#Along with my inbox which is still stacked*

[slimey-wallz]

YEEEEEEEEH IM BACK HOORAY 🎉

So here's some Julie 💕

(with teeth)

I also made this, which Im not sure how to feel about

IM SO GLAD I CAN DRAW AGAIN WOOHOOOO

[lostinlovingrevery]

Old man Logan with reader who is lonely, has no friends but is still a ray of sunshine with him, always trying to impress him and give him pretty gifts and getting all dolled up for him. She is sad inside though, apart from being his boyfriend, he is her only friend

My Ray Of Sunshine (Why Are You So Sad?)

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I hope this is okay! Started angsty, but I wanted it to be happy for both reader and Logan in the end. Loneliness is an awful feeling (smth I'm all too familiar with) If anyone ever needs to talk, my inbox is always open!! I had a little trouble figuring out where to go with this, so I hope this satisfies you!

Plot: You and Logan have been dating for some time, but you still feel the intense loneliness that wraps it's arms around you, him being the only one in your life - and you feel like he's not honest with you.

Warnings: Angsty, slight depression, mention of loneliness, happy endings

Word Count: 2021

"Hi Lo," You cooed as you answered the phone, a smile stretching across your face.

"Hey sunshine," You heard his gruff voice on the other line, giving your heart a flutter. You always loved the sound of his voice, no matter how gruff and cranky he could sound - he never takes it out on you though.

"You still coming over tonight?" You ask as you walk across the room, your fingers tapping along the small box that sat on your desk. A present you decided to get Logan, a nice little silver watch he can wear. There was a moment of silence, "Lo?"

A small sigh,

"Sorry. I can't. I have to work."

Your face fell, but you took a deep breath. "Oh, that's alright!" You say, putting on your best happy-go-lucky voice. You didn't want him to feel bad, just by the tone of his voice you could tell he was having a bad day. "We'll plan for another night baby. You get a request?"

"Yeah, Bachelors party." He says. "Big payout."

"Oooh....Nice paycheck then huh? You can make it up to me later by taking me out somewhere nice then." You tