#of your writing or maybe you just wrote a shitty fic or no one likes your work

[seraphiism]

use xkit and hide your follower count. those two people who unfollowed you just now? not personal. one deactivated their account, the other has had a shift in interests. your fic flopped? got less notes than anticipated? that's alright. you did great. it was amazing and i see the work and effort you poured into it. i guarantee someone in the world loved it and shared it with their friend. please keep in mind that numbers and statistics do not define the worth or quality of your art or writing.

[katsukistofu]

pls write more megumi!!!! i love how you wrote your recent fic ugh hes so perfecttttt

your wish is my command <3 tysm for enjoying sweetheart i’m glad you liked it ! :)

here comes the sun

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ m. fushiguro x fem reader. fluff. ★ car rides are more bearable when they’re with you.

It’s barely five minutes into the drive and Megumi’s already thinking that Itadori needs to have his license revoked. For life.

His hand darts over to cup the side of your head with a gentle yet firm grip, almost reflexively at this point, stopping you from hurling into the sidedoor after a particularly nasty jostle, for the third curse-forsaken time in a row.

“I think you missed running over a curb back there.” Megumi says dryly in the direction of the front seat.

A cool, summer breeze ruffles his hair as he carefully readjusts your head so instead of lolling to the side, it’s resting on his shoulder. There. That should be much more comfortable for you.

“Hey!” Itadori protests, hands a bit shaky on the wheel. He’s wearing pajama pants with little Spider-mans on them. “I’ve never been in a fancy car without a roof. I’m just getting used to her, that's all.”

“Her?”

“Yeah. Donna.”

Megumi arches a brow. “You named the car.”

“I mean that’s what sensei called her.”

“…Of course he did.”

“Can you two shut up?” Nobara hisses. She’s clad in her own Powerpuff Girl pajamas and Her eyes are still covered by the pink sleep mask that came as a matching set with your pants but you gave it to her instead . “We’re trying to sleep.”

“You are. She’s been knocked out.” Itadori points at you, who’s clinging onto Megumi’s arm like a koala.

“Only because I made sure you wouldn’t wake her up with your shitty driving.” Megumi scowls, curling a protective arm around your waist as the car swerves a little too far left for his liking. His Batman pajama pants brush against your Hello Kitty ones as his thigh bumps against yours, and if you were awake he knew you’d make a joke about them kissing.

“Eyes on the road, idiot.”

Itadori huffs and turns back around to face the wheel. Thankfully you’re still snoozing away, although the way you’re nuzzling into his neck is starting to make him feel a little warm.

Maybe he should have taken his jacket off and put it on top of your blanket.

They pass a herd of cows and Megumi can’t help the upward tug of his lips, remembering your excited squeals when they passed one earlier just an hour ago, chanting ‘Gumi look, Gumi look!’

“I see them,” he had said, more focused on readjusting your seat belt that had somehow unbuckled itself.

With a grin you pointed to a pair that was grazing near a patch of berry bushes. “Those two kind of look like us.”

He finally looks up after making sure you’re safely fastened, hand still softly resting on your waist.

“You’re right, one looks like it doesn’t even know it’s eating grass.”

The pleasant memory of your giggles are drowned out and he narrows his eyes as of course, Itadori and Nobara choose that moment to crank up the radio. It’s a band he never cared for, but remembers the name of along with the lyrics to a few songs because he knows they’re your favorite.

“Turn. It. Down.” Megumi mouths at them, but it’s too late and you’re already starting to blearily open your eyes. The boy that has you tucked beside him sighs in defeat.

On your side of the car, the sun is starting to set and it casts a soft, golden glow like a blanketed halo on your cheekbones down to the tip of your nose, to your cute lips. The rays caress your face in a way he only does in the privacy of his room, with you gently pinned underneath him.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Itadori grins, handing his phone to you. “Can you check if I’m going the right way real quick?”

You lean forward and blink against Megumi’s strong arm that’s suddenly in front of you, still half-asleep.

“Don’t tell her to do it, dipshit, she just woke up.” He glares at Itadori, taking the phone from him instead and taps the screen a few times. With his head leaning to the other side once he rests back into his seat, he wordlessly makes space for you to rest yours on his shoulder again and you do so happily.

“You were supposed to make a U-turn ten minutes ago.” Megumi deadpans as you yawn, still drowsy from your nap.

“Oh fuck.”

The four of you are finally at the picnic site, after what seems like driving for hours.

“Megumi!” You bound up to him like an overexcited puppy, and he bites back a laugh at your eagerness to show him whatever you found. “Close your eyes.”

If it was Itadori or Nobara, he would have definitely asked “Why?” before they pulled another one of their endless pranks on him but since it's you, he shuts them.

There’s a cool sensation that glides against his ear, and he realizes it’s a petal. You’re tucking a flower into his hair, you must’ve found it under the tree where they parked. His eyes flutter open and he’s met with your familiar, adoring stare that never fails to twist his stomach into knots.

“It’s a peach blossom. Pretty, um, like you.” You mumble, suddenly shy as he gazes down at you with the barest hint of a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

No one’s around, Itadori and Nobara have long gone to find the perfect spot to set down the blanket, and Megumi brushes a quick kiss to your temple.

“Thank you.”

The peace of the afternoon is short lived when he walks with you to meet up with Nobara and Itadori, who have somehow attracted a group of ducks from the nearby pond. One nips at Itadori’s butt, who narrowly manages to dodge it while Nobara is holding her Balenciaga purse high out of the feathered menaces reaches. “Stop that, this was almost two hundred thousand yen!”

Megumi rolls his eyes and barely manages to stifle a snort. He holds your own purse that he’s been carrying this whole time steady for you as you dig into it and whip a paper grocery bag out.

“I have lettuce, don't worry guys!”

His midnight blue eyes glint with fondness as they follow your figure when you bend down to feed the ducks and kindly lead them away from the food that’s sprawled out on the picnic blanket, talking to them like you would with a baby kitten.

Oh he’s going to kiss you breathless later.

Nobara and Itadori nearly fall to your feet. “Our savior!” They cry in unison and you laugh, patting them both on the back. Your best friend then gets up and smacks Itadori with the side of her bag.

“I told you we should have left the chips in the car! Those ducks could have choked to death and it’d all be your fault.”

Your other best friend pouts. “But they were pizza flavored, I wanted to savor them under the flowers!”

“Ew.” Nobara says, already shoving one of them in her mouth, and she holds another chip up to your lips for you to try. “They taste gross, right?”

You chew thoughtfully, and sneak your hand into the open bag to get a few to feed Megumi. “Hm. Could be better.”

“Yeah it's kind of lacking,” Megumi says, his soft lips brushing against your fingers as he takes his another cautious bite.

“Don’t you three say that with your mouth full!”

─────────

So the car got towed.

Gojo’s fuming and Megumi’s pretty sure he’s going to try grounding the four of you, but with a simple bribe of his favorite zunda and cream kikufuku courtesy of your culinary skills his forgiveness is easily attainable.

He absentmindedly wonders if you knead the delicious dough you make from scratch the same way you randomly pinch his cheeks.

The glow of the passing streetlights behind him reflects in your eyes like a thousand tiny, shooting stars and when he looks into them he swears he can see the Milky Way. They’re fighting to stay open after you tiredly slump onto the train’s last empty seat, sandwiched between Nobara and Itadori’s already dozing forms who were scrolling through nail art ideas with you just moments before as he occasionally made comments when you prompted him to, “Would look cute on you” and “That color’s nice” falling from his lips. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“Gumi…” You softly murmur and his head perks up.

“Yeah?” He leans in closer to hear you, and bites back a chuckle as you mumble something unintelligible. “It’s okay, go to sleep. I’ll stand here and watch you guys.”

“M’kay. ‘Night ‘night, love you.” Is all you whisper before passing out.

“I love you too,” Megumi mutters under his breath, low enough so that it falls on no one else’s ears in the car. You can’t hear him because you fell asleep before you could, but he doesn’t care, he says it anyway and hopes that as his words linger in the air it brings you sweet dreams.

He notices the faint goosebumps on your thighs and takes off his jacket in one swift motion to cover your lap. You’re wearing a shorter skirt than usual today, and like hell he’d let you freeze because of the train’s air conditioning.

His burning eyes flick up from your unaware, adorably blissful face to shoot a scathing glare at the man who’s been glancing your way since you got on the train, and steps closer to shield you entirely from his view. The intimidated stranger looks away quickly, and a small, victorious smirk makes it way across his lips.

That’s right you were his girl, and he’s going to make damn sure everyone knows that.

[violetmatcha]

But in your dreams, whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me

4,194 words

Author's note: Hi! This is my first attempt at writing in about a decade, so I'll take any feedback. I wrote it for @itsagoodluckkiss but there is no identifying description in the text. Enjoy :)

Fic: 3rd person pov, Zoro x F!reader, Zoro's pov, no use of "you" or "y/n", fluff.

Zoro emerges from a nap but keeps his eyes shut. The sun warms his skin, the wind alleviates the heat, the hug is soft and loving. The hug? Zoro looks down. Their bodies are entangled, she is sleeping still. When did that happen? Zoro has no recollection of before the nap, he freezes so that his shock does not wake her. When did they grow so close? Was it an accident? Should he wake her up? She looks comfortable, a content smile drawn on her lips. Zoro forces his muscles to relax one by one, breathing steadily. Since he could not move without waking her up, he’d simply wait.

Zoro wakes up. It was a dream. Of course it was just a dream. The heat is too high in the crow’s nest, he needs air. His heart is loud in his ears but his pace is steady. Why did he dream of her? And why like that? There has never been more between them than the fraternal respect that naturally forms between crewmates.

When he reaches the kitchen he hesitates, her laugh bounces off the walls joyfully. He needs a drink, but he doesn't want to cross her path for now. But why would he avoid her? It was only a dream, it’s between him and his subconscious. He resumes his march, grabs a glass and a bottle.

“Hey Zoro, are you up to train me for a bit today? I want to work on my-”

“I’m busy today.” he cuts her off.

“Okay, no problem!” she turns back to Robin, her mind already off the topic.

He finds himself a corner, gulps down the sake, and lies down. No, sleeping is not the best idea. Images of his dream flash before his eyes. The sweet warmth fills his lungs and sits within his throat. He does not need this. Not right now. He has a dream to fulfill and a captain to support. And a crew. And she’s in this crew as well. She’ll be at his side until they win over the world.  

Maybe.

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. Maybe it would be nice, later, when they have fulfilled their goals, when they have less pressing problems to deal with. Or maybe she has no interest in him, and she will turn to someone else. Zoro takes a deep breath. His mind is racing, he needs to still his thoughts. Meditation seems to be the best option.

*

Zoro has been acting douchey lately. Hot or cold. He can’t help it, he’s troubled.  She does seem to have noticed, or if she has, she does not say anything, but her eyes follow his trail with concern. She knows not to force a discussion with him, but his withdrawal leaves her chest hollow.

