In another life, you would've traveled the world with them, doing nothing but drinking, fighting, exploring together.

Instead, you’re here, drinking with a crew yet still feeling like the loneliest asshole in the world. It’s not your crew.

You lose a smidgen of focus, and in the grand specter of things, focus is something you could do well with less off. 

You can afford to think less, feel less, and know less. Life has been full of ups and downs, and quite frankly, you've grown weary of it all.

Fuck, maybe Luffy’s onto something? Maybe you are sad?

… Nah.

Once Zoro orders another beer, you go as far as to share your bottle with him. His face scrunches at the taste and he coughs several times, but he admits that it’s good.

As you sit there on the edge of the couch, sipping your beverage and tasting your food, Sanji arrives to collect the bill. You know Luffy doesn’t have a berry to his name yet, and so you wonder how long it'll take before Zeff notices.

More specifically, how long it’ll take him before he realizes he's missing something from his private collection?

“Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?!”

Speak of the Chief… and he shall appear.

This time, you do not interfere when Luffy attempts to bargain for his lack of cash. You simply sit back and observe. 

As much as Luffy tries, he does not have the words or mind suited for this kind of business yet. It’s Capitalism at its finest. 

“You eat, you pay!”

Thoughts and dreams can only get you so far in life, but at the Baratie, it’s coin.

When Zeff grabs Luffy by the front of his shirt, the chief's eyes turn to you, and holy hell, is he furious. 

“And what in the blazing hell are you doing here?!"

“Zeff,” You greet him and raise your beverage his way, a tilted smirk on your face. "It’s been too long."

"Not long enough! I thought I told you to get fucking lost last time? The damages you did cost a fortune!"

“In my defense, it was the other guys that started it.”

He gives you such a dirty look that his jaws clench. “Don’t give a shit. Why are you here?”

You twirl the bottle around in your hand. "Just enjoying the ambiance, as always. I was in the area, and so how could I pass up the chance to try your scrumptious meals again? Or drinks, for that matter?" 

On cue, you raise your - or rather his - bottle closer up to him. 

It’s stupid, the rational part of your brain argues. One does not fuck around with the Chief of the Baratie, but among the few joys you have left in life, this remains one of them.

His eyes narrow in on the bottle and there he is.In the blink of an eye, he snaps it out of your hand with such fast precision that you're almost caught off-guard. 

Zeff narrows in on the mostly empty flask like it's personally insulted him and his entire lineage. “Where did you get this?"

"It was on the menu."

"It sure as shit was not! How could you—" He freezes like a thought suddenly dawned on him, and if a man can become purple from anything other than oxygen deprivation, Zeff's current mood is the closest thing to it. "Sanji. Why that snot-nosed, little—! ... When I get my damn hands on him."

It seems that whatever vendetta Zeff has towards his employee, it outweighs the one he has for you tenfold, which says something. Without another word, he yanks Luffy by the scruff and all but drags him with him to the kitchen. 

Ordinarily, you would’ve intervened on behalf of your captain, but with Zeff now preoccupied, it’s your chance to rob the bar of a few more beverages.

And in your dictionary, “a few” is the equivalent of “a shitton”.

"Wow," Usopp murmurs with a low whistle. "That guy really hates your guts."

"What are you talking about? I’m his favorite customer." You raise what remains in your glass to them. “Anyone want another one?”

"I do," Nami relents.

Zoro laughs, probably for the first time since you’ve met him. "Now you're talking."

Maybe, just maybe, you’re beginning to like these people. 

With a couple more drinks, maybe you’ll be able to tell.

———

“You know, I kind— I kinda assumed you were an asshole when we first met?” 

Usopp’s struggling to stand on his feet, legs bent slightly forward as he makes a half-assed attempt at ordering another drink. You can’t tell if the bartender is electively ignoring him or not, and truth be told, you don't blame the guy if the former applies.

Between the two of you, you’re more adept when it comes to dealing with liquor. Sure, your lips are a little looser now and the bright lights are starting to hurt your eyes, but all in all, you’re not even half as drunk as you want to be. 

Seriously, fuck me sometimes. You just had to go all out when you were younger. Days and nights spent pouring bottle after bottle left your liver hardened rather than weakened.

Now, because of the high tolerance you stupidly developed, it's come here to bite you in the ass and keep you from getting wrecked. 

“Oh?” Your sarcasm couldn't be any more discernible than it is now as you eye your crew mate. “What made you reach that conclusion?”

Usopp twirls around, horribly off-balanced, and slaps a hand over your shoulder. 

A little too personal for your liking, but you let it slide for now.

“I mean, for starters, you—,” he hiccups. “You always have that look about you. Like someone just pissed in your ale.”

You give him an unimpressed but vaguely piqued once-over. “Descriptive. Go on,”

“And soso— And so I and the guys are wondering if you’re like that because some clown broke your heart or—,” he hiccups again. “Or some— something? Did he piss in your ale?”

You shrug his hand off at once. You don’t want to think about him, now least of all. "No.”

Not even a second later, his arm his back over your shoulder and he leans closer. It's probably meant as a comforting gesture, but given how absolutely wasted he looks, you perceive it with a grain of salt. 

"Y-You can tell the great Capt— I mean, the Great Usopp, alright? We've all been there before, I—I'm ssssure. I mean, Zoro doesn't strike me as much of a ladies' man, but he's probably got stories, too."

The bartender finally stops by and leaves a beer bottle in front of you on the table, completely ignoring your companion, and disappears to make his next rounds.

You take the flask and flick the cork off with your thumb. "Well, if you really want to help, —" 

You turn around so that your back hits the bar counter, twirl Ussop around with the guidance of your hand and shove him lightly towards where Nami and Zoro are sitting. "— Talk to the others first about their heartbreaks."

If he wants to object, he's too drunk to for it. Instead, he recollects his limited stance and all but wobbles over to the corner where your other companions are seated.

He’s their problem now, but it’ll be an interesting display.

You recline against the bar counter to chug your beverage in peace when a voice suddenly speaks up from next to you. 

“I thought you were retired.”

With how loud the music is, it might have slipped your notice completely. Then again, the owner of said voice has always had that thing about him. 

He could whisper, and the entire room would’ve heard.

You glance up at your side, and you’re halfway tempted to smile when you see who it is. 

“It’s been a while, Hawk-Eyes.”

Everything from the feather on his hat to the cross around his neck and the pointy way his beard is trimmed has stayed the same. Not a scar, a bruise, or blemish to spot on him.

In ten years, he looks to have aged only one. Some people are fortunate in terms of youth, and you would definitely consider Dracule Mihawk one of them.

“Cross-Hairs.” He inclines his head to you, a silent courtesy reserved only for those whose company he tolerates. “I believed you abandoned your life behind the mast years ago.”

You take another generous gulp from your bottle before you respond. "So did I, but life finds a way, doesn't it?"

"Indeed." He peeks over his shoulder to where your companions are seated, his countenance less than impressed. Then again, that's just his face by default, so hard to tell with him. "And last we met, you were a Captain."

"Last time we met, you almost cut my right arm off." For emphasis, you pull back your sleeve to show off the straight scar that separates your upper arm from the rest. It's faded, old, and never noticeable unless you decide to wear anything short-sleeved, but it's there all the same.

He doesn't apologize. Of course, he wouldn't. Instead, he raises his sparse glass of wine to you. "Nothing personal."

You raise your bottle to him in turn. "Of course not,"

Clink!

You drink your respective beverages in companionable silence. However, even with your halfway inebriated state of mind, you can't help but think of the reasons for his presence. 

You have your suspicions, and you're not shy about voicing them.

"This isn't your usual scenery." You say. “What makes one of the great Warlords of the Sea seek out a place such as this? Business or pleasure?"

"Business," he answers curtly, as though he'd prefer to do anything but. "I'm looking for a captain."

“It’s not Shanks, I take it?”

“No, it’s not. It’s a captain by the name of Luffy.”

It doesn't surprise you. It should, but it doesn’t.

The lengths the vice-admiral is willing to go to retrieve his grandson, which apparently includes hiring a Warlord to do so, doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Unbreakable willpower is a family trait, after all, if you've learned anything from Luffy. 

It wouldn’t suffice with a gun; he had to send the entire fucking arsenal.

Still, at least it’s Mihawk of all people. It shouldn’t be a source of relief, but had it been anyone else, be it Kuro or Axe-hand or Bu-... 

Your fingers subconsciously dig into the fragile, empty bottle you’re holding.

The point is, had it been anyone else, you would've intervened. You have intervened, several times by now, but not tonight. 

Tonight, you're here to drink and forget, then drink some more. You don’t have the sobriety to worry about much of anything anymore.

"Garp must truly be at his wit's end if he employs you for his endeavors." Once you retrieve the bottle at your disposal, you pluck off the cap and swirl it lazily in your hand. The lights from the bar dance around the transparently brown rim, like a shooting star with no exit and no entrance to the rest of the universe. Forever stuck. "Seems excessive to send you of all people after something so seemingly simple."

"From what I've heard, this particular quarry is something of a wildcard."

"If you’re here, I’m sure of it."

Mihawk tilts his chin up, eyeing you curiously in your peripheral vision. "Are you saying that you're acquainted with this Luffy?"

"I'm saying no such thing. It's just mere speculations on my part." Another fistful of alcohol travels down your esophagus. "You're only employed when it's truly serious, and the vice-admiral is known for only getting involved in those kinds of matters. It adds up, is all I’m saying."

“I hardly consider it dire. It's more a means of killing some time on my part." He does not take his eyes off of you, and even in your current state, you can tell that something is brewing beneath those sharp eyes. "However, if said captain has you in his arsenal, then I feel like some investigation is warranted. After all, the Captain of the Cross-Haired pirates is not particularly known for her tendency to submit to others."

You quirk an eyebrow at him and circle your finger around the bottle rim, pondering on the subject yet not biting at the metaphorical carrot he dangles in front of you. "Technically, it’s just like you said: I'm retired, and the Cross-Haired pirates are no more. I’d think most people are aware of that.”

"The Marines believe otherwise,” he counters calmly. “The Cross-haired pirates may be disbanded, but their captain’s bounty remains on the posters. The vice-admiral was quite adamant that, while he wants the boy alive, he’d prefer it if you weren’t."

“I see.” The vice-admiral should learn to take a fucking number. “Tell me, have you elected a means of execution, or is it the dealer's choice?"

"I recall he mentioned something along the lines of wanting your head on a spike."

"Crude."

"I agree."

"Then," you raise your glass. "Am I to have my last drink here tonight?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm here for the boy and nothing else."

You'd expect him to be forward with his line of questions; demand you just give Luffy up and be done with it, not side-stepping the subject like he's doing now. 

If he suspects something, he'll sniff it out like a bloodhound until he gets what he's searching for, regardless of how many cards or people fall around him. You’ve not exactly been subtle about your affiliations with his quarry, something you’ll berate yourself for come morning, but it all depends on how this plays out now.

"I won’t give you the answer you seek. You’ll have to do that on your own.”

You're not friends, but you're not necessarily foes either. 

For as long as you’ve known the swordsman, Mihawk's only ever had a beef with Shanks for reasons undisclosed even to you. Even after you parted ways with your red-haired crew mate, Mihawk never seemed to have anything personal against you despite the rather brutal nature of your previous encounter. 

If anything, there's a certain level of respect veiled between you, one former pirate to another semi-former one, and it’s something you hope he'll honor just this once.

To your relief, he decides to not push the matter, but the interest lingers in his eyes. 

It's not easy to notice, but you make it a habit to take note of limited details. "The boy must be something special to have earned your loyalty like this, Cross-Hairs." 

"I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself." 

"Perhaps so," he concedes.

You chug the rest of your drink in one go, put the empty bottle on the tabletop in the space between you, and push yourself off the counter. "For what it's worth, I wish you good fortune with your endeavor. However, I’ll warn you; if anything happens to the kid, I'll get involved.”

“Duly noted.” Once again, he dips his head to you. "And Cross-Hairs,"

"Hmmm?"

You glance at him from over your shoulder, but his gaze is fixated on something else this time. Something on the other side of the bar, to the borders of the waters. If he sees anything, you can't tell what it is, and he doesn’t share. 

Not explicitly.

"There is unrest brewing in the seas," he finally reveals, casually as if he's discussing the current state of the weather. "I'd suggest you keep your feet dry for now, at your convenience."

You don't know what he speaks of, but whatever it is, you'll follow. He is not a man who prides himself on his capacity to proclaim falsehood. If he tells you that the sun is green, you'll believe it, and you make it a habit not to believe in a lot of people.

That applies to this warning too.

"I'll see you around, Hawk-Eyes."

You need another drink.

———

You slip in and out of consciousness a couple of times throughout the night, never coming to the same places twice, with a belly full of rum, beer, and whatever else with enough alcoholic percentage to knock out a horse. 

At one point, you're in the restaurant munching on some bread rolls.

At another, you're puking your guts out in the bathroom stalls. 

At the third, you're chugging even more liquor straight out of the bottle while a bunch of people cheer you on.

The circle goes on and on and on until it spins out of control like a zoetrope. Faces flash in front of you, one after the other, never the same two times in a row. 

It's alright, you tell yourself, as long as you forget.

You forget about blue eyes, blue hair, and red noses. 

You forget about Gol D. Roger and the time you spent on his crew.

You forget it all, if only for a few hours.

Next time you come to, you're still miraculously standing on your feet. You’re currently in the kitchen on the Merry, and currently listening to Nami telling a ridiculous story about how Zoro challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel.

What a funny story.

In fact, it’s so funny and so outlandish that you can't help but snort. Since when has Nami been the kind of person to tell jokes?

Maybe Usopp's tendencies have rubbed off on the standoffish young woman, or maybe she's smoked something along with her drinks? 

Fuck, you have to ask her where she got the stuff.

It takes a few moments of awkward silence until you realize that no one is joking, Nami least of all. The room is still, and as if all alcoholic content has left your blood, it dawns on you last of all.

Oh hell no.

You slowly turn to Zoro with a deadpan look in your eyes, and despite the urgency, you ask him as calmly as you can, "You challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel?"

He bobs his head and continues polishing his swords. "Which he accepted,"

You blink, and blink, hoping that this is just a fragment your beer-and-bottle-drenched brain has conjured to fuck with you, but Zoro remains where he is and so is everyone and everything else.

Fuuuuuuuck…

You thought he was one of the smart ones, too. His sense of navigation doesn't work for shit and if anyone can get lost on their way to the lavatory, it's him. Still, you withheld some semblance of hope that he would exhibit the same kind of recklessness as his captain.

Turns out, it has all been for naught.

