#she never does dock the pay though

[dracocheesecake]

Ardia: "Uoomi, be honest, is *insert incredibly immoral act here* wrong?"

Uoomi: "Yes."

Ardia: "...I'm docking your pay."

[syoddeye]

like i'm winning it - 02 wellspring

ghost x f!reader | 3k words | series page | ao3 cw: alcohol, threats of violence, power imbalance, sexual harassment (quid pro quo offer), reader is in over her head, male ocs You've never made it this far. Not on your own.

Win comes around a lot more after your date. 

He buys booths, bottles. Slips tips to any of your work friends who so happen to breeze by and drops bills on the host stand. In one month, more money passes through your hands than the last three combined.

You pay off the rent you'd been dodging. Renew the subscriptions to your motorized blinds and water filter. Get your nails done. A balance of necessities and luxuries. Indulgence to feel alive, practicality to stay afloat. 

In return, every night you're not working, you accompany him on dates—restaurants, galleries, and shows. Stuff previously out of reach for you. He asks you to read, dead scripts that'll never see the screen, but good practice. You show him your self-tapes. A list of the classes and workshops you want to take. And it's like that first dinner. No jokes, no teasing. Win takes you seriously. Says you got a gift, that you're a little diamond in the rough. Raw potential that only needs polishing.

But as nice as Win is, you're not naïve. His attention is a well that could dry up like Tahoe. You're determined to enjoy it while it lasts, though.

Mal stops you one night, just as you're shrugging your coat off, mid-sentence with Irina. She tilts her head and says there's a 'big guy' waiting for you out front. Your shift's covered, and your pay won't be docked. It doesn't click until she tacks on as an afterthought, "Does he always wear a mask?"

You stop, coat half-off, a cold rush prickling the back of your neck. So. Ghost is here. No big deal—it's probably something for Win. However, when you check your messages, there's nothing recent. Must be a surprise, you think, smiling as Irina jabs her elbow into your ribs, purring out, "Have fun, my little Star."

You pull your coat back on, zipping it to your chin as you bolt out of the dressing room. The club isn't quite to capacity, but you weave through the crowd until you reach the doors. You say goodnight to security as the doors swing open and see him dead ahead.

Ghost pops the door to a sleek red car, but the back seat's empty.

"Where's Win?" You ask as you climb in.

"You see 'im?" The door shuts in your face.

Rude. You don't recognize the car, but Win mentioned owning several. Even curiouser, there's no uniformed driver. Ghost slides into the driver's seat.

You give up on questions. All Ghost does is grunt and answer monosyllabically. 

You temporarily lose your ability to speak at all, anyway, when the sidewalks outside get cleaner and the stores trend nicer. You don't want to believe it when he takes a particular turn, heart swelling in your chest, but then yes—he turns again, and the street narrows, feeding into a set of chrome gates reading CynoSure Studios. 

You've never made it this far. Not on your own.

The car slows but doesn't stop as the red light of the gate's security sensors wash through the interior, then flick blue. The gates open automatically, and you're on the move again, passing warehouse after warehouse. All locked up and closed. Ghost takes you to the last one tucked in the corner. The car door opens for you, inviting in the breeze, carrying the faint scent of cigarette smoke with it.

"Get out, go in, and give 'im your name."

"Win?"

"No."

"Who, then?"

The look Ghost gives you in the mirror tells you ought to try your luck with the stranger. Not him.

You step out and straighten your skirt, and risk one more question. "Can you at least tell me how long this will take?"

"As long as it needs to."

Helpful bastard. 

Your heels click against the pavement, the sound ricocheting down the boulevard of silent studios, the street stretching out, empty but for the murmur of jazz seeping through the warehouse walls. The door gives when you pull the handle, and warm air brushes over you as you step into the dimly lit, cavernous space.

In the center is a small set. Parts of an old school, traditional family home. A kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. A set of speakers on the cement floor. A man leans on the counter, staring at a spread of papers on the table. 

"Hello?"

He looks up, a smile slowly forming on his face. "Can I help you?"

You give him your name, eyes darting around, finding no others. "I think my–I think Win Goforth set this up?"

"Senior or Junior?"

"Junior?"

His golden oculars flicker, the faint glow brightening as something shifts behind his pupils—an interface scanning through a list, maybe a calendar. "Right. Come on in, then. You're the last girl of the day."

You laugh a little incredulously, confused, and glance back at the entrance. Ghost would hear if you screamed, right? He'd also…respond. Right? 

"I'm the last girl for…?"

"The Lumina Vitae shoot? The skincare line?"

Your steps falter. When you didn't hear back after you'd sent off a dozen self-portraits—your hands lit as best as you could manage with a desk lamp and a timed lens—you prepared yourself for rejection. You knew it was a longshot. No professional help, no proper gear, just hoping beyond hope they were good enough. Yet here you were, apparently in the running. 

"Oh, right. That shoot. Of course, thank you. Hard to keep up these days."

He chuckles. "Sure is. I'm Max, by the way. If you'd just…"

Max helps you onto the raised set, immediately positioning you under one of the dangling set lights. He retrieves a small control from amongst the papers, which you realize are printed stills of various hands carefully posed and photographed. 

"No paperwork to sign?"

He ignores the question and turns up the music. "Hands out." You do, arms slightly bent, palms facing down—basic stuff, he mentions. No papers necessary since he knows the Goforths. With a tap to his temple, a small photographic drone floats onto set from somewhere unseen. Its lenses adjust automatically.

"Remain still."

Then, it's all too fast, snapping photos at a dizzying speed, its movements fluid. He must take a hundred pictures, peppering you with generic, scripted questions. How long you've known Win, your day job, if you're a local, and your family. That sort of thing.

Suddenly, he stops, humming, dark shapes moving over his irises as he reviews shots.

"I'm afraid this lighting is too severe. Mind if we…?" He walks toward the bedroom. "There's a better lamp in here."

"Of course." 

You scurry after, the drone following, and sit on the bed, close to the nightstand where he turns on a gentler lamp. The light's warmer, softer. He instructs you to lay one hand over the other, slightly offset, and you're suddenly thankful for the manicure and the little luxuries Win's generosity affords you.

If this goes well, I could get more than a manicure.  

You buzz at the thought, at the domino effect this opportunity might have. You're so caught up in your daydreams that you barely notice Max moving closer, pupils dilating manually. He reaches out, his fingertip pressing gently against your chin, tilting your face toward his.

"Is Win your only agent?"

The question catches you off guard. You're about to correct him, explain that Win isn't your agent, that you wouldn't even call him your boyfriend, but remember your lie. "Yes."

The drone hums past, its tiny turbines leaving a heated wake. It hovers above Max's shoulder, an impersonal observer. "You're not affiliated with any other studio? You've never worked for Echelon? Parallax? You're not, ah, fucking some other big wig?"

You pull back, lips pressing together, but keep your hands in place. After years of trying to wedge a single finger in the door, scrabbling for every chance, you're not about to fold to a sleaze like him. He's not the first, not the last. Still pisses you off, though. "No."

His irises shift from the soft gold to a harsh, ophidian yellow. "No? Good. Then, maybe we can help each other. I'm, ah, inclined to give you this job. Your hands aren't bad. Small, but nothing a shop job couldn't fix. And no mods. No synthetic patchwork. I like that. Makes me curious how much of you is natural." 

You wrinkle your nose.

"Problem is, Win's signed to take half of your earnings," He shakes his head. "That doesn't seem right, does it? You're the one putting in the work."

You don't answer.

"Why don't we cut the middle man out?"

Dread and disgust churns your stomach. What he's insinuating, what he's suggesting—you think of calling for Ghost just to see Max wet himself. He must not know the lug's here. "And I'm sure you're offering this out of the goodness of your heart."

He snorts. "Of course not. This lot isn't booked until tomorrow morning, and there's a perfectly good bed here…" His voice trails. "I'm sure you can put two and two together, sweetheart."

Bile, sharp and bitter, rises to the back of your throat. You have half a mind to spit it onto his shoes, but instead, you swallow it down, determined to keep it together. 

"Thanks for your time, Max," Hundreds of nights coddling drunk assholes at the club have prepared you for this. "I'll be going."

Max doesn't budge when you stand, forcing you into the narrow gap between him and the nightstand. "You sure about that?" He ducks his head closer, the drone bobbing beside his face. "I'll tell Win you're being difficult, and you know, we actually go way back. Might be difficult to find work on a blacklist."

Your lip curls, Ghost's name tucked behind your teeth as a last resort. "You can tell Win whatever lie you want, I'm not doing this. Not for you, not for anyone. Win's been nothing but kind to me. I don't care who he is, I'm not going to–" You glance at the cheap stock bed, "I'm not going to betray his trust like that."

You don't know where you stand with Win—how serious he is about you, or if anything is even there—but you do know that he's been kind, generous, and this…Fucking some slimeball? Cutting him out for a stupid fancy lotion commercial? You couldn't.

Turning on your heel, you make for the door, fuming, and nearly fall off set.

There, leaning against the far wall beside the door, is Ghost. Arms crossed, relaxed, and looking bored as ever. Has he been inside the whole time?

Behind you, laughter. Max follows, clapping and squeezing an over-familiarly hand on your shoulder. "Oh, Win's got a live one, Ghost. Don't you think?"

What the fuck?

You jerk away from him and trip over your words. "What–I don't–Aren't you with Lumina Vitae?"

Max shakes his head. "Oh, I'm no, not at all. I just work for Mr. Goforth. This," He gestures at the hovering drone. "Is his toy. Feel free to wave. Win will watch this later." He taps his temple twice, and the tiny bot emits a melodic chime before lowering obediently into his hand. "Good job by the way, you passed."

"I…passed?"

Max steps around you. "Win's a high-value individual. The Goforths have enemies. Rivals. He likes to vet his, ah, company before he gets in too deep." He gathers the stills and shrugs. "Next time you see him, he'll probably have you sign an NDA. That's the usual timeline."

Heat floods your skin, blooming over your face and neck. The entire situation is outlandish, bordering on absurd, but that's the point, isn't it? It's a test. Win is the heir-apparent to one of the biggest names in film, his family worth billions. You knew that, of course, but you've spent weeks skating around it, choosing instead to lean into the fantasy, pretending it wasn't reality until now.

Max watches you stumble off the set unassisted. "Congrats again. See you around sometime."

Ghost stares past you as you hurry across the warehouse, desperate to put distance between yourself and the stooge. Your arms fold over your chest, hugging yourself tightly, the pressure a weak attempt to steady the choppiness of your breath. He peels off the wall, following close enough that you half-expect him to grab you, stuff you into the trunk, and kick off another leg of this hazing ritual.

But he doesn't. He doesn't say a word when you leave the CynoSure lot, or when you kick off your heels and curl against the door. You press your forehead to the cool glass, mind buzzing with static. Again, you're the one who breaks the silence.

"Does Win…Does he test everyone?"

"Yeah."

Your eyes snap to the back of his head. "Does everyone pass?"

"No."

"What happens to–"

"Don't ask."

"Can I ask one more?" You lick your lip and ask before he can refuse. "Would you have helped me, if he…if he tried something?"

The car jerks suddenly, swerving as it barely misses a motorbike you blast past. Ghost swears, hands choking the steering wheel. After a moment, his shoulders sag, and he cracks his neck with a grunt. "'Course. Don't want to be out of a job."

Ghost doesn't take you home. He takes you to Win. No message or call is needed. He's expecting you. You try to think of something coherent to say to him, but you keep circling back to fuck you. You can't say that, though, glancing at the man behind the wheel.

You follow Ghost from the car into the building, squeezing past him into the lift, and settle into a rear corner. One arm wraps across your torso, the other bent at the elbow, fingertips hovering near your mouth, the impulse to chew your nails loud. The doors close, and the lift starts, numbers climbing in a muted LED glow. You stare into the middle, at and through your reflection.

The jolt is sudden. The lift grinds to a halt, and you instinctively reach for the bars on either side to keep yourself from falling. White light shifts abruptly to red. Your gaze whips to Ghost, mouth opening at the sight of his hand eclipsing the screen, a thumb pressed firmly to the emergency stop.

"What are you–" The question shrivels when he takes one step and closes the distance. The space between you almost nonexistent, and erased further as he leans closer. His head tilts down, all angles and shadows under the crimson light. His eyes are a dimmer red than usual, earthy, like rust. His hands slip over yours, his weight shifting to apply pressure. You try to ignore their smothering warmth.

"You and I are gonna have an understanding."

Your tongue twists. You nod.

"You passed Junior's stupid test. Good for you."  Each word drips with disdain, clipped with irritation, like he can't believe you made it this far. "Doesn't mean your pretty arse belongs in this building, on 'is arm, or anywhere near 'is family. Don't care 'ow much 'e likes you or that cunt of yours. One step out of line, an' you'll be landfill. We clear?"

Landfill. "We're clear."

Ghost grunts and lingers a moment longer, his eyes dropping, and for a second, you think—no, you're sure—he's sneaking a look at your tits. But then one hand lifts, and he plants it against your neck. His thumb settles in the notch above your collarbone, pressing lightly. A scan passes over you, invisible but invasive, crackling in your ears. Then he pulls away with a huff, apparently unimpressed by what he found.

The lift moves before you do. When the doors open, it takes every ounce of willpower to unstick yourself from the corner, legs unsteady beneath you.

The condo is quiet. Ghost disappears ahead without you, before you can toe off one heel in the foyer. Your feet throb, but it's nothing compared to the cement block of stress resting on your shoulders. You should've stayed at the club. Between the 'test' and Ghost's brief, terrifying warning, you think you're close to collapse. You walk as quietly as you can, slow, still at a loss for what to say to Win.

You turn the corner into the living space and flinch at a loud pop, followed by a familiar burst of sparks. A champagne bottle sparkler flares, held aloft by a grinning, dressed-down Win. "There's my beautiful star, my Stella," he calls out, jerking his head. "Get your cute ass over here, and let's celebrate, baby."

This night keeps getting better.

"I look cute, huh?" Win teases as you reluctantly tiptoe closer. "Like I'm you. All I need is a skirt."

You don't know how much longer you can keep playing along. "Win, we need to talk–"

He pours the champagne over two glasses, spilling a bit as he looks between you and the bottle. "I agree. We've got to talk contracts." A wide and knowing grin spreads across his face. "Just got the call—you're in, babe. You're gonna be a Goforth Girl. You got the gig."

You blink. "I what?"