He can’t ask Luffy for his opinion on the matter, he would announce it to the whole sea within minutes. He would rather die by his hand than to ask the shitty cook for his opinion on the matter. He cannot trust Nami or Robin not to tell her if he goes to them. This is a dead end, and a frustrating one. He cannot force his way out of this.

He must get rid of the image. It’s not even feelings, it’s just images! And sensations. A deep breath that reaches every cell in the body. A cloud of mist under the midday rays of sun. Warmth, serenity, repose. His palms cover his face with a grunt. Chopper, who witnessed his turmoil, approaches him.

“Hey Zoro! Do you want to play pirates with me?”

“We are pirates Chopper.” a small smile breaches his face.

“Yea, you’re right.” Chopper looks down in embarrassment. “But we can play robots!”

“You should ask Luffy for that.” he responds gently.

“Well, uh, I wanted to do something with you because you’re different than you usually are. Are you hurt? Do you drink enough water? You know that alcohol dehydrates you so you need to be careful!” the little one lets his thoughts flow out. What about your sleep, are you training too hard, are you feeling under the weather… That’s his ticket. The problem is, indeed, his sleep.

 “I have trouble getting restful sleep.” Zoro confides.

“I can help with that! I have some medicine that you can take. Now follow me to the infirmary, I will ask you some questions…” Zoro tunes out the sound. He has found his saving grace.

His saving grace did let him sleep more, but it certainly did not erase the memories of the dream. In fact, it has given his brain more time to fabricate intricate dreams of how this love must feel. He did not know that his brain had retained so much needless information. The hairdo that she always does when it’s windy. The faint smell of salt in her hair. The hue that paints her cheeks when a fire is crackling in front of her.

His dreams are so frustrating, he can’t go back now. There is a growing restlessness, it fills his body and mind. Each dream feeds it. He can’t ignore her when he knows exactly what he could be entertaining. That is, if she is into him at all. He can’t risk too much, the dynamics in the crew are the priority. He paces, his gaze intently fixed on the waves. Is a storm about to take place? He tries to find Nami, his eyes trip on her.

 “Hey, you know where Nami is?” his voice tries to reach her through the noise of the waves.

“No, sorry. Do you need something?” she inquires. He was about to go look for her when he pauses. He made up his mind, that starts now.

“I think the weather is about to get violent, I wanted to check with her.”

“I can find her for you, if you wish.”

“Sure.” He did not need it, but he accepted. If she wanted to help, he would always let her.

The storm is rough, the waves are forceful, and the clouds ate away the sun. The crew was prepared, working as one to push through with the least amount of damage possible. Zoro is pulling on a rope. He cannot see much around him; the rain clouds his vision. Each crew member is an ant trying to protect the rest of the colony. There are shouts here and there, orders, responses, cries for help and requests for assistance. This one is tough, the worst one in a while. Zoro’s mind wanders. Is she safe? What is she working on? He has not crossed paths with her since they talked. He hopes she is inside, dry, warm and safe.

The rope slips, Zoro quickly grips it and pulls firmly. Luffy tells him to pay attention with a laugh. Sanji’s voice calls to the crew, one of the rope tore, the barrels are rolling around and crashing into everything. Seeing that Zoro and Luffy are busy, he calls for Franky. Franky’s enthusiastic voice booms, he is working with Sanji to immobilize everything.

“I brought more ropes!” she tries to find Franky through the rain and wind.

“Get inside you’re going to catch a cold.” Zoro spoke before thinking. She walks towards him. She is looking at him keenly. “What?” Zoro says curtly. She smiles and walks away, guided by Franky’s piercing voice.

The storm is far from showing any signs of weakening. It feels like the crew has been running around, tying ropes, holding on to stuff for hours. Zoro knows that muscles are starting to burn and stamina is running low among the crew. Usopp and chopper are calling for help on his left. Nami is growing frustrated at her inability to find a way out of the storm as the winds and currents are hectic.

“Franky! Do you have any idea of how to get out of this?” she inquires.

“No! The barrels of cola are super shaken up by the storm.” he pauses to nail down a chair. “It’s too unstable to risk a coup de burst!”

“Fuck!” Nami rages.

A loud thud makes the wooden planks vibrate.  Then another. “Ow! You ok miss?” Franky asks.

“Shit, uh, I need help.” her voice reaches Franky and Zoro. She is very calm, that triggers an alarm in Zoro’s mind.

“Franky can you hold this?” Zoro asks “I’ll check on her.” Franky responds with a thumbs up. Zoro reaches his target rapidly, guided by her curses.

“How the hell did you end up like that?” he reproaches.

“My arms were shaking so I tied the rope around my hips to use my weight to hold it down,” she states in a matter-of-fact way, as if that was the most logical decision to make, “everything is so slippery because of the rain.”

“That’s dumb and dangerous you could end up overboard or break your spine. I’ll hold the rope while you get out.” he pauses, “I told you to go inside.”

A sudden gust of wind cuts him off as her body slammed into the railings. He rushes to get a hold of the rope. The raindrops feel like needles. She fumbles with the rope, but it does not loosen around her. Zoro switches strategy. He positions himself behind her, places his arms around her and pulls at the rope so it doesn’t strangle her. He hooks his ankles between the bars of the railings and drops them both to the ground, holding steady. “Oh so using our weight was a good strategy huh?” she laughs. Zoro chuckles.

“Should I let you fly around around like a bannerflag maybe?” he humors.

“I have to admit I’m much more comfortable with this configuration.”

Zoro clears his throat, “You should really try to get out of this rope, it restricts your blood circulation.”

She lets go of the rope to reach down to her belt. “I have my dagger I can cut it off.” She does so swiftly. “Uh, I’ll wait for a moment of respite to run inside.” Zoro hums in response, his eyes are fixated on the rope.

*

After the storm died down Sanji gets to cooking a warming meal. Everyone is huddled together in the common room, wrapped in blankets and towels. The small smile  from earlier is still stuck on her face. Zoro is staring and he knows it. He can’t help but think about this smile. What does it mean? It doesn’t look like she’s mocking him. Is she happy because of what he said? Has she understood? What is there to understand? Robin silently sits down near him, interrupting his thoughts:

“She is relieved because you had been distant for a while.”

“Has Sanji told you what we are eating tonight?” Zoro tries to act indifferent.

“No, but she told me that you talked to her multiple times today.” Robin responds.

Zoro looks at Robin, not hiding his surprise. Robin laughs. She opens a book and dives into it. Zoro waits for more information, but he refuses to ask. Robin does not budge. Sanji brings her tea and tells him to stop annoying such a precious lady. Zoro does not respond to him. He downs his drink, looking at the wall. He clears his mind, focusing on the patterns in the wood. His body, however, does not let him forget what is happening. His heart is beating loudly, his mouth is dry.

Diner is ready. He gets up and finds a seat mechanically.  He tunes out the conversations around him and focuses on the food. A bottle enters his field of view. His gaze follows the bottle, the hand, the arm, up to the face.

“Do you want some wine? It’s a dry white wine from the last island.” she says gently.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you. Do you like it?” Zoro’s voice is soft and ponderous.

“Yes” she says eagerly, “I think it might be among my favorites actually.”

“Then I have to try it.” He says with a soft smile.

She must have drunk a few glasses already because her cheeks are red. Her smile is big, it crosses her face with no restraint. He picks up his drink and tastes it, his eyes still on her as she waits for his opinion.

“Too sweet for me but still pretty good.” He tries to hide a smirk.

“Sorry it’s not one of your throat-burning brews.” She says with a laugh.

It’s sweet, it’s easy, it’s almost natural. It’s the right choice, Zoro realizes. He basks in this decision, content. The meal is entertaining, they fall back into their usual banter.

*

Zoro had though that making the decision to pursue her was the most difficult step, but he was deeply mistaken. The most difficult part is to make her understand that he likes her. She is sweet and openly affectionate but oh so stubborn in her willful blindness. Over the previous weeks Zoro has done more to show her kindness than in their whole shared time as crewmates. Of course, she was happy now that he was close to her again, truly a ray of sunshine. But alas she did not seem to get the hints. He had chatted with Robin, trying to fish for information on how she viewed their relationship, how she felt, anything. But Robin had told him in mysterious terms that he would have to navigate these waters on his own.

As frustration was building up, he trained harder than ever before. The effort was so tasking that he could not spare a thought on anything else. But Zoro had not though about the repercussions of his actions and seeing him work so hard worried her. She checked on him frequently, day after day, brought him snacks, water and whatever she thought could be helpful to him. She did so in silence, she did not burden him with dialogue, she was just there. This made the situation impossibly hard to bear for Zoro, who did not know how to manage this new routine.

One day, as he was on watch, he had an epiphany. He could not treat this like it was a battle. He was trying to win her over, not to win against her. He did not have to fight against her presence in his thoughts. He did not need to dominate the dynamic. He could invite her presence, or, at least, go with the flow of things. She had shown that she was loyal to him whether he isolated himself, whether he pushed her away or whether he welcomed her companionship. Had he shown her even a fraction of this faith? To him it was obvious that he loved his crew deeply, and that he felt something else for her. But she never took people’s affection for granted.

She cherished the pieces of evidence that people loved her, he could see it daily. When the cook makes a nice dish for her, she always makes sure to compliment it, pointing out specific things she particularly likes. When Nami braids her hair, she keeps them until they are falling apart. She reads every book that Robin has suggested to her, always providing a summary of what she liked about it. Anything that is said or done for her she keeps close to her heart. After this realization, Zoro decided to show his fondness in a way that would be tangible for her.

                Over the following days Zoro accepted every one of her offers to train together. She was delighted. They sparred, he corrected her posture, they trained, he provided her with advice. This change of attitude did not go unnoticed by most inhabitants of the Sunny, but they did not make any comment. The mealtimes were the slightest bit more joyful and colors a tad more intense. Her smile kept on appearing behind his closed eyelids, but his naps became enjoyable once again.

*

“We will be at the port in twenty minutes, everyone regroup on deck!” Nami’s voice echoes. The crew forms a circle. Of course, Luffy wants to explore the mountains at the heart of the island. Chopper needs medical supplies and Sanji is writing a list of everything that needs to be restocked. “We’re going to draw two names from this hat, that will be the people who go with Luffy.” Nami states. Brook and Sanji. Great, they are less likely to lose him. Franky wants to stay on the boat to work on some things. Robin wants to go shopping for books and clothes, Nami is in.

“What are you planning to do?” Zoro turns to the woman at his left.

“Since Sanji is on Luffy duty I think I will do the food shopping. What about you?”

“I’ll come along; we’ll be able to carry more stuff.” Zoro replicates.

“Can I come too? I need to find some herbs and wound dressing.” Chopper’s light voice intervenes.

“Of course! Let me ask Nami for the Berries and Sanji for the list.” She smiles to the doctor and leaves swiftly. Usopp told them that he could not help them carry the stocks because he had a mission of primary importance and left in a hurry.

Their stroll around the farmer’s market is pleasant. There are plenty of fruits and vegetables, local specialties, trinkets and whatnot. Zoro buys violet sweets for Chopper. She stops in front of a stand. It sells fruits and flowers. Zoro is not sure of what she is looking at.

“You want to buy flowers?”

“Oh no, I am tempted to buy peaches. They are not on the list but one of my favorites ever is a peach pastry. It is a fond childhood memory. Do you think the crew would like it if I cooked it for all of us? It probably won’t be as good as Sanji’s cooking but-”

“Well, I want to try it.” Zoro cuts her off. Chopper nods energetically. She smiles and hollers at the vendors for a bunch of peaches. Afterwards they stop to rest on a bench as Chopper licks at a white peach ice cream that the owner of the previous stand gifted to him. They have so much to carry already but they are not nearly finished with the list. They will have to come back tomorrow. As they are quietly enjoying the scenery, a booming voice catches their attention. “Oi! Zoro!” a hand grasps his arm and pulls him out of his tranquility. He looks at her with big eyes, he opens his mouth to try to speak but it’s too late. He still catches sight and sound of her laughing at the captain’s antics.

*

As the sky’s hue reaches the darker blues, Zoro appears on the Sunny tired, hungry and slightly annoyed at he and his captain’s inability to find their way around. He finds the crew seated around a large meal. They are eating crepes with chocolate. Shit, that wont be enough. He mechanically takes a seat at the corner.

“I made you a plate, are you hungry? I wasn’t sure if you liked the sour or the spicy ones so I put both.”

He gives her a soft smile as a thank you. Brook brings him a beer. With great difficulty because his mouth is full, Luffy recounts the events of the day to the crew. Chopper wants to have a joke contest, Luffy, Franky and Brook celebrate the idea. Usop ask who would like to play some strategy game with him.

“I’m down to play! I can play chess and Go.”

Usopp sits down opposite of Zoro with a game set. Chess. Not the easiest game but fun.  The two players have similar levels. Sanji offers wine to everyone.

“I can’t I’m on watch next rotation.”

The game is tense and interesting. Usopp is very focused. She makes her move. No, she made a mistake. Usopp had laid a bait, and she walked straight into it. Usopp moves his rook thus confirming that he was baiting her. She reflects on what to do, unsure.

“Move the knight in C4.” Zoro mumbles.

After some hesitations she does.

“Zoro don’t help her it’s not fair!” Usopp protests vividly.

“Usopp that can help you get better; we obviously don’t have the same level!” she counters with a devious smile.

“Oh, well, uhhh, Sure! Two people is not even enough to be a struggle for the Great Usopp.”

“Guess we’re a team now.” She winks at Zoro.

The game is lively, Usopp narrates his moves like a war novel. After the third game in a row Robin comes back from her watch, signaling that it’s the next person’s turn. Usopp asks her to play, she obliges and takes the now vacant seat facing him.

*

Later in the night, Zoro grabs two bottles and sets off to join her. The night is extremely calm, so much so that the stars are reflected in the calm waters of the sea. The moon is almost full and its light gives an eerie ambiance to the night. She does not seem surprised to see him as he enters the crow’s nest.

“White wine and gin” he tells her as he put the bottles down.

“I’m on watch” she hesitates.

“I took the next rotation from Robin and your watch ends in less than an hour. There’s no way I’ll drink a whole bottle of this syrup.”

“It’s not syrup,” she fakes indignation, “okay I’ll join you.” Her smile can be heard in her voice. “The sky is absolutely beautiful; it feels like we’re among the stars.”

Zoro stares at her as she watches the view. “Yea, beautiful.”

The silence is comfortable, it is full of unshared thoughts and unacknowledged emotions. As they make their way through their respective bottles they begin to chat. The conversation flows easily, it goes from one topic to the next naturally. They laugh a lot, they share bits of the times they have lived before they joined. They make up associations between their crew members and random elements. They discuss fighting styles they’d love to try out.

Hours pass by and timid rays of sunlight start to appear. Engrossed in their conversation, they do not hear Usopp as he makes his way up for his watch shift. They decide to stay and watch the sunrise with Usopp as he makes up epic stories of his adventures fighting the sky to liberate an island from the torments of an eternal night.

They eventually make their way down to breakfast, lingering around, basking in the ease, the joy, the admiration of one another. Nothing can reach them, not the cook’s snide remarks or the list of the duties of the day. The fatigue is starting to eat at their brains, but they don’t want the night to end. Ultimately, duty calls and their idyllic hours come to an end. Before they part, she looks him in the eye, a stare that is full of hope and affection. He grants her a tender smile.

After his training Zoro heads to a calm spot to take a nap. As he embraces his slumber, he hears someone approaching.

“Zoro, do you mind sharing your nap spot? Usopp and luffy are having an improvised concert with Brooke.” she speaks in a low voice.

He gestures for her to come. She lies down. She moves around, trying to find a comfortable position.

“You can rest your head on me.” He grumbles. She does so without hesitation, resting her head on his torso. Sleep comes to them quickly. They frequently wake for a short amount of time as the other moves around. After a while Zoro emerges from his sleep. He looks at her, observing that she is using his arm as a pillow. He rolls over to his side.

“Do you want your arm back?” her sleepy voice asks. His only answer is that he puts his remaining arm around her, bringing their bodies closer in a hugging motion. “I guess that’s a no.” she giggles softly. He smiles. After a few heartbeats he deposits a kiss on the back of her head. She laces their hands together. The slippage of their friendship into something else feels natural to Zoro.

He puts an end to his meditations as she turns around to face him. When he opens his eye she greets him with a smile. She timidly places a small kiss on the tip of his nose. He laughs warmly. Before his brain has the chance to, his body makes the decision to grab the side of her face. He looks her in the eye, waiting for confirmation that this really is what she wants as well. The embers glowing in her gaze confirmed what he already knew. He deposits a soft kiss on her lips. Then another on her forehead. They join each other again in a feverish embrace. They settle into another sleeping arrangement, Zoro on his back with his lover in his arms, her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so happy.” She hums.

“A dream come true.” He muses.

[olderthannetfic]

Writing about my favorite characters as transgender has opened my eyes to how many people in fandom are able to get away with actual transphobia without other people judging them for it, and after one particularly bad experience I feel like I can't participate in fandom without constantly having to check people's profiles and social media to see whether or not they might secretly hate trans people. The fandom I currently write for is relatively small compared to others, but somehow I still manage to catch a lot of casual transphobia, especially on my higher-kudos'd works. This didn't really bother me at first since most of the comments were misinformed but rather harmless otherwise, with most asking me to write a fic where the MC medically transitions to become their "real gender" as a sequel. Those comments were written politely, but the sentiment that a person's body designates their gender bothered me a lot. I specifically present the trans characters in my fics as pre-op or non-op without dysphoria in order to feel more comfortable about my own body, and I'm really tired of reiterating the reasons why I personally won’t create a fic where the MC undergoes a full medical transition. I would be thrilled if someone else wrote that, but it’s not a concept I have any interest in executing myself.

Usually the casual transmedicalism in my comments is my only real gripe about the attitudes towards transness in my fandom, but recently I joined a major fandom discord server and found out that they had a dedicated thread for bashing my work. (Well, to be more accurate they had a bunch of threads for bashing people's works, but mine had the most messages at the time.) I should have just left at that point, but I was curious to see if there was any valid criticism because honestly I don’t get a lot of constructive feedback on my newer stuff and I wanted to see if there was anywhere I could improve. Unfortunately, it was almost entirely just really hurtful comments, with many people making assumptions about my body and offline identity, calling me a fake trans person and a chaser for the things I've written. They kept going on about how I'm fetishizing transness, how I probably just wanted an excuse to write het smut with an M/M tag on it, how I'm probably not actually a trans man but an obsessed and misguided teenage girl instead. I've been on T for over two years now, but even if I wasn’t, their belief that all bodies like mine are basically "female" was really upsetting. Maybe I just happened to stumble upon a bad crowd, but at that moment I just really felt alone. I never expected to receive that kind of vitriol in such a small fandom - I have maybe like five or so people who follow my work closely, so it's not like I'm hitting super big numbers compared to others. I understand that my work might be dysphoria-inducing for other people, but I include warnings for language at the beginning of all my fics and I'm extremely thorough about tagging all the sex acts that take place. It's easy to filter out my work via additional tags if you don’t want to see it. But no matter how many measures I take to make others feel more comfortable, they still feel like I'm taking up too much space and mucking up the tags with my fanfiction.

Part of me feels like quitting after this experience, but I'm also a spiteful bastard and I think it would haunt me forever if I stopped now lol. I'm curious to know if you or any of your followers has ever dealt with a similar situation (as in, finding out there's a bunch of people who hate your work for shitty reasons), and if you have advice on how to continue interacting with others in fandom without constantly wondering if they hate me behind closed doors. I left the server already but I'm sure there's other things I can do that I'm forgetting. Thanks for reading!!

--

There will always be people who dislike you for silly reasons, and if your fic is popular, there will be a lot of them. The only way to deal with it is to just accept that this is normal and not think about them.

[mattybbernard]

Casual (Matt Sturniolo)

Pairing: Fwb!Matt x Fem!Reader

Summery: Based on “Casual” by Chappell Roan

Warnings: smut (MDNI), p in v, fingering, oral (f!receiving), squirting, public sex, car sex, swearing and strong language, filthy dirty talk, breeding kink, afab reader, no use of Y/N, use of random names (feel free to change it idrc), maybe more?

A/N: Erm, hey y’all, this is my first fic ever as well as my first time writing smut so please be kind. I’m also terrible at grammar and spelling and I wrote this in one sitting. I also did not proofread this so….have fun?

My friends call me a loser, 'cause I'm still hanging around. I've heard so many rumours, that I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch. I thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose. You said, "We're not together", so now when we kiss, I have anger issues.

Three hours. Matt had texted you three hours ago and of course you replied right away, but he’s yet to read it.

Girls night at Payton’s house was supposed to be fun, a way to kick off summer by relaxing and drinking and gossiping. All of your friends who had gone off the college or university had come back to Boston for the summer, and you had taken the weekend off from your shitty waitressing job to spend time with them; but of course your focus was pulled away from your friends, and by Matt of all people. When your and Matt’s relationship went from a simple platonic friendship to something messier you had immediately told Peyton, to which she said that you’re way to beautiful and intelligent to be in a situationship of all things, especially at your age.

You looked down at your phone,

Read,

Peyton sat down beside you with a drink in her hands. “What’s going on with you?” She asked.

“Nothing.” You huffed and flopped back against the couch like a child.

“Don’t tell me you’re still talking to Matt.” Payton scolded.

“It’s not like I want to! He won’t go away!” Peyton gave you an unimpressed and unconvinced look. “Okay, so maybe I am. So what?”

“Babe, how many times have I told you, he’s a loser who refuses to see the gorgeous girl right in front of him. Drop him.” Peyton sighed.