You rub your temples hard enough to sting. With a nasty headache developing, you decide to pop the question. "Cremation or burial at sea?"

"... What?"

"Pick one or the other, I'll see to it that arrangements can be made."

"I'm not going to die.”

"You are a fly to him." Nami grimaces. "Something to be swatted and forgotten,"

"Not if I win." Zoro is steadfast and determined, like every new pirate on their first voyage.

It’s a look you remember well. In a way, the young swordsman kind of reminds you of Mihawk himself, and if there's one thing you can link to both, it's that annoying stubbornness that never yields. Even when the odds are against them.

"You're not going to win," Nami tries.

Zoro remains infuriatingly unconvinced. "You don't know that."

"You won't." This situation, to your chagrin, sobers you up enough that you can't blame the liquor on your next actions or words. 

You take a step towards him, and with an iron fist, grab him by the front of his shirt and force him to face you. He's unamused. “I think I liked you better when you were drunk,” he murmurs.

"I want you to get this, really get this.” You snarl. “Once you go against Mihawk, and there's no coming back for most. He's not known as the World's Greatest Swordsman for no reason, and as good as you are, take it from me. He'll end you."

He inclines his head to the side with deep-rooted skepticism. "Sounds like you really know the guy,"

"It doesn't matter whether I know him or not." 

"Everywhere we go, we make enemies, and for some reason, they've already got a grudge against you, Captain Cross-Hairs." 

With one hand clenched against your offending wrist, he starts to list off his other hand. "Since you know just about every asshole we come across, you might as well tell me about Mihawk's preferred method of execution. Will he chop me in half, or is he excessive like the damn clown and goes all the way with splitting someone into pieces?"

You feel your nails begin to pierce through the fabric of his shirt, inches away from leaving open gaps. You're not their guardian or their mentor. You're not the one supposed to keep the crew at ease or lead them towards certain victories. 

That's the captain's role, and you're not it. Not on this ship, with this crew.

Your only purpose here is to keep them from killing themselves on their first voyage, but if they're so determined to do it themselves despite the warnings you provide, then it's not on you.

Pulling him a few inches closer to you, you look him straight in the eyes, and that's when you see it. The aforementioned stubbornness that follows each and every young pirate you've come across in your life. The notion that they're invulnerable; unkillable. 

Nothing can hope to end them.

You remember what it was like, that feeling, and it almost breaks you to see it in front of you like this. 

You know aggression won’t do it for him, so you try an approach you haven’t tried in years. Bargaining. 

“What will it take for you to pull back from this?”

“He’s coming for Luffy. I’m his first mate, it’s my duty to protect the captain.”

To protect the Captain…

That's how you know that there's no convincing the young swordsman to stand down, not this time. 

He's persistent, exceedingly so, and if there's one thing you've learned during this voyage with these people it's that hell hath no fury like a straw hat pirate determined.

This is not on you, yet it doesn't make it any easier to let go of him. But you do.

Taking a deep breath, you uncurl your fingers and let him step back. 

"Fine."

You need another drink.

Glancing over your shoulder, you meet Luffy’s concerned gaze. “This is your call, captain.”

You don’t need to be here for this. You’ve done your part, and now it’s his turn to do his.

You give Zoro a pat on his back, just one. It's not meant for comfort, it's not an act of sympathy either. 

It's just a pat, like the kind you give your friend when they're about to gamble away all their savings over a game of cards. It’s the “fuck around and find out, but do it yourself”-kind of gesture.

Heaving a sigh, you sidestep him and let your fingers fall off his shoulders. "It's been fun, Zoro." 

And the worst part about this all is that you mean it, truly. It has been fun to sail with them, share a few beers, and joke at the expense of others. Your time on this ship has been fun. 

Like old times.

You won't go as far as to call Zoro a friend, you never do, but it's close enough that you'll probably miss him in the long run.

Zoro looks at you, his countenance indecipherable. "Say that to me again when I win this fight,"

"I can't." Because you won't.

---

The water forces its way into his lungs at such speed that it feels like he's swallowed buckets by the time they finally come up for air. He harks and coughs and tries to get as much of it out, but he doesn’t feel any lighter. 

Get it? Lighter, because he’s just a head now and— alright, forget it.

For once, he's happy his head is disjointed from the rest of his body because if it wasn't, he'd probably sink to the bottom of the ocean from the fluid in his belly alone.

The taste of salt and sand stays like a sour afterthought on his tongue, and as much as he tries to spit it out, he can't be rid of all the grains. "Fuck! Give me a warning next time, will ya?! Kinda vulnerable to seawater and all that!"

Whatever fish-guy has him strapped to their back this time does not dignify his complaints with a verbal response. Instead, all he hears is a couple of snickers, like their humor is fuelled at his expense. 

Assholes, the lot of them. 

It takes some time for the tangy scent to abandon his nostrils, but once it does, it's immediately replaced by the fine scent of something divine. Something delicious. 

It smells of food. Actual fucking human food. Not whatever Arlong and his litter gorge on, which he personally believes to be carcasses of dead sea animals they happen to catch on the shores of their island. 

It's honest-to-god cooked, seasoned, edible food.

Buggy can feel his mouth water, and for once, he cannot blame it on seawater.

They're finally at Baratie.

The finest restaurant in all the East Blue, renowned for its excellent taste and unrivaled quality. Only the richest of the rich get to dine here, and while he's not exactly flowing with berries at the moment, he’s famished.

“Hey, Lips!" he yells out as loud as he can through the shitty bag. "How about you order me some hot dogs once we get a seat? A clown's gotta eat!"

The only sort of response he gets is an elbow to the bag, which incidentally clashes right into his nose. "FUCK!"

"Shut up!"

There's scuttling to be heard, doors opening, and a shitton of gasps echo from all around him. They have an audience, he deduces, and not a particularly receptive one at that. 

Arlong makes a spectacle, something about "serve" and yish and yash about dinner and last meals as they get a seat.

Fuck, what he would give for a meal.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels solid ground settle under his neck. Though it's a pleasant reprieve from being thrown back and forth like a yarn ball caught in a cat’s game, he won’t consider it much of an upgrade. He's fucking hungry, damnit!

"Who are you, old man?" Arlong speaks, and Buggy hears uneven steps approach them.

An unfamiliar voice answers. "My name's Zeff, and I own this place."

Right, the Chief. Maybe he can ask him for some crumbs since his captors aren’t exactly on the generous side.

"Well, I'm Arlong, and I own the East Blue."

"No one owns the sea. Not even a fish man."

Ooooh, burn! Suck on that, shitface!

"Listen up!” Arlong exclaims when the chief’s negotiation tactics fail to appease him. “I'm looking for a pirate in a straw hat! Goes by the name of Luffy!"

The saw-nosed motherfucker truly has to be even more extravagant than himself, Buggy admits to himself with no short amount of begrudging compliance. Fishface even goes as far as to threaten the poor diners with having them for dinner instead, by the sounds of it. 

Buggy can appreciate the message it conveys; he’s used it himself, but he refuses to find any common ground with his captor, so he buries the sentiment ten feet down into wherever the hell his body is.

He listens as the diners lose their appetite, all the while Arlong begins to gorge on whatever he has on his plate. For a while, all he can make out is the sound of meat being torn off something and the occasional cry from one of the diners in the distance.

Even from miles and miles away, Buggy can feel his stomach twist painfully due to the lack of food in it. Oh, it’s hell on earth to smell everything you want yet being unable to even grasp it. And here his captors are, toying with him, torturing him with it.

Seriously, fuck them.

He’s about to demand to get something to chew on when Arlong’s other henchman — Kuroobi or some shit like that — beats him to it. "Hey, boss, I'm feeling for a bottle right about now."

Arlong laughs. "Don’t have to tell me. Take what you please. I don’t think that one will mind sharing one of hers.”

“And get one for me too while you’re at it,” Lips supplies.

The henchman cackles and gets up to his feet to retrieve what he’s looking for, but not before lightly kicking the bag that is Buggy’s current prison cell in the side. 

“HEY!”

“Sorry.” He apologizes unapologetically.

Buggy grinds his teeth together and tries to think of something — anything — to keep his mind off his ever-rising hunger. When he gets his body back, he'll take some bottles and shove them right up these fuckers a—

CRASH!

Buggy hears the sound of something breaking from the opposite side of where the fish man just headed. Countless gasps ring through the restaurant’s interior, bouncing on the walls, and he hears the henchman’s painful wails from a distance away.

He’d laugh - he does laugh, because it seems like someone didn’t want to share their precious drinks and decided that full-on attacking one of the fish people was the appropriate kind of response.

It’s impressive, he thinks. Very much so. Oh, he’d pay to see that again, and he’ll have to give that person a fucking kiss, just for making his day a little bit better.

It’s a shame he can’t see the—

"Fucking get lost."

Buggy feels his head freeze in the bag.

He recognizes that voice. The morning sun shone atop the ship deck. Warm. Cold. All of them at once. 

He's finally found you.

---

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

[vivantesopvles]

Once again he thinks about the stranger in the dream; his slight build, his soft furious mouth, the way he felt so familiar, held down and fever-hot beneath Tom.

Harry. (The stranger’s name is easily summoned to mind, though from where it cannot be known.)

It’s not the first time Tom has dreamed of him, in dreams real as a scene on the street, broken yet oddly coherent. And always, always, ending in death: the same flash of green light; the vague sense of loss that follows him into the waking.

For a while that’s all there is to it. Tom goes to work, goes to bed, he still feels normal – if not terribly underachieved – in his little hamster wheel of safety.

Until Harry follows him too from the realm of dreams into daylight.

Into Tom’s corner on Knockturn.

Into the front parlour of Borgin and Burkes.

Fear grips Tom’s heart at the sight of him, standing so casually before the till. An omen of destruction. A figment, and yet indistinguishable from reality.

Wands whipped out, trained on one another. Within seconds they come to a stalemate. But then –

‘Voldemort,’ Harry calls him softly. The name Tom does not deserve to be called yet.

He wills his hands not to shake. ‘How …?’

‘We’ve met,’ Harry says. ‘Do you not remember?’

Oh, but he does. Day and night, he seems to be able to do little else but remember. Harry’s body, Harry’s voice. He keeps remembering.

‘You have cursed me,’ Tom accuses, pulling anger around himself like a protego. ‘You have infested my mind with visions. Strange, obscene things that –’ he breaks off, aware of the heat that is rising up his neck.

Harry glances up at him. ‘Those aren’t just meaningless flashes of visions,’ he says calmly. ‘More likely, a bunch of memories pulled from several possible futures.’ He lowers his wand, absently rubbing a scar on his forehead. ‘From one of them I came back to you.’

Tom’s ears are ringing. Pure madness, he thinks.

‘But I’ve never – I’m not a Seer.’

Harry just shrugs. ‘As I said, they’re memories. It’s probably got nothing to do with your prophetic powers. Or a lack thereof.’

Tom wants to hex him. He runs through his mental rolodex of painful curses, imagining the absolute joy it would bring to inflict them on people who saunter into his shop, bringing annoyance and trouble. But then it suddenly registers, what Harry is implying and – and it can’t be.

‘What are you to me?’ Tom demands, his eyes widening in horror. ‘Are we …?’

Harry wets his lips. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says; suspiciously, a little shy. ‘If you choose to let it happen, then so it will.’

[catscidr]

Could we get some Dottore x escaped experiment reader? Gn if possible, doesn't even have to be smut. I just can't find anything along those lines and I like your writing style :)

i. note — hehehoho i might have uuuhhh used this ask as an excuse to go off a lil and try something new teehee °ᗜ°) but this was really fun to write!! thank you nonnie for the suggestion, and thank you very much for liking my stuff enough to req something!!! i hope u all enjoy ii. includes — dottore, gn!reader iii. cw — unhealthy and toxic dynamics, no dialogue, mentions of cannibalism, mild body horror, one (1) dead body, not quite stockholm syndrome but maybe kinda, reader is a mess and dottore is not a good person (shocker). minors do not interact, age in bio or block. iv. wc — 2k -> posted on ao3 too!

To humans, running is what they do when they’re late to work, when they’re working out, or even when they’re playing games at recess as children. To predators, running is what they do in order to secure their next meal. To prey, running is what they must do so they can escape from the predator’s clutch in one piece, to not end up as a mangled corpse serving as someone or something’s food. 

You have more in common with prey than you have with humans, despite being one yourself. 

It hasn’t always been that way. One moment you were enjoying the warm afternoon sun of your home region out on a walk, and the other you found yourself thrown over someone’s shoulder with a bag over your head. 

You always find yourself reminiscing, yearning to feel the warmth you felt that day— minus the incident. You used to be a model citizen; someone people would rely on. 

A shame no one helped you when you desperately needed it. 

Your own mind is all you’re left with, as you’re clumsily tripping over your feet, rocks scraping your skin and blood trickling down your legs. The feeling is almost peaceful; but after running for so long, and with how often you’ve gotten yourself in this exact situation, you’re starting to second guess your motive for running in the first place. 

Is it a form of entertainment, are you growing bored of the four padded walls engulfing your five senses at all hours of the day that you feel the need to get the energy out of your body like a hamster does by using the wheel in its cage? Is it to leave the predicament you found yourself in after trusting someone you, under no circumstances, should have trusted? 

Or is it because you gradually have come to find yourself sharing more similarities to a dog, begging its owner to even unenthusiastically throw a plastic frisbee for a smidge of attention to fulfill your need to be seen, to be heard, and now you feel the responsibility to own up to that label you inflicted upon yourself? 

The lines between reality and your thoughts have blurred so much it frightens you. 

...Or, rather, it should scare you. After spending so much time in your own head, one would find that it’s surprisingly easy to come to distrust your own mind. You’re not sure if you should believe what goes through your head, even less believe what you feel. But at the same time, you’re all you have. You have no choice but to trust yourself, even when you shouldn’t. 

Only a select few are aware of how dreadfully strong and outright stubborn the human mind can be, whether it be from their own personal experience or from seeing others slip into a state like yours. 

Unfortunately for you, He’s familiar with your situation. Painfully familiar. 

… 

Sometimes you wish you were a luna moth. Delicate and radiant, people would be torn between praising you for your beauty and shunning you away for the crime of looking different than what they’re used to. You wouldn’t be a butterfly, would not conform to what society wants you to be. You would be able to be who you want, look however you want to without worrying over other’s opinions. 

The people that did like you, though, would treat you with care and would do everything in their power to make your stay in this world a pleasant one. A stay that would only last a week. 

Not long enough for you to become familiar with the horrors that await humanity. Seven days filled with nothing but genuine smiles, void of empty promises. 

You’d crawl out of your cocoon, eat good food, find someone to help continue your bloodline, then die somewhere peaceful and hope that your crumbling, decomposing body will bring relief to someone desperately needing something to eat. 

But you’re not a moth. 

… 

It’s unbearably cold when you come to your senses. Peeling your eyes open, you glance around to find yourself surrounded by cold limestone, barely illuminated by the cave’s entrance just a few feet away. The hairs on your skin rise from the wind guiding snow through the passageway, making you curl into yourself in a pathetic attempt to keep your body’s temperature from dropping too low. 

You look down at yourself; your pants are ripped at the hem, and you see messy splotches of brownish red staining the fabric and your skin, going all the way down to your calloused feet. You’re not sure how long you’ve been out for, but it must have been at least an hour given how the bleeding from the numerous scratches and gashes on your legs stopped without any assistance. 

The cave felt completely foreign to you, but even then, it brought you more comfort than He had. Or at least you think it does. 

You feel free. Despite the way your body shivered endlessly from the wind howling into the cavern, despite the dull but searing pain that made it feel like your feet were scorching that traveled up your legs, despite the way you couldn’t move your lips from how dry and cracked they were, split from sheer cold. 

You think this is the most freedom you’ve felt since you’ve gotten yourself stuck in His maw. 

... 

The wind is reduced to a soft, soothing melody when you wake up again. Almost calming enough for you to drift off to sleep a second time, but a nagging feeling in the depths of your gut told you that it was a bad idea to fall unconscious this time around, so you try to shake off the numbness in your limbs instead of succumbing to the call of the void. 

Standing up proves to be a challenge as your legs buckle under your weight. You catch yourself before you fall, holding onto the rough formation of a rogue stalagmite; it’s a struggle to hold yourself up, but at the very least you didn’t give yourself a concussion. 

The pain isn’t completely unwelcome, though. Your feet are throbbing, and the palm of your hand holding yourself up with the help of the stalagmite stings. As you blink the drowsiness away and the blood begins to flow through your limbs correctly again, you straighten your back to take in your surroundings properly. 

The cave’s entrance was filled with thick snow. There was enough that it would reach your stomach should you walk up to it, ignoring the snow that fell into the grotto, and not the snow that partly obscured your way to the outside world. You can’t see much outside, only the faint outline of pine trees wavering in the distance, far enough that you can only barely make out their form. 

Looking away from the blinding whites outside, you notice how utterly desolate the cavern is. Not even a single trace of a life was left behind in this cold, worn hollow. Maybe it’s better this way. You’re not sure you would have appreciated seeing even a wild hare or a fox in here, much less a bear. 

Sitting down on the rocky ground again to give your legs a break, you take a moment to think back to what got you here in the first place. 

You faintly recall rusty medical equipment, convulsing organs, and seeing Him jot down notes. You remember a plate being handed to you, the vague image of a man covered by a stained sheet of what used to be white, and the bile that rose to your throat when your gaze focused on what was on the plate itself. 

Everyone knew the Doctor was a twisted man, but you doubted He was twisted enough to force someone to cannibalize one of their peers. 

Clearly, you were wrong. 

Then, you remember making a mad dash for the thick iron doors of his laboratory. By the grace of god, you were able to leave; and you now found yourself in this desolate cavern, tucked away from civilization. 

As far as you were aware of. 

But you shouldn’t trust your mind. You knew this, yet you also knew not to trust yourself when you told yourself you couldn’t trust yourself. Simultaneously believing in logic and being a mess of paradoxical jargon— it exhausted you to think about. So you try not to. 

Whether by a stroke of bad luck or because of something else entirely, your dull sense of hearing picks up the faint sound of snow crunching beneath boots. Your hands and legs scramble to take you where you can hide as much of yourself as you can behind a rock formation, and you stare out of the cave’s entrance, holding your breath. 

The sound becomes louder. An almost gentle woosh noise accompanies the scrunch of snow, and soon after it stops, you’re able to make out a blurry figure approaching the cave’s entrance. The icy flakes make way for Him at His command, hand waving to get rid of what was keeping you physically separated from Him. 

The pure white snow behind His body glinted off his intricate accessories, the light forming a halo so otherworldly that it left you utterly breathless. 

His boots make a soft clicking noise against the limestone as He steps into the grotto, your safe haven for however long you had been here— now not. Not a single word left His lips as he assessed your rugged appearance. 

You wish He would smite you right then and there. He was most likely able to, and with ease, but you doubt He would willingly discard one of his longest-running experiments for disobeying a rule that you had broken many times before anyways. 

Your jittery gaze follows His movements as He outstretches His arm, offering you a gloved hand, silent. 

Did he know how much you simultaneously trusted and distrusted your own judgement? You stare at His hand, unmoving, heart racing against your ribcage— torn between bolting away, into the darkness of the cave, or intertwining your fingers with His, allowing Him to take you away voluntarily. 

This was mercy either way. You could either die at the hands of whatever lurked in the shadows of the grotto, or you could die at the hands of the man that brought you so much pain it morphed into comfort, solace. He stood, unmoving. Observing you. 

You knew Him well enough to know that He was taking mental notes on your behavior even now, outside of the familiar comfort of his lab in Haeresys. 

Both options were foolish, but you weren’t exactly known to be in the sanest state of mind. 

Pulling your arms away from your body, you bring a shaky hand up to take ahold of His, allowing Him to pull you up to your feet. You almost fall as a result of your nerves, but thanks to His quick reflexes you find yourself tucked in his arms, cheek pressed up against His navy cravat. The hand that wasn’t holding yours comes up to pat your head, gently untangling the knots that had formed in your hair. You melt into His touch, eyes fluttering shut to bask in the warmth He provided. 

As you stand there with Him, knees weak, body upheld by His will alone, you shove down the thoughts that brew in the forefront of your mind. Usually you would welcome the noise, even be grateful that you, at the very least, had yourself to lean on. But you find yourself wishing to lean on Him more than yourself, both literally and metaphorically, keening at the comfort He brought you. 

You knew you couldn’t trust your mind, so why not trust His instead? If you couldn’t rely on your own instincts, judgement or thoughts, then how bad would it truly be to let someone other than you become fully responsible for your wellbeing? 

... 

You were neither a moth nor human.

You were a dog.

[unvalley]

Daycare Love

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Chapter five | Caramade Franks

Despite the slight rough start at her new job, Juvia's first week went rather well. Together with Cana and Meredy, their team decided not to plan any special activities for the first four weeks, as both the children and staff had just returned from their summer vacation. They would prioritise everyone to settle down and get to know each other. Juvia had to learn names, which wasn't her strongest suit, but to her surprise, she managed to learn all sixteen children's names. She felt pretty proud of herself.

There was one thing she definitely wasn't proud of. A certain somebody had been running through her mind like an adrenaline filled hamster on a wheel.

Juvia had seen Gray every day that week–in the morning at drop off or in the afternoon for pick up. Though the way he was acting was strange. The last time they spoke was on Tuesday, when he thanked her for helping Aster with his nightmare. The only words exchanged between the two were 'Good morning' or 'Bye'. Juvia felt like he was avoiding her and she didn't like that one bit. She wondered if she had said or done something to make him distance himself from her?

Haven't you done enough?

She visibly shook her head to bury the bad thought. Though it was the truth, and she was more than aware of it, that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now.

Juvia found herself standing in line, about to order something she had longed for–Caramade Franks.

She and her roommate had thought of what to eat for dinner. With neither of them having the energy to cook on a Friday evening, they decided take out was the answer. For him it didn't matter what it was, he ate basically everything anyway so Juvia got to decide for them and well, there she was.

"Four Caramade Franks, please." She said to the cashier when it was her turn to order.

"Since when did you eat that many?" A man asked her, or rather commented. It caught Juvia by surprise because she knew exactly who it was.

"Hello to you too, Gray." She turned to look at the raven-haired man, raising her eyebrows. To be honest, she was nervous to see him, but she had to conceal it. "Oh, hi Aster." She greeted the little boy with a smile when she noticed him slightly hiding behind his dad.

"H-hi." Aster stuttered. He was shy and most likely confused seeing her at another place than at daycare.

''I see you kept our tradition.'' Gray said, he seemed happy.

No. No she had not.

Six years. That's how long her favourite food was non-existent, but that was not because she didn't want to have it. The more she went without Caramade Franks, the more she craved it. She had to refrain herself from doing so every time, even if it was extremely difficult. She was determined to move on from him, so she tried every imaginable way to avoid thinking about him and all their shared memories.

The good memories.

''Actually, it's been a while.'' Juvia admitted, her eyes shifting anywhere except into his eyes. She hated the fact that it was true. She felt guilty. That tradition–their tradition, had meant a lot to both of them, and although Gray didn't mention it, Juvia knew he was disappointed with her answer. ''I see that you did, though.''

''Yeah, we eat Caramade Franks every Friday,'' He answered before looking happily down to Aster. "Ain't that right buddy?"

''Yeah! I love it so much, and daddy does too!" Aster exclaimed, his face litting up at the thought of the delight. It seemed his shyness had disappeared into nothing. ''Juvia too?"

"I do. It's my favourite." She couldn't help but smile at him.

After receiving her order, the three walked towards the exit. Juvia stopped in her tracks once she saw the current weather conditions. The once vivid blue painted sky accompanied with the sun beaming had now shifted to an overcast grey and the clouds had began to weep.

''Damn it." Juvia cursed under her breath. She had initially thought to take an umbrella with her, but chose not to because of the warm weather that existed just mere seconds ago. Not to mention she wasn't dressed appropriately for the weather, wearing only a t-shirt, jean shorts and sneakers. Luckily, she lived somewhat close, so she would simply have to make a run for it and hope her dinner remained edible.

''What are you doing?'' Gray asked in confusion. He carried Aster in his arms.

''Trying to protect my food.'' She replied, as she tried different ways to achieve her goal.

"Juvia it's pouring, I'll drive you home.''

"It's fine, I live close by."

''It wasn't a question.''

Before Juvia could voice another protest, Gray grasped her free hand and led her towards his car.

Maybe the rain wasn't such a bad thing since he didn't notice the sudden crimson red displaying across her cheeks.

___

Juvia was lucky the drive to her apartment was only a few minutes long. The car was filled with silence apart from Aster incoherently mumbling the lyrics to In Summer while playing with his Olaf plushie.

''Aster, I'm going to follow Juvia to the front door and then I'll be back, okay?'' Gray informed his toddler after parking the car outside Juvia's apartment building.

''Okay daddy!''

Juvia was going to protest again, that she was more than capable of walking ten metres, but she knew he couldn't care less. When he says something, he is going to do it. Still stubborn as she remembered him to be.

''Bye Juvia!"

''Bye Aster, try not to tease daddy too much over the weekend." Aster let out an adorable giggle while Gray rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth slightly tugging upwards in a soft smile.

Gray and Juvia ran to the front door, the canopy protecting them from getting soaked.

''Thanks for the ride."

''Of course, there was no way I would have let you walk home in this weather. The Caramade Franks would have been all cold and soggy."

''Aw, and here I thought you were thinking of me, aren't you sweet?'' With a playful remark, they both burst into laughter. How could it still feel so natural to be around him, even after what felt like an eternity?

''Wait, before you go, I've been meaning to ask you,'' He briefly paused before resuming, ''Can I have your phone number?''

Wait what?

"Of course." She answered, fishing her phone out of her back pocket and handing it to him.

Juvia hesitated at first, thinking about the reason why she even had a different phone number to begin with. Then again, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be a bad idea. Unsure if it was appropriate, given she was Aster's teacher, but to be fair, she knew Gray before Aster was even born.

"So… that doesn't happen to be the reason you've been avoiding me, does it?" She blurted out, her fingers rapidly typing his phone digits.

"W-what! N-No!" He stuttered and diverted his eyes from hers. Gray had never been a good liar. "I'm asking because I tried contacting you, but couldn't reach you. I thought maybe you had changed to a new number. Besides, I remember you've never been fond of social media."

"Oh yeah… my old phone broke so I had to get both a new phone and a new number."

Lies.

Juvia despised lying, especially to Gray, but she wasn't ready to tell him the truth. She knew she had to tell him everything at some point, he deserved to know, but now was definitely not the time.

"There." Juvia handed Gray his phone back.

"Thanks. Now, you're not actually going to eat all that by yourself, right?''

"Oh no, I'm splitting it with my friend, Gajeel. We're roommates.''

''Oh…I see." He murmured, a lingering hint of disappointment in his voice, leaving Juvia with the feeling that he wasn't pleased with her answer.

"Well, I should get back to the car, can't keep the little man starving or the socials will come for my ass. Take care, Juvia."

''Will you let me know when you two arrive home?"

He nodded, then hurried back to his car and drove off.

___

Juvia had only made it outside of her apartment door when she heard her phone go off.

Unknown: Hi Juvia, we made it home - Gray 18:08

Oh, that was fast.

Good, I'm glad you both made it home safe! - Juvia 18:09

Texting Gray reminded Juvia of a certain someone.

"Gajeel, I got Caramade Franks!" She called out the moment she entered their shared apartment and went to put the bags of food on the kitchen counter.

''Who the hell was that?'' Her roommate emerged from the balcony with his arms crossed.

Some people, well, most people, would be very intimidated by Gajeel, just based on his appearance. He was tall, muscular, with long black hair, and covered with tattoos and piercings. Juvia tells herself to never judge a book by its cover. She knew the real Gajeel; tough as metal on the outside and soft like a teddy bear on the inside. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't beat the shit out of people. That was only if they said or did something to piss him off; then it was game over for them.

When she moved to Oak town, Juvia found herself without anyone until she met Gajeel. He became her first and only friend there and despite not being blood-related at all, he was like a brother to her. He was the person she could confide in about anything and everything. It didn't matter how trivial, humorous or serious the matter was – he always listened and supported her, unwaveringly. Wherever it was a silly joke or a heartfelt concern, Gajeel was there for her, ready to stand by her side no matter the circumstance.

''Huh?''

''The guy you were talking with at the front door just now."

Shit.

''It's him, isn't it? Gray.''

Gray was not exactly an unfamiliar name for Gajeel. He was familiar with who Juvia's old friend was and her history with him. She never intended to bring him up, but it just happened. Juvia and Gajeel lived together in Oak time during university, and one night she had woken up from a nightmare, in panic, with tears streaming down her face. Gajeel was woken up by her cries and hurried to her room to comfort her. That dream had been about Gray, and from that night on Gajeel knew every detail about Gray and his life. He knew his hobbies, his likes and dislikes and even about his stripping habit which he thought was ludicrous.

To say Gajeel didn't like Gray would be an understatement. He harboured a strong dislike for him, despite never having met him. However, based on what he had heard from Juvia, his dislike for Gray was firmly rooted.

Also, this meant Gajeel knew the truth.

Juvia stopped bringing his name up after a while and for Gajeel, the reason was obvious but nonetheless he didn't question her but he never forgot.

"I'll kill him."

"Gajeel!"

___

Not only was Gajeel super protective over his sister but he was also a stubborn bastard so calming him down to prevent him from hunting down Gray and murder him was challenging, but eventually Juvia managed to soothe him. During dinner she told him the events of the week; Meeting Gray, discovering he has now a father and avoiding him would not only be unprofessional but impossible, given that his child was in the same daycare group where she worked. Moreover, she didn't want to be mean and hurt his feelings as they rekindled their friendship – or so she really hoped.

Now all Juvia wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. It had been a long week, leaving her thoroughly drained.

As Juvia prepared for bed, she knew there was one thing she needed to do first and that was to send someone special a message. She reached for her phone, tapping out a brief but heartfelt message in hopes of reuniting with that person very soon.

L<3 : Hi sweetie <3 How're you? Sorry for not texting sooner :( I miss you. Are you available to meet up this weekend? 23:14

Due to the late hour, Juvia didn't expect a reply until the following morning but she was surprised when her phone buzzed after only a few seconds. Checking her screen, she realised it wasn't the expected response.

Gray: Goodnight Juvia. See you on monday 23:15

"Aw, that's so sweet of him." Juvia thought, smiling. She didn't want to leave him without a reply so she messaged him back.

Goodnight Gray. Have a nice weekend! :) 23:16

Gray: You too :) 23:17

Years had passed since Juvia last fell asleep with a smile on her face, but that night, she couldn't help but do so.

___

A/N: Daycare Love comeback yayyy! I’m sorry for keeping everyone waiting for so long again :( What do you think of the new chapter and who do you think this mysterious L is? You’ll find out in the next chapter so stay tuned! Thank you for the support ♡

♡TAGLIST♡

@eme-eleff @jetblackrevival @be-dazzled @azuchifairy @greenapplegrass @fbflame94 @gruviaftw11 @pinkbtr @shampooneko @anaviarts @juvsbby @fortheloversofbooks @jekde04

[its-ironic-right]

Do you do any other ships because I think frost x kremy would be cute :3

I tried????? No promises it’s any good 🫣

It’s hard being the backbone of the party. Always stuck as the voice of reason, the wet blanket, the only logical member of the group. Sometimes Morning Frost looked out at whatever fresh hell they’d found and regretted being the calculated one. That’s how he saw his role. Calm, logical, intelligent, the only one who could whack brain cells together long enough to solve a puzzle. At least that’s how he saw it.

It’s not easy leading a merry band of idiots around Avantris. There are days Kremy LeCroux regretted every life choice he’d made. It was impossible to get through one heist, one smash and grab, or even a simple pickpocketing without some humorous disaster fucking up every plan he made. It was exhausting. He spent hours at night pouring over floor plans, greasing guards to look the other way, and crafting meticulously detailed jobs that all ended the same. Sneak, distract, run. No sense of elegance or finesse.

Another day, another disaster. Kremy didn’t know why he tried. Frost and Kremy go to a tavern. They drink.

“Well.”

“Yup.”

Silence. The tabaxi isn’t usually one for alcohol but the day had been exceptionally bad.

“Do you think they can control the forest fire?” Kremy pulled from his rum glass.

“Hopefully.” More silence. Frost sighed.

“Kremy, what’re we going to do? We lost the reward on that job and we’re down to our last bit of gold. I don’t know if we can make it to the next town without something.”

“Frost, how long have we travelled together? Five years? You know I’ll pull something off.”

“Five years and a jail sentence later…” Kremy shivered.

“Don’t speak that into existence, what are you crazy?”

“What’s crazy is we can’t get our shit together! All these heists are starting to feel like a hamster wheel.”

“We’ve had a rough streak lately-“

“It’d be easier to count the jobs that went well and yet we keep doing it.”

“What do you want me to do, huh? I can’t control Gid and Gricko! You’re the one with mind powers, can’t you do your little mental tricks to get them to listen?”

“Only one at a time and it takes all my concentration. What about suggestion?”

“Tried it, doesn’t work as well as you’d hope.” The tavern moved around them, drinks were poured and patrons enjoyed their reprieve from sobriety. The alligator and tabaxi spoke like the world around them didn’t exist.

“What if we left them here to fend for themselves, huh? Cut the shit and bring the band down to two.” Kremy almost can’t believe he said it. Frost gave him a look.

“What are you proposing?”

“Just you and me Frost. We’re down some muscle but I have faith we can do it.” He takes a paw into a clawed hand. “Come on, you know we could do it.”

“Could and should are two different conversations.”

They don’t run away together, but it becomes a joke between them. Frost and Kremy find a corner and plan their escape that will never come.

[i-am-deeply-poem]

“Blame it on”

How the time just flies away

Twenty three the other day, and 24 today

Before I know it, can’t even slow it

God it takes the moments and memories it fades

Worried out of my mind

Worries me out of time

Worried I can’t make it last

Today falls away at 12 AM straight into the past

I wonder why I grow so fast

But still feel the same

Thirty nine days counting since I put it down

The things that haunt me, keep my feet off of the ground

I was so high from 18 to 23

I didn’t bother growing up

Or learning who to be

The night is cruel, fatal carver

Cutting to the bone

I want to go much farther

World is ending, there goes my home

God what is it you put me here for?

God what is it? That I should be doing more?

Today fades to tonight

And I can’t even put up a fight

Staying up till morning light

I am still the same

Scared, tired boy, running from his memories

Because it’s what haunts him, making it so the days he cannot seize

Blame it on who he was

Blame it on who he is now

Blame it on the preacher man

Because he cannot stand

The worried stares

Spiders crawling out his mouth

It fills him with doubt

Is there a “one” any person at all?

Is there a purpose? What of the wall?

Dead tired ego, humbled to the core

Roll with the punches and get humbled more

Wither not but live to pierce the day

Wonder not but live for today

Cannot use what he used to abuse

So he sits up late at night but it’s no use

Because he hamster wheels through the same tired ruse

Begotten not before and after

Present time silence, faded laughter

Wonder if it comes back round, focusing, feeling dafter

Blame it on who he was

Blame it on who he is now

Blame it on what he forgot

Blame it on what he lost

Blame it on himself, unchanged

Blame it on the lack of range

They took it, have taken it; will take away

Every tired answer, every excuse to blame

Wonder why he even tries at all

While still cramming bricks in the wall

Because he feels the stares

Catching unawares

Burning like a shoulder blade

Cutting like unwanted gaze

Take out the earrings and act unfazed

Because the mind is not one to be stoked to craze

Wonder why he even tries

Wonder why he believes the lies

Wonder why he lets it down

Wonder why he wears a frown

So much to give, so much more to offer

Not a penny to his name, moths make home in the coffer

Maybe purpose is devoid of reason

As he’s crippled by the change in season

Spare some change?

Tired of acting deranged

Feeling oh so strange

[holycowss]

Feb 26th 2024

I think I'm just a small person with a lot to say. I surprisingly always have a lot to say. So much so that, I think I actually might launch something close to a talk show because of it.

I try not to gossip too much, because I know it's a sin. But my downfall is knowing that I will never be perfect and still striving for it.

I believe this life experience is far too vast to keep enclosing in what is my mind. Far too vast for something so simple like a journal. I romantisize a journal and then eventually fall numb to it. I become used to it and it loses it's spark and my yearning to feed it everyday.

I am so happy I met Wendy, to me she glows brightly with wisdom and love and nurturing and assureness if that is even a word. But she has truly inspired me to embrace where I currently am in life.

I felt for the longest time I was a hamster in a wheel, just constantly running trying to accomplish the next big goal. Did I graduate high school? Did I get it done in three years? Did I get my AP credits? Did I get my associates degree by the time I planned on it? I took a pause in the middle before I transferred to University. I went to real estate school but all it taught me was that I didn't want to be an agent I wanted to be an investor. It seems I am never fully satisfied at entry level things. I guess the saying is true that I am a go big or go home kind of gal.

If it was a vet I figured, I can just be a human doctor. If it's a flight attendant, I figured I can be a pilot. I am never truly satisfied with where I am, just looking for the next big thing that will gain me praise and acknowledgement. What a sad way to life your life.

2023 really did a number on me. I made it through the whole year pushing through and doing life on my terms and boy was it challenging. Just a girl, her dog and her apartment. I was in a super toxic corporate work environment that made me cry every day before going in and made me just eager to get out.

~HOURS LATER~

I received a call from this number I texted that was from a facebook group and it somehow apparently is a social media influencer and a pilot for american airlines seemed way too good to be true he was super pushy and dominant and those guys are def worth staying away from idk my train of thought has been interrupted i dont even know what im talking about anymore bye

[calamityandme]

I think I’m losing my mind a little bit.

Tomorrow will be my last day in my family’s old church building. I don’t know how to feel. I just feel hollow. All day has been fine but I think deep down I have been just conflicted. I wish I had a specific one feeling.

I have been biting my fingers and nails all week. It’s a shame. I want them to look nice in our last photos in the church.

I think my body is sick too. Or maybe my depression/anxiety is making my body unbelievably tired. I come home and I don’t want to do anything but lay in bed. Most of the time I don’t even let myself lay in bed. I just sit on the couch, longing to be laying in bed, but I’ve refused it to myself for some reason.

At least tomorrow is my cleaning day. I get to come home from church, smoke a bunch of w33d and distract myself by cleaning everywhere. Plus Danny will be at work so he can’t tell me to stop.

I’ve been thinking about how I won’t ever have a Christmas service at that church ever again. My children won’t know that building. The places where I’ve written my name on that building. Never really thinking that one day someone other than my parents would own this building. I know the new owners will have to paint. Lol. It’s a weird feeling.

I just feel kind of on auto pilot. I’m not numb, it’s just that I am feeling so much. It’s twisted knots of ribbons in my chest. I just wish I could find a therapist near me that accepts Medicaid. I just don’t think I could swing it financially.

I am happy, in love and doing well considering, but I am running on a hamster wheel at all times trying to keep afloat. My brain is not nice to me. I am constantly and categorically going through so many of my failures and regrets from every stage of my life. Every day my mind finds a new topic that I have PTSD from and replays it over and over. Sometimes it’s sentences. Other times I’m having flashbacks of moments and reliving those feelings in my body. Even after something nice, like a 2 hour phone call with a childhood friend, my brain is picking apart our conversations the rest of the day. All night I’m thinking “I hope she didn’t think I meant this” or “why did I say this that way”. I just don’t want to be a bad person. So so badly I don’t want to be a bad person.

My fiancé has told me at least twice that it sounds exhausting being inside my brain and I feel like that’s a very accurate statement. I’m constantly trying to find things to fill the empty spaces in my mind so my hands don’t go idle. Even typing that out makes me tear up. I just need constant physical or mental stimulus so I don’t remember I have flesh and want to rip it off. It’s unbelievably exhausting. I don’t feel right in my own skin. I sometimes like myself or when my actions are kind and considerate. I just have to pick and bite. I want so desperately to be perfect and smooth but it can’t be. I’m a freckly, mole-covered, fat adult. Those aren’t bad qualities. In my trauma brain it’s just not perfect and so I am constantly in a state of “not ready”.

I want to wash my brain. Get into the folds with a damp washcloth and softly exfoliate. Get rid of the shit inside it

[trialbymagicks]

Finding Ikigai or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love What I Do Again

As we break in the new year, it's time to reflect on what motivates us to keep moving forward. Perhaps we need ikigai now more than ever, so let's take a look at what that means and how we can find it!

Existential Dread In These Unprecedented Times

As humans, we spend an awful lot of time wondering why we exist and what gives us the motivation to keep running on our hamster wheels every day. Although there are millennia-old debates trying to provide a definitive answer to the former, the latter is a question that has endless possible answers – all of which are very personal to each of us that contemplate it. As certain parts of Japanese culture can probably tell you (and as many self-help books have tried to), ikigai is that precious little thing that keeps each of us going, the reason we get up in the morning.

For most of us, the past few years in particular have been tough to get through when waking up each day has seemed more distressing than the last. During my search for productivity in an aspect of my life that I could control, I was compelled to read through my personal library again on a mission to reorganize (and hopefully minimize) my shelves. This is where I rediscovered Ikigai: Giving every day meaning and joy by Yukari Mitsuhashi, which had been gifted to me by a friend some years earlier. In the face of all the tragedies the world has to offer, perhaps we need ikigai more now than ever before, so I cracked it open, eager to learn what I could about myself in the process.

It’s Dangerous To Go Alone. Take This!

Reading this book is like having a conversation with someone about Japanese culture and philosophy. It’s informative, breaks down the language a little bit to discuss word choice and how it differs from English, and compares the Western work-oriented interpretation of ikigai to the “appreciation of life’s little moments” that it is more akin to in Japan. This isn’t an in-depth history of ikigai, but rather an easy-to-digest guide to help you find your own, serving more as a means of whetting the appetite of anyone curious enough to check out the references in the back for further research purposes.

In “Chapter 5: Inspiring Ikigai,” Yukari Mitsuhashi shares interviews which offer examples of ikigai in six people’s lives. For one person, ikigai is striving to make the world a more beautiful place to live in. For another, it is helping people to achieve their goals. Ikigai can even change throughout the different stages of your life. It can start out as setting goals to accomplish and it can evolve into your child or family later.

As I read their explanations for how they discovered their ikigai and the concrete ways some of these abstract ideas took form in their lives, I noticed that they mostly shared common advice.

Pay attention to what makes you happy or feel fulfilled and ask yourself why you feel that way.

Consider your motivations for making important decisions.

Look back at your life to see patterns.

After all, Yukari Mitsuhashi tells us that “ikigai is the action we take in pursuit of happiness.” Who says that visiting the local Barnes & Noble to peruse the Manga and Lifestyle sections for potential additions to my collections can’t be ikigai? But that’s just one of many things in my life that have brought me a deep sense of joy, an irrefutable part of my identity and what makes me tick.

It wasn’t until I read the interview with Ryuichiro Takeshita that it really started to click. His ikigai is connecting worlds and bridging gaps by encouraging communication, whether that be through teaching high school students to write stories or using an international video project to set up pen pals between his friends in Japan and the US. Similarly, Dai Tamesue’s interview struck another chord in me. He says his ikigai is about encouraging people, including himself, to look past the limited perceptions in their minds and deepen their understanding of a bigger world around them. To do this, he tries to meet a wide variety of people, read a lot, and reflect on his encounters.

So, I looked back at what all of my interests have in common and what I enjoy about them. Reading, writing, art, teaching, divination – they felt so different to me when I was looking at them individually, but in hindsight it should have been obvious that communication is what gives me a sense of purpose.

It takes many forms and persistently sits at the core of everything I do that brings me joy.

Ikigai?! In THIS Economy?! It’s More Likely Than You Think!

Growing up in my household, healthy communication skills weren’t exactly at the forefront of our education and that took a toll on all of us who were raised there. Looking back, I wonder if that’s why I leaned so hard into art and writing during those crucial formative years. Those creative outlets were a safe and limitless way for me to explore and express my thoughts and feelings, and it was something I could do quietly on my own for hours at a time with no judgment.

I filled so many notebooks and binders with my stories and drawings, and plastered my walls with colorful collages in celebration of the creativity I felt really defined my personhood at the time. But I also felt the need to reach outside of my personal space, so for years I worked with my cousins to write movies, plays, and skits for us to perform. Even though most of those projects never left the page, it was the collaborative process – bouncing ideas back and forth with every rewrite – that kept us engaged. Years of my life were spent wandering into craft stores to bring home materials for homemade sets and costumes, not only for the humans cast in our productions but for the plush toys I used to act out stories with on my own. There was even a period of time when I excitedly created “magazines” with articles and illustrated stories to send to my pen pal and every close family member I could think of.

Writing and creating art are some of the most personal forms of self-expression, communicating thoughts and feelings and ideas to the rest of the world. That has always brought me joy when I was able to do it in any form. In fact, it was so important to me that the only effective way my parents could think of to threaten me into “good behavior” as a child was to say they would take away my story notebooks or my favorite plushy – because even though I called their bluff about the notebooks it was still the only thing that would hurt me.

Parenting, much like growing up, is a near-constant struggle to overcome trials and tribulations at almost every turn. Sometimes, talking out a situation won’t be enough to change someone’s mind and that can be extremely frustrating! Still, it always upsets me when adults take away outlets for exploring concepts and self-expression from children instead of guiding them towards healthier outlets because they personally find it “difficult” to deal with that part of a child’s development. It may feel like the “quick and easy” solution to a problem, but it leaves a lasting impact on the children in question when their parents keep signaling to them that open communication and freedom of self-expression are conditional. So, I make it a point to do better with the kids I teach… because a kid that was never taught healthy communication skills will grow into an adult who either struggles to learn those skills or continues the cycle.

Teaching, whether it’s teaching communication skills directly or teaching some form of self-expression like art and writing, has been what I’ve wanted to do with my life since I was in high school; perhaps even younger, since that was one of the many jobs I used to pretend to have in elementary school. Come to think of it, librarian and journalist were also jobs I pretended to have. What ties these all together is the act of sharing and picking up knowledge, and helping others to do the same so that they may use that knowledge to contribute to a conversation of some kind. Part of what I love about teaching and working with younger kids is getting to see the out-of-the-box ways they think and process the world around them. They constantly challenge me to reevaluate the way I see and experience the world too. Being a part of their development in those crucial years is incredible because of how much we can learn from each other!

As a result of my upbringing, I have consistently been very passionate about making sure people communicate with each other. There are few things more frustrating to me than when a persistent problem could be easily resolved if everyone involved would just talk about it with a mutual amount of willingness to understand. Of course, what made this more difficult was the fact that I had to learn from experience how to open up avenues of communication and offer a comfortable starting point for others instead of just begging them to indulge me. Asking for too much too soon usually results in running head first into a defensive brick wall, a roadblock that leaves me perpetually wondering and feeling very on edge, so knowing when to quit is unfortunate but necessary.

Being able to understand people and how they think and feel can be a crucial skill for survival, particularly for navigating dangerous situations, but it can also be channeled into another important form of communication. Most significantly in my life, I have been able to help the people I care about, usually by listening and offering advice where relevant. Being able to understand what motivates them, helping them to navigate their relationships with other people or the world around them, picking up and offering in return a new perspective about a situation – these things breathe life into me.

Even the divination methods I’ve felt most drawn to communicate stories and intentions through a visual medium, and allow me to express myself and forge these connections with others through them; whether cards or runes, picking them up starts a conversation between the tools, the universe, and the heart. And that has been something so special to me since I started to embrace it.

In the end, to anyone who knows me personally, it’s really no surprise that I grew up to craft long dissertations analyzing media and topics I have strong feelings about. I feel stressed and unfulfilled when I’m not creating in some way, and I tend to avoid websites and spaces that restrict my creative freedom or limit what I’m allowed to say. I even feel immense joy when I read a book, listen to a musical soundtrack, or watch a play/movie/show that I really connect with and have to share my thoughts about.

I have spent many hours breaking down the most minor details about food metaphors in a magical boy parody show and the fascinating sociopolitical climate of a dystopian bird-dominated society for a (mostly willing) captive audience before and I will do it again. After all, that is what blogs are for.

Credits

The photos are all my own, but this section is an obligatory acknowledgment of the books and materials I featured because I think they’re neat.

The first book is Ikigai: Giving every day meaning and joy by Yukari Mitsuhashi, which I was fortunate enough to receive from a friend as a pick-me-up. The second book is For Teachers Only: Practical Secrets of Success for Any Schoolteacher by Vicki Hathaway with George Hathaway, which I collected from a Barnes & Noble as a resource when I first started teaching.

I chose to use the Tarot of the Little Prince by Rachel Paul and Martina Rossi for this because the journey of the Little Prince tackles a lot of relevant themes. I can particularly relate to this child trying to have a conversation with the adults he meets and not being listened to because neither of them understand each other, since the Little Prince has not yet grown up and the adults have forgotten what it was like to see the world as a child. The Little Prince has to learn a lot of hard lessons about life and love, but he always remains true to himself and even manages to teach a few lessons to The Pilot in recounting his story.

The runes I used are from The Runes Pack by Horik Svensson, which was the first set of runes I bought because I was very curious about them and Barnes & Noble was the only access to divination tools and resources that I had at the time.

Note: This article was originally posted on WordPress on January 1, 2023.

[vanemando15]

She’s Got The Ticket - Chapter 4

Pairing: Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (reader has a latina name but no physical descriptions)

Word Count: 3900+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only! NSFW

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

A/N:  Thank you everyone for the response and positive vibes from the intro of this series. Things are starting to come together between Estrellita and Javi. I kinda got carried away with this chapter but I think we needed more action going on.

To my helpers thank you all @musings-of-a-rose @icanbeyourjedi @mypascalito975

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Endless late nights seemed like the new norm for you; it was something you weren’t accustomed to back home. Back in Miami you had a life, friends, family and ex-fiance. With all the new madness in your life that was going on, you had to create somewhat of a routine for yourself. The day for you starts at 5:30am. You get dressed and go for your morning run, setting the coffee before you leave. You had stopped running years ago because Rey didn’t like you running all alone in the morning, but now there was no one to tell you not to. Running was your escape to clear your mind and get your head straight for the day.  Upon returning, you get in the shower, get dressed and head out to the bakery where you grab the second coffee of the day. You made it a goal to always be the first person to arrive at the office and then shortly after, Javi would arrive. Unlike you, Javi would come in everyday in a fitted suit and tie but had a face of hell from maybe too much drinking the night before. Endless paperwork, meetings and phone conferences with agents from the US were on a constant hamster wheel everyday. Javi on the other hand would be stuck in meetings with the commissioners and donors that were trying to help with  the fight to defeat the Cali cartel, but were really supporting them instead. Javi was never amused by the so-called “Donors”.  Before you know it, it's 8pm and the day has come to a close. Your mind is fried and can’t handle anymore so you retire and head back home to start the same routine all over again the next day. 

After that night at the bar your work relationship with Javi did change but in a professional way of course. He was more interactive and more attentive with you. He asked for your thoughts and your opinions. Some he agreed with, while others he would just simply ignore. As usual you both were always the last ones at the office practically every night. The weekend was approaching and you decided that you weren’t going to work this weekend and just relax and explore the city which you hadn’t since you had arrived weeks ago. 

Saturday arrived and you had been looking forward to a quiet day. You were able to sleep in, which wasn’t something that you had been able to do since you had arrived. During your morning run, you spotted a farmers market and decided that you were going to come back to it. Your fridge was practically empty and you were in the mood to make a nice home cooked meal for yourself. Since you got here, you haven't made or had a proper meal. Dinners were usually a glass of wine with a kit-kat or protein bar. Sometimes you would come home so tired you just went straight to bed. After you showered and got dressed you headed out to the farmers market which was where you decided you were going to make your mom’s favorite “Milanesa de Pollo” (Chicken with red sauce on top as well as ham and cheese). Taking in the summer heat, you decided to wear a sleeveless floral pink dress and a straw hat that your mom bought for you before you left. 

The local market was only a 10 minute walk from your apartment. Walking through the streets you sometimes felt that you were back home. The market was vibrant. Countless kiosks with fresh produce. Children running around with sweet treats in their hands. Vendors trying to sell you everything they have. You spotted a kiosk that was selling tulips, which were your favorite. You ended up picking the yellow tulips and carried on throughout the market to get all the ingredients that you needed. After an hour of exploring the market you were a little hungry and decided to get lunch before heading back to the apartment. While waiting in line she heard her name from afar.

"Diaz?" a voice calls .

Oh no it can’t be! You think. 

Your eyes went wide as you turned around and spotted none other than your boss, Javi. You spotted him instantly, he was leaning against a fruit stand eating a granadilla. He was wearing a khaki yellow shirt and wearing tight fitted jeans. Wearing yellow aviator glasses was the cherry on top for this look. This was an unusual view because you had only seen Javi wear casual suits to the office everyday. 

He looked good.

Really good.

“Oh hey……. What are you doing here Javi?”

You were noticing that the first couple of buttons were undone giving you a good view of his neck and your mouth watered thinking of how you would want to lick that amazing soft skin. He noticed you looking into his eyes and he was already looking at you while savoring what was left of his fruit. Your cheeks were heating up as you were caught staring at him.

“I was taking a break from the office to grab some lunch.”

“You're working on the weekend?”

“DEA never stops when fighting the Cali Cartel, Diaz. I came here to grab something to eat” He was eating the last piece of orange when he noticed you. 

Rolling your eyes by his response you couldn’t understand how this man worked so much and never escaped to do other things that didn’t involve catching the cartel. 

“But we need to live a life outside the cartel every once and a while, Javi. You should try it sometime.” 

In that moment Javi analyzed you not as his partner, but as a very attractive woman. You weren’t wearing the button up blouse with the slacks and heels, you didn't look like the girls that he would hook up with when he was lonely. The pink floral dress and the straw hat that you were wearing made Javi take a second look at you. The way that you smiled back at him caught him off guard and made him realize that there might be something that he had never felt before.

“What are you up to Diaz?” 

"I’m going to actually cook a meal for myself today. I haven’t had real food since I got here." With the bags in your hand you start walking back to your apartment and Javi joins you. 

“I didn’t know you cooked.” Javi comments as the both of you stop where his truck is parked. He leans back against the hood of his truck and puts his hands in his pockets,  without you noticing he  stares at how pretty you looked in your dress and sunflower hat. In joking matter you respond to him.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me, Javi. Maybe you should get to know the people that work around you, that way they don’t think you're the grinch.” you smirked at him. 

“People think I'm the grinch?”

You started laughing at him. “Yeah they do! I just say that you're more like Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street.”

Javi smirks at your joke.

“Is that a smile I see from DEA Agent Javier Peña? Ladies and Gentleman he is real!” you gesture up and down his body giving him a little round of applause making him chuckle.

He chuckles as he rubs his hand behind his neck. 

“Oh Really? Well then I guess I might have to change your mind so that you’ll stop calling me Oscar the Grouch.” People at the office had mentioned that Javi was always grumpy and extremely demanding. Oscar the Grouch was the perfect analogy. Yet at the moment you didn’t see the grumpiness in  him. You were staring at a fine looking man that was smiling at your extremely lame joke and showing one dimple on his left cheek. 

You flirt back with a smile. 

“Well  enjoy your dinner Diaz. I will see you on Monday.”

As he turns to walk away you didn’t hesitate and asked:

“Javi?”

He quickly turns around to respond.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to come over for dinner?”

Javi was taken back by her open invitation but he could use a nice home cooked meal.

“If that’s ok with you, I accept your invitation.”

“So it's a date.” You froze when the words came out of your mouth. Your eyes opened wide like a deer in headlights. Instantly regretting the words that came out of your mouth. “I mean I'll see you at 7.” 

You quickly turned and walked away as fast as you could with your head looking down. Javi just stands with his hands on his hips and chuckles at how cute you seemed while inviting him to dinner.

Putting your legs to the test you ran as fast as you could towards your apartment. Quickly closing the door behind you  as reality sinks in.

What have I done?

Did I just invite him over?

WHAT THE FUCK!

You spend the next couple of hours prepping and dinner and unpacking the remaining boxes that were left to unpack from the move. You had procrastinated unpacking because you hadn’t had time and coming late from work didn’t help either. Once complete your place finally felt like home.  While your apartment wasn’t a 5 star hotel suite it was homie. The Embassy had given you an apartment in the same building as Javi. One thing you loved about the apartment was that it was spacious and it was exactly what you needed. You weren’t difficult as long as you had your radio to listen to music, you were good. One thing you loved was listening to music and dancing. Having Cuban parents it was mandatory to listen to old school Cuban music and dance to it. The apartment was filled with pictures of your family and friends. The one good thing about this apartment was that it had a little corner with a window that would face the city. Usually every night since you arrived before going to bed you have a glass of wine and stare out the window and catch a glimpse of the city night life. Thoughts would pass through your mind when you sit here. You would think about your past, your future, would you ever find love, reflect on your day and more importantly what your future holds. In this corner you also had a little vase which was holding the tulips that you had when you bumped into Javi at the market that led to this unexpected invite over for dinner.   

In the process of all of this preparation thoughts would come passing through your mind:

This is just my coworker coming 

Why am I freaking out?

He doesn't like you

You are out of his league

Before you knew it, it was 7pm. 

Knock Knock

You were startled by the knock. Not wanting to seem desperate you waited a little before heading towards the door. Before opening it you gave a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror and made sure you were wearing the right thing for Javi. There wasn’t much to choose from in your closet so you ended up wearing a simple blue knee length summer dress that you bought from the farmers market that day. Not wanting to look pale you added in some blush, lipgloss and eyeliner to look somewhat presentable.  Last minute thoughts started running through your mind right before you opened the door. 

Act casual

Be cool 

You don't like this guy

He is your partner 

Nothing can happen

You put a smile and open the door and there he was staring back at you with a smile. 