Win chuckles. "Don't look so shocked. I've got a buddy over at Lumina. This one was a gimme. Not all of them will come this easy, but hey, it's your first big one, right?"

You sit before you keel over, swallowing hard as your stomach turns in slow waves. Disbelief, confusion, and the remnants of your indignation tangle together in a knot. Your first gig. A real one. Not some odd job handing out flyers in costume or paid-in-exposure promo modeling. A real commercial for a real company with real reach. Still. You need to say something.

"Yeah, but Win, we need to talk about your friend. Max? The creep at CynoSure? He, um, he told me–"

"We'll cover that, too." He brushes it off with a casual wave as he hands you the flute of champagne. "Got a form or two for you to sign in addition to some business about exclusive representation." He looms over you, ringed fingers twisting the stem of his glass. 

You gape up at him, your head a mess from being pulled in so many directions in one night. It would be crazy, right? To say no now. Max's voice echoes in your head, steady and certain: Win's a high-value individual. The Goforths have enemies. You can't blame him for wanting to protect himself, to protect his family. If roles were reversed, wouldn't you? And if you're going to continue your…entanglement, isn't signing papers in your best interest, to protect yourself?

Win extends his drink. "You'll be a star. We'll make it happen."

We'll make it happen. What else can you say to that? To his complete confidence in you?

Your smile is a brittle thing warped into a crescent, and you watch it in the reflection of your glass as you lift it. "Well, to us, then."

The glasses clink, and you swallow a bitter sip. Win draws you back onto your sore feet for a prolonged kiss.

The slap of bare feet against the floor breaks the moment, eyes popping open as you make a noise into Win's mouth. Across the room, in the kitchen, Ghost reappears. Shirtless. He looks even bigger now, his back a hulking mass of muscle, ridiculous in its sheer width. Scars line his skin, some mods, some implants, but the rest speak to his chosen career. Black ink coils up his arm in a cluttered tattoo, and his skin's slick, the dampness of his blond hair suggesting he came from the shower.

Win pulls away, his mouth smudged with your lipstick.

"Ghost! Join us, we're celebrating! Grab a glass."

The behemoth pauses at the refrigerator, glaring. Despite his state of dress, he's taken the time to hook a cloth mask over his ears, one of which looks puffy. His brow furrows and his gaze shifts between you.

"No." He grinds out, voice low, and a shudder runs down your spine. He lumbers off, water in hand, and Win tuts in playful exasperation.

"Such a buzzkill. Now," His mouth skims your cheek, moving to your ear to whisper. "Where were we, baby?"

[gallaghersgal]

WILD & FLUORESCENT, lip gallagher

c5. of BORDERLINE, lip x bsf! reader (nickname: MK)

TAGS & WARNINGS → MATURE 18+. underage drinking, smoking (🚬), kissing!!!!! theyre kissing in this one guys. mostly fluff, a bit of emotional angst. but this is just the clubbing & graduation chapter, really!

CHAPTER SUMMARY → the last two months before graduation are a whirlwind, but you take all of it in stride. teetering on the edge of friends and something more, lip is by your side for all of it.

A/N → final chapter is here!! but don't worry, there is much more mkverse content to come. stay tuned!!

WC → 2.1k

After convincing Ian to drive the three of you downtown for the night, You, Lip and Adri pile into your car. You let Lip sit in the front seat to guide his brother, still newer at driving at only sixteen. Though, you remember a time when he’d driven a truck that Frank had… acquired. All the way down to the docks and back, at twelve. To say Fiona was pissed? That would be the understatement of the century.

You peer around the headrest, craning your neck while the car rolls to a stop in a crowded city lot. A deep color lines your lips, and you apply a shiny gloss on top. For a moment you glance at Lip, your heart quickening when you see he’s already looking at you. 

“Look like a whore,” he teases, drawing a giggle from your lips. You don’t mind it. You know he’s just being coy.

“Yeah well,” you gesture at his half undone button up, “could say the same about you.” You swat the back of his head with one hand before retreating to step out of the car.

Lip and Adri do the same, and the boy shrugs as he walks around to the drivers side where you are. The front window rolls down and Ian peeks out, “hey man, y’said you’d give me a ten for this.”

An unlit cig hands from his mouth as Lip pats his pockets for a lighter. You hand him yours when he’s unsuccessful. “Did I though?” Lip responds to his brother, “cause, I don’t remember that.” 

Adri fishes a ten five from her purse, then holds her hand out to Lip. “Come on, pay up.” He rolls his eyes at her but obliges, five dollars wasna sacrifice he could make. Adri hands the money to Ian with a pat on his arm, “thanks Ian, drive safe okay?”

He smiles and nods, rolling up the window before pulling away. Lip eyes her as the three of you walk towards the entry line. “You know AJ, there’s no use in hitting on my brother–”

She laughs in disbelief, “what? No, Lip–oh my god–I play for the other team too.” Lip’s eyes widen in surprise, his wit silenced, and Adri nearly doubles over. 

“Oh yeah?” Lip asks, “good to know.”

“Yeah. If I was going for anyone in your family, it’d for sure be Fiona,” she tells him, and then it’s Lip’s turn to stumble from the intensity of his laughter as you approach the end of the line. 

You check your reflection in the window of a closed shop, “If I don’t make out with someone fine tonight, I’m throwing a fit. Seriously.”

Still recovering, Lip pants out, “you look pretty like always MK.”

You raise an eyebrow in response, “really. ‘Cause earlier y’called me a whore.”

“Mm-hmm,” he nods, taking a drag from his cig before exhaling the smoke away from your face. “A pretty whore, yeah. What’s it Adri said, slutty chic?”

At his comment, you remember his words this morning. 

Lip and Adri wait for you outside the corner store as you get your picture taken for a new fake, dead set on getting a good one. This could last until your actual twenty-first birthday. When you finally emerge Lip takes your newly updated card from your hand, inspecting it closely. “You definitely got a discount ‘cause y’r hot. Mine cost like, twenty dollars more and wasn’t half as nice as this shit. But it scans, so I can’t complain.”

Adri eyes you at the comment, lifting an eyebrow behind Lip’s back. He’s indecisive in that way, always half hitting on you but never making a move. It drives you up the wall.

Why does Lip Gallagher have to be so infuriating?

You dismiss him as Adri pulls three smirnoff shooters from her purse. “Fuck! Forgot I had these in here still, meant to take them in the car.” She quickly passes you one each, unscrewing the top to her own. 

“Wait, I wanna make a video,” you tell her. “For our future selves.”

“Of course you do,” Lip complains, but there’s a smile on his face as you prop up your phone. 

You step back between the two of them, raising the small bottle. “Cheers! To… uh–”

“To your twenty-first,” Lip supplies with a smirk. He throws an arm around your shoulders after uncrewing his shot. “And to many, many more.”

“Many more!” Adri toasts, grinning as the three of you clink the bottles and down the shots. 

A bit of a lightweight, you’re feeling the shot by the time you approach the bouncer. By batting your eyes and flashing your ID while telling the large man how excited you were to finally get to try adult things, you distract him enough that he doesn’t check Adri’s ID. Only when the two of you make it to the bar and look back for Lip do you notice he’s still outside the door. He peers around, scowling at the two of you for abandoning ship while he’s left to shell out the cover fee. Thank god you’d known not to pick somewhere too fancy, a little divey club with a dated soundtrack and cheaper drinks. He only had to give the bouncer fifteen before he was allowed inside. 

You offer to buy him a drink as an apology but he refuses, placing a ten on the bar. “I’ll have the three for ten shots, just pour something y’think these girls would like?”

You watch the bartender shoot him a grin before grabbing a bottle of house made strawberry syrup. He rimmed three shot glasses with the syrup before pouring rum and a splash of lemonade. He passes them over and Lip hands the shots out, “on me,” he says with a grin as he elbows you. 

The rum goes down the hatch with ease–it’s your favorite liquor–the bartender made a pretty accurate guess. While you shake off the burn of the shot you hear music that you immediately recognize. You place the plastic cup down on the bar and grab your friends’ hands. “Come on!”

You drag Adri onto the floor, grinning when she takes your other hand and the two of you twirl around. Your hand had slipped from Lip’s as he stayed by the bar, ordering drinks. You pray to god he’s putting them on separate tabs. Lip wades through the crowd with three plastic cups in his hands. He passes two fruity cocktails to you and Adri before gulping down half of his own whiskey sour, his hips beginning to sway to the beat. You twirl around on your own, surprised when a warm hand lands on your hip. 

From behind you Lip murmurs, “this ain’t weird, right?” He guides you to face in Adri’s direction, shes lost in some girl’s eyes. 

You stammer out, “n-no ‘s not–” before he’s swaying you to the beat. He downs the rest of his drink, placing the empty cup on a ledge to your right. Two hands now guide you to face him, looking like the cat that got the cream the way he’s grinning at you.  

And it isn’t weird, really. You’ve always had this unspoken thing between you. Always flirted with the edge of friendship and something more. Regardless, you’re comfortable with it. 

The night goes on just like that, Adri swaps kisses with the girl, smudging a nice shade of brown all over her own lips. You stumble out around two-thirty in the morning, clinging to Lip’s side as Adri hops in a cab home. She offered the two of you a ride to the station but it was in the opposite direction, and Lip insisted the two of you could walk the two blocks there. 

“C’mon MK, lets get you home yeah?” Lip says, his arm holding your waist securely. 

You focus on your steps, blurry eyes pulling away from Adri’s cab as she leaves. You look up to see Lip’s sparkling blue eyes turned toward you, and you’re grateful to the cool wind for excusing the flush on your cheeks. 

“Thanks,” you slur, heading down the street. It’s a short walk which you fill with comfortable silence until your tired body is collapsing into a seat on the L. Within seconds your head finds Lip’s shoulder, drawing a chuckle from the boy. “Lip?” you ask softly, looking up at him.

He smiles graciously, his lips curving into a tipsy grin. “Yeah? Wha’s up kid?”

Your flush worsens at the soft nickname and gentle tone of voice he uses. “Will we be best friends forever?” you ask softly, feeling childish. But you need to know, and they always say drunk words are sober thoughts.

Lip’s smile dips and for a second you fear the worst, but his gentle hand moves to ruffle your already messy hair. “Oh yeah, no doubt about it,” he murmurs. Before you know what’s happening he’s kissed your head. A soft peck right on your crown. 

You stare up in awe, and as if moving on their own you see your fingers tangle in his curls. You pull him down until his lips are on yours, teeth knocking but you don’t find it in you to care. He tastes like the whiskey sours he’d been sipping on all night, smooth bourbon mingling with the acidic taste of a vodka cran on your tongue. 

After a moment you come to your senses, kissing him like this on a public–although empty–train. “Fuck! Lip, ‘m s-so sorry, jeez–”

He cuts you off with a soft finger running over your bottom lip. He traces up to the corner, lifting it into a pretty curve until you’re smiling on your own. He kisses your smiling lips, then murmurs, “‘s okay, y’know. We can be friends who kiss.”

You can kiss Lip Gallagher. Whenever you want. You’re too elated to care about the friendly label. 

Graduation rolls around in due time. Lip looks good in his cap and gown, khaki shorts and a crisp button down underneath. He has you tie his deep blue tie for him, up in your bedroom before heading off. He kisses you in the proximity, holding your cap flush against your head as his own knocks it backwards. All while Caroline and Ian wait downstairs. 

The four of you ride in your car over to the school, and you hold back your tears in the parking lot as you hug your little sister all, dressed up to sing the National Anthem at your graduation. You sit far from Lip during the ceremony but find each other afterwards, walking to the front of the school arm in arm to take a few pictures. Adri surprises you on the way, catching up after sitting right in the front for the best view. You shriek with laughter as she hugs you, you hadn’t even seen her. The three of you take a picture together, Adri sandwiched between Lip and yourself. When you look back at it, you see Lip smiling like the sun in your direction. 

When everything is done and your camera roll is sufficiently full of graduation shots, your little group disbands. Lip says goodbye to his own family, Fiona needing to return to work and Veronica taking the kids back home. You hug your parents tightly, taking one last photo with them by the school sign before they head off. Adri takes a hint from the glance you shoot her, and offers Caro and Ian a ride in her jeep, with the windows down. Of course they say yes. 

That leaves you and Lip alone in your car. You shift into reverse, and when you turn your head to check behind you, he catches your lips with his own. Just a peck, you wish it was more. “You’ll call me every Friday when I’m in Mass, yeah?” he asks, face still close to yours. 

“Of course I will,” you murmur. “I’ll update you on everything.”

“Everything?” he questions, as a smirk plays at his lips. 

“Yeah, everything. Promise.”

You hold out your pinkie, and he does the same. You lock your fingers in the same way you would as kids, swearing to be friends forever. Distance won’t break this bond, right?

“Even your hookups?” Lip asks, drawing his pinkie back from yours. “I want it all, y’know. Girl talk and everything.”

You laugh at him before turning your gaze forward again. “Yeah, right. No fuckin’ way I’m telling you about my sex life. I’ll have Adri for that.” 

He laughs too, goodnaturedly, and clicks his seatbelt on when you glare at him. “Well, I’ll be tellin’ you ‘bout mine, so just know that. Dunno if I’m gonna make too many friends with those mathlete pricks and daddy’s money jagoffs,” he scoffs. 

You roll your eyes, “yeah, I’ll be your phone diary, ‘kay?” From the corner of your eye you can see him smile.

THX 4 READING → the final installment of borderline is dedicated to mkip nation; @notsonian, @ariiireads, and @dearpyramus. beta'd by the lovely @carmybrainworms <33

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Risotto similar to Jason Voorhees? (I had to do it! I couldn’t resist!!)

He was bullied a lot as a kid for his bizarre appearance, white hair, red eyes and black sclera

However his childhood friend Darling was always so nice and kind to him, telling him how his eyes and hair is very pretty and cool, she was 1 years younger than him and much smaller too (Darling was very small for a 9 year old, with Risotto being 10)

Until Risotto’s death, which devastated Darling so much that het mind repressed her own memories of what happened that day (As she was being held back by bullies who let Risotto drown)

Now almost 20 years later and some random people are trying to bring back the place, which cause Risotto’s cousin to snap and go on a killing spree (I thought it would be interesting to do a role reversal for Risotto with his cousin) until his death at the hands of one of the people he tried to kill

Darling went to the lake to pay her yearly respects to Risotto like she always does on his birthday (Not realizing the hulking individual stalking her. Watching her. Following her back home)

So when Darling comes home, she opens her fridge and screams in horror seeing the severed head of someone, only for huge hands to grab Darling and she’s forced unconscious and awakens inside a rundown house tied to the bed and walks in a huge man

Risotto either doesn’t talk or he can but his speech is very broken as he and Darling made a promise to marry each other when they grow up and Risotto intends to fulfill it

Risotto face looks rotting with half his jaw bone seen, grey to greenish skin from the rot or it’s burned flesh, whatever you want

Happy Halloween!! 🎃

Happy Halloween, would have posted a fic today but Nintendo released their music app... let's just say splatoon 3 ost and smut do not work together lol.