“It’s not that easy-”

“Not to be bitchy or anything, but the more you cling onto this mess, the more of a loser you become.” Peyton cut you off before standing up to let her words sink in.

You said, "Baby, no attachment", but we're knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out, is it casual now?

“Jesus! Fuck!” You cried out as the hand that isn’t in Matt’s hair flies back to grasp at the headrest in his car.

“That feel good baby?” Matt mumbles again your exposed heat, before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit again.

A mess of jumbled syllables tumbles from your mouth along with a string of whimpers and moans. Matt’s hands keep a firm grip on the inside of your thighs, pushing them open for him as he sits on his heels on the dirty floor of the passenger’s side, as you stay sitting and spread out for him on the leather seat.

“Ugh, fuck you taste so good.” He groans as he likes a hard flat stripe from your hole to your puffy nub. His tongue instantly enters you at a rapid and aggressive pace. “C’mon baby, I know you’re close.”

“Mhm. Fuck.” You mumble from above him.

“I know baby, I know.” He coos as he switches from tongue fucking you to his fingers, the cold rings on his hands sending goosebumps up your ass and back. “Gonna cum for me?”

All you could do was nod your head, eyes closed and mouth clamped shut in ecstasy.

“Do it, c’mon, fucking cum all over me.” He egg’s you on.

The second he feels you stiffen and your legs begin to shake and tremble, he rips his fingers from your entrance. A stream of clear liquid gushes out of you and onto Matt’s face. The moans you let out at the sight of him opening his mouth to catch your release are borderline pornographic. His right hand comes up to your mound and he quickly brushes his fingers over you, causing the liquid to splatter across his face and the interior of his car.

“Fuck.” He grumbles and slurps up the puddle of liquid that remains on your pussy. “Atta girl.” He chuckles before placing a firm slap to your red and sensitive centre.

“Ah, fuck. Jesus Christ, Matt.” You scolded him as you sit up.

“You wanna come in?” He ignores your glare.

“Aren’t your parents and brothers home?”

“Yeah, so? They know we’re friends.” Matt shrugs as if he didn’t just finger fuck your brains out and then call you his friend.

It's hard being casual when my favorite bralette is in your dresser.

You sat against Matts headboard, his childhood sheets clutched in your hands to cover your naked body. It was early, about seven am, but you couldn’t be here when his family got up, you knew the rules.

You reached down to grab your underwear and sweat pants off Matts floor and began to slip them on as quietly as possible so you didn’t wake him up. You stood up and grabbed your shirt off the floor and bringing it up to cover your bare chest as you searched for your favourite bralette. You couldn’t find it at your apartment and the only other logical place it could be is in Matts room. As you tiptoed around his room to try and find it you landed on his dresser, quickly running over to it you pulled the top drawer out and began digging, and low and behold your baby blue bralette sat crumpled at the bottom of his sock drawer. Throwing the bra on, followed by your t-shirt and shoes, you stumbled out his room and left his house.

He said we were friends. You thought. But he kept my favourite bralette?

I know what you tell your friends. Baby, get me off again.

You’re pathetic. Why on earth would anyone with the littlest shred of self respect spend their day off texting a guy who clearly has no interest in her besides getting in her pants? Apparently you would.

All day you had been sending texts to Matt, and every time he left you on read.

“Haven’t spoken to u in a while.”

“U good?”

“Did you want to go see a movie later? I heard that new Deadpool Vs. Wolverine movie is supposed to be good.”

“Matt?”

“Matthew?”

Not a single reply until now. Desperate to see him you texted him the one thing you knew he couldn’t pass up.

“Miss u. U free tn?”

Not even a second later his reply came in.

“Be here in 10.”

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner. Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter.

You looked at yourself in the dirty restaurant bathroom mirror, leaning on your hands that rested on the sink. With a deep sigh you reached into your purse to pull out your lipgloss, but right as you finished reapplying the product the bathroom door swung open. Assuming it was just another girl who needed to pee, you didn’t look at who entered. That is until you saw Matt appear in the mirror behind you.

“What the-” you began but was interrupted by Matt kissing you deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist so he could grip your ass.

“Matt.” You gasped between kisses. “This-” his mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw. “This is the ladies room.” You whimpered as he began to suck at your neck. “You can’t…you can’t be in here. Someone will-”

“It’s a good thing I locked the door then.” He smirked before lifting you of the ground and placing you on the sink.

He kissed you again and slipped a cold hand under your black t-shirt as the other ones tried to go up your red maxi skirt .

“Why’s your skirt so god damn long?” Matt huffed in frustration.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t wanna have my ass hanging out in front of your parents.” You sassed.

Matt rolled his eyes as he continued to try and yank your skirt up.

“You’re not seriously gonna fuck me in gin a public bathroom.”

“God, do you ever stop complaining?” He groaned

“Whatever.” You mumbled and lifted you hips to help him pull your skirt up all the way. Matt unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and boxers down his legs enough for his dick to spring free. He shifted your underwear to the side and slid in.

“Fucked you a hundred times and you’re still so tight.” He hissed out.

“Feels so good Matt.” You moan as your body curled forward until your forehead met his shoulder.

“I know baby.” He cooed as he began to snap his hips into yours faster. “Gotta be quick, don’t want people to get suspicious do we?” He panted into your ear.

You shook your head and whimpered, your release quickly approaching.

“Ugh, fuck. That’s it, holy shit.” Matt babbled to himself, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the sink, his head flung back in pleasure. “Gonna fucking cum in your perfect pussy.”

Your legs wrapped around his hips, locking him in place as you began to tremble.

“That’s it baby, let it all out.” He grumbled as he pushed you over the edge. Matt’s hips began to stutter as his thrusts became uneven and erratic until he stilled, dick buried to the hilt as he filled you up with his release.

You both sat there catching your breath for a minute, Matt’s dick still wedged in your warm walls. Matt suddenly pulled his now soft dick out of you and grabbed some paper towels to wipe both yours and his cum off of himself. He threw the paper towel out and picked up his boxers and pants, he fastened his belt before turning back to you, still perched on the sink with his thick white release beginning to ooze out of you. Matt walked over, fixed your panties, pulled your skirt back down, and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Thats my girl.” He smiled before leaving the restroom to return to the table where his family awaited both of your returns.

“Casual my ass.” You scoffed.

[euphoricfilter]

For the drabble game could you write fluff with youtuber bf jk ? I am not creative so I couldn’t think of a sentence sorry😭 but maybe he does one of those 24hr streams, I love your writing!

youtuber boyfriend! kook headcanons:

tags/ warnings: none. just a lot of fluff and feelings <3

notes: when i got sent this idea ages ago i got so excited. and i wrote three fics for it but hated them all and then made sure they were to never see the light of day. so my solution is to write some cute boyfriend headcanons instead to make up for it!! simply because i absolutely love this idea and i need to write anything for it to sate the need within me.

notes 2: this got slightly longer than i’d intended LMAO sorry 🕺

𓇻 i feel like jungkook’s channel has a plethora of videos, though he specializes in gaming.

𓇻 its probably one of his biggest passions. though i do see him dabbling in commentary, or even review type videos. maybe he’s a bit of a collector as well and goes on hour long rants about rare items or hauls of what he purchased over the years.

𓇻 i see the both of you probably meeting at one of those second-hand game and film stores.

𓇻 maybe you’re just milling around. more content to browse the movies than the games because you only own an old console (something cute like a nintendo DS) but they don’t really sell the game cards commercially anymore

𓇻 and jungkook loses track of why he was even there in the first place when he spots you. slowly scooting towards the corner you’re in.

𓇻 jungkook might not exactly believe in love at first sight, finds it a little hard to imagine loving someone so soon. but he definitely believes in destiny, even fate. and some small part of his mind had convinced him that surely this was just that.

𓇻 he’d be a bit shy about trying to approach you, mouth opening only for nothing to come out because what was he supposed to say? and maybe he accidentally startles you, offering to pay for the few dvds you had hugged to your chest as a lame sort of compensation

𓇻 he’d be the one to ask for your number, he’d be the first to text. you’d tell him later on it’s because you didn’t want to come off too head-strong. worried you’d scare him off messaging only hours after meeting. and then he’d tell you he had worried about the same thing

𓇻 jungkook wouldn’t straight out tell his audience he’d gotten into a relationship. it’s not that he was embarrassed about you, quite the opposite; he’d love to flaunt you to the world. it’s just he’d worry about the reaction from fans.

𓇻 he’d have a pretty hefty audience, a well established one even. and he wasn’t blind to the mean comments that would occasionally show up beneath videos or social media posts. he, himself, never found much issue in dealing with them, on occasion he’d get a little down but he knew that really he put himself up for this. he chose to show his face online, and with that would come some backlash. however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you or how shitty comments would effect your well being.

𓇻 definitely the “in a relationship but it’s private” sort of photos would slowly creep their way onto his IG posts. maybe of little date nights— candles on the table with a dinner you’d cooked together (2 glasses, 2 plates and 2 sets of cutlery), or your favorite cake he’d tried to bake himself with the lego flowers he’d spent the previous evening trying to make (because at least you could look at the lego ones forever and they wouldn’t die). or maybe even your hand snuck in a photo or simply your silhouette beneath a sunset.

𓇻 maybe a few of your own collectible items had made their way onto the shelf in his studio. an obvious beanbag in the corner (you’d often sit there and read as he went through emails or scripted videos). valentines cards that he’d never thought to take down, or posters of yours that never exactly fit in the bedroom

𓇻 it would become apparent that he was in a long-term relationship when he’d film a moving video. so much of your stuff mingled with his own, split seconds of the shared rooms he’d add to the video before showing his audience his new office space. the extra shoes and cute little additions to his home; soft cushions on the couch, ceramics you’d begged him to buy. your hoard of plushies that took up half the bed or the stupid amount of skin care products stacked up in the bathroom. all a sure way of telling his fans that he was serious about you, even if they had no idea of your name or face

𓇻 maybe with enough comments he’d make a little announcement at the end of a video.

𓇻 “i know you’ve all probably guessed by now, but i am in fact, in a relationship”

𓇻 and then proceeded to talk about you for 7 minutes because really he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. and truthfully he never knew when to shut up when it came to you, not when you were what’s on his mind most of the time. he’d tell them how you’d met, and how he had been absolutely enamored by you almost instantly. he’d show everyone the matching bracelets you’d made. grinning as he showed off the receipt he’d kept in his wallet from your first date together at a small cafe in town, mentioning how he kept a baby photo of you in the back of his phone too.

𓇻 the first time you’d show up in a video, he’d plan for the both of you to do some crafts together one afternoon. a hobby you’d been trying over the last couple of weeks, and jungkook liked to indulge you. loved to watch you sprawled across the floor of an evening with glue coating your fingers and way too much glitter imbedded in the carpet.