“Javi.”

“Val.”

“Come on in, welcome to my home."

Javi handed you a bottle of whiskey.

Grabbing the bottle of whiskey your eyes opened wide. “Oh boy, I see you brought the liquid courage”

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“This is great, thank you for bringing this. Make yourself at home.”

“Dinner should be ready soon. Would you like a drink? You ask as he slowly walks into your apartment.

“Sure either whiskey or wine”. You grab a glass and pour the wine and hand it to Javi. 

 "Thank you. Val this smells delicious. What are you cooking?"

"This is my favorite meal that my mom would make for me back home. It's called Milanesa de pollo. It’s breaded chicken, red sauce, ham and cheese."

"Wow, that sounds delicious - can't wait to try it."

He shared a smile with a wink to which you were taken back from, but in a good way. Butterflies were going round and round in your stomach. 

Is he flirting with me? 

Do I flirt back?

"Well I'm excited for you to try it." You replied with a flirty tone. 

Finishing up with the sauce you asked Javi if he wanted to try it.

“Here, try the sauce, it’s my mom's recipe with a secret ingredient”. Javi comes close to you to taste the sauce. With a final stir you scoop some of the sauce from the pan into a wooden spoon, turning it slightly to Javi as you put your hand under the spoon.  He holds your gaze, stares into your eyes as you bring the wooden spoon to his lips. Your eyes lock onto his lips as Javi takes a lick of the spoon, mesmerized by the way his tongue slides up and down the spoon.

“Wow this is amazing! What is the secret ingredient?”

You giggle “Haha I can’t tell you. If I do, I'd have to kill you”. He chuckles at your lame joke as he takes a seat at your counter.

Dinner was served and the both of you sat in silence as you both took in the food. It wasn’t as perfect as your mom made it but it was good enough to make it feel like a home cooked meal. You and Javi sat in silence for a few minutes as you were both simply enjoying the meal. Trying to make conversation, Javi asks you questions about the dish and conversation flows from there, the occasional silence sitting heavy with some unspoken tension when it happens. To loosen the mood  both of your wine glasses were filled up.  Once he’s finished, Javi sets down his fork and stretches, rubbing his stomach. As he stretches you are caught off guard when you notice his shirt go slightly up and give you a peak of  his little happy trail. As tipsy as you felt you started to giggle by the sight you just saw a good thing he didn’t notice.

"I am stuffed. Val, this was amazing. I am glad you invited me over. I really needed a home cooked meal and you fullfled that."

"I am glad that I can fulfill you.”

Oh crap! 

Nice one Val!

"I mean! I’m glad you liked it, Javi!"

He smirked and smiled back at you.

"So, Diaz, tell me about yourself? How was your life back home?"

“Call me Estrellita. I think we have reached the point of calling each other by our first names”.

“Estrellita? Star? Really? Where did you get that nickname from?”

“My friends back home gave me that nickname because I like to shine bright at everything I do. Hence Estrellita”.

He pauses and smirks.

“So…. Estrellita. That’s cute, I like it”.

You blush by his comment and smile as you take another slip of your wine.  

“Would you like to move to the couch?”

Javi nods in acceptance and the both of you grab your wine cups and head over to the couch. You take a sip of your wine and start telling Javi your life story. You let him know how you became a CIA agent, what led you to come here, and the disapproval of your friends and family not approving of the assignment transfer during these scary times. 

"But I'm sure you have a boyfriend waiting for you back home right?"

You became flustered when he asked you that question. Grabbing the wine bottle you poured what was left of the bottle into your wine glass. You really hadn’t told anyone about your personal life since arriving here and realistically you didn’t even tell your friends back home what really happened with you and Rey. Javi was going to be the first person you tell everything that happened with Rey. You felt comfortable telling him or maybe it was the wine that was giving you the courage. 

"You mean ex-fiance."

"Ex-fiance? You guys aren’t together anymore?"

"No. I called it off because I caught him cheating two months before the wedding."

You looked down and started twirling your finger around the edge of your glass, feeling Javi’s eyes on you as he waited patiently for you to explain.

"At first I felt it was my fault because I was so busy with the academy, and trying to move up the ladder, as well as planning the wedding that maybe I wasn't giving him the time he needed. It was hard getting over the fact that he did this to me and I felt that I couldn't love again after that.”

You started to feel emotional saying this to practically a stranger so you instantly looked down as your eyes started to get watery. 

“When the opportunity for this assignment came about, I didn't think about it and took it on the spot. Coming here has made me believe that this is a new beginning for my life. My parents think that I am just escaping from everything that was going on but I think this was my one shot to prove to everyone that I can do this."

Javi stretched out his hand and slowly wiped away the tear that was running down your face. 

"I’m sorry you had to see me like that as I am telling you my life story with you  barely knowing me."

The touch of Javi’s hand on your face made you feel heavenly. You closed your eyes with his touch. A spark started to brew deep inside which was something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You  realized that Javi had gotten closer to you but you didn’t care if he did. He placed his hand on top of yours.  It felt soft as he held yours. You slowly opened your staring into his big brown eyes and it was the most beautiful sight you had seen. Stuck in the moment you quickly shake your head to distract from the thoughts that are passing through your mind and come back to reality.

"It’s ok. I was the one that asked. It’s a shame that a beautiful girl like you has gone through so much pain and suffering."  

Flustered as you were, you realized that he was still holding your hand.. Butterflies were being felt and it was only with the touch of his hand. Neither one of you wanted to let go. Time had seemed to stop, the conversation of your past was long gone. Right now it was trying to figure out who would make the first move. As you stared at his lips you had the urge to touch them and feel them on yours. You notice that he is coming closer to you and your mind starts doing cartwheels.

What should I do? This is my partner. Can’t go past that. I'm falling for this guy. This could ruin all my chances of moving up in your career without having to be “that person” that sleeps their way to the top. What if this can be different? 

Endless possibilities rush through your mind. Time was standing still for her and Javi. You don’t have time to think anymore. All your thoughts rush out the window when the both of you are so close to each other your breaths are insync. Nothing can ruin this moment.

Ring ring ring

You breathe a sigh of relief as you hear the phone ring and it was the wake up call that you needed before things got complicated. You slowly pulled back. Javier looked straight into your eyes, his mouth still slightly open. You felt embarrassed when you muttered "Sorry" and turned your gaze away from him and you got the phone.

“Hello?”

“Diaz, its Feistl”

“Hi Feistl what’s up. Is there a reason you're calling me on my day off?”

“I’m sorry I hope I didn't ruin any plans you had at the moment”. 

You turn to see Javi and turn back and slowly respond to Feistl.

“No you didn’t ruin anything at all. Tell me what's going on?”

Feistl informed you that they had information from the Cornerstone raid in Miami and that he and Van Hess were planning on going to an office building that was owned by Cali. 

"We will be right there Feistl."

"We? Are you with Peña?" Feistl questions you. 

Nervously you respond. 

“Ummm yes I am. I bumped into him at the market and invited him over for dinner. Is there a problem with that agent?”

Feistl quickly responded “No ma’am not all. We will see you soon”. 

You hang up the phone and inform Javi on what was going on. 

“Let me change and we can head out together if you want.”

“That’s ok I can meet you at the office.” Javi’s tone had changed, more stern and flat than it was a few moments ago.

You and Javi started slowly heading towards the door.

“Oh. Well ok. I guess I will see you at the office shortly”.

Not wanting him to leave you open the door for him. Knowing that if it wasn’t for Feistl calling a line could have been crossed between you and Javi but yet you wouldn’t have cared. You wanted him and you believe that he wanted you to in return. 

“Thank you for coming over tonight and hearing me talk about my boring and depressing life. Now we need another meal for you to talk about your life and hopefully not get interrupted.”

He cracked a little smile back at you. 

“Then I guess next time it will be my turn to cook then. Thank you for the food. It was delicious.” 

The both of you were waiting at the door, neither of you wanted to leave. He approaches you slowly and grabs your hand. There was that touch full of electricity running through your veins again. This was the moment you wanted to kiss him so bad you closed your eyes again believing that he is going to kiss you but instead he gives you a sensual kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ll see you at the office, Estrellita.”

As he walks away you are left frozen by what just happened. You closed the door and didn’t know how to feel. Can you be genuinely falling for him? These feelings are new to you. Being in a relationship for so long you didn’t know how to feel. Does he feel the same too? Playing with fire at this stage in your career was something you had to decide if it was worth it. This is Javier Peña you are talking about. Javier Peña the guy that is known through the office a womanizer; he could be just using you for his pleasure. Your mind is smacked back to reality when you realize that Javi will never have something serious with you. Hearing so many rumors about him it was a fact that nothing will happen. Composing yourself quickly you picked up the kitchen, got dressed and headed to the office where you were to meet up with Feistl, Van Hess and ………

Shit..

Javi…  

——-

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[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

give me 2 lifelines

Loki Laufeyson x female reader x Nuada (SMUT)

Anon asked: I don’t know if you’re familiar with Prince Nuada from Hellboy but I was wondering if you could do a piece that’s Prince Loki and Prince Nuada fighting over Fem Reader but end up sharing her. Lots of angst and NSFW content. I love a good sub/Dom dynamic. It would be AMAZING if you could whip something up 😊🥰❤️

SMUT AHEAD, 18+, sir/king kink, threesome MMF, dominant vibes,ah, you know the drill

!WARNING! THIS IS MY FIRST THREESOME WRITING IF IT'S BAD, PLEASE, BE GENTLE WITH ME! (p.s if you like it support me with a KOFI)

I am not the best at grammar so if there are any mistakes, sorry! Now, enjoy!

"Tell me about him."

"About who, Loki?"

"Your past lover with the fairly peculiar name."

"Nuada? Why?"

"You said his name yesterday in your sleep, dove."

"Sorry."

"Why for? Now, was he comparable to me?"

She giggles "A little. He held himself to the same elevated royal regard like you."

"Oh."

"But that was his downfall."

"Oh..."

"That was years ago. I am certain he forgot about me. I love you."

"I love you too, princess. However, you are untrue about one thing."

"About what?"

"Whoever you cross paths with, you leave an irreplaceable print on their lives. I am sure that Nu-a-da feels the same."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Nuada..." her words echoed off the magical glass and into his ears picking up the sad tone his eyes picking up only the cold wall he faced. "I am leaving. I need to go back Hellboy told me that being in this world is bad for me I need to go back to MY home. I will NOT see you again."

He stands up seeing the form of his former lover disappear in gold flakes with his hand raised. "Y/n.'"her desperate name befalls off his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nuada stands up walking towards his today's visitor, his twin sister. Nuala. "Brother." he retorted "Sister."

Her hand reaches her chest. The thin fabric mashing into her narrow fingers. "I feel a tremendous distress from you."

"Ha, that gloom followed me when you betrayed me for the big red rock." he argued his attitude spiteful.

Nuala shakes her head "No, this sadness is beyond comparison. Unexplainable." she refuted moving closer to the shield her hand on the magical glass."This is heartbreak. For a certain being." Nuada's eyes gazing at her eyeing her mouth "For a human girl." His eyes twitched.

"That is forgone now. My actions are-" she cuts him off "-Are empty. Wanting nothing more than to have her back your arms wanting to do to everything and comprise everything to be with her. Since no price is too imperial for her."

"Enough!"

His turmoil echoed in the cell his kin standing her hand moving through the glass, his eyes cleared in shock.

"You could have run but you didn't, your powers exceed far more than mine. But you stayed for her, to pay the dues and to show in front of her a new creature. A new man how the humans would say."

Nuada walks striding out of the cell inquiring her with a breathless "Why?"

Nuala only cackles giving a minor shudder "Go... Find her."

Nuada steps off the stairs and moves out of the prison. His silver hair lifting off in the air that breezed through the long stands she caressed each night before they slept. His eyes that Y/n swore were made from molten gold searched into the area searching for his swords. His steps falling silent as he hears a small swish of magic, he turns to find a portal laced with green hues. He looks at the portal seeing no one only hearing the faint whisper of someone he yeared for.

"I am telling you. Bruce would manage to lift the hammer if he was in the elevator. No one can change my mind."

Y/N.

With no attending thoughts in his brain, his legs strode in front of him and into the portal that lured him so deceivingly in. The thick air that resided in his lungs was no more as he saw the same room he used to sneak in. The same cabinet he stubs his toe too many times and the small long mirror that was placed on the wall in front of the bed. He was here. Nuada was present in Y/N's room. The door opens and he sees her... and she sees him as the loud clang of swords fall from his pale blue hands. Y/n's steps coming to a halt. In front of her stood the former lover, the hair she kissed and braided was now much longer almost touching his buttcheeks the high cheekbones still current as ever the same markings on his skin stayed.

"Nuada? Wh-what are you doing here?"

She doesn't know how to acknowledge knowing that her present lover will come by any time soon. Her mind belonged to Loki. But what about her heart? Was there still room for Nuada to stand proud in?

"She told me to see you. She felt my eternal heartbreak that was left between us."

He steps closer, his hands reaching for her, her holding hands daily not yet remembering how rough he was. Y/N froze. There was no better way to explain it. Her brain worked overtime like a hamster in a wheel while her heart thudded in her ears and throat.

"I don't know what to say. We broke up. ever since you went to prison."

"I want to remove that, that memory. Seeing your face in vast anguish was something never I desired for."

Y/n flinches as her hands move away from his. Retorting with a small sigh "Still, we can not be together, Nuada, I am from a different world. Remember what Abe said:

"If you say here for too long your body will not manage to live here. It will kill itself slowly and who knows maybe that portal which you travel through will not open one day and you will lose all your loved ones."

"You can not stay here Nuada. You need to go back."

She wanted to shift away but his warmth and his authentic hands gradually and agonizingly pulled her in, her head resting on his shoulder. They stayed like that in silence while Nuada explains himself "My jewel, will you let me rewrite the wrongs of my life? Will you let me come back in and try to find the peace that you carry within you. I am lost without you?"

Y/n derides as her hand nudges against his chest tears probing outside of her eyes "What do you think felt like? When I came back after you were taken I had to rebuild myself, my job which I lost as I was traveling too much between realms and had to mask it. I had very bad thoughts that took a toll on me. you cannot ask for me to 'open my heart and welcome you with open arms. If it wasn't for Loki-"

"-Who is Loki?"

"My current BOYFRIEND. My lover."

Nuada footed back not even thinking that maybe she moved on with her life and found love with another. He didn't think how much damage he did to her heart that was already harmed.

"And who are you, stranger?" Loki's voice stirs through Y/n's ears and Nuada's, as well as both of them, turn to the god himself.

"Loki!" Y/n moved towards him already fearing what he thought "Nothing happened, I swear."

His finger reaches up to her cheek caressing the supple skin as she leans into his warm touch momentary closing her eyes. Not going unnoticed by the long-haired creature himself. "I know, lover. It is alright." he strides past her walking towards Nuada his green suit being slightly knowledgeable to Nuada.

"Have you-" "I assure you stranger, we are meeting for the first time. What is your name? What are you called?"

"Prince Nuada."

Loki swivels to Y/n "So that is him. dove? Perplexing..." Loki gazes at the creature noticing his marks on his body while his hand points to the marks "Are you a warrior? A bad one?" he grins seeing the small twitch in Nuada's eyebrow.

"I have spoken before my title is that of a prince. And what are you?"

"I am a God."

Loki walks back to Y/n holding her hand in his own bringing it up to his lips giving it the small peck she needs to zone back into reality and feel the gravity of this situation.

"Shall we?" "Yes..."

Nuada gazes and he feels the words jump out "I WILL DO ANYTHING TO BE WITH YOU, MY JEWEL!" they both halt turning to look at the elf "My pride is nothing compared to that to be kissed by your lips and to be filled by your love."

"Nuada, please... Stop this."

Nuada was a dominant creature of pride his name was not to be said without a shiver running down the spine of the person who said his name. The dangerous exterior and the harsh demeanor changed as Nuada kneeled, his pride stowed away not to see the light of this day.

"I still love her. She STILL possesses my heart."

Loki chuckles while he resolves, holding Y/n's hand

"What can we do about it? She has my heart as well."

Y/n subsisted in surprise staying between two of the same coin not already feeling the familiar tinge of arousal going through her body. Loki turns to Nuada indicating with a grin.

"Let us share her."

"Loki!!!"

He turns back to her kissing her lips saying in a bare hum "What else do you want me to do dove? You can see who much he IS willing to go through just to have a taste of your nectar. We can stop if that is what you wish for."

Y/n gasped out feeling Nuada pressed flush against her backside his hand traveling across her back.

"No."

"Then it's determined."

Loki looked at Y/n flushed eyes her iris almost despairing while she felt Nuada's long lost lips on her neck kissing and attending to her every carnal need she was deprived of. Loki took no more than a second to unbutton her shirt as she moaned at his cold fingers "No, use your magic." she barely managed to say it.

Loki takes it into account snapping his fingers as Y/n's, Nuada's, and Loki's clothes despair off of them leaving them naked. Nuada snatched her back onto the bed letting her softly sit down as Loki went behind her letting her rest her head on his abs. Nuada one more kneels looking solely at Y/n's

"May, I taste you, my jewel?" she nods as Nuada lets his lips open his tongue coming out and landing softly at the bottom of her folds tracing slowly up hearing her moans that he missed dearly. Loki kept an eye on her seeing her head drop against his stomach her eyes shut closed while her nipples begged for him to attend to them. His hands glided down giving her a message turning the nubs softly following the rhythm of Nuada's pace. As Nuada went up he found the one thing that gave her the nickname she carries for him his finger gently removing the fold and showing her clit "My only jewel." he mused seeing the deep red blush on her cheeks her eyes squinting not wanting to show her full-blown eyes his lips land around her clit sucking the delicate nerve bundle pulling slowly back giving her more depth to her passion. As her moans filled the room, Nuada HAD to rut his hips into the edge of the mattress wishing for just some sort of friction he craved for. Loki was nothing different either.

Y/n could feel his tip at the bottom of her head hard and quivering in rhythm with her moans each of the being anguish.

"I am close."

Loki answers sternly "Nuada, stop."

Nuada obediently ends peeking at the God, knowing he needs to play nice or otherwise he won't feel Y/n around him. "Let's fill her. Would you like that my beautiful Queen?"

"Yes." she rasped out "Yes, what?" "Yes, My King."

"Now, turn on your stomach. Nuada, we will swap our positions."

Nuada asks trying to hold still some ropes of authority "When will I feel her?"

Loki walks to him grabbing his chin forcefully "You, prince, will have your turn but for now, you will get her sacred mouth. Do you mind that Y/n?"

Y/n shakes her head between the power play that was in front of her "No."

Nuada kneels on the bed seeing Y/n beneath him, his cock twitched wanting nothing more than to take her and kill the god that was playing the power play over his royal birthright. Loki stood at the bed seeing her slick wet and pulling, taking his member into his hand pushing in, giving Nuada the head nod as Nuada places his cock in Y/n's mouth feeling her tongue beneath his cock while he slid further down listening to the audible gag reflex.

Y/n didn't know how to explain being throat fucked by a former King of Elf's and being fucked by a God of Mischief, feeling her both holes stretched with no remorse... And thriving in the fantasy.

"Can I move, pet?" Loki begged as he hears the audible Mhh from the bottom of her mouth. Jerking back from her pussy the tight walls would want nothing more than to hold him inside as Nuada continued to feel every inch of her mouth.

"Now, ah, Y/n your rule. You are not to cum until myself and Nuada cum inside you. You understand?"

At the command, she felt a powerful shiver in her body as rather of her voice her body replied as she became wetter at the demand. Loki chuckles as he looks at Nuada seeing his hand in Y/n's hair griping guiding her to a pace he knew she could take.

"Are you alright with that, Nuada? Having her being filled by mine and your seed."

"Yes. I can't wait to see her filled with our milk."

A few more thrusts and the men that were subdued at her body came. Y/n trying to hold in her orgasm. Loki pulls out feeling the cold air on his warm cock. While Nuada pulled slowly seeing her mouth full with his cum her eyes teary.

"Thank you... Sir," she said as a small smile was on Y/n's face. Loki looks at the two of them chuckling "She is all yours, Nuada." Loki and Nuada once more switch places as Loki attentively wipes the mix of drool and saliva pushing it back into her mouth giving her a sloppy kiss.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, my King." she smiled. Nuada feels inching his cock to her folds pushing in. Her walls clutching at the tip he halts feeling the mix of Loki's cum and her own giving him silenced in. Closing her eyes she feels Loki's hand travel past her breasts, stomach and halting at her clit playfully flicking it.

"Loki!" she cries as the nerves shock her. "Do you like it, while play with your jewel while Nuada is thrusting in you, hopefully breeding a child in your womb, Y/n? Do you like it? To have a child and to share it with me and Nuada as fathers?"

"Yes!!! Nuada, fill me up well! Places!" the level she stooped to screen to out she didn't know she had it in her. Nuada thrust feeling her pull him only further in her walls clutching him for all she is worth. Loki pulls his hand back seeing the tears stream down Y/n's cheek.

"Do you wish to cum pet?" "Yes!"

Loki looks at Nuada seeing him give a nod and he responds "Then cum."

One more time and y/n doesn't see her lover only a white light as her orgasm rolled out of her. Talia felt Nuada ruts his hips into hers and as he slowly pulled out she felt full and replenished with their cum something filthy felt so powerful.

Wow, need holy water on my eyes. thanks for reading. tell me what you think. Hope you liked it.

[villainous-thorn]

Drabble #3

Only Villain was dumb enough to get themselves captured, dumb and stupidly amazing and strong and perfect, but mostly dumb. Even with their slick tongue and clever remarks, they were still dumb. Dumb dumb dumb. Maybe if RightHand repeated that enough he would actually believe it.

Unfortunately, RightHand was also dumb for breaking into Other Villain’s headquarters deep in the bowels of a hostile town to break the Villain out. Who the hell takes hostages anymore anyway? Other Villain was so boring and old school, more like a mobster with super powers that they rarely used. After about two days of planning, RightHand deemed his plan ready.

The back door to the brick building housing the main HQ burst open, two figures bolted away with lightning speed into the dark, dank alleyways.

“That was stupid and dangerous, I dunno know if I should yell at ya or kiss ya!” Villain chided RightHand as the two dashed from the scene.

“Stupid and dangerous? I thought that was how you liked it?” RightHand bit sarcastically.

Villain huffed dramatically, “You’re lucky that’s all I’m gonna say, Righty.”

“And you’re lucky I saved your ass!” He shot back.

“Oh, look, I’m all teary eyed with gratitude.” Villain teased, wiping a fake tear from their eye. “Anythin’ else you have to say?”

RightHand rolled his eyes, “You’ll be in a different type of trouble as soon as we get outta here, dumbass.”

“You’re lucky I’m even coming with you and not waiting for SuperVillain to come get me.” The Villain bristled, not truly meaning what they said.

“It’s kinda my job to keep you alive!” He reminded them, unfortunately. Lately it was increasingly more difficult to do so, Villain found themselves in trouble more often than ever before. With a quick wit and biting satire they knew how to infuriate others beyond comparison. RightHand took a sharp turn down an adjoining alley, yanking the Villain with him roughly. The duo made it halfway down the street when RightHand finally got a response from the other.

“I know.” Villain slowed and they doubled over, chest heaving. RightHand stopped on his heels as he realized his partner wasn’t next to him, and looked behind him. They didn’t have time for a breather, they had to keep going, the enemy was right on their tails. The subordinate could normally run for much longer than this, and their breathing was incredibly fast, it was starting to worry their associate.

“Villain?” RightHand asked, “Are you okay?” Villain shifted uneasily, trying to catch their breath, “I don’t know. I don’t feel right.” They were struggling to stand, leaning against a brick wall, they took a few deep breaths through their nose.

RightHand was more than concerned but they needed more information, “Whaddaya mean?”

Villain was able to calm themself down enough to speak. “I dunno, Righty. I just don’t feel good. I feel… sick. And I’m so tired. Lethargic.”

Sensitive and trained ears picked up on “Physically, yeah?” RightHand trailed off, cocking his brow, worry etching into his face.

“Physically- Wait… Oh fuck. They gave me a meal an hour er so ago, you don’t think it was-?” Villain cringed, fear overtaking them. Poisoning, that would be an issue, especially if it took effect right then, arguably the worst possible time.

RightHand kept his demeanor cool and calm, trying to focus as his mind hamster wheeled. He looked the other in the eye as he spoke, “Hey, either way we’re gonna get outta here and get you to the lair. Now. Can you still run?”

Villain’s muscles were rapidly relaxing against their will, they couldn’t flex their knees well at all. “Mmmn, I don’t think so, not by myself. My legs... RightHand-” The criminal pleaded, pure terror in their eyes.

RightHand could hear commotion behind them, they didn’t have much time until Villain’s captors caught up with them. “Fuck.” He muttered, wrapping his partner’s arm around his shoulder and forcing both of them forward. Most of the Villain’s weight fell on him as they dashed through the alley.

“Geez, ya ain’t very light, Villain.” RightHand commented to deflect his anxiety, he had no idea what would happen if they were caught. Well, he did know, he just didn’t want to think about it.

The two pressed forward as fast as they could, the criminal whimpered and clutched their rescuer as tight as their fingers could. RightHand could barely hear the noise over the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears as they reached the end of the alleyway, a barbed wire fence blocking them in.

RightHand silently cursed himself, he must’ve got turned around and taken a wrong turn. He growled, as Villain leaned more of their weight onto him. This was not going according to plan. RightHand leaned his partner on the side of one of the buildings that lined the alley. He quickly extended his razor sharp claws, slashing an opening in the fence for them.

He grabbed his partner again who was almost limp in his arms, clearly on the verge of losing consciousness. “Tha wass kinna hot, m’prezziff-” Villain mumbled groggily.

RightHand squeezed them through the opening he created, one block to the car and they would be safe. He ran as fast as his legs could carry the both of them, he was glad no one was out this time of night, people living in that neighborhood knew better.

The RightHand’s eyes lit up as the vehicle came into view but as he came closer the edge of the building revealed lackeys surrounding it making him skid to a stop and curse under his breath. He thought he had parked far enough away to avoid suspicion but clearly they took notice of a new vehicle and connected the dots.

RightHand turned around frantically and ran to cross the street where Other Villain’s henchmen couldn’t see him, his eyes widened as he picked up the sound of a car approaching behind them, he swore he heard Villain mumble something incoherent.

He pulled both of them onto the enclosed porch of a building, hiding them. The Villain threw as much of a fuss as they could, lazily slapping their associate to get his attention. “Righhhhhh- ryeeeee-” Annoyed, their associate interrupted, “Just shut up for two seconds, there’s a car.” He whispered, covering his partner’s mouth with a hand and pinning them both to the wall.

RightHand heard the car stop a few feet before the stoop, just out of sight but close enough that he knew it was meant to be heard, he swallowed a lump in his throat. They were dead meat. He heard a door thud closed and then the clicking of heels on pavement.

Suddenly he felt something hot and wet on his hand and turned, disgusted, to Villain, retracting his hand and wiping it on his clothes. While he was distracted the Villain used what they had left of their strength to lurch toward the outside of the porch, falling to the ground unconscious and giving away their position.

RightHand held his breath as the clicking got closer, and then he saw a heeled shoe nudge at his partner’s limp hand, “You guys are in so much troubleeeee.” The voice sang mockingly and RightHand felt a wave of relief wash over him as Supervillain’s Sidekick walked into view.

“C’mon, get that idiot in the car.” The henchman commanded coldly. RightHand grinned as he picked Villain up and hoisted them over his shoulder again, making their way to the car.

________________

This was also written months ago for OCs, I just changed the names and added a few things. I know this one was a bit different from my usual, but I hope it’s enjoyable (and understandable) nonetheless! <3

[hispipsqueak]

hello I was wondering if I could make a request please? if you're comfortable with it could you write for aizawa x reader where reader is dealing with thoughts of self-harm and confesses this to him and he helps her through it? sorry if this isn't okay, but thank you if you write it

Hello! Thank you so much for this request <3 As a person who dealt a lot with these issues in the past, I definitely enjoyed writing this because it gave me comfort. I think Aizawa would be so big on mental health and I think it is such a good prompt.

Disclaimer: Obviously, I am not a therapist or a mental health professional, and all of this is based on my own experiences, so if you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm ideation, please know it does get better and seek out proper mental health resources! <3 This is purely a comfort fic.

TW: self-harm ideation (reader doesn't do it but does consider it), depression, self-blame (reader is pretty mean to themselves), mental health, hurt/fluff, cursing. SERIOUSLY. Do not read this if you feel this would trigger you. Your safety is important.

Another day. Your eyes were bleary and heavy from the night. You went to bed early, but it felt like you hadn’t slept enough. Turning to the door, you heard Shouta call from grabbing his keys and bag before he came in to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Heading out. Love you. Probably staying late tonight, so don’t wait up sweetheart.” You forced a smile back at him.

“Have a good day, Sho. Love you.” All too soon he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your body felt heavy, dragging it out of bed only to go straight to the couch. You were so tired. It had been gnawing on you lately, like a black cloud over you. Shouta worked hard every day, training pro-heroes while dealing with his own hero work and YOU felt tired? It was annoying, you felt annoyed by your own mind, and guilty just for even feeling this way.

It was like you were stuck in a hamster wheel, constantly running and going nowhere and you were too tired to keep running. Days kept coming and you just needed everything to just stop for a moment. Just to let you catch your breath, but the world didn’t stop for you. You had to just toughen up.

Going to the bathroom, you looked in the mirror. You looked like a mess, your eyes hollow and lifeless. Your hair felt dull, and you wanted to avoid looking at yourself any longer. You sat on the tile floor, your back pressed against the door. Tears fell freely from your eyes, and you made no effort to wipe them away.

You just needed a break. A break from everything, a break from life. A break from being a fucking burden.

Time passed, you stayed sitting on the cold floor. Was it hours, minutes? Fuck if you knew. Catching a glimpse of Shouta’s razor left on the sink, your heart raced. You could feel the blood rushing in your ears as you stared down the silver blade.

It wouldn’t make the pain stop, but it would make it real. Fighting an invisible monster was hard, but if you had something to actually cry about, maybe you wouldn’t feel insane.

You were so tired.

You walked back to bed.

----

Shouta walked in, his body sore from being hunched over grading papers. He yawned, tossing his bag on the chair. The lights were off, and he headed to the bedroom, expecting to see you asleep. Instead you were sitting up, knees tucked under your chin, staring at the wall.

“Sweetheart, it’s late. Why are you awake?” Shouta asked, his voice catching when he saw the tear tracks on your cheeks. You sniffled, and your voice was scratchy when you spoke.

“I’m so tired, Sho. I’m sorry, I know you’re tired and I don’t even have the right to be–” You were cut off by his arms wrapped around you. Shouta was warm and somehow, feeling him there grounded you into reality. The dam in you broke and you sobbed, pressing your face into his sweater. His hold on you tightened, and finally catching your breath you pulled away slightly, refusing to meet his eyes.

He spoke first.

“Don’t ever feel like you don’t have the right to feel anything you feel. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Your voice was shaky, and low. “I don’t know. I’m tired. It feels like every day bleeds into the next and I can’t stop and just breathe for a second. I feel like I’m drowning and nobody can see me and I, I don’t know what to do. And I feel so fucking guilty because I can’t JUST not feel this way. I see things that need to be done, I have stuff I want to do and I can’t bring myself to not feel like shit. It feels pathetic and annoying and you do so much for us and all I do is complain….and I just wanted it to end today. God, I just…” your voice trailed off and you were quiet for a moment. When you spoke again your voice was softer, a murmur Shouta had to strain to hear.

“I just wanted to make it stop. If I’m gonna be miserable, I need a reason.” Your voice cracked and you swallowed hard, ashamed.

Shouta reached out for your hand slowly, caressing the soft spot between your thumb and forefinger.

“Y/N, you are the most precious thing to me in this entire world. You are never burdening me, never annoying me, and you never need a ‘reason’ to justify your feelings. Every single day of my life, I choose you, I choose us. I don’t care if you have a million problems, I’m here to help you carry them. And if I can’t do it alone, we’ll work together to figure this out. I need you to talk to me though. Did you hurt yourself?”

You shook your head quickly. Shouta sighed in relief. “Did you think about hurting yourself?”

You nodded, a hiccup escaping from your lips.

He pulled you against him, practically crushing you with his weight, You could hear his heartbeat, reverberating in his chest.

“This, this is the reason we continue. Every day, if you’re dealing with bad feelings, bad thoughts, anything...you get right here. You get in my arms and we’ll get through it. You are not alone.”

Wrapping the blankets around the two of you, Aizawa texted Nezu to let him know he’d be out for the week. He pulled you into his chest, letting you talk your feelings out into the late night.

It wouldn’t be perfect. You would still have bad feelings, and negative thoughts that chipped away at you. But you wouldn’t be alone. It wouldn’t consume you.

You weren’t a burden.

[starshipsofstarlord]

A Stark Contrast | Bucky Barnes

Summary; living in the shadow of Tony, your brother, always was the way, and you accepted it. That was until he expected you to sign the accords, that was one thing that you couldn’t do.

Warnings; Angst, mentions of death, mentions of being controlled, funeral, mourning, anger

The form, bound in a weighty book laid on the table, making the room fill with utmost tension. Tony was hellbent on signing the thing, and handing away any freedom that all of you had.

No matter how long you had supported him, this was not one subject that you could agree with him on. Whilst you understood his perspective, it would only end up with you in a hamster wheel, running around and following the orders of executives.

They wanted less destruction. To put boundaries around their country’s heroes, and limit them to the lengths they could go to in order to save lives.

That was also wrong, the entire ordeal had you bent backwards with a conflict of interests. On one hand, it would be ordinary to sign for such a cause, whether you trusted their backgrounds or not, simply because your elder sibling had.

There was nobody that you trusted more than Tony, he had half raised you after your parents were killed, you felt indebted to him. But being an avenger, on a team where your personal opinion had been valued, it opened your eyes to a whole range of possibilities.

Whilst you were loyal to Tony, you had also became in tune with your own gut. It grumbled at the prospect of giving in to a contract, which decided what you were permitted to do. It was like a child’s parent permission slip, but on a much grander scale.

“People died!” He reminded the lot of you again, which inclined you to look down. There was blood on all of your hands, and he was making it as red as it could possibly be seen. “At least y/n agrees with me.” He reprimanded Steve, whom was still far on the fence regarding the entire ordeal.

Once he said that, all eyes had shifted towards you. Nat had already basically given in to your brother’s convictions, and Steve suspected that you would do the same. You were always one step behind Tony, you were far too loyal to your sibling for your own good.

“I have yet to make up my mind.” You spoke, standing, no longer wishing to be in the room where there was far too much tension. How you wished Banner and Thor were here, they would make an equal divide. The God of Thunder would not scribble his signature upon the paper, you thought to yourself, if he knew their reasons and affects.

However, your words were taken as an assumption that you would join your sibling in providing a peaceful surrender. It is what he and the public would assume of you, and to be truthful, you were tired of sticking to the stereotypes that were made of you.

“I’m surprised that you came.” Steve spoke, as you opened the boot of your car, and revealed the shield that he was so often adorned with, as well as Sam’s wings. He, like most others, had suspected that you would join your brother in his guilt ridden cause, however, thinking for yourself gave you a sense of freedom.

“Don’t be so quick to prevail into what everyone else thinks of me.” You smirked at the captain, your eyes drifting over to the other super soldier, whom had temporarily been imprisoned by the government.

But he had escaped, and if luck was not often a Stark trait, Tony would have died. You had watched from the cameras, but you could boil no bad blood in between the pair of you, Barnes was not in his right mind. He was controlled, and put into a incomprehensible mode of himself. That was, unless, he had managed to kill Tony.

Then you would have changed your own deciding mind, and stuck to what the eldest Stark believed in. “I won’t, ever again.” Sam smiled, picking up redwing from the composed pile, and kissing the machine.

“Bucky.” You reiterated his name, the one that he had chosen to correct the unknown and deceiving man on. The nod you earnt was brief, but it gave you a sense of hope that whirled in your middle. 

It was clear that he was an attractive man, and alike his righteous friend, he was frozen through time to be in this current moment. As Sam and Steve began to get their things together, you walked over to the historical stranger, a smile upon your face. “I’m y/n Stark, I don’t believe we have had the fortune of meeting before.”

“You sure do speak like a Stark.” He softly spoke, a matching smile on his brawn face. “And you seem to have other things in common, like that necklace.” At his words, you looked down at it, a hint of anguish within your gaze.

“It belonged to my mother.” It was nice to reminisce about her for a moment, you knew that she would have made her own decisions too. In some retrospect, you were following in her footsteps.

A feeling grew in the back of Bucky’s throat, but he said nothing. If he were to spill, or reveal his dark secret, it would mean nothing more than the loss of a powerful asset, they could not afford that right now.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if you got to return home?” It had been a stressful day, fighting your friends, and your last living family member. Bucky turned at your words, you had saved him from being killed, he felt indebted.

“Probably do what every other soldier did; find a woman to marry and have kids. But that’s far out of the picture in this modern age.” Steve was flying the aircraft as you and Bucky spoke in the back. It gave the two of you a moment alone, and you were truly knowing as though you knew the soldier.

He was a good man, misinterpreted by the deeds that he was controlled to do. No one chose to have pity on Barnes, they instead viewed him as a country danger, and wanted to lock him up in a cage, which was how he had come so far in the first place.

“I wouldn’t say that.” For a moment, you looked into his deep blue eyes, feeling as though he were freezing you with them. He didn’t want to look away, but you were inclined to, for you could feel the contrasts of hot and cold heat working its way up your neck, and onto your face. “There’s definitely a woman that would want all that and more with you.”

If things were simpler, you would be convinced that you could share such an intimate bond with him, but alas, everything had to be complicated. And if things could work out, they surely couldn’t last.

“We’re here.” Steve informed the both of you, as he slid out of his front seat, and you prepared to finish this for once and for all.

“How could you?!” You couldn’t defend him as Tony blasted him away, Bucky had played you, and done so well. He and Steve knew of the blood on his hands, and yet they hadn’t thought once to inform you of the one true treachery regrading you.

Bucky had killed your mother, from the intake of information alone, you felt sick. Physically sick. But you choked it down, and as Steve unsurely came towards you, you ran at him, angered by his lies.

From the start, the patriot of America, someone you had considered a friend had deceived you. You had helped him, stood with him, fought your friends for him, and not to mention Tony, and he had known all along.

“Y/n-”

“Save your apologies Rogers.” You stared him down, as he had Bucky held up by one arm, seeing as Barnes had lost one of his own again. “And you, you’re right, there’s no perfect picture, you’re nothing but a monster.”

“Listen.” Steve commanded, but you couldn’t. He was no longer considered your captain, he was a sick liar who had helped to break you. This was the last time that you made your own decisions. Tony was always right.

“You don’t deserve that shield, my father made that. It’s government property-” swiftly he dropped said item, an exhausted and tiresome expression upon Steve’s helmet wearing face.

As soon as they trudged by, you instantly went to Tony, checking his wounds. “You were right brother, I should have listened to you.”

“Your dad loved cheeseburgers too.” You laughed lightly to Morgan, blinking back the tears. It was Tony’s funeral, there were so many people here, even Fury, but there was someone else, who was walking towards you. “Why don’t you go and ask Happy, I have some business that I have to tend to quickly.”

“Okay auntie y/n.” She ran off. She was so innocent, she didn’t deserve to be going to her father’s funeral at five years old, it was truly cruel. But that was just the way the world worked, and Tony was a hero.

“Hi.” Bucky spoke, adorned in all black, same as you. It had been a long time since you had seen him, not since he was being carried away by Steve. You hadn’t fought in Wakanda, instead you had ended up on Titan with your brother, and you would have surely died without him.

“Hey Barnes.” You greeted him with a forced smile, but nevertheless allowed him to step closer.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said, the guilt still burning behind his eyes. It seemed that his time in Wakanda had changed him, for the better.

“Which one?” You quipped back, instantaneously. 

“All of them.” He gulped, he was going to give you one truth before you found out after. It was his attempt at redemption, and a sorrowful one at that. “Steve’s returning the stones later.”

“I know.” You responded, the captain had already informed you about that part of his plan.

“And he’s not coming back.”

“Anthony Howard and Steven Nathan Barnes, the two of you better get back here this instant!” Your voice hollered through the house, as well as the duo’s endless giggles.

The front door opened, no other than Bucky walking through. He was quick to recognise the flash of motherly anger upon your face, and quickly dropped his serene smile.

“What have they done?” Bucky asked, watching as you crossed your arms in an unimpressed manner.

“Why don’t you ask your sons?” Your husband sighed, but despite that, he was a happy man. He had returned from a war, and found a lovely wife, of which he had two troublesome boys with. For the first time in a long time, y/n Stark and Bucky Barnes were happy.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

what's yandere vladimir's reaction to reader saying I wonder where'd I be if we never met? I'd would be in school. Ya know living my best life

DISCLAIMER: This is fictional and I do not hold these views. Don't let anyone talk you this way! Trigger warning for abusive behaviour!

"Oh would you?

And what purpose would you have little one? To do what everyone sets out to do? 'im going to go to school because I'm going to change the world and I'll be oh so good.' Is that what you tell yourself? That you'll finally amount to something if you educate yourself?

I hate to say it, my darling, but you'd be very stupid to convince yourself of such a thing. You'll simply just have more nonsense to run your mouth with. No one is listening. They might nod along and respond but you are nothing to them. They'll make their own minds and you'll forever play the fool.

Let's really unpack this best life. You'll go to school, cry your way through that because the world just isn't fair and you've got it so tough because no one understands what it's like to have no money and constantly struggle day by day. You won't know what a sleeping pattern is and constantly live in fear of failure because what would your loved ones say if they found out all that money was spent just for you to fail?

Let's say you would succeed because I'm not blind. I can see your greatness. Then you'll get a job and you'll convince yourself that the terrible pay and hours is exactly what you wanted. You spend all that energy wanting to be around a group of people who you don't even know. Then you'll grow bored and they have to dangle promotions and pay rises because they wouldn't want to bore their hardworking hamster. Go on. Give it a treat. We must motivate it to get back on the wheel!

Then you move into your own house. Spend years trying to make it home but the moment you do, you want somewhere bigger but oh no, where did all your money go? So in this 'best life', you'll get into debt that you'll spend the rest of your life paying off and complaining about.

You don't do this alone. How could you? You've got to occupy yourself somehow. So you find a romantic partner who you love to hate at the best of times and wait for the day that you don't feel appreciated enough to move onto someone else. You'll raise your children to continue the cycle. 'Be a cog in that machine, child of mine. Oh how it'd make me so proud of you. '

'living your best life' of course, you'd want the one where your life isn't your own and you can whine and complain that everything bad isn't your fault. It's the others. It's the elite. It's anyone but you.

Even now, you look at me and think 'how dare he?' 'how dare he be so cruel to me?' Yet you won't think about how your rejection makes me feel. How I give my all to you and you scoff at it and make me out to be insane. Now who's cruel? And the tears and the begging. Now there is some manipulation. You get to walk all over my heart, the moment I show I don't like it, you treat me like I'm the villain. Like I did something to you when all I did was show my love.

So go ahead, talk about your 'best life'. Totally ignore everything I have ever offered you because you are so quirky and independent. Boost your pathetic ego because it won't change my feelings and it won't change your situation. It'll only give you false bravado as you seek your validation again. "