But hell Risotto as Jason Voorhees.

Warnings: mentions of attempted sexual exploitation.

Risotto was never a social person, he was a recluse and his strange appeared didn't make things better. Darling was there for him though.

Around 16 and 15 they ended up going on a school camp and darling ended up in a situation where her male classmates were blackmailing her into performing sexual favors. Risotto intervenes to help her but he's overwhelmed by the group and is floored. Darling pleads with them to stop, she'll do what they want if they stop hurting him while one of them holds her back.

They end up dragging him to the nearby lake and forcing his head under, pulling him up every so often until he stops struggling. The group freaks out realizing they just killed him. Darling is quickly pushed aside and ends up unconscious from the fall.

They end up submerging his body under rocks and promise to never tell what happened. Now they need to deal with Darling but when she comes to she doesn't remember what happened that night and they take her back to camp.

Next morning Risotto is nowhere to be found, the people who run the camp call the police but even they can't find him. The camp is ended early and shortly after the whole thing is shut down after his mother sues for negligence.

Darling is still close with his family after all she'd been dating him at the time. His cousin, Campanelle knows there was something up with his disappearance. It had to be foul play.

Years later does one of the former students buy the place and offer to host their high-school reunion before it officially opens. They barely knew anything about Risotto and think it was a shame it got shut down after what happened. Most people believe he just ran away.

Darling does go but is drawn to the water, she sits out on the dock. Wondering what happened to Risotto and hopping that he really did run away, as unlikely as it seems.

Meanwhile Cam ends up overhearing one of the guys mention what happened that night and all hell breaks loose as he ends up killing one of the guys and injuring two others. Everyone is shocked and darling gets back just as the police arrive.

"They killed him! (Insert a few names) killed Risotto Nero!" Cam loudly proclaims as he brandishs a knife before he's killed. Darling is mortified, it stabs her to know the truth.

The camp hall where the party was held is closed for investigation but the rest of the place however is still open. Due to darling helping the host with preparations she got one of the private lodges.

She goes back for the night bawling her eyes out. She needs a drink to soothe her throat and opens the fridge to see the severed head of one of the culprits in the fridge, he'd tried to run away after being called out before meeting with a grizzly fate. In the light she also sees the blood on the floor from what she assumes is the head.

She runs out the door to tell someone before running into someone. She clears her eyes to see a large figure but can't make out the features in the low light.

"The fridge- there's a-" she tries to speak past her hiccups but the figure grabs her in their tight grip, brandishing a machete at her.

"Please let me go! I'll do whatever you want, Just let me go" she begs them. They end up putting away the blade before knocking her out. Risotto didn't realize it was darling at first until she begged, almost mirroring what she begged before his death.

When she comes to she's finds herself tied to a chair in a dingy old cabin. A lamp is lit and is met with the monster before her. Blueish gray skin with extreme visible veins. Parts eaten away exposing the muscle and bones beneath. Looking up at his face his lower jaw is only bone but those eyes and hair catch her off guard. No it couldn't possibly be. She remembers what happened now, there's no doubt he died.

"No... it can't be" she chokes out before crying again. His hand caresses her face.

"No! there's no way you're him!" She shouts as she moves her head away. He looks older, how could he even age if he was dead. She refuses to believe her beloved could ever become this creature. He's determined to show her the truth.

He came back for her. The moment he awoke he was thrown into a frenzy to try and save darling a many years too late and ended up killing two people hiding out at the abandoned site.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I complained about getting docked pay because we were locked out of the workplace?

I (17M) started a job about a month and a half ago, and I work 7am morning shifts on Saturdays and Sundays (evening shifts on 2 or 3 weekdays. $11 an hour). I always make it to my shift on time and clock in at least a minute early, or on the dot. Im never really early, but I hate the idea of being late and have put in effort to make sure I have a good record regarding that.

last weekend, I showed up Saturday morning and couldn’t get inside- the shift lead had not arrived yet to unlock the door, so i and another coworker waited. It was 7:05 when I remembered I could access the website we use to clock in, and so I did that. The lead had slept in (she, ~22F, is a respectful person though a bit disorganized and forgetful, however I understand that she’s under a lot of stress) and showed up finally around 7:25.

We got in, did our stuff, it was fine. But towards the end of my shift I saw her going through our time cards and “correcting” my clock in to the time at which she arrived. She reasoned that because we couldn’t get inside we weren’t working and therefore couldn’t be paid for it.

That day was only a 2 hour shift, so that was about 20% of that shift taken from me- it wasn’t my fault I was locked out, I was here perfectly on time like every time. It’s not really a big deal, and thus far I haven’t made a fuss about it, but the other coworker locked out with me mentioned that this has happened before. I honestly expect it to happen again considering it’s quite an early shift and it’s easy to sleep in, and the shift lead is a quite exhausted person.

So if this does happen again, WIBTA for complaining to a higher position? Is there a certain threshold (eg less than 30 min) where I should let it go?

What are these acronyms?

[jekinabox]

some rambles on my takes on Curly from Mouthwashing

I understand that a lot of people see Curly’s reaction to Anya telling him about her SA and what he did after as him ignoring it for Jimmy’s sake- and maybe that’s true, the point could very well be that people (especially those close to the abuser, especially men) will just set that kind of thing aside because the abuser “wouldn’t do that” or “will be better” or whatever, especially because Swansea ends up doing the same thing when Anya tells him, as well as the consistent theming of responsibility and trying to fix things.

But I think that maybe there’s more to it? If you don’t, feel free to look away, this is just my thoughts and take. But I think If the story is about SA and the consequences of not rooting the people out, I don’t understand what Diasuke’s role in it could be, so that just isn’t the moral of the story that I see. Of course, if this is how you see the story, that’s ok! People can have different views on media, and art is as much about people’s different responses to it as it is about what the creators meant.

Onto my little ramblings about the guy!

1- I think it’s very probable that Curly’s been manipulated by Jimmy, and for a long time. They’re “best friends,” and Curly believes Jimmy “won’t try that bullshit with me” even though he clearly does. Even at the birthday party, Jimmy is uncaring to his “best friend,” and during the confrontation near the cockpit, Jimmy outright twists what Curly’s said in the past. (Not to mention what he does to Curly afterward, but that doesn’t exactly count since it’s afterward.) I also wouldn’t be surprised if Jimmy helped Curly out of some situation in the past due to his savior complex and Curly now feels like he owes Jimmy something. It’d be easy for him to overlook Jimmy’s smaller problems if he feels he owes Jimmy something, especially if it’s something bigger, and he seems more of the “deal with it” kind of person anyways, so he’d obviously toss any grievances aside since he thinks everyone needs multiple chances. At first, Jimmy probably unsettled him. But he got used to it, just like his job. He deals with it for the last day, then another, then another.

2- Curly seems legitimately concerned when Anya tells him about everything, at least when he gets confirmation. We don’t see much after the she asks him about the locks on the doors, and we don’t see how much he actually learns, and thus no clue as to how bad he believes the situation may be (Harassment is nothing to scoff at, but if he just believes someone’s being a creep or annoying her, he’s obviously going to try to learn more and deescalate before anything else.) We also never see how much or what they say when she asks for the gun, but what we know is that Curly is freaking out when he thinks she has it, and actually believes it at first to be that she wants to kill herself due to the recent termination of their jobs. He’s first confused, then after her few words of explanation says he’ll talk to Jimmy. We never see an actual talk, but he learns definitively of what happened only “1 day before the crash,” and it takes time to sort through emotions, plans, and decisions, let alone when someone you thought was good did something like that and if you realize that they were a shitty person all along. Curly also then needs to decide what they’re going to do with Jimmy (they can’t lock him in the cockpit or medical because they need those, nor the hold because he would obviously mess up whatever they’re shipping as a hissy fit against them, and considering you get pay docked for complaining, using the cryopod or the gun would probably make this whole deal worthless for practically everyone.) Even if he did decide to just get rid of Jimmy, he’s not going to tell anyone that in case Jimmy finds out, and especially not Anya, since she seems forgiving enough and in a bad enough spot he has no clue what she may try to do if he tells her “I’m going to go kill Jimmy.”

3- Inaction and not taking responsibility doesn’t feel like Curly’s issue. Curly has the responsibility of everything on the ship, even baking a cake, and even when told not to tell his crew about the loss of their jobs, he still does. He even takes roles that aren’t his, like doing Jimmy’s psych evaluation when he sees Anya’s uncomfortable. This is why he and Jimmy are the two characters we play as, and are seen as opposites and each other’s foils. Jimmy’s whole thing is unreliable narration. By the end of the game, he’s convinced himself Curly crashed the ship and he’s the better man for leaving Curly alive after what he “did.” Jimmy’s an aggressive man who uses people for just what they can give him, and he causes problems for the express purpose of trying to fix him so people worship him, but messes up even with all the time in the world to “fix” things. Curly’s the one blamed, but he’s a genuine guy who tried his best and gave people the benefit of the doubt until he couldn’t anymore, but didn’t have the time to fix anything because Jimmy broke that chance.

4- My main bit is over, but another piece of his psychology- Curly probably hates himself, considering how Jimmy talks about him seeming like he’s at the edge of a bridge with cinderblocks on his feet, and if he hates himself, a way he may try to cope is by insisting everyone isn’t tied to their worst moments! Just like how he talks about how pain is a symbol one’s alive, which sounds like another coping mechanism. Jimmy isn’t the only one who hopes it hurts.

5- And Curly was right, most of the time, about how bad things don’t define people. Swansea’s rude and abrasive at times, but a pretty good man in a bad life. Diasuke was unplanned for the journey, but he’s a good intern who’s trying his best. Anya may have only completed the Pony Express medical course, but she keeps Curly alive for four months, even despite his quadruple amputations and missing skin and the complete lack of a lot of medical equipment that she could’ve used. The unfortunate thing is- his kind nature let bad things in, and it was so slow and manipulative he didn’t even necessarily know, consciously, how bad it was, until Jimmy crashed the ship, got everyone killed, and fed him his own leg. 99.9% indeed.

[oceaneyesinla]

FINALLY i found the writing momentum to write about my beloved Rook and her beloved boys

A small introduction to her: her name is Emmariel Thorne, and she's an elven Warden rogue. she's also a little shit with a heart of gold

beware spoilers for Veilguard under the cut, referencing a major choice and a key story mission

divider by @/cafekitsune

"Has anyone seen Rook?" Harding asks the room at large, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, "Viago just sent over ... you know, I'm not sure what it is. It's got her name on it, though."

Lucanis speaks up from where he's preparing the vegetables for dinner, "Knowing Viago, it's either poison or a new blade. He and Teia are growing rather fond of her, though Viago will never admit it."

"Rook did look very excited the last time she came back from Treviso." Neve doesn't look up from the papers she's reading, but there's a small smile turning up her lips. Minrathous falling to the Venatori had driven a wedge between them, but in the aftermath of Weisshaupt, their bond seemed less fraught. Especially since Rook helped her with some work back in Dock Town.

Davrin is the one to actually answer Harding's question, "Haven't seen her, but I'll let her know you're looking for her if I do."

A lie, but no one else needs to know that. Not that he'll tell her about the 'gift' from Viago - he'll take great pleasure in telling her about the package, and in watching her face light up, blue eyes bright and mischievous. Lucanis is right - Emmariel has endeared their new Crow friends just like she has everyone else, and even the Fifth Talon isn't immune to her charm. That mystery package is almost certainly a knife.

No, the lie is that he actually does know where Rook is. She's exactly where he left her; fast asleep in his bed, using Assan as both a pillow and a plush toy. The griffon was all too happy to spend some time with his second favourite person - after all the trouble Remi and Lancit had bonding with the griffons in the beginning, he never expected Assan to take to Emmariel as quickly as he did. She gravitates to him almost every time she passes through the courtyard, and Assan just chirps happily as she taps his beak and cradles his head in her hands and throws her arms around him.

Davrin has spent more time with Emmariel lately, just like Assan - both of them grew up in Dalish clans, and both of them found a new home with the Wardens, though their path to the Order differed. Being around her feels easy - she's warm and friendly, with a quick wit that draws a laugh out of him every time. Her heart takes pride of place on her sleeve, and she has a knack for seeming so empathetic but so strong. He can see why Antoine and Evka speak so highly of her.

That big heart comes with a cost, and Davrin hates to watch her pay it. He can still see the first time she let all of them see just how badly Weisshaupt affected her in his mind. The sheer disbelief on her face as a Warden stumbled through the doors to the dining hall, supported by Antoine and Evka. The big tears that rolled down her cheeks as she tripped over herself to reach him, and the shuddering sobs that left her shaking in his hold.

The Warden was her mentor and the man who saved her life when she was blighted; Samuel. For over a week, she helped them with their problems; listened to him and Lucanis take petty shots at each other, and supporting Neve in Minrathous through the mage's distrust and her own guilt. All of that, while carrying the burden of not knowing how many of her Warden friends were dead, or if her beloved mentor had survived.

Watching her cry into Samuel's shirt, Antoine rubbing her back and looking close to tears himself, Davrin made a silent promise to himself - he would take care of her; give her a safe place to shed the weight she carried and let herself be vulnerable. It's no hardship - he finds himself thinking of her when she's away from the Lighthouse without him, and he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips when she comes to see him and Assan.

When she fell asleep in his room, curled up in the armchair by the fire with Assan keeping watch, he didn't hesitate to lift her into his arms, cradling her against him as he moved her to his bed. He can't take away the grief of Weisshaupt, or the guilt of Minrathous, but he can let her have a few hours of uninterrupted rest, safe and sound in his room and his bed.

************

He's quiet when he returns to his room, just in case Emmariel is still asleep. A cheerful chirp greets him, and moments later, Emmariel is peeking around the corner, all tired eyes and sleep ruffled hair, making her pretty blue curls even more unruly than usual. He's not a poetic man, but the smile she sends his way feels like the soft sunshine of sunrise, and some small part of him hopes that whatever future comes his way after all this, she will be by his side.

He's pleasantly surprised when she closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face into his shoulder. He doesn't hesitate to return the gesture, relaxing into the warmth radiating from her. In a spark of bravery, he drops a kiss to the top of her head. She stays quiet, but the way her arms tighten around him speaks volumes.

"Sleep well?" He asks as they pull apart; she looks better than she did before her impromptu nap. Her eyes are bright again, clear cerulean sky staring up at him.

She lets out a little laugh, reaching out to scratch Assan between his ears, "I did. Assan makes a good cuddle buddy." Assan lets out happy little chirps, approving of both the attention and the praise from his second favourite person. When she looks back up at him, the sheer emotion in her eyes makes his heart skip a beat, "Davrin ... thank you, for letting me sleep." He's pretty sure she's thanking him for far more than that, but his answer will always be the same. Maybe he's an idiot - a Warden falling for another Warden at the end of the world, but he can't find it in himself to regret it.

"You're always welcome with Assan and me. Who else will feed him snacks on the sly?"

His playful tease pulls another bright peal of laughter from her even as she tries and fails to look innocent, "I would never feed him gingerwort truffles when his father isn't looking, and a good boy like Assan would never accept illicit treats."

There's that spark of mischief, of life he's been missing. She's still laughing and looking up at him with those big blue eyes that give her away and it would be so easy to reach out and -

"Oh, Rook! There you are!" Harding's voice breaks the moment building between them, and Emmariel's happy little bubble. He watches her tense up infinitesimally, her hand stilling on Assan's feathers, using him as a comfort. She's expecting the worst, and after everything they've been through, he can't blame her, "Viago sent a package for you. Lucanis thinks it's poison, Taash is hoping it's a cape."

Emmariel's grin is immediately restored, bigger and more concerning than before, "My knife! Viago said he was sending a little knife for me to keep hidden away. For emergencies." Davrin has seen Emmariel with a blade - the only person having an emergency would be the person crossing her.

She grabs his hand, tugging him along behind her. Not that it takes any effort for her to make him follow her. He pointedly ignores Harding and her knowing smile as he lets Emmariel lead him across to the dining hall, Assan trotting along by her side. All he wants to focus on is the warmth of her small hand in his.

[uhdrienne]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

05. he made sense though

🌼 warnings: mentions of a creep, injuries

🌼 word count: ~2.7k

"Y/N!!"

"Delia?? What are you doing back here?"

She shrugs. "I quit."

"What?!" You exclaim.

She looks at you. "Some creep wouldn't stop bothering me," She says lightheartedly, but one look at her expression tells you she's not feeling too great at all. "The doctor wouldn't take action even when she saw it in the flesh. Said something about not ruining our reputation. So I left." She promptly bursts into tears, and you're quick to draw her into a tight hug.

"Oh, god." You murmur. "Okay. It's okay. You're safe now, Dee. Come on in first."

"I'm jobless!" She chokes out a laugh through her tears, as you settle her on your couch. "Amazing, huh?"

"No, don't think like that," You insist, before a bright idea pops into your head. "Work with me. Over here. You like the village, don't you?"

"What? I-I do, but-"

"I don't have a nurse right now," You explain, getting more excited. "I could use the help."

She looks up at you, hope creeping into her face. "Really?"

"Yeah. It would be amazing if you stayed with me," You breathe out.

She squeals and tackles you. Amid her excited ramble of thanks, you catch the hint of relieved laughter

Loud bangs on your door wake you and Delia up.

"What the..." Delia grits out, shoving a pillow over her face. "It's 8am!"

You pull yourself out from the warm covers, and very grumpily, open the door to see Wonwoo. "Come on out," He says. "We have weekly village cleaning on Saturdays."

"It's a weekend!" You exclaim. "Who in their right mind wakes up this early --"

"We do," Wonwoo smirks at your cranky state. "Ten minutes. See you out there."

"See you never," You mutter, and he turns back to you to warn, "You better go get ready. Don't go back to sleep."

"You can't make me."

"Don't make me pull out the megaphone."

You huff and close the door.

He pulls out the megaphone. Right. At. Your. Doorstep.

And so fifteen minutes later, you find yourself in the ugliest neon green vest ever, a broom in your hands, sweeping the streets with a grumpy and groggy Delia by your side. Joshua and Seungkwan come by to say hello to your best friend, and Delia brightens up considerably after Seungkwan compliments her hair.

"He's so charming!" She sighs after they walk away, as you half-heartedly sweep up some dead leaves.

"Mmhmm. Got it." You don't even process her words, only scowling at the annoyingly dapper town chief.

"Y/N! We have a patient!"

You leave your office and to the counter, where you find Wonwoo and one of the grandmas you handled squids with standing together. You bow, and take the grandma's chart for a look.

"Grandma Lee," You read off the paper. "Pain in the elbow, extending to the wrist..."

"She does heavy work by the docks sometimes. You handled squids with her," Wonwoo supplies.

"Okay, got it. Would you come with me? We'll take a look."

Ten minutes, later, after a series of questions and quick presses to the painful areas, you conclude.

"So, you'll probably need a form of therapy," You say. "A few weeks' worth of exercises and physio to relax the surrounding joints and let it heal. It might be because of the constant strain and pulling. I'll get some pain relief for you in the meantime, but don't rely only on it. Healing the injury is key."

Wonwoo nods, and checks to make sure Grandma Lee understands.

"Doctor?" Grandma Lee speaks up.

"Yes?' You turn to her. "Any questions about the treatment?"

"How much would it cost?"

"Ah, your insurance will cover most of it."

"How much would I need to pay?" Grandma Lee looks up at you from her chair.

"It really differs by the number of sessions." You ponder. "But as a ballpark..." You scribble down a rough estimation, and her eyes widen as she sees the figure.

"Oh, that's so expensive!" The lady exclaims. "I wouldn't spend so much money just on my arm. Forget it."

"Grandma-" Wonwoo tries to interrupt.

"There are home-based exercises that we can try out if the cost doesn't work out for you," You attempt to placate her. "However, doing them under guidance is much better so you don't risk getting injured and making it wor-"

"Oh, never mind that," She says impatiently. "I'll just have painkillers."

"Please don't worry. I know medical prices can be very burdensome. We can discuss this further only after you're properly healed," You console. "Right now, the payment isn't my concern. The pain seems to be quite serious in some places--"

Wonwoo takes her arm as she tries to get up. "Grandma, why don't we hear the doctor out and consider it first? She's a professio-"

"Nothing pain medicine can't fix," She complains as you address her.

"Ma'am," You explain. "Injuries aren't always something you can fix with painkillers. If we don't fix the root cause, the pain will persist and it might get worse-"

"Hey, you don't have to scare her-" Wonwoo seems alarmed.

"Do you happen to be... in need of financial aid?" You blurt out in a moment of weakness.

"Hey!" Wonwoo starts, eyes widening.

"What?" Grandma Lee asks, looking offended. "Who do you take me for- I'll have you know, the land I own here is bigger than others! My kid works at a high-end company in Seoul. Do you think, what, I can't afford it?"

"Okay, um..." You blow out a breath, and look back down at your clipboard, clicking your pen shut. "Then...why don't you discuss this with your son first? We can do another consultation and see what we can do once we're all on the same page."

"Fine!" Grandma Lee retorts angrily, before pushing herself up and hobbling out of the room. Wonwoo starts to call for her, but she's already gone. He whirls on you.

"Did you have to?" Wonwoo asks exasperatedly.

"What?" You ask, annoyed.

"Ask about financial aid and all of that shit -- is that really what a doctor should say?"

"I asked because she was being stubborn."

"Stubborn-- have you thought that she maybe doesn't want to bother her family with the fees?" Frustration is laced into Wonwoo's words, his voice slightly louder than before.

"No, I haven't thought about it." You answer angrily, without missing a beat. "And I don't really understand that. She would rather endure the pain than get it resolved, just for her son?"

"Why are you like this?" Wonwoo half-shouts, getting up. "Look...I don't have time for this. You-"

"Neither do I," You say, folding your arms. "And please don't overreact. You're not her legal guardian."

He shoots you a glare, full of hurt and disappointment, before he grits out, "People really don't change so easily, do they." He then turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

Sighing, you return to perusing her chart.

You're still pondering over it that evening, and Delia is about to lose her marbles over your brooding when you get a text from Wonwoo.

"Meet me at the harbour."

When you reach the same spot where you ran into Joshua and Seungkwan and Wonwoo, this time it's just the chief alone. You sit a small distance away from him. "What is it?"

"She called her son earlier," He begins with no preamble. "And he said he wanted to wait a while since he's paying off the kids' school fees and he hasn't gotten his promotion."

You stay quiet. You know about the financial issues patients sometimes face. You've already made your decision to cure her after a long think and consulting with Delia, but you decide to listen anyway.

"We've told you about Grandma Lee." He starts. "And you know how she is. She wouldn't spend money on her treatment because she doesn't want to tell her family and stress them out. Her son has a family to support."

You stay silent, but he says nothing about it. He turns to you fully. "What I'm saying is, I'll pay for her treatment. Just don't tell her it was me. Say... say you had some kind of free treatment or something."

"I can't," You say immediately. "I have to be responsible for anything I do as a doctor. If I'm trying to help her get better, it would be unethical if I didn't inform her of the whole process from treatment to payment, black-and-white."

"Fine," Chief Jeon nods in understanding. "Make up any excuse within your limits. Just don't say it was me."

"Why are you being stubborn on this, too?" You ask softly.

"Grandma Lee raised me," He insists. "We take care of the people we love. She never likes to trouble her son--"

"So she just bears with the pain?" You interrupt, then sigh slightly. "That's a little selfish."

"Selfish?" Wonwoo says exasperatedly. "She's the most selfless woman I know. How could you even say that?"

"Because it's frustrating to watch." You look down at your hands.

"Don't you know anything about sacrifice?" Wonwoo confronts you hotly. "She's sacrificed so many things her whole life--"

"Why are you getting upset?" You retort, becoming just as irate. "Do you know what it means to be a good parent?"

He goes quiet, and so you continue, eyes blazing. "It means taking care of themselves and staying healthy for a long time."

His eyes flick back to yours, anger immediately draining from them. You ignore it and keep going.

"They shouldn't be putting aside their well-being in the name of not burdening their family!" You exhale sharply. "They should care for their own health the most, for the good of themselves and their loved ones. She shouldn't be putting herself through so much pain and letting herself suffer. Don't you get it?"

And with the outburst, you get to your feet and storm off. Wonwoo watches you leave.

Once you get back through the door you pass Delia's closed door, go to your room, and sink into a chair. You hated it, disliked the feeling so much, but something about Grandma Lee just couldn’t tear you away from her case. You rub your eyes in exhaustion.

We take care of the people we love.

It looks like you had a grandma to visit.

"Is anyone home?" You mutter as you enter her front yard the next evening.

"Who's that?" You can hear her voice and her footsteps as she ambles slowly out of her house.

"Oh. It's you," She says as she catches sight of you. You wonder if it's too late to turn back and escape, but you make yourself stay put, and bow to her. "Grandma Lee."

She sighs. "Since you're already here, might as well eat. Have you had dinner?"

As your head shakes no awkwardly, she tuts something about not eating properly before she ushers you into her home, to a seat at her table. You try to refuse, but she waves you away and goes back to her kitchen, and before long you hear the clangs as she makes a tray and sets it before you.

"Go on, eat!" She says as she opens a steaming bowl of soup. "I made these fresh myself, using kimchi we made. Try it."

You murmur a soft thank-you to her before you cautiously take a bite.

It tastes...like what you would have at heaven's gates. Rich and flavourful, the kimchi adds just the right tang of sour and crunch. "It's... really good,” You mumble quietly.

"Oh, that's good. I was afraid it wasn't good, you know. Nowadays, I'm not as agile as before. Bending over and making kimchi gets harder as you age. I ache everywhere after I make it." She chuckles awkwardly, and you smile softly along with her.

"And your arm wouldn't make it easier since it's in pain, right?" You attempt probing a step further, and she sighs and shakes her head. "I guess not."

"Then how could you think just painkillers would solve the problem?" You admonish, no anger in your words, and she smiles sheepishly.

But just like that, the tension eases a little, and you're relieved when she reverts to her slightly chatty self, going on about how doctors should be eating more to keep themselves going.

It feels like your own grandma watching to make sure you ate well, and you're maybe, just probably, starting to understand why Wonwoo adores her so much. Her presence is comforting, like a confidant you could come home to.

After you eat she brings you outside to the yard with some chilled barley. You sit with her on the porch as she tells you childhood stories of Wonwoo and Joshua and Seungkwan, and how they were called The Little Daredevils, and she pauses when she gets to Wonwoo leaving the town for a good three years. You smile at the right places, and look at the way her greying hair (white in some places) blows in the breeze as the sun sets and night falls.

"Ah, that boy," She sighs as she massages her feet and you pour her a cup of barley. "I was worried when he left, you know. And he didn't call anyone back here. He was different when he came back. Not the energetic chief we see now."

You nod awkwardly, remembering your spat with him. "I see. I'm glad he got better, didn't he?"

"He even offered to pay for the treatment!" She says, before shaking her head in fond exasperation. "He's mischievous, but he's a good man."

"...He is," You affirm, rather reluctantly. You cast your eyes down and shake your head as you recall his prior attempts to explain Grandma's situation to you. God, how he would laugh when he found out about this!

"And my son said to hold off on the treatment, so..."

That helps you recall why you're here in the first place.

"Grandma Lee, I came to tell you... come back to the clinic." You mumble.

She looks up, startled at your direct words. "Hm?"

"I might not be able to give you a hundred percent discount," You tug at the hem of your dress nervously. "But... I thought about it, and Wonwoo spoke to me... I wanted to apologise. I should at least try to understand your hardships. So...I won't charge you full price. Maybe just for the consultation."

"Oh..."

"Don't tell anyone, though," You try for a smile. "It can be our secret."

"If it's bad for business, you don't need--" She begins, flustered, but you wave your hands in refusal, face flushing. "It's not that, really."

She waits for you to continue.

"I won't get to see my parents retire and move to a peaceful place," You say quietly. "I won't be able to see them get to your age, or see them make kimchi and cook delicious things. So... I just thought I should try my best to give you more chances to do what you like. You shouldn't be in pain if you want to do it all."

You avoid eye contact, fiddling with your fingers, staring at the glowing lamppost, the peeling green paint of her gate, and the worn-out slippers on her feet, everywhere but at her, as she surveys you for what feels like forever, a mix of curiousity and sympathy laced in her expression.

When she finally reaches out to take your hand and pat it silently and gently with hers, wrinkled and lined with the wisdom of her years, the way grandmas always do, you let her.

She sighs. "Wonwoo really is a nag, isn't he."

The sudden lament coaxes a huff of laughter out of you. "I have to admit he made sense though."

It felt beyond strange to concede to the village chief for once, but when Grandma smiles and continues patting your hand, you couldn't help but think you finally did something right.

Wonwoo leans back, hands behind his head as he lies down on the ground. The red lighthouse glows in the distance and the sound of the waves fill his ears. Your voice fills his head

"Do you know what it means to be a good parent?"

"It means taking care of themselves and staying healthy for a long time."

He blows out a breath. It looked like he had a doctor to visit, and not for medical purposes.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.05: he made sense though

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou

writer's note: soo... i hope she's trying to be better...? hahaha thank you for reading!!

[byhimawari]

“One Scoop for Two”

(a RivaMika drabble)

“Eren. You should try, too.”

Excited and curious for him to try the unfamiliar but delectable treat, Mikasa hands Eren an —what the Marleyans call — ice cream cone. After witnessing Connie’s and Sasha’s reaction, she  was quick to buy one for Eren and her to share, deep down hoping they’d also forget the task at hand for just a second out of their blood driven lives and actually bond. 

Eren takes and observes it, also curious, albeit not in the same way Mikasa and the others were, because unlike them, and Mikasa knew, his mind is at an unreachable place where sharing ice cream with her is, quite frankly, of no importance.  

“Ice cream?”

Mikasa blinks in surprise, caught off guard that he knew what it was called before she had the chance to tell him. “You knew?” 

Eren’s features grow somber, an immediate indication that her hope for bonding has now become a cold case. She can almost hear the needle drop at the bottom of her glass heart. 

“From the old man’s memory, that is.” 

Mikasa doesn’t pry about his visions, knowing if she even asked, Eren would be too vague or reluctant to share. Instead she just nods, as she always does, her shadow standing besides his but never quite touching a constant remnant of what she will always be.

—

Levi, after great effort, finally manages to yank Hange away from their foolery of chasing cars and yelling at inanimate objects. How troublesome it was for the ship to dock at the busiest port in Marley. It’s enough to keep eye on the brats, what more having to babysit the Commander? 

Speaking of brats, from a distance he sees the gloomy one standing with the reckless one, seemingly offering him ice cream with a faint glimmer of excitement in her eyes. Levi, against himself, because he’d rather blow their cover than admit that Ackerman looks rather appealing in her outfit, observes and sees the dejected slump of her shoulders as Eren just stares at now melting dessert in his hand. 

He sees them chat for a moment. Eren’s facial features appear deep in thought. So deep in thought, in fact, he hands Mikasa back the ice cream cone mindlessly and excuses himself, walking away completely unaware to the confused and surprised gaze that follows him.  

Normally he’d pay them no mind. He’s used to seeing Mikasa waste her valuable time and efforts on that kid. But there was something in the way her eyes glowered to the ground, a melancholic aura surrounding her like a dark cloud, that got under his skin, where his foot literally ached to kick something, someone, preferably the Titan boy himself, in order to ease the itch. And it’s when Levi sees Mikasa throw away the ice cream cone before walking away herself that he decides that he’ll definitely kick Eren’s ass. It only makes sense. 

What doesn’t make sense, however, is Levi suddenly finding himself ordering one of those damn cold, much-too-sweet contraptions for himself and then walking hastily through an alien town in search for the woman worth a hundred soldiers turn damsel in distress. Yet, there he is, playing knight in shining armor for reasons he will never admit aloud. 

Though his approach is everything but courteous and noble. 

“Oi, gloomy brat.”

He finally finds her, sitting lonesome on a bench, staring blankly at nothing as she so often does when in her sunken moods. Mikasa doesn’t move an inch. He expected as much. 

“Go away. I’m not in the mood.”

He expected that much, too. Even from behind, he knows exactly what sour face she’s making. But of course he doesn’t falter. He walks over to the bench and sits beside her. Levi notices her tense and he prepares himself. 

She swiftly turns her head, “I said I’m not in the—!” 

Levi shuts her up, softly pushing the tip of the ice cream against her mouth. Her eyes widen in shock, then it evolves into her piercing glare.  

“C-Captain! What was that for?” she wipes her mouth and nose with the back of her hand.

“You wanted ice cream, didn’t you?” Levi asked plainly, pulling the cone back slightly, “I saw you dispose the one you bought earlier without even tasting it. What a waste.”

There’s a pregnant pause between the two. Mikasa then just sighs and turns away to look back at nothingness.

“I got it for Eren,” she says quietly, as though embarrassed to even hear herself say it aloud.

Ah, just as he thought. Seems Levi has a knack for accurate observation.

“I take it the brat didn’t want any?” Levi scoffs irately as he leans back against the bench, “Tch. Even common courtesy the boy lacks.” 

“He’s just going through a lot,” she’s quick to defend.

Levi’s quicker to rebuttal, “And you’re not?” 

His words came out much sharper than he intended, like a paper cut to the tongue, and he realizes from the slight fall of her face that she felt the sting too. He sighs. Sometimes even he forgets that underneath her steel armor is still a delicate heart.

“Look, I understand he’s on edge, as we all are by just simply being here, but…” Levi starts but then his eyes drift to the tip of the ice cream, noticing it’s starting to melt. He twitches slightly, not wanting it to get on his skin or clothes. But still, he continues before his train of thought goes away, “That doesn’t justify him taking you for granted. He was wrong for that, just as he was all the other times.”

She turns back to look at him with eyes he has seen so many times before; defeated but stubborn. It’s the same eyes she always has when she’s with Yaeger. Levi sees right through her, not because she makes it obvious, but because he’s the exact same, loving from afar but standing so close. He understands.

“It’s just ice cream, Captain,” she attempts to dispute.

And because be understands, he’s determined to make sure she does too.

“Is it really, Mikasa?”

She doesn’t respond, her vanquish clear. Mikasa knows that it isn’t just ice cream. He knows that she knows. It’s supposed to be something that binds them, to create a fond memory, to close the gap.

Just like the one melting in his hand.

They were never just ice cream cones to begin with.

After some silence, Mikasa nods, acknowledging his point as the storm in her eyes slowly comes to a calm.

“Just don’t stop yourself from enjoying something just because someone else doesn’t want to enjoy it with you, you gloomy brat,” Levi quickly reiterates as to not make the silence between them awkward.

But then his attention shifts and his brow furrows uncomfortably when be sees the trail of ice cream start flowing slowly down, his skin surely to meet its sticky demise.

Without any notice, Mikasa leans towards the ice cream he holds and uses her lips to take a generous bite at the top, stopping it from melting onto his hand. She shivers at its coldness, having swallowed too fast. Something fluttered within Levi’s chest at the sight, like that of a butterfly floating to the rhythm of his rapid heart, and he doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

Levi clears his throat, trying to ground himself away from the corners of his mind.

“Next time, just enjoy it yourself or find someone else who does,” he says, “Like right now. You’re not bad company.”

Levi tenses, realizing the weight of the last bit he said, subtly confessing that he enjoys her company, thus implying that he could be that person she can always eat ice cream with, should she ever wish…should that chance ever come again.

“Thank you, Captain,” she says warmly, a rare soft smiles on her lips that he never thought he’d have honor of witnessing himself, “For…the ice cream.”

It’s chaste when he smiles back, but ever the skilled one, and really, he should’ve known better, Mikasa catches it before he has the chance to make away with it. There’s a gleam in her eyes that, wishful thinking as it may be, tells Levi that the chance, someday, will indeed come again.

“You must’ve been watching me closely for you to notice all these things, Captain.”

To that, he only chuckles, taking the risk of not denying it. Levi tilts the ice cream cone towards her mouth, keeping his hand there for her convenience.

“Shut up and eat your ice cream, brat. It’s melting.”

fin

[myreia]

Familiar Shores

Characters: Tansui, Rasho, Meryta Khatin (WoL) Pairings: Tansui x Meryta Summary: The day is bright and warm as Tansui distracts himself, wondering when his lover will return. When will she come back to him? Rating: Teen Notes: For @thevikingwoman. Happy belated birthday, Viking! Mwha! 💕💋 2,456 words Read on AO3

Simple tasks and simple chores may not be the most exciting part of his life, but it’s on days like these that Tansui is grateful for the work.

The sun beats down from an azure sky, baking the shores of Onokoro they may as well simmer like the coast of Hells’ Lid. The kind of sun that leads to slow, languid days. Their people have scattered, seeking relief on the seas or under shade. Some of the young Confederates took off this morning to fish and relax. With a pang, he wishes he had joined them, but the youth deserve time to explore and discover away from the watchful eye of their elders. The past few weeks have given little time for rest and relaxation; with more Garleans in the Ruby Seas and a malfunction in the Onokoro aetheryte, the Confederacy has been busier than usual.  

And so, he has found himself, as he often does, busied on the dock, making minor repairs to his boat. The vessel is small, little more than a two-person sailing dinghy used for servicing large ships or sailing around the bay. Though the keel is worn and the sides scarred from years of use, she still makes for a serviceable boat if you don’t mind her bellyaching. She’s been all but marooned for the past three moons.

His fault, running her aground. He knows these seas, he should have known better. Then again, it was a bit difficult to pay attention, given where Meryta decided to put her hands.  

Tansui sighs and stretches, wiping sweat from his brow. Water laps around his legs, tugging and pulling as the waves flow in and out. The memory, though distant, is a good one, still capable of bringing a rosy flush to his cheeks that has nothing to do with sunburn. It was his idea to escape that night to sail below the moon and the stars. Just the two of them in such close quarters with calm waters all around…  

She brings out something of a romantic in him. A romantic more fitting of a younger man, and yet here he is, finding convoluted and ill-advised ways to give her the world when she’s here and thinking about it when she isn’t.

He wets his lips—the dry, salty taste sharp on his tongue—and tilts his head back, enjoying the briny wind and spray of mist on his face. A smile spreads from ear to ear. Meryta. Soaring in and out of his life just as the birds migrate. Here one moment and gone the next, as variable as the changing tides. She never stays long, though sometimes he senses she would like otherwise. He does not mind. He can wait for her and wait some more.

There is no doubt in his heart she will find her way back to him.

His smile fades. Every time she returns, little pieces of her have changed. A shift in her demeanour, a change in her speech. Consequences, however small, of a time spent in places he does not know or understand. Sometimes he thinks the call of the Warrior of Light is too great a burden for any one person to carry. But what does he know of the fate of gods and primals and other worlds?

He is simply a pirate.

“Tansui!” A gruff hand claps him across the back and Rasho throws an arm around his shoulders, pulling him away from the boat. “Brilliant day for a nameday, eh?”

Tansui chortles and twists around, water sloshing around his knees. “And here I’d just about forgotten,” he returns, ducking out from his grip. “Namedays come and go, this one is no more remarkable than the last.”

Rasho chuckles. “Aye, perhaps it is, perhaps tis not,” he replies with an irritatingly knowing smirk on his face. What does he know that Tansui doesn’t? “Take a moment to enjoy yourself, my friend. You should be playing dice or drinking or napping on a day like today.”

“I’m in the water, that’s all I need. Besides, someone has to look after her.” He shrugs in the direction of his boat. “Fix her up and she’ll be good as new.”

Rasho’s smirk widens. By the kami, what has gotten into him? “Very well, very well,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “But don’t work yourself to the bone, you hear? Have it on good authority you’ll want to be around for tonight.”

He snorts with laughter. Whatever his friend is implying, he’ll know in due course. “Understood, captain.”

“Oh, and Tansui… Keep an eye out for interlopers. On the sea and in the skies. Don’t want anyone slipping by on our watch. Not with Garleans on our doorstep.”

“Perhaps we should raise the tithe, given the trouble.”

The smirk is back. “I will leave that decision in your capable hands,” he says. “Do let me know what you decide to raise it to. And for whom.”

Tansui frowns.

Rasho raises his head. “Ah. Look’s like she’s getting away from you.”

Tansui curses and spins around just in time to see his boat pull free of her ropes and float away from the dock. Inhaling a deep breath, he ignores Rasho’s booming laugh and plunges beneath the waves. He swims swiftly, his haori dragging behind him, and catches the boat’s bowline. Grunting, he treads water and wraps the rope around his arm, then begins to haul his escapee back to shore.

Minutes pass, water rushing in his ears, foam spraying in his face. Still, he cannot help but laugh at his foolish error. The sea is warm, the sun is bright, a stray cloud passes overheard. There are worse things in the world. 

At last, he reaches the end of the dock, panting and spitting salt water from his mouth. He goes under again, testing the depths, searching for the bottom with the tips of his toes. When the water closes over his head, he shoots back up and surfaces, hair loosened from its braid and flying into his eyes. He could round the dock and return to where he was, but this will do. Perhaps Rasho is right. He’s struggled enough with the boat for today.

He raises an arm, preparing to heave the rope up and tie it properly to the post.   

A shadow falls across him and, for the briefest of moments, his heart stops.

A Xaela warrior stands above him on the edge of the dock. She is wrapped in a heavy blue coat that leaves her upper arms bare, a sheathed katana at her side. Cropped green hair frames her face and horns, and her vibrant purple eyes observe him with calm certainty. Her tail flicks back and forth, the end curling and uncurling as those familiar eyes look him up and down, lingering on his bare chest beneath his open haori. She is aglow, the light illuminating her so perfectly from behind that he could be staring into the sun.

No wonder some call her the Warrior of Light.   

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. There are countless things he could say to her—things he has dreamed of, things he has played over again and again during restless hours at night—and yet all thought is driven from his mind.

A wave smacks him in the face, brine splashing into his mouth. He splutters, coughing, and the next moment he finds her unbuckling her katana and setting it aside. She kneels on the dock, hand outstretched, and grasps his hand with hers. His thumb presses against her wrist, brushing past sensitive scales to where her pulse beats, strong and firm.

“Meryta,” he breathes. “You’re back.”

A smile spreads across her face, bright as the rising sun. “Would you like some help?” she asks.

He stares at her like a fool. “You’re back.”

“You’re in the water.”

“I was fixing my boat. She escaped. I was fetching her.” He swallows, the taste of salt fresh on his tongue. “You’re back.”