𓇻 he’d have been worried at first. asking you over and over if it was truly okay for you to be on camera, and after your reassured him with a kiss, he’d settle down slightly. though his anxiety had still clung to him, eyes flitting your way throughout the afternoon

𓇻 he could tell how shy you’d been, and had reassured you that really you didn’t even need to address the audience. he’d do all the silly little things you giggled at him for. and all you had to do was sit there and be pretty for him. you’d been a lot quieter than usual; itching to give him a kiss each time he was just so awfully jungkook. eyes like those of galaxies when he got something right, or the happiest smile on his face when you asked him for help

𓇻 the day he did a 24 hour charity stream would be when his audience sees you the most. milling around the house, making sure your boyfriend was fed and watered. maybe even sitting down and reading the chat when he wanted to shower. or answering questions while perched on his lap. he’d want to smother you with even more love when you’d catch his eye— a silent question if you were doing okay, that you answered all the questions correct. and he’d squeeze your thigh in reassurance, head resting over your shoulder as he listened to your voice, humming to let you know he was still listening

𓇻 you’d startle him at 4am, a little pouty that you’d had to fall asleep alone. dragging a chair from the kitchen to sit on as you watch him play a game you’d never seen before.

𓇻 “go back to bed, baby” he’d coo, “you’ll fall asleep sitting up and get a bad back”

𓇻 and maybe after that he’s a lot more open to showing you on camera. filming you on beaches, eating cakes and ice creams from a million different restaurants or dancing around hotel rooms or sitting on the balcony with the sun warming your skin when he takes you on holiday. short films dedicated to you with your favorite songs playing in the background

𓇻 maybe he even makes a playlist on his youtube channel, titled “my love” for every video that he includes you in

𓇻 idk just very much in love boyfriend kook who wants the world to love you almost as much as he does (because in all honesty, no one would ever love you more than he does)

[villainofmyownstory]

Three copies and some signatures

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

I don't know I don't have an idea for a title, so I wrote anything. I know some people are waiting for the next part of Day Zero, I'm slowly writing the next chapter but need more time, but don't worry I didn't abandon it! I was motivated to write this thing by anon's shitty ask to @/rememberwren about “too many fics about Ghoap” lmao . So I also wrote something about Ghoap. Because WHY NOT? Aaaaand if you don't know Wren's wonderful work leave everything and go and read it -> HERE <3

I would like to write the next parts, but I can't promise anything.

tags: angst, hurt no comfort

don't know how to tag :< let me know what to add

______________________________________________________________

Of course it had to end this way.

It was more than certain that you would end up in this place eventually. With sweaty hands and a heart that was beating too fast and heavy. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened. Drops of sweat appeared every now and then on your heated forehead and you tried again and again to wipe them off. To dry your shiny skin at least for a while. At least look a little presentable.

The crumpled white shirt no longer looked like the one you had ironed for over an hour. Now crumpled and stained, it carelessly hugged your curvy body.

The chair creaked with your every move. Nervously every now and then you change positions as if at least the comfort of sitting would improve your situation.

More minutes pass and the door in front of you is still closed. The paint on them is coming off in some places, revealing the banal light-colored plywood. The entire anturage of this building cries out for renovation.

Despite the well-paid work of the people who work here, the base looks as if its glory years are long behind it and there are no funds to even refresh the walls. It's as if for at least 20 years no one has noticed the cracked walls, the paint falling off or the crooked fine wooden chairs.

Maybe it's just appearances.

You shift in your seat again. The creak of the wooden chair echoes through the empty and cold corridor. Despite the early hour of the day and the sun outside the windows, everything inside seems harsh and unfriendly. To your relief there are not many windows so the prevailing semi-darkness makes you feel marginally more at ease. At least a little anonymity. Maybe the small number of people who passed you walking through the corridor with a quick step won't remember you and when you leave these walls after all, no one will ever shout after you on the street. They won't associate you with this place. With him.

Only when that happens. When this hell will finally come to an end. How long will it be when you are free again? Because every doorbell ringing, every unfamiliar number on screen or finally an unfamiliar customer at work looking at you for too long. It won't all cause that nervousness, that cursed lump in your throat and more gray hairs on your head. Every fucking minute spent in fear.

Someone will finally find out.

Reasons.

Everyone has some. Everyone has a story, some problems, something that makes them look for solutions. The question is whether it was worth it to risk so much. Whether committing a crime was worth it to choose to live here. To continue living in this country.

To be alive.

In the distance you can hear someone's conversation, laughter interspersed with words. Empty corridors carry sounds that ring in your ears, but everything blends into an incomprehensible cacophony of sounds. Into one piece.

You know that resounding, hearty laughter well.

You have heard it many times.

The melody, once heard, is forever imprinted in your memory.

Rhythmically approaching footsteps, voices are getting louder. Two people.

They are close.

The danger makes you feel trapped. Like an injured prey caught in a trap on a hunt.

You nervously look around looking for any way to escape. However, the only way to get out of this place is through this damn corridor, the direction from which you hear the approaching voices.

Panic grips your body and mind, many thoughts appear one second not allowing you to focus and remain rational.

He is about to be right here.

As you involuntarily bite your lower lip and try not to sob, the door finally opens.

A tall and muscular man stands in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room, like a knight on a white horse with a friendly and affable smile. He greets you and says your name. His name. 

Finally, he invites you inside. This time you managed to escape.

Captain Price. This much you know crossing the threshold of this room. In the morning when two sad gentlemen knocked on your door. You expected to be handcuffed, or something else entirely. Something you were being prepared for.  It could always happen. KIA.

And now, sitting in a more comfortable chair than the ones in the corridor, you look at his Captain. A person you knew a lot about, as well as the entire Task Force 141.

After all, you are a good student. You diligently applied yourself to your lessons. You memorized every word.

Every truth and every prepared lie.

Your made-up life.

The captain leans back in his chair still looking at you, despite the stress of the situation a calmness beats from the man.

You expected accusations, shouting, nervousness and humiliation.

Nothing of the sort happens.

“It's good to finally meet you.”

He says, tilting his head gently to the side and grinning at you.

“When Laswell called me and informed me of the situation. Well. It was quite a shock to me. A positive one. But still... it's quite surprising.”

He doesn't finish the sentence because his words are interrupted by a rhythmic and loud knocking.

Damn.

***

Several hours have passed since those events at the base. Despite the fact that there are a few hours left until nightfall, you decide to spend the night in a nearby hotel and return on the next day, in the early morning.

You didn't even wait for the two gentlemen who brought you here.

You rent a car and return on your own.

You borrowed cash from the captain. The meeting at the base was supposed to be a secret, between you and him. No sign of your presence near the base. You couldn't use your credit card.

Another fucking lie in your life.

Or maybe everything else was untrue and what was happening now was reality. The truth you couldn't quite believe.

It wasn't just the frayed nerves of the situation that made you not want to drive today.

There was something else.

Today is Thursday. A day when when he had the opportunity, he called. He was close by, at a nearby training ground with recruiters. So you can certainly expect weekly contact.

The very thought turns your stomach. It was so ridiculous, infantile.

Unnecessary.

When 9pm strikes, as usual, evenly, punctually the familiar ringtone echoes.

You wait.

One-

Two-

Three.

“Hi”

You sit upright on the edge of the hotel bed, squeezing your thighs tightly together. You straighten your back unnaturally pulling your shoulder blades as close together as possible.

Finally, you hear his low voice.

“Hi love”

Love? Huh, that's something new.

“Hi”

You repeat the greeting in a trembling voice. Does he already know about your unannounced visit to the base. Does he know that his captain has finally found out. What if-

“I miss you, so bad.”

At these words you close your eyes.

There's nothing to worry about. A standard fake conversation between two spouses. In case of eavesdropping, in any doubt. At the risk of someone continuing to check up on you.

“I miss you, too.”

you answer with a learned line. As you do every time.

“I'm counting down the days until I see you again, love”.

You hate it. You hate hearing his words. You shiver. Swallowing the incoming tears.

You're unable to utter another theatrical phrase.

When a lie repeated so many times has become the truth for you. When pretending became a natural behavior. How it happened, that something inside you changed.

So pathetic, weak creature.

For the first time, you can't follow the script.

“ 'r you still there?”

The question hangs in the void. It reaches your ears. Further learned words, however, are blocked inside you.

You open your eyes and your gaze drifts to the floor, to the hotel's dirty carpet. Seconds pass slowly. Each moment makes you feel more and more miserable. You want to throw up.

“I miss you so much, Simon.”

Shit, you're such an idiot.

You quickly hang up, throwing the phone in the sheets and running to the bathroom.

Falling in love wasn't part of the contract.

***

He shouldn't smoke.

He quit exactly when he met you. That September night.

Now, standing behind one of the barracks leaning against a cold wall, he looks up at the same sky. Looking for what you were looking for then.

The sky is dark and cloudy.

“LT?”

He is pulled from his musings by a whisper. Such a familiar voice.

“Where are ya? Come back here, I'll freeze my balls off, if- ”

“I'm comin' , Johnny.”

Crushing the cigarette butt under his military boot, Ghost takes one last look at the sky.

No star. That night he sees none. There's nothing special.

As he enters the room, the small light of the nightstand illuminates the familiar room. When the door slams behind him, in this safe space, he pulls off his mask and walks over to the bed.

Shaking slightly, Johnny sits down on his bed, rubbing his bare shoulders in an effort to warm himself.

“You quit smokin'. ”

A dry statement, Johnny says the words and looks reproachfully at the man standing over him.

Ghost smirks, reaching out his hand to smooth the sergeant's messy hair. Like a tame wild animal. To calm him down. Meticulously styled mohawk was forgotten an hour or two ago.

His hand travels lower to finally stop on the man's jaw and with little force Ghost squeezes his chin, raising it to look him in the eye.

“Behave, Johnny boy.”

“Or what?”

With a cocky grin Johnny asks. He lifts one hand and sticks his fingers in the belt loop of his pants, pulling Ghost closer, so that he's standing between Johnny's legs.

“I don't think you're ready for a second round.”

Finally Ghost pulls away and heads toward the bathroom.

Johnny grunts back.

“I saw her today.”

Ghost stops in mid-step. He stiffens, but doesn't turn toward the man who already regrets his words. There's no going back.

“I want to finally meet her.”

Saying this, he gets up and walks closer. He puts his hand on Ghost's shoulder trying to calm him down. He knows it's too much. Not after what he heard during their weekly conversation.

But a life of lies was destroying him from the inside. He could feel the rot. The stinking evil he felt at every turn. While waking up and falling asleep. It was constantly accompanying him.

No one deserved such cruelty. If he even had to pay for it with his happiness. He would agree without a second thought.

It had gone too far.

“I want to meet your wife, Simon. She needs to know the truth. About all this.”

About us.

______________________________________________________________

English is not my first language, so probably many things are poorly described and the vocabulary is very simple. If you see any mistakes - let me know!

[heyitschartic]

I've seen a lot of people complain on tumblr about how Worm fanfic is nothing but altpower Taylors. It's not a complaint without merit, I've been hearing it since 2017. Hell, it's something I complain about a lot too. It's true, the fandom is filled with crappy altpowers that really add nothing. But to an extent, I always feel I should push back a little against it.

Even if I do advocate for just writing your own thing, there's a really good reason so few people do. There are a good amount of Worm fanfics out there that use original characters, niche characters, or do a wild take on the premise. Not a ton, not the majority, but a good amount.

But nobody reads them.

Rank is probably one of the best stories in the fandom. Long, filled with original charscter's, and with an interesting focus on a PRT officer working in San Fransisco. It's got an amazing scope, working from when Leviathan attacked Kyushu all the way to Gold Morning and has so many brilliant setpieces and bits of world building. It's earned its spot as one of the best, if not the best, story in the fandom.

It pulled in a paltry amount of comments and likes over the years it was being posted.

I remember when I first entered the fandom, there were already people warning new writers that, while it would be cooler if you wrote about someone other than Taylor, that you'd be getting a fraction of the views. And it sucks yeah, but it's the truth. I've seen a lot of writers over the years get discouraged because stories they love and put a lot of time into just get ten likes and maybe one comment an update. A good friend of mine will only pre-write her OC stories because the absolute lack of interest is so disheartening its caused her to just give up in the past.

And it's not like people who critique Worm Fanfics for being filled with shitty altpowers even really read this stuff. Say what you will about the Cauldron discord, but it's one of the few places I've seen people push HARD for others to read this niche weird stories, and even then there's pusback or luke warm reception. It's sad to see people talk shit about altpowers, but just not really check anything else out but that in the first place. It's just as bad as if you were only reading them.

Check out stories trying something original! Luz Mala, Rank, Agent of Cauldron, City of Bones and Teeth, Diary of a Professional Knock-off, Fault, Lend Me Your Ears, Mouse Trap, Sunspot, Nightcrawler, Raccoon Knight; and those are just the ones I can name off the top of my head! There are a lot out there waiting for you to find!!!!

And how to fix it? Well, I'm not sure if there is a fix. If anything is going to work though, at least be the change. If you aren't someone whose actively reading and commenting on new fics about OC's or similar, well, what incentive is there for people to write them? Sure, a love of just creating something might push you to post, but if you feels like you're just shouting into a void, it might feel better to just not shout at all.

If you want people to write good stories, give them a reason to actually do it.

[oukabarsburgblr]

Hello! I am new, and wanted to ask 3 things for you:

1.) Is Daichi a type of yandere, and why is he obsessed with the reader?

2.) Are you maybe interested in writing JJK?

3.) Can I be 🎃 anon?

-🎃 Have nice day studying/whatever your busy doing, keep up the good work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Hello there and 3) yes u can be 🎃 anon, reminds me of that one game kubz scouts played for days on end. Pumpkin race? The one with the time that he tried to one up haha

1) to be honest, its been a while since i wrote that fanfiction and ever since then ive been focusing on my ocs so much hshsh. I do think daichi can be classified as a psychopath. A yandere? I wouldnt say he loves the reader (during his third year) and i could say for a fact even he acknowledges he doesnt harbor romantic feelings for the reader until much later (after the training camp shenanigan) however, he did harvest some type of attraction to the reader. An unhealthy one. Where the dynamic is between an object and an owner? Not a pet or a partner, but an object instead. Something he can switch on and off, mold into his liking and reader just so happened to be a perfect victim for it. Although he does grow to be fond of you, ever since how obedient you became. So many screaming nights passed in your house.

Now came the question of why? Why did he do all of this? Why did he instigate it the second the reader came into his view? I tried explaining it in the second part of the fic. Sugawara and Asahi would have treated reader like any other first year if it werent for Daichi. Maybe suga a bit sociopathic but daichi was the match that started the flame.

I think it came from the canon fact that Daichi was the rock of the team, their anchor, their foundation. I thought of him as someone youd look up to, youd rely on but there had to be days where he wasnt feeling himself right? Where he finds all of them a tad bit annoying, but that wouldnt be nice, they were his friends after all. And you came into the picture. On a bad day, where he just felt shitty and you suddenly came stumbling into the club, making a ruckus, curse words from your mouth scratching his eardrums and a thought slipped his mind where he found you so fucking annoying. However, it wouldnt be fair to thrust all that negative energy onto you so he did what he could, ignoring you until he could cool himself down. Maybe the day after he could find himself talking to you again. Wrong. He still finds you annoying and rude. Then there was this urge that came from deep within his stomach, this feral desire to grasp at you, clench at your face, pulling your skin back so you would behave- Too much blood so no can do. He still found you annoying though, hence, the snowball rolls where he decided to just change you. Sugawara and Asahi was a massive help, pinning you into the corner until he had you cumming around his finger.

If given the chance, where there would be no repurcussions, no trace of any evidence whatsoever, Daichi Sawamura would have murdered you, killing you in cold blood and burying your body deep within the mountains. A heavy burden would lift from his shoulders and he felt like the world would work his way again. But there was no solid plan for it so he never took the chance nor thought to.

Can you tell that Daichi is my favourite? Hahaha ive said this like three times now. I loveeeee him.

2) would i ever write jjk! One of my favourite readers have requested a satosugu x bottom male reader in my inboxes and i will consider but heres the thing.

I dont watch jjk😭

Well, i did, until i dropped it. I think it was at episode 20+ on season 1. I used to be a huge shounen person but now im a slice of life fan (although they can be quite boring sometimes) i guess im more into thrillers but in a normal setting? But i know jjk characters.

I used to have an obsession w sukuna haha. Ik maki, ik zenin naoya, ik todo aoi, like ik them and ik what happened to them (rip nanami) but idk i think i have to get hooked on really well for me to watch jjk so that i can write it. We'll see deffo! But i plan to watch chainsaw man first hshshs

[icedmetaltea]

do you still write in general or have all your works been removed from ao3 and halted?? I just found An Eye for an Eye and I maybe horribly obsessed with it hahah

I still write from time to time but for myself or random fandoms that I don't share on here- the ones I have shared for this fandom have been orphaned but can still be accessed here but if u found that I'm assuming u know that lol

Writing these days just makes me feel horrifically self-conscious so if I do share I like doing so on accounts where nobody knows me and I have no expectations to live up to ya feel? ; u ;

Here is a lil doodle and a jealousy snippet I was gonna write at some point if it helps ya feel better *patpat*

(Set at some point in the future, Y/n's gotten enough trust to be allowed in Eclipse's enclosure without supervision and so Kai's joining them to scope the place out + do some plotting since it's too loud for mics to pick anything up above the ambience of water and ironically it's safer for them to talk in here than anywhere else in the facility lol... also it's been so long since I wrote the fic I can't remember if Eclipse is blind or not so let's assume so)

"Wait up!" you barked, running up behind the man so fast you nearly ran into him headfirst as the doors automatically closed behind the two of you.

"Watch it, will you? And I'm working on a tight schedule here, okay? Not all of us are coddled by staff..."

"Coddled?! I'm given the lofty privilege of being used as live bait and you-"

"So this is what it looks like, huh? I haven't been in here for a while." He gave a whistle, turning to you briefly before walking further into the room. You followed close behind him, holding back your boiling temper for the time being. "Last time I was here, the water was filled with algae and god knows what else."

You shrugged. "Yeah. I guess... It helps now that I clean Eclipse regularly. The rest of staff was too chicken to so much as touch it."

"I still can't believe you do that." He wandered closer to the edge of the water, staring down into the dark abyss. Far down, the mer began to rouse from its usual afternoon slumber, scintillations dancing deep below as it slowly moved. "And I can't believe all you've managed to lose so far is an eyeball. You have all your limbs intact, as far as I can tell."

"It was scary at first, sure, but then I realized it was literally just a big fish I was dealing with. One that ruined my albeit shitty life. I was getting money out of the deal, so..."

You kicked your foot absentmindedly, watching the dark outline ripple through the water, approaching the surface.

"It's all bark and no bite."

As if on cue, the surface tension broke as the mer surfaced, the water rippling and floor shaking with the force of its purr. The sound was cut short, though, its head tilting in curiosity as its fake smile stared at the two of you.

"Are you sure about that...?"

The second it heard Kai's voice, the flat side of its face slanted upwards so its teeth were on display, pulling up into a snarl. A low growl rumbled through the floor and up into your legs, making you wobble slightly.

"Hey, what the hell?!" you were quick to say, throwing up your hands in disbelief. "You choose now to throw a tantrum??"

Its tongue flicked out in what you now knew was its own weird way of sniffing the air, and soon after the sound of its growling grew louder.

"Shit!" Kai hissed, "Didn't you say this was safe?"

"Of course it's safe! Hey slimebrain, will you shut up?!" You took a few confident steps forward and punched a hand over one of its tendrils. It relaxed at the contact, a tiny purr mixing in with its incessant snarling. "You're makin' a big idiot of yourself in front of my... acquaintance."

"Oh, so that's the title you're giving me?" He regretted opening his mouth, as the next second Eclipse lurched towards him, snapping its teeth worryingly close to his face. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw it hadn't ripped the flesh off his nose or something. Yet, anyways.

"Okay, okay!!!" You jumped in front of him, tripping and landing on your ass, but at least it made the mer stop moving. "What's gotten into you? You've been behaving well the past couple of months and you chose today to get all pissy? Honestly..."

Eclipse made something akin to a huffing sound, then unlatched its jaw just enough to grasp the back of your collar. It dragged you, flailing the entire way, away from Kai, only stopping when half your body was submerged in water.

As soon as you opened your mouth to in protest, it the large, flat underside of its jaw hovered over you, blanketing you in shadow. One set of its hands came to hold you in place, ignoring your cries of anger as it continued to growl.

"Okay, I'm just gonna... go..." Kai finally said, a tremble in his voice as his footsteps became more and more distant till the sound of the doors opening and closing made you realize he'd left.

"That pussy..." you spat beneath your breath, though you were much more angry at the mer than him. "You!! You ruin everything!"

As soon as the man was gone, Eclipse's mood seemed to flip like a switch, growls bleeding into those grating attempts at chirps and purrs it never quite seemed to translate into something that didn't sound like a dying whale.

It was proud, perhaps even gloating, you realized as it turned its head completely around to peer down at you with a false grin. Water dripped down on you, and you also realized your freshly-laundered clothes were now sopping wet.

[mountsmase]

https://www.tumblr.com/mountsmase/750134067565117440/my-friend-lives-near-manchester-and-they-look-even?source=share

a smol lil blurb on this pls? 🥺🥺

okay so this is terrible and feels so so rushed but I’d love to do a full fic on this when I eventually get back into writing 🫶🏻

I wrote this in about 30 minutes and didn’t go back to read it so I’m sorry for any mistakes 🩷

Enjoy xx

———————

so let’s say you’ve seen/heard somewhere that the northern lights might be visible in the UK tonight, so you decide to have a little garden date night just incase you do see them, and even if you don’t, star gazing dates are your favourite and it’s such a clear night so you’ll make the most out of it and love it either way

Mason’s at Carrington until quite late in the afternoon so he won’t be home until the evening but you message him during the day to let him know what you’re planning, and he’s more than happy to hear that you’re planning a little date night, wanting to spend the evening with you and needing a distraction after picking up another injury in training.

You finish up work a little earlier than usual, so you stop at the shops to pick up some snacks before using the spare time you have to get everything set up so that it’s ready for when he gets home.

You push two of your lounge chairs together to make one big one, or maybe you even have a double one that’s more like a day bed, and you cover it in your cosiest blankets and pillows from inside. Then you load up a little side table with all of the snacks you brought earlier, along with a couple of water bottles and any other drinks you may want during the night and when you’ve finished you snap a quick picture of your little date night set up, before you inevitably mess up all of the blankets by laying on them, and then you head inside to shower and get ready for the evening.

Mason gets home just as you’re stepping out of the shower, coming straight upstairs to find you in the en-suite, stood at the sink in just your fluffy white robe, your damp hair falling over your shoulders as you do your skin care routine. You see him walk in through the reflection of the mirror and turn to meet his gaze, heart flip flopping at the sight of him still in his United tracksuit with fluffy hair and rosy cheeks from his post training shower.

“Hey, baby” he mumbles quietly, making a beeline to you and wrapping his arms around your waist gently.

“Hi, bubs” you give him a quick peck on the lips before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him into you and giggling when his face nuzzles into your neck, his beard tickling against your skin as he grazes your neck with his lips.

“How was training?” You ask cautiously, not quite knowing what sort of mood he’ll be in after what sounded like another shitty day.

“It was fine, good until I picked up another knock” He mumbles against your skin, and you swear you can feel him pouting, “But I’m home now and everything is better when I’m with you”

You force your self not to giggle at his cheesy remark, but you can’t ignore the butterflies that still swarm in your tummy from the simple comment.

“Well, everything is already set up outside, but it’s still early, so how about we order some food? You can choose what we get” You bring your hand to the back of his head and tug gently on his hair, coaxing his head out of your neck and meeting his gaze.

“How about we get some pizza? I know it’s not the healthiest but we can just call today a cheat day” He suggests, lips tugging up in a cheeky smile.

You agree to his suggestion, not being one to ever turn down pizza, and with the amount of snacks that are already set up in the garden, you might as well make the most of this so called ‘cheat day’.

You finish up getting ready, essentially going through your entire night time routine apart from brushing your teeth, because you know you’ll probably be too tired when you eventually come back inside later tonight, and you want to be as comfy and cozy as possible. You finish up your skin care, doing some of the steps with Mason when he asks if he can join you, before changing into your pjs and slipping one of his hoodies over the top so that you’ll be warm enough.

Once you’re both ready, you head downstairs together and order the pizzas, not having to wait long until they’re arriving and you take them outside to enjoy whilst watching the sun set. You eat in a comfortable silence, only breaking it when he tries to steal a slice from your plate without you noticing but you let him take it, stealing one of his to replace it and you eventually just end up sharing. It happens all the time, with you both ordering different toppings because you don’t think want the same thing but then sharing anyway when you realise how good the others looks.

It’s not long until the sun has set and the stars come out, the garden pretty much going completely dark apart from a little bit of light coming from the ones you left on inside. You settle down into the blankets, pulling one over you as Mason lays with his top half slightly propped up by the lounger and some pillows, and you snuggle into his chest, getting as close to him as possible whilst gazing up at the night sky.

Time passes by way too quickly, the two of you talking about your days and some plans you’ve got for the summer break, only interrupting the conversation if you notice a particularly bright star or a constellation that you recognise. It’s almost midnight, and you’re very close to heading back inside when you finally spot what you’ve been waiting for, the dark sky turning to more of a purply colour (a/n: I don’t really know how to describe it so bare with) and when you pull out your phone and put night mode on your camera, the swirls of purples and blues that greats you is breathtaking.

Mason sits back and watches as your face lights up, knowing it’s always been a dream of yours to see the northern lights and he’s so so happy that he gets to experience it with you and see the pure joy on your face as you take them in.

“Y/N?” Your attention is taken away from the sky for a brief moment when Mason says your name, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand gently squeezes your hip to get your attention.

“Yeah?” You meet his gaze, and your heart skips a beat at how pretty he looks. His hair is all messy on top of his head, his locks looking so soft and a small smile ghosts his lips when you reach out and brush your fingers through them, you can just about make out his freckles and long lashes in the darkness but his eyes steal the show, the stars reflecting in his chocolaty brown orbs that shine with so much love and adoration for you.

“I love you” he tells you, reaching up and gently grasping your chin between his fingers to guide you down, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss that has you grabbing onto his arm for support.

“I love you more” You mumble against his lips when you pull back to take a breather, the kiss catching you slightly off guard but you’re craving more instantly, leaning back in and reconnecting your lips with his.

You tug on his hair and take the opportunity to push your tongue between his lips when he gasps into your mouth, sliding it against his and re familiarising yourself with his taste - even if it has only been a couple of hours since you last kissed like this.

The kiss grows hotter, more needy, and you know it would’ve gone further had he not broken it. As much as it kills him to stop, he knows you’ll be upset if you miss anything with the northern lights, and you have forever to be with him like this, but tonight might be once in a lifetime and he wants to continue seeing your face light up.

You end up staying outside for another hour or two, finishing up the snacks and continuing to watch and enjoy the moment until you both grow too tired to fight sleep any longer and you begrudgingly tidy everything up and head inside to go to bed. Forever grateful that you got to experience such a special evening with the love of your life.

———————

this is the closest thing I’ve written to a fic in months 🫣

[pastafossa]

Happy Birthday and a merry 6 years to TRT! 🎂 🎁 🎈 🎉 🍰

🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯

Some FUN TRIVIA FACTS:

TRT's sun sign is VIRGO and its moon sign is LEO!

After 6 years, its current wordcount is 932k words. If you put that in size 12 arial font, single-spaced, this would come to about 2000 pages, and even more if the pages were the usual mass market paperback size!

TRT is now 40 in cat years!

The Man in the White Coat is my tribute to the Mad Scientist trope common in scifi, which is one of my favorite genres!

It is old enough developmentally to tie its shoes! Keep going, TRT!

Ciro is partially inspired by John Marcone from The Dresden Files!

TRT shares a birthday with literary great Agatha Christie! Maybe I'll introduce poison-based murder into the fic in her honor...

The idea of seeing threads came to me after seeing a meme about red threads tying soul mates together. Everything that came after - the other threads, the thread world, how it works, is unique to TRT!

TRT is now longer than War and Peace, and Crime and Punishment combined! So if you've read all of TRT so far, then you have the perfect middle finger to anyone who tries to say you can't focus on longer stories!

The inciting penguin documentary that Foggy drunkenly watched (which led to him declaring Matt and Jane 'penguins') was about Adelie penguins specifically!

Jane has a leather jacket because I love leather jackets and think all badass characters should have a leather jacket! And so you should you! EVERYONE DESERVES A COOL LEATHER JACKET.

The long hiatus between Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 was because I had life things pop up. During that hiatus, I realized the plotline/ending needed some work, so I spent those two years outlining, and I also wound up doing a bunch of additional novel writing classes just because I wanted to learn. A lot of this wound up influencing TRT!

The grey threads are one of the only threads that no one has solved yet!

There are absolutely some bad people working for Cyrus James. There is also a guy named Kyle. He is there not for Evil Purposes (tm) but instead because this was the only place he could work that would allow him to pay off his student loans.

When I started TRT, I thought maybe 5 people total would read it. I was told five people total would read it by some shitty people. So I wrote it expecting five total people would read it, and told myself at least I'd enjoy it, and I could use it to learn. In other words: I had ZERO idea TRT would take off like this. None. Nada. Zip. AND LOOK AT US NOW, BABY. FUCK THE HATERS, 6 YEARS AND GOIN' STRONG.

Based on my outline, we're a bit over halfway to the end!

I hope you enjoyed these TRT funfacts. And I hope you know: this fic isn't just me. It's you, too. This fic has become so much larger than just me. It's the TRT playlist you've sent songs in for that keeps me inspired when writing. It's the fanart I look at to give me a boost. It's your sweet comments and likes and kudos and messages that encourage me when I'm sick or depressed. It's the people who've made friends over this fic, or who've been inspired to write fic themselves, adding beautiful works to the community that we all use to keep going. It's all of this love for both TRT and Matt, and I'm so happy that I've been able to contribute in at least a small way in keeping Charlie!Daredevil love alive even after the show's been gone for years now. I love you all so, so goddamn much. I love this fandom. I love TRT with all my heart. Thank you so much for being a part of these past six years through cancelations, through your high school and college years and beyond, through my ups and downs of moving and sickness and fiberglass and pandemic craziness, through late night chapter drops and wild twists and turns.

And I hope the next few years as we enter the second half of this story are just as amazing!

[zairene]

nobody else, katsuki bakugou x black fem reader

synopsis: after his constant thoughts surrounding his personality, bakugou begins to question why you would even choose to be with him.

warnings: bakugou actually shows some other emotion other than anger + vulnerability + cursing bc it’s bakugou, come on now.

wc: 958

a/n: this is my first EVER like comfort-ish kinda fic? if this is like corny or shitty writing i’m sorry i’ve NEVER wrote something like this before.. but the idea was cool so i just went with it.

IT WAS NO SECRET THAT BAKUGOU HAD THE TENDENCY to be a huge asshole. it was well known at this point, and everyone had seemed to get used to it. it wasn’t the talk of the class anymore, everyone grew less scared of him and more viewed him as the, hard on the outside but soft on the inside kind of guy.

knowing this, you still decided to test your changes with the hothead. looking for every opportunity to get close to him. whether it would be group projects, making both of your friend groups come close together during lunch, or even just being able to bring his things to him. just any reason to have some form of communication. and you knew bakugou was no dummy, so he treated you like the rest of him.

“fuck off.” was his usual response to you every time you came up to him. at first you probably would’ve been hurt by it, now you just find it endearing. you teased him quite often until his words toward you became normal? he used less curse words, his voice would be softer than usual, and he was nice. well as nice as bakugou can get, at least.

noticing this change, you took the opportunity to ask him out on a date.you expected his answer to be quite defensive and rude. along the words of, “no, why the fuck would i do that with you?”

yet, his real answer was, “sure, whatever.”

and after a few dates, you both had made things official. neither of you had told anyone but mineta had seen the both of you kiss outside of your dorm room before you had gone in one night and he decided to run his mouth to the rest of the class. and when things came out, you both didn’t deny it because there was no point. the news would’ve spread either way somehow because bakugou’s personality drastically changed after he asked you to be his girlfriend.

he never stopped insulting people or cussing them out, but he did it way less than he normally did. he was always more quiet than usual, staring in your direction all the time. watching you laugh with your friends and have fun. it gave him some comfort on the inside. denki kaminari swore he saw a smile creep up on bakugou’s lips one time while he looked at you.

although, behind bakugou’s face, was a mind that was overflowing with insecurities. sure, he was confident in every other aspect about himself. but his personality and how he treated others before you and even you, ate him up inside. he didn’t like that person and started to think that maybe the little shitheads had a point.

he couldn’t help but overhear jirou and ochako’s conversation about him.

“i’m shocked y/n would even wanna date a person like bakugou.” jirou said, while twirling a strand of her hair.

“maybe he’s just a different person around y/n. you shouldn’t really judge something that you don’t know anything about.” ochako came quick to his defense.

“yeah yeah, i know. but he was just an asshole who treated everyone like they were inferior to him. like he was a king or whatever. i just don’t get what she saw in him.” she continued writing down on her paper, oblivious that bakugou had heard everything she just said.

he didn’t get what you saw in him.

“why did you choose me?”

you and bakugou were currently in his dorm, it was day time and you both were just hanging out since it was the weekend. plus, hero training can take a lot out of a person so it was just natural that you both would look for comfort in each other afterwards.

you turned around, looking at him in confusion. he was looking to the side while he fiddled with his fingers. slightly embarrassed that he became so vulnerable around you.

“what do you mean?” you sat next to him.

“i just mean, like… how? how the hell did you like me? i was a dick to everyone, including you.” you sighed and thought for a second.

“because i saw you for who you were on the inside—”

“that’s fucking corny.” he deadpanned. you slapped him on softly on the leg.

“dude, let me finish.” you rolled your eyes. “anyways, i just knew that you weren’t just an asshole to be an asshole. sure, you were rude and i didn’t like it at first but i just got used to it. plus, i knew you started to like me too.” you smirked.

“oh really? how.” he found it hard to believe. he was a master of hiding his emotions.

“you see how you didn’t just flip out on me for saying that?” his eyes widened a little. “yeah, you like like me.” you laughed while you poked his chest.

“yeah yeah, whatever.”

“but seriously ‘suki, i liked you for you.” you scooted closer to him. “and trust me if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t be here right now. i like your personality. i’m not saying continue to be rude to others, not saying you have, but i know why you do it. i understand. that’s why i ‘chose’ you.” you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for a hug, which he graciously returned. “and maybe you were just cute, i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” he pulled back, slightly offended.

“i’m joking.” you pulled him close to you. “you are very cute.” you gave him a kiss on the lips. which made him look away, trying to hide the blush that grew on his face.

“better be.” he said, before pulling you into his arms to cuddle.

TAGLIST :: @kisamekiss @kisminarii @planetlunaa

TAGLIST FORM

[hp-hcs]

Your fics are incredible! My friend wanted to know if you wrote for Pansy? If you do, a Pansy x gn reader would be amazing :D

absolutely i will write for my slytherin queen 😩🤌 and thank you so much!!

requests? 🥺🤲

paralyzer — pansy parkinson x gn! hufflepuff! reader

oh my godddd 😩🤌👑

underage alcohol consumption warning

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‘I hold on so nervously to me and my drink/ I wish it was coolin' me/ But so far has not been good/ It's been shitty, and I feel awkward as I should/ This club has got to be the most pretentious thing/ Since I thought you and me’

“Heyyyy, Y/N! How’zit goin’?!”

“Wonderful,” you drawl. “Now go drink some water before you die of alcohol poisoning.”

Cedric clapped you on the shoulder, giggling, before wandering off after a pretty Ravenclaw.

You sigh, downing the last of your drink and pushing yourself off of the wall you’d been leaning against for the last half hour, fully intending to make your escape to your dorm.

You weave your way through the throng of people, almost taking an elbow to the face when you pass by a particularly rowdy bunch. Scowling at the group, you aren’t even paying attention when you run smack into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” An angry voice snaps. You turn to apologize and are met with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

She rolls her eyes, her hands on her hips, and her pretty lips pursed in annoyance. “Of course it’d be a Puff. Pick your jaw up off the floor, sweetheart.”

She gives you a condescending pat on the shoulder and waltzes off, taking your entire heart with her.

‘Well, I am imagining a dark lit place/ Or your place or my place’

“Subtle, Panz,” Draco rolls his eyes.

“Oh Merlin, oh fucking Merlin, I fucked that up, didn’t I?”

Mattheo takes a puff from his cigarette, swinging his legs from where he sits on the edge of the bathroom sink. He watches Pansy pace anxiously around the empty second floor girl’s bathroom. “Yep, pretty much.”

“‘Pick your jaw up off the floor’? What was I thinking?!”

“You weren’t,” Draco supplies helpfully, leaning against the wall. “I mean, at least you called ‘em sweetheart. That’s gotta do something.”

Pansy groans and face palms. “Thanks a lot. Now how do I fix this?”

“Why are you asking us? This is your Puff-Stuff, not ours,” Mattheo says flippantly, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette.

“They don’t even know I exist!” Pansy whines.

“Well, they do now, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Oi. You better shut the fuck up.”

‘Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you/ I wanna make you move because you're standin' still/ If your body matches what your eyes can do/ You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

“Hey, Puff!”

You look up from your assignment, seeing, of all people, Pansy Parkinson leaning towards you from her desk. She smiles anxiously at you.

“Uh, hi…?” You ask slowly, quietly.

“I- uh- d-do you have a quill I could borrow?”

You hum, nodding. “Yeah, here.”

She grins widely. “Thanks.”

She takes the quill you hold out to her with utter reverence—much more respect than you would expect her to give to a five-sickle quill from a discount shop.

You nod, a bit baffled, and turn back to your work.

She waits, like she expects you to say something further. When you remain silent, she sighs, seemingly disappointed, and moves on to her assignment.

‘I hold out for one more drink, before I think/ I'm lookin' too desperately/ But so far has not been fun, I should just stay home/ If one thing really means one/ This club will hopefully be closed in three weeks/ That would be cool with me’

“I can’t believe it! I just sat there, like an utter dumbass-”

Cedric raises an eyebrow. “Here’s a wild thought: maybe she’s into you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ced,” you scoff. “She doesn’t even know I exist.”

‘Well, I'm still imagining a dark lit place/ Or your place or my place’

“We are not friends,” Draco warns. “This is just an alliance.”

“Just so they stop acting so lovesick over each other,” Cedric agreed.

‘Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you/ I wanna make you move because you're standin' still/ If your body matches what your eyes can do/ You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

“Hey, Panz,” Draco starts, interrupting his friend mid-tirade about they’re just so cute, and they loaned me a quill today in History when I couldn’t find mine. “Why don’t you just ask ‘em out?”

She stops her rant, speechless. “Are you insane?”

Draco shrugs. “Just like, send them a note, or whatever. What’s the worst that could happen? You said it yourself; they barely know you exist.”

‘Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you/ I wanna make you move because you're standin' still/ If your body matches what your eyes can do/ You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

Your eyes widen in surprise when one of the Owl Post owls drops an envelope onto the table in front of you. Plucking it up, you turn it around, finding no return address or name of any kind. Cedric leans over.

“Who’s it from?”

“Doesn’t say.”

“Well, open it!” Your friend, Hannah, exclaims. “You never get mail.”

You open the unmarked envelope, pulling out a piece of folded parchment. Scrawled on it, in Slytherin green ink, is a short poem.

I’m not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you. I wanna make you move, because you're standing still. If your body matches what your eyes can do, You'll probably move right through me on my way to you. - P. P.

Your eyes widen as you look at the initials, knowing immediately who it was. You look up, easily finding Pansy’s eyes from across the room. She looks startled, like she hadn’t been expecting to make such sudden eye contact.

You both blush and look away, smiling to yourselves.

‘You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that to actually work,” Cedric murmurs under his breath to Draco.

The pair watch as you and Pansy, paired together for a Potions assignment, laugh and mess around with each other on the other side of the room.

“Yeah. How long d’you think before Y/N realizes that Pansy only writes in black ink?” Draco muses with his infamous smirk, twirling his quill around and nearly knocking over his jar of Slytherin green ink.

‘You'll probably move right through me on my way to you’

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies���materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ���it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…” 

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says. 

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

GOT THE FATTEST FUCKING CRUSH ON KAPPA NOW CUZ OF THE HELVETE FIC like i just wanna how kappa would be like as a lover both domestic and romantic like FUCK (this is also me requesting a headcannon list if you're up for it)

Me too, nonnie, me too 🤝🏻 I mean, obviously, Kappa is one of my favourites to write for, but this time, I actively wrote myself into crushing on this charismatic hippe ass mf HARD 🤧 The HCs are super soft and fluff af but also 18+!.

🌻 Domestic lover!Kappa HCs under the cut 🌻

🌻 This man would be the lover to eradicate every last memory about your shitty ex's, treating you like his queen and nothing less. I strongly believe that Kappa would braid you a colourful flower crown every now and then to surprise you on days where the sun is shining bright and bee's and butterflies flutter through the air while your eyes sparkle like gemstones as he places the flower crown on top of your head.

🌻 One Good Man By Janis Joplin

🌻 Okay, let's start this off with the fact that Kappa, once emotionally attached to you, would be your number 1 fan in every regard. He'd cheer you on and support you in every way possible. He's got absolutely no boundaries when it comes to making sure that you have everything you need and more!

🌻 Jup, okay, I'm really writing myself into crushing on him further....anyhow, Kappa would also offer you to wear some of his rings. Collecting shiny little treasures for you like a crow. Everything from necklace pendants to pretty stones, feathers and tiny, handwritten notes cramped into a box that threatened to burst with tokens of his love and adoration for you.

🌻 This one really is just vibes but Kappa is so incense sticks, scented candles and homemade pastries that it's giving me brain rot. He's a hot slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream: Everything you could possibly desire.

🌻 Can we talk about y'alls living situation for a moment because I just know that Kappa and you would be living off-grid in an old VW T1 Samba-Bus 🚎 With an orange cat and a lazy but very loyal German shepherd. Both animals were found on the side of the road and you never really understood if Kappa and you adopted them or the other way around.

🌻 With that out of the way, It's move on to the fact that Kappa, completely infatuated with you, would fuck and pleasure you about everywhere. In the van on a rainy day and outside in the field while sun bathing. He'd eat you out as your thighs dangle from the footbridge of a small lake you two stopped by to escape the summer heat for a while. You can't tell me that the two of you wouldn't be going it at like rabbits as soon as the next best chance presents itself 🤭

🌻 This man would give it to you whenever he just so much as gets a glimpse of you maybe being a little horny and he wouldn't just be fucking, no, he'd be making love to you with saccharine-sweet praises whispered into your ear while you wrap your shaking legs around his waist to pull him in deeper.

🌻 Afterwards, he'd clean you up nice and good before propping up a kettle on the stove to prepare some mushroom-infused tea to end the day on a slight trip with you in his arms, fingers toying with strands of your hair and his lips mumbling on about just how much he loves you while the both of you sink deeper into the soft mattress beneath your bodies, drifting off into a satisfied slumber.