She meets his eyes. “That’s the third time you’ve said that.” Her voice is soft and full of wonder, as if she can’t quite believe she is here either. Her grip tightens, fingertips pressing into the back of his hand. Locked. As if the tides themselves could not pull them apart. “And you haven’t answered my question.”

He returns her gaze. “I can do you one more,” he replies, shooting her a roguish grin. “You’re back.”

And he pulls her into the sea.

She yelps as she goes under, plunging into the depths in a rush of bubbles. He chases, sinking below, joy beating frenetically in his heart. When he opens his eyes, all is turquoise and green and blue and purple, watery light spiralling in from above, white bubbles spinning all around. He catches her in his arms and crushes his mouth to hers.

Warmth floods him. Her lips are soft and inviting and wondrous as she kisses him back, delightful and delectable and filled with such sweet promises. She clings to him, enveloping herself around him with her hands cradled at the base of his neck and her tail wrapped around his leg. This moment below the waves cannot last—he does not have the Kojin’s gift the way she does—but here in this watery domain there is nothing but them. Nothing but time. Nothing but peace.

They surface together, locked in a kiss, his hair tangled about his face, hers plastered across her forehead. Then finally they part, foreheads pressed together, legs and tail entwined, and bob in the gentle waves, catching their breath. They drift slowly away from the dock, their sodden clothes fanning about them.

“Ass,” Meryta says.

“Pirate,” Tansui replies with a wink.

She giggles and splashes water at him. “Is this what counts as a nice greeting? After how long I’ve been away?”

“Any greeting where I get to kiss you is nice, no?”

She sighs happily and clutches him, her legs floating up behind her as she rests her head in the crook of his neck, mindful of her horns. “I tried to teleport here, but it wouldn’t work,” she murmurs. “And then I thought… The worst came to mind. I’ve been occupied elsewhere and the Alliance is not always as complete with its intelligence as I would like.”

“We’re fine. An ordinary malfunction, as far as I know.” He pauses, threading his fingers through her wet hair, admiring its shine. “How did you get here? No ships have docked today.”

“I flew. I didn’t want to miss your nameday.” His heart swells. She knows. She remembers. He does not recall telling her. With a shrug, she kicks her feet, splashing the water, and propels them further from the dock. Back on shore, a yellow chocobo pokes curiously at the beach, nosing a large shell with its beak. “When there’s no aetheryte, Lucida takes me where I need to go.”

“You crossed the seas by air.” Fucking Rasho, that is what he meant, wasn’t it? He must have heard she was in the area, making her way back. He leans back, hair floating in the water, and stares at the cloudless sky, laughter rumbling in his chest. “Imagine that. Perhaps I should demand a new tithe for that.”

Warm fingers loop around his neck, tilting him up. “I’ve already paid your Ruby Tithe,” she reminds him huskily, kissing him. “I suppose we can strike a bargain as to what this new one will look like.”

“Consider me listening.”

“Are you accepting suggestions?”

“Consider me open.”

She drags a hand down his neck and across his collarbone, splaying her fingers across his broad chest. “Let’s get out of the water,” she murmurs. “Maybe then we can find a way to bargain in earnest.”

“You have no idea how dearly I would like to.” He kisses her again, hands threaded in her hair, savouring her lips, her cheeks, her jaw, her everything. By the kami, it has been too long. He has told himself again and again that he is a patient man—at least where she is concerned—but if you asked him to describe himself now, that patience is nowhere to be found. “You know the way.”

“I do.”

“We should get to shore.”

“We should.”

“Put some other clothes on. Preferably something not wet.”

She whines, the smallest of sounds humming on her lips. “Must we?”

“I—ah, fuck.” He pulls away, still clinging onto her as he stares ahead at the small boat rolling away on the cresting waves as if she has a mind of her own. “My boat…”

Meryta squirms, twisting around. “Your boat?”

“That one there.”

“The one where we—”

“Aye, yes, that’s the one.” Tansui sighs. “Too late to retrieve her now, the tides have taken her. By the time we seek her out, she will have run aground on a reef.”

A gentle smile tugs at her lips. “Can you get another one?”

“Aye, but tis not that one.” He sighs again, cursing his foolish mistake. Boats come and go, this he knows, and yet this one was special. She made it special. “We should return to shore.”

Judging from the furrow in her brow, she is still lost in thought. “Can you build another boat?” she asks, staring at his vessel as she crests another wave. Gone, gone, and out of sight. “Certainly the Confederacy has a shipwright, or do you steal all your ships from your neighbours?”

He snorts. “There is one, yes, Meryta, thank you, but I would not trouble him for this.”

“If I were to supply the resources, would he be willing to teach me?”

“What are you saying? That you will build me another boat?”

She turns his face towards hers and grins. “There’s more in my kit than a katana and a bow, you know,” she says. “I have a saw and a few other tools. I’ve never made a boat before, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn. Perhaps I can contact Gridania and ask Beatin if he has any advice.” Her eyes brighten, limbal rings glowing, enthralled by the idea. “Race you to shore?”

He blinks, still stuck on the part where she said she would build him a boat, and nods. With a whoop, she dashes ahead, swimming freely beneath the waves. He gives chase, splashing after her until his feet touch ground. Then he breaks into a run, sloshing through the water until he has caught her again. She laughs, giggling madly as he lifts her into the air, kissing her again as they spin about on the white hot sands.

Namedays come and go, and this one he will remember.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 4 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: i don't particularly want to post on mother's day, so I'm updating a day early so I can get this out here to you all. Go check out my poll please :) I'm about to write some Abe content and I'm SO excited to get him in the story haha! As always, let me know what you all think and enjoy!

Early June 1943

Ruth glanced between the sweating private, the ticked major, and the way that Colonel Huglin shifted in his seat uncomfortably.  The court martial had continued on through the morning with both the private and the major pleading their cases and defending their decisions.  Currently though, it seemed both she and Huglin were suffering from headaches at the way that the major wanted Private Weston to be punished. 

It was unreasonable punishment to dock a month’s pay in addition to cleaning in the kitchens and assisting the ground crew with some repairs.  It was a gross exaggeration to the crime that had been committed—though Ruth was starting to understand why Weston had first punched Major Monson in the first place.  

Never one to condone violence lightly, as far as Ruth could tell, Monson had been the aggressor in the situation and Weston had responded in kind.  God, these military types were all the same with their egos and the way that they were just asking to get punched in the face . 

There was only one time where Ruth had punched a man, and it had been in her freshman year of law school at Brooklyn Law.  She was one of three girls in her class and upon entry into the class shared with Robby Rosenthal, one of the other students began to make some demeaning comments about the way that the girls should have been at home and trying to take care of the kids and the families or something. 

Rosenthal—being the bleeding heart that he was—had verbally defended the girls.  But Ruth didn’t need him defending her and she certainly didn’t want or appreciate his help.  Women had always stood on their own and the best way to get back at jackasses like this guy was to simply prove him wrong. 

Her moral high ground had gone out the door the minute that he had mentioned how he wanted to sink himself in her breasts.  That had been when Ruth had punched him square in the nose and broken it .  And considering it was all before the professor had entered the classroom and her warning him that no one would ever believe him, Ruth had spent the rest of the year in quiet infamy for her deed.  

Rising to her feet and contemplating further punching Monson, Ruth knew that an act like that would only end in disaster.  And her nails were perfectly painted in Victory Red at the moment, so chipping them over someone like him wasn’t really worth her time. 

“Weston will take kitchen duty and assist the ground crews for a month.  But docking a man a month’s pay when he’s got a wife back home seems especially cruel for something that didn’t end in any permanent damage,” Ruth said coolly.  “A more serious infraction such as destruction of United States Military property might warrant such an act, but I don’t believe this does.  Colonel?” 

Colonel Huglin seemed pleased with the way she had weaved her words, leaving Monson stuttering and jaw nearly dropped.  “I agree.  Case dismissed.” 

Ruth gave a cold smirk in Monson’s direction.  “And I’d be a bit more careful about your alcohol intake, Major.  All sorts of mistakes and infractions can happen when one is inebriated.” With that, she gave a salute and waited for Huglin’s dismissal of the other men. 

Once Monson and a grateful Weston were gone, Huglin just leaned back in his chair, giving a deep sigh.  “I wish all of our cases were as quick as that.” 

“Oh give it a week, sir,” Ruth insisted.  “Once they’re more familiar with my breed of court martialing, I doubt they’ll want to spend long with me.” 

A dry smile quirked at Huglin’s lips.  “I’m sure.  I heard you already made an impression at the pubs concerning the fraternization rule?” 

“I’m working on it, sir,” Ruth assured him.  “Things like that tend to be a little more under the rug than other infractions.” 

“I’m assuming you have experience?” 

“Too much, given my time in Aldbourne, sir.” From her bag, Ruth withdrew a packet and handed it over to him.  “And these are my disciplinary recommendations for the other men who are undergoing court martials.” 

“All of them?” 

“There were only seven cases and I’m a quick reader.” 

Huglin stared at her for a moment, taking in the efficiency and zeal with which she exacted justice.  Lieutenant Sharpe was nothing if not a credit to her profession and clearly someone who he could use to whip this base into the best shape it could be.  He had half a mind to have her infiltrate the ranks of those instigators and those who faithfully kept on gaining infractions.  

If only to see their faces when they realized that she was catching them in the act of infractions and had the authority to order them to court martials herself. 

“I’m sure we’ll find more for you to do once the new recruits arrive,” Huglin finally stated. “You’re dismissed.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“And Sharpe?” 

“Yes?” 

“Good work today.” 

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

When Ruth made her way into the mess hall for a late breakfast, she found that there were a scattering of people around the room, only a few of which she knew the names of.  Ruth hadn’t gotten very far with her tray of toast and oatmeal—finding her way to an empty table, she was quiet as she sat down, hoping for some peace and quiet after her eventful court case this morning. 

Before she could so much as pray over her food, Bucky Egan had slid up onto the bench across from her.  “You’re up late,” he remarked pointedly. 

Ruth just placed her napkin in her lap and gave him a stare of annoyance.  “I’ve been up since everyone else has.  Huglin and I had a case.” 

“Wow, you’re really great at making friends,” Bucky said dryly.  

“I’m not here to make friends, Egan,” Ruth retorted, stabbing her spoon into the oatmeal.  “If I wanted to make friends, I would have stayed back in New York and joined a sewing circle.  Is there a reason why you’re here to bother me?” 

“Actually yes,” Bucky said, tearing off a piece of her toast before she could swat his hand away.  He grinned triumphantly at her, an almost smug expression on his face.  “I’m here because my boys are flying in this morning and I’m hoping you’ll cut them some slack on their first day.” 

“And you thought that stealing my toast was a good winning point?” Ruth raised a brow. 

He abruptly dropped the piece he had been in the process of stealing, a slight show of guilt crossing his features.  “I hadn’t considered that portion, no.” 

“Well unfortunately for you, Egan,” Ruth said pointedly.  “It’s not up to me.  But I will give you a slight warning.  Huglin wants to do surprise inspections upon their arrival so I hope that your boys are as up to shape as you think that they are.” 

“They will be,” Bucky replied evenly.  “They’re the best of the best and that’s just a fact.” 

“Is it?” 

“It is,” Bucky said proudly, leaning back in his chair.  “They’re the best damn pilots and men that I’ve ever known. You’ll see.” 

She nearly rolled her eyes.  “If only every leader had that kind of faith in their men, maybe this war would actually be over.” 

“Was that a compliment?” 

“No.  Your faith is accompanied by ego and it’s off-putting.” 

“You’re a cold woman, Sharpe.” 

“That’s Lieutenant to you,” Ruth retorted.  “Good day, Air Executive Egan.” With that, Ruth rose from her spot and made a beeline towards the garbage cans.   

“I’m gonna wear you down!” Bucky called in an insistent tone.  “We’ll be friends in no time!” 

Ruth just shook her head as she walked away.  She’d sooner be framed for murder than spend time actually making unnecessary friends. 

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

Unwilling to part with his drink of the morning and trying to put on a good impression, Bucky exited his chair, pushing it back in lazily and whistling Blue Skies under his breath. He lazily made his way out of the office and to the jeep, that seemed like it was just waiting for him anyway.

He was still burping up some of the alcohol from the night before— it was too early for shit like writing letters to families anyway. He could push that off on the other Air Execs, seeing as how he didn’t intend to be an Air Exec for long anyhow.  

Giving a wave to the men that had given him the bikes, Bucky grinned as his eyes landed on his boys in the skies above. All in a nice and neat line, tucking in from a long day of flying from Greenland. Everyone had gathered for the occasion and he passed dozens of children as he drove on the runway.

Pulling to a stop, Bucky’s eyes landed on Buck’s plane—where DeMarco was depositing a dog. A dog was certainly against regulation—but he couldn’t see even Sharpe being able to say no to a dog like this.  He couldn’t help the grin on his face as he climbed out of the car. “DeMarco!” He called, an energetic pep filling his tone.

“Hey, Major!” DeMarco grinned, dog-leash in hand.

“Where’d you get that dog, Benny?”

“I won him in a game of Craps!” DeMarco explained.

Bucky had always wanted a dog growing up. Somethin’ about it being man’s best friend or whatever had always struck him as endearing. His ma had always told him no, he was the family dog. So at the sight of the dog, he leaned down and gave him a good pat behind the ears. 

“You took this baby above 10000 feet?” Bucky questioned.

“He’s got a mask!” DeMarco promised, patting at his jacket. “Cost me $3 but boy, he loved to fly!”

“He wouldn’t stop howling!” Buck chimed in, appearing in their vision.

“That’s because he’s part wolf!”

“That wolf is part dog,” Buck corrected.

“Well, does he have a name?” Bucky demanded.

“Meatball!” DeMarco answered, a grin on his face.

“Welcome to the Hundredth, Meatball!” With that done, DeMarco took off towards the barracks to get Meatball and himself settled.  He had only been walking for a little bit before Meatball decided to take a turn of his own, going straight over to the woman sitting and writing in a bound leather journal. 

“Meatball, no—” 

Ruth’s head perked up as the dog, presumably known as Meatball, decided to nuzzle into her leg.  Stopping her notations, Ruth took a moment to pet the dog.  “I wasn’t aware the air base had a mascot,” Ruth said, glancing towards the probable owner—a man in shades and looking a little embarrassed about the entire thing. 

“He’s new!  Meatball’s his name.” 

Ruth had a small soft spot when it came to animals.  And though it certainly wasn’t regulation, she had no problem with them .  A small smile spread across her face as she ran her fingers through Meatball’s mane.  “Well if I get you the paperwork for this sweet dog, do you think you can fill it out and get it back to me before the end of the day?” 

“I-uh—” 

“Meatball’s against regulation and while I don’t have a problem with dogs, I have a feeling Huglin will,” Ruth explained.  

“I can do that.  Uh—Ma’am—” 

“Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe of the JAG-Corp,” Ruth extended a hand, a genuine smile on her face.  

“Captain Benny DeMarco,” Benny said, shaking her hand with a small smile of his own. “You’re the one that terrorized Egan a few weeks back?”

“Oh, I’ve made it into the letters.�� My sole goal in life,” Ruth retorted dryly. 

“Ah no, we all thought it was pretty funny,” Benny admitted.  “Sometimes, he could use a good knock on the head.” 

“Noted.  Well I’ll do my best to not disappoint and continue to knock him on the head when occasion calls for it. And you didn’t hear it from me,” Ruth continued. “But Huglin’s allergic to dogs.  I’d hide him in the nurses barracks for now.” 

“Noted,” Benny replied, a grin spreading across his features.  “Let me know if you ever need someone’s help with Egan’s ego!  I’m in!”

[a-libra-writes]

Lol I love your Lackadaisy reader insert 😩

I'm actually glad they animated it ..so can you write a romantic headcanon for Victor I love big beefy men ..👁️👄👁️

I kidda like if the reader is like a famous model and him a over protective male wife

I hope this make sense thou tell me what you think..

I love your works and have a good day/or night (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

lol so i really cant see viktor as like, a "malewife" as hes p traditional and rough around the edges but this made me think of some HCs with him and a married reader so here ya go!! It kinda got away from me.

Femme reader ahead!

--

Regardless of how you met Viktor -- perhaps you were both from the old country and came to America together, or you're a fellow immigrant he found common ground with once he arrived, or an American girl who actually bothered to talk to him -- eventually, you two married. You were a pretty girl and he actually had trouble talking to you the first few times. Viktor was quiet, but sweet, honest and reliable.

You and him only got a few years of married life before the draft came.

He wanted to do it, hoping it would bring some kind of opportunity for you both. At least the pay was better, as most employers felt a Slav was only good for dumb labor and low wages.

When he came back, he was Viktor, but not the one you married. Not quite.

The job at the docks was one he'd been able to stick to for some time, though you know he disliked it. He worked for your sake, so you wouldn't have to pull such long hours yourself. He did many things for your sake, silently and without complaint. He didn't used to be this quiet.

You didn't hear about the terrible riot, or his involvement. You just knew he never came home, and then some neighbor said he was arrested. Then - there was some lawyer? Some man named Atlas May? It happened so quickly. No one at the police station would help, as expected. But then that man, that Atlas May, drove up to your modest little apartment and explained in his polite, calm voice. There was no need to worry. He has a new job, and you'll be much provided for. He wouldn't tell you why Viktor was in jail or what this new job was.

Viktor had to move to a different part of St. Louis for this job. He didn't even tell you in person, he wrote about it, saying he'll send money and you shouldn't worry about him. If anything, you should move somewhere nicer and not think of him.

Obviously you crumpled that letter up and figured out where the hell he's gone off to. Once you find the Little Daisy, you look around and see your big husband in the garage. You immediately rattle off at him. WHAT does he mean by this and what happened to his eye and WHO is this man who paid for the lawyer and if Viktor thinks he can just upend your lives and not TALK to you--

Your language or his, he gets the point. The whole building probably heard you.

So, you find employment in the Little Daisy. The pay is generous; you wonder if Atlas is either placating you or feels bad for the whole mess. Maybe both, but it's much easier than the work you did before. And his wife Mitzi is friendly - you think she likes having female company for once. In spite of her fancy clothes and talk, she's quite down to earth.

Even if you don't mind working the cafe, Viktor feels a great deal of guilt for "involving" you in the business. Well, it is what it is. It's not so bad, on the quiet days. Sometimes he's home in the evening with you, sometimes he's out all night and gets in as you're getting ready for work. You'll share a kiss and give him a long, long hug before sending him to bed with no questions.

If he's wounded, Viktor doesn't like coming home. He'll stay at the speakeasy and get it fixed there, and recover there if need be, until you drag him back home. You are not above cornering Mordecai, dangling a rat by the tail and making him spill what Viktor got into.

"You wouldn't - I just cleaned this room, do you realize how quickly those vermin breed--" "Ohh, I would, and I'll get more until you tell me where he's laid up!"

Actually, you have kind of a weird friendship with Mordecai, like Viktor does. You know the surly cat keeps your husband safe and has saved his life before. When you tuck away some sandwiches and a thermos of coffee for your husband, you start adding some extra food and a thermos of tea for Mordecai, too. He doesn't say anything to you directly, but returns the clean thermoses and cups to Viktor. And comments it's nice to know someone around here can make a proper cup of tea.

If you know Slovak, that tends to be what you and Viktor speak to each other, even in front of others. Otherwise you two have a weird half-English half-Slovak and whatever else that most people only get every other word of. He finds your accent very charming, and kinda prefers that people don't know what you two are saying. It's more private that way.

If he's around, he likes to join you on your lunch break and yall get a nice moment alone. You snuggle up and lean on him and he quietly enjoys the affection. He growls at anyone who comes in and tries to interrupt Wife Time (tm). If he doesn't have something to do immediately, Viktor likes keeping you company while you cook up the food and work the register though he kinda scares the customers.

He REALLY doesn't like the idea of you working down in the Speakeasy, you're a pretty girl, and that's a rowdy crowd. Even with all their money, the men are the same. The few times you've had to go down for something or to help out, it only takes ten minutes before some Mister Whoever stops you and says you ought to be in magazines and the pictures. If Mordecai spots the altercation early, he beelines over to deal with it - because otherwise Viktor will come by, and his way of dealing with it is picking men up by their necks and all but full-body throwing them up the stairs. Atlas doesn't complain - it keeps the other patrons in line. Mordecai just doesn't want to deal with the mess.

(Sometimes it's just some harmless drunk whose clearly confused you for a different girl and you still have to pull Viktor away. "Dear, please, no one should get their teeth knocked out for a misunderstanding ...")

More than once Mitzi has taken you shopping and dressed you up. If it's a special occassion - New Year's is a big one for Lackdaisy - you should go all out! She makes sure your hair is done and lends you some jewelry, and floats the idea of you getting Viktor in a tuxedo. It would never happen, of course, but she'll try.

Yes, it isn't so bad to be here - the violence is frightening, but Viktor always makes it home back to you. Maybe just another year or two of saving and you both can find a nice house in the country.

[cartooemcanhis]

Bugbo hcs for my wacky dacky au

Bugbo!!

🐜 He's this odd combination of an ant, a dock bug, and a cockroach.

🐜 Believe it or not, he used to have wings but they got ripped off in some kind of accident(Presumably the same one he got his antenna bent in), theres only a tiny bit of his wings still left

🐜 He does just want the best for his friends but he can come off as very passive agressive often

🐜 His friends and him all live together

🐜 The way he met his friends was..odd to say the least, he just randomly showed up one day and noone really questioned it

🐜 Never admits it but he probably goes out late at night to go like pilage random farmers crops just for the hell of it

🐜 He may look fluffy but trust me, don't touch the floof, it's like caterpillar hair, it WILL give you an itchy rash

🐜 Doesn't let Gerbo drink chocolate milk in the middle of the night because it's HIS chocolate milk

Gerbo!

🕷️Very silly fellow!

🕷️ Despite being a spider he cannot make webs :(

🕷️ He can climb walls and stuff though, he just doesn't do it often because he often gets stuck on ceilings

🕷️ Hoppo and him have this sibling like relationship where they do all sorts of wacky stuff together, The main two things being playing adopt me on Roblox and watching YouTube kids for hours on end

🕷️ He really really looks up to Bugbo

🕷️Big fan of chocolate milk but he's never allowed to have it 💔

🕷️Unlike Bugbo, Gerbo's fur is actually safe to touch and it's decently floofy.

🕷️He still secretly collects rocks for no rhyme or reason but that's ok

Gradient Joe!

⚫ Starting off with a slightly cocnerning one,his Gradient is kinda like a parasitic non-sentient being, it's slowly taking over all of his body, don't worry though, it doesn't hurt him. (He also theoretically could spread his gradient to other people but hes never intentionally done that.yes, he has done it by accident before.)

⚫ Unlike what Bugbo says, he's probably just average intelligence lol

⚫Every part of his body that has gradient on it is oddly cold to the touch

⚫ Probably good at cooking but he can't eat so he doesn't bother to

⚫Has a very small crush on Bugbo but he knows that Bugbo won't ever like him back, but he's fine with that

⚫He's the one that pays the taxes in the house

⚫ uncomfortable around small children, it's unclear why

⚫ ABSOLUTELY locks his credit card up in a high security safe whenever he doesn't have it on him because he knows Hoppo will steal it and use it to buy 5839920202 shells worth of robux to waste on pet sim x on roblox

Hoppo!

🦗 the giggler

🦗 Ultimate ipad kid and yet somehow a girlboss and war criminal at once

🦗Uses internet slang when talking often

🦗Collects bones and other odd stuff and trinkets

🦗Scams so many kids on adopt me Roblox and on pet sim x

🦗 Absolutely slaying in the bug war, they're having fun somehow

🦗 Always off doing stuff

🦗 Physically cannot sit or stand still, always stimming in some way

🦗 Occasionally joins Bugbo on his late night "pilaging crops" outings

🦗He is a massive prankster, whenever it's April fools day you better lock your windows, doors, and chimneys, she is coming, they will show no mercy

🦗Can and will produce and spit acid at you if ur making xe angry or uncomfortable, they will then giggle at you and hope away

THOMAS FLYSWATTER!

🪰His backstory is fake as hell, every time he's asked about his past he'll make up a new backstory because he genuinely can't remember his actual backstory/past

🪰 Absolutely stims whenever he's explaining his devious plans (Yes, this includes his goofy rat looking tail wagging like a dog lol)

🪰Legit doesn't have a bed, he just sleeps on the floor of his evil lair like a cat lol

🪰Said lair used to be an old Swatter Inc building that got abandoned and he decided to live in

🪰All of his clothes are WAY too big for him since he's thin as a twig and flatter than a pancake

🪰Actually does use his hands and tail swatters as actual flyswatters (do not shake this man's hands they are nasty)

🪰His feet are flyswatters as well so whenever he doesn't have shoes on and he walks he makes funny af slapping sounds and waddles like a duck sorta

🪰 Litterally drinks bugspray, he just sprays it right in his mouth like a weirdo

🪰He's tried to kill Bugbo like 90 times now and every time he tries to Bugbo acts like he's never seen him ever in his life

[gallaghersgal]

preview; borderline c5, rated mature 18+. playlist attached.

WILD & FLUORESCENT (lip gallagher x bsf!reader)

surprise!! i finished this post on day 2 of my break so. we'll see how that goes for the chapter! here's the playlist, and below is a preview!

After convincing Ian to drive the three of you downtown for the night, You, Lip and Adri pile into your car. You let Lip sit in the front seat to guide his brother, still newer at driving at only sixteen. Though, you remember a time when he’d driven a truck that Frank had… acquired. All the way down to the docks and back, at twelve. To say Fiona was pissed? That would be the understatement of the century.

You peer around the headrest, craning your neck while the car rolls to a stop in a crowded city lot. A deep color lines your lips, and you apply a shiny gloss on top. For a moment you glance at Lip, your heart quickening when you see he’s already looking at you. 

“Look like a whore,” he teases, drawing a giggle from your lips. You don’t mind it. You know he’s just being coy.

“Yeah well,” you gesture at his half undone button up, “could say the same about you.” You swat the back of his head with one hand before retreating to step out of the car.

Lip and Adri do the same, and the boy shrugs as he walks around to the drivers side where you are. The front window rolls down and Ian peeks out, “hey man, y’said you’d give me a ten for this.”

An unlit cig hands from his mouth as Lip pats his pockets for a lighter. You hand him yours when he’s unsuccessful. “Did I though?” Lip responds to his brother, “cause, I don’t remember that.” 

Adri fishes a ten five from her purse, then holds her hand out to Lip. “Come on, pay up.” He rolls his eyes at her but obliges, five dollars wasna sacrifice he could make. Adri hands the money to Ian with a pat on his arm, “thanks Ian, drive safe okay?”

He smiles and nods, rolling up the window before pulling away. Lip eyes her as the three of you walk towards the entry line. “You know AJ, there’s no use in hitting on my brother–”

She laughs in disbelief, “what? No, Lip–oh my god–I play for the other team too.” Lip’s eyes widen in surprise, his wit silenced, and Adri nearly doubles over. 

“Oh yeah?” Lip asks, “good to know.”

“Yeah. If I was going for anyone in your family, it’d for sure be Fiona,” she tells him, and then it’s Lip’s turn to stumble from the intensity of his laughter as you approach the end of the line. 

You check your reflection in the window of a closed shop, “If I don’t make out with someone fine tonight, I’m throwing a fit. Seriously.”

Still recovering, Lip pants out, “you look pretty like always MK.”

You raise an eyebrow in response, “really. ‘Cause earlier y’called me a whore.”

“Mm-hmm,” he nods, taking a drag from his cig before exhaling the smoke away from your face. “A pretty whore, yeah. What’s it Adri said, slutty chic?”

At his comment, you remember his words this morning. 

Lip and Adri wait for you outside the corner store as you get your picture taken for a new fake, dead set on getting a good one. This could last until your actual twenty-first birthday. When you finally emerge Lip takes your newly updated card from your hand, inspecting it closely. “You definitely got a discount ‘cause y’r hot. Mine cost like, twenty dollars more and wasn’t half as nice as this shit. But it scans, so I can’t complain.”

Adri eyes you at the comment, lifting an eyebrow behind Lip’s back. He’s indecisive in that way, always half hitting on you but never making a move. It drives you up the wall.

Why does Lip Gallagher have to be so infuriating?

THX 4 READING → lmk what you thought of the preview if you want! inbox is still open while i'm away <3

[escapetothelake]

Samuel and Ida for the ship asks :3

hi anteater!! hope you enjoy :)

tw: albert mention lol (but its not too angsty dw)

who made the first move: when samuel saw the poster of ida announcing her arrival at rusty lake, he was almost immediately infatuated. he went down to visit her and help set up, and then he brought her lunch after, which they ate in the grass in front of her newly-built tent.

who kissed who first: samuel was taught to be a gentleman by his mother, so he always thought to ask before a kiss. ida made him flustered though. she caught on immediately, and kissed him first. when he came home dumbstruck with red lipstick smeared on his lips, mary smiled and emma just laughed.

who started the relationship: there was a point when they both realized that they were pretty much spending every day together. emma teased samuel about it a lot, and told him to work up the courage to ask to officially court her. mary told him that it was improper to continue the way they were, and samuel's a huge mama's boy, so he listened. the next time he went to visit ida, he went with a bouquet of wildflowers in hand. emma is samuel's best friend, so she was the first one to know about it.

who remembers things: i'd say both of them, but mostly ida.

nicknames for each other: ida - "darling", "my love", and variants of the name "samuel" ("sam", etc); samuel - "doll", "my treasure", and "i" or "da". he also sometimes teasingly calls her "reiziger". on occasion, he calls her "my rose" for her beautiful red hair, and she always gives him a knowing look.

who is more likely to pay for dinner: samuel. ida gets the princess treatment, always.

who normally cooks: kind of a cop-out answer, but mary does most of the family's cooking. she taught samuel how to cook, and he enjoys it too. every once in a while, however, ida will cook a new romani dish for the family. they are always greatly enjoyed.

who remembers anniversaries: ida has an impeccable memory, so she obviously remembers something as important to the relationship as an anniversary. samuel remembers too, and he gets ida an anniversary present without fail. he tells her that her existence in his life is enough of a gift to him.

what would they get each other for gifts: samuel always buys ida jewelry when they go out. otherwise, it's usually flowers he's picked or a little trinket he carved. ida often does readings for him

most trivial thing they fight over: they honestly don't fight much??? the only thing i can think of though is that sometimes ida can be very cryptic and nonchalant, leading to samuel stressing because he thinks she knows something he doesn't, especially about the future. being around ida has 100% turned him into a believer, and sometimes he gets anxious looking at her crystal ball.

how often do they fight: like i said, not often.

who uses all the hot water: samuel. definitely.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: nobody! samuel can fix it himself 💪

who leaves their stuff around: samuel has a habit of bringing his carpentry tools into the house. it drives mary and emma crazy, if anything, but ida doesn't mind.

who remembers to buy the milk: this one's difficult because it's hard to know how the vanderbooms get groceries from the outside world. it's possible they have a cow??—in which case samuel would milk it—or they even get it delivered. i'd love to see them have a little old neighbor who's like "hmm they never go out so i'll just bring them groceries" and he becomes a family friend whom they have over for dinner often until one day he hasn't heard from the vanderbooms in a while and he rows over and albert's standing on the dock wearing a mask and he's like "your services are no longer required here, old man" and the dude rows away apprehensively, staring at albert who doesn't move an inch until the little boat is out of sight and AHH i'm getting carried away. the answer is probably samuel.

who controls the netflix queue: samuel loves his netflix specials.

who steals the covers at night: samuel. ida will pettily yank them sometimes, prompting samuel to wake up, and they'll both laugh.

who cusses more: samuel, but he has mary, emma, and leonard policing his behavior. the second he swears, leonard is holding a little hand out, waiting for money to add to the swear jar ida mde him.

who does most of the cleaning: kinda both of them? it's a huge house, so domestic labor is split pretty evenly.

what’s their favorite non-sexual activity: hard to say because they do so much together. they like playing games, picnics, traveling and exploring the area around the lake, cooking, and just relaxing together. sometimes they'll stay up late just talking and enjoying each other's company. ida light's samuel's pipe, and they chat until it's time for bed.

who’s the cuddler: samuel. sometimes he'll just pull ida onto the couch with him and fall asleep in her arms after a long day.

who’s the big spoon/little spoon: depends. it used to be samuel mostly, but he finds he really likes it when ida holds him. it makes him feel safe and appreciated.

who’s more dominant: we know it's ida bfr

who is the dirty talker: both. samuel also really likes it when ida speaks romani to him. this isn't dirty talking, but on a related note, he likes it when she holds him, runs her fingers through his hair, and softly says random things in romani.

what do they do when they’re away from each other: samuel does a lot of carpentry and woodworking on a daily basis, so he would just carry on as usual, especially because ida doesn't like to stick around. as for ida, if she were the one out, she'd just enjoy her travels. if it were samuel, she'd turn to her crystal ball and tarot cards.

what would they do if the other one was hurt: it would make samuel anxious to see ida sick or hurt. he would devote much of his time to caring for her and visiting her bedside. eventually, he got used to it when she was bedridden during her pregnancy with leonard, and he became much more relaxed about it. ida, on the other hand, is a very relaxed woman by nature, and she knows a thing or two about injuries since she's spent so much time on the road. she would take it on the chin, and deal with it in an appropriate manner.

a headcanon: leaving the lake was pretty normal before albert became the man of the house. however, samuel was still pretty sheltered as a boy because he didn't leave much after his father passed. ida loves traveling, and she takes him often. the first time they went together, samuel was a little dumbstruck, and in awe of the architecture especially. he spent twenty minutes staring through the window of a furniture shop, and then he finally went inside and bought like fifteen bottles of wood polish. they continued the tradition weekly, and eventually, they saw amsterdam together, and even brussels and paris.

[paperbag34]

It's like, 11pm for me rn. Long post ahead lmao.

Y'know, I was just thinking about that one post I saw a while ago about Katara faking being the Avatar instead of ever finding Aang, and, well. How much of ATLA's stuff wouldn't happen or happen differently if Aang wasn't there?

Also, travel time lol. The Gaang gets the advantage of Appa being able to Literally Fly, but without Aang, no Appa, and thus no flight. You can just handwave it by saying Katara can travel faster by water using waterbending I guess. A surprising amount of ATLA happens a reasonable distance near bodies of water, but some parts happen unchangably inland. Also, Si Wong Desert lmao. Aint no way she's waterbending herself across the desert.

Also, imagine how much power Katara needs to fake being Avatar. Aang is OP, frankly. He's practically a one-man army. To be able to fight on the Avatar's level, with waterbending as well as her "fakebending", she has to be an abnormally powerful waterbender. Her fighting style would probably evolve to be a form of immense field control, spreading water all throughout the land so she can use it at any time to mimic different bending styles.

Anyway my thoughts on season 1:

In "The Boy in the Iceberg" and "The Avatar Returns", Zuko has no real reason to be aware of the Avatar's presence. Since Aang never gets unsealed, the giant sky-beam of light never happens, and Zuko never gets alerted to what Katara's doing. The Fire Navy ship doesn't happen either, since Aang doesn't get Katara to go in, so the flare doesn't go off. Zuko can literally leave the South Pole without ever meeting Katara or knowing about her (false) status as Avatar.

If we really wanted to make them meet, they could meet as Katara and Sokka boat themselves out of the South Pole, on the ocean. Zuko ignores them, of course, because what does he get from shooting traders? It's dishonourable. He does see them boating their way out though.

In "The Southern Air Temple", the world has no way of knowing the Avatar is back. Even if they decide to visit, since Katara isn't actually the Avatar, she can't resonate with the Avatar statues, and none of the worldwide temples get the big glowy light message. It would also be funny if Katara pays her respects to the past avatars, explains her plan, turns to leave, and then the past avatars just go "Eh. She'll do." and send out the "Hey, Avatar's back guys!" message.

Zhao also never gets the news about the Avatar being there. Zuko can just dock to resupply, get insulted by Zhao, win the Agni Kai, etc.

"The Warriors of Kyoshi" is probably the first place where it would make sense for Zuko to meet Katara. As a neutral spot, Zuko can reasonably dock there. Maybe Uncle Iroh gets him to take a break from Avatar hunting. While it's highly possible that this is where they can first get into conflict, as Zuko sees Katara demonstrate her "Earthbending" in town, it's also possible that Suki and the Kyoshi warriors get get them to Not Do That, and get Katara not to fight them, leading to a peaceful interaction between Team Katara and Team Zuko.

Omashu would probably be where news of the Avatar could spread to the world for the first time. Katara would obviously want to advertise herself as the Avatar for hope-bringing reasons, so the news spreads throughout Omashu. Fire Nation spies in Omashu can reasonably send word to the capital, which is how while Ozai would learn of the Avatar, Zuko would not, at least for now until he gets wind of the rumors.

"The King of Omashu" and "Imprisoned" can still likely happen, since Bumi obviously wants to get a handle on this new Avatar that replaced his old friend, and it's reasonable that by the time of Imprisoned, news of the Avatar's description wouldn't have reached that far yet.

"Imprisoned", though might go a little differently. The main thing in Imprisoned is Aang and Sokka ferrying themselves over using Appa, then Aang airbending all the coal out of the prison burners for the prisoners to use. Katara... can't do that. Or, well, she can because her pretending to be the Avatar in this AU means she's also ridiculously OP. So either she beats the warden's ass herself, or she uses waterbending to both douse the burners and steal the coal, which is explained away by her recognizing she has to help the prisoners save themselves or something, idk.

"Winter Solstice Part 1" might actually be almost identical to canon. Roku's reason for calling Aang is to warn him about Sozin's Comet. Assuming Roku knows about this upstart Water Tribe girl impersonating his successor, it's highly possible he'd also summon her to give the same warning. The village chief can have maps so they can find Crescent Island, and Zuko still shows up to see the Avatar because he's heard of her by now and realized his mistake.

Part 2, could also be pretty close. Being even more powerful in this AU, she can pass the blockade no problemo. The rest goes literally exactly the same, though in my opinion, Katara would have to experience backlash from hosting Avatar Roku in her body. She's no the actual Avatar, after all. Alternatively, she doesn't do that, and gets out on her own strength. Roku doesn't destroy the temple, and they either beat Zhao's ass or just straight up run away.

"The Waterbending Scroll" is interesting, because Katara being pissed off at Aang is arguably what causes the conflict in the episode. She steals the scroll and stays up late praticing because she's mad that Aang's natural at waterbending, so she gets captured by the pirates. It still makes sense for her to steal the scroll (Liberating waterbender stuff from pirates, wanting to see what actual waterbending forms are like), but I'm not sure how the pirate confrontation goes down, because at this point in the AU, Katara's could probably beat their ass just fine.

"Jet" goes pretty much the same, actually.

"The Great Divide" is a surprisingly problematic episode for this AU. This is a pretty Aang-heavy episode, with Appa being used to ferry the sick Zhang and Gan Jin over to the other side, Aang playing peacemaker in a way that really only he can, and most importantly, Aang being actually 112 is what lets him pull off his bullshit story at the end. I have no clue how to handle this episode, tbh. Let's pretend that this doesn't happen because Katara travels more by water, okay? TGD is kinda dumb anyway.

"The Storm" can also go basically the same. it's fine. Katara's a waterbender in a storm.

"The Blue Spirit" also can go remarkably similar too. It's unfortunately a rather important Zuko moment, so skipping this is out. Canonically, Katara gets sick. So here, she also gets sick, so she can't just power through Pouhuai. Simple solution, though it does feel rather contrived.

"The Fortuneteller" either goes with Katara beating the lava's ass, or the village being destroyed and them moving out of it, proving Aunt Wu wrong. Aang solidified the lava by airbending it, so Katara could do something similar by waterbending it. Maybe she can "fake earthbend" the trench even deeper than it reached in canon so

"Bato of the Water Tribe" goes similar. Maybe Bato can help Sokka and Katara fight off Zuko and June, since Aang isn't involved here. Zuko tracks Katara as usual, gets beaten up, they leave.

In "The Deserter", I think it'd be cool for Katara to challenge Jeong-Jeong to a spar. Why? Simple. She wants to feel firebending in a more controlled environment - The only times she's been firebent at so far she was fighting for her life - so she can mimic it more effectively. I think at this point she'd already have taken her Icebending to the other extreme in Steambending, so this fight would be her trying to either refine it, or come up with a more visible technique to mimic firebending.

Can waterbenders bend alcohol? Katara bent perfume once, so she should be able to bend low proof alcohol. A quick googling shows that our modern perfumes are around 15-20% alcohol, so reasonably Katara can probably bend alcohol made with ATLA level tech, the proof can't be that high, and the water content will be. Quick way to firebend, I guess. Keep a supply of spark rocks around to light alcohol on fire. Maybe Jeong Jeong drinks in this AU and she uses his alcohol to develop alcoholbending I guess.

(Side note, why do earth and firebenders get all the cool LoK bending? Waterbenders get healing and spiritbending, which is cool, but Earth and Fire get bending that feels different, while waterbending always uses the same water.)

"The Northern Air Temple" goes similarly, but for the life of me I don't know how Team Katara would discover the War Balloons. You know what? Maybe they don't! They discover the war balloons when War Minister Qin pops around and they confront him, leading to events as in canon. Maybe the Fire Nation never gets the original War Balloon here, actually, because Katara beats their ass and as such it never goes down, but Teo's father actually gets to show off the War Balloon to Qin, and if the Fire Nation can build a big-ass drill, they can recreate the War Balloons from a detailed description.

Finally, we reach "The Waterbending Master" and both parts of "The Siege Of The North". This is, quite literally, Katara's element. "Avatar" Katara beats Pakku's ass, finds out about the "Grand-Pakku" thing, the invasion goes as usual. Zhao might not get to kill the Moon Spirit here, since, well. Katara kind of relies on the Moon Spirit, so she does everything possible to get his ass before he gets the Moon's ass. Alternatively, this is a great place to have Katara's secret unveiled to any potential companions she's hiding it from, and also Iroh. Zuko isn't there, Yue dies so the secret isn't spilt by her, and whatever remaining fire nation soldiers won't be there when Katara reveals, at around the same point Aang does the Big Fish Thing, that she can't bend. iroh, I think, is willing to keep it a secret, especially since he's seen how powerful Katara is, and that she's actually pulling it off. This would also tip Team Katara off to Iroh possibly being on their side as well.

Finally, I wonder if other companions could join Katara. Assuming Kyoshi Island doesn't get Zuko'd, Suki might be a contender for a companion, wanting to help the Avatar on her journey (and also Sokka, but less so). Sokka comes along, of course. he's Katara's brother, he's not letting her con the entire world without him. I'm drawing a blank for any other potential companions, though. Maybe they cna meet Toph early lol? I really want Katara to show up at Earth Rumble as The Avatar though, so probably not.

Idk. This is my two cents on this idea, maybe one day I'll actually write it, but that day is not today. Maybe I'll get back to this with my thoughts on season 2 as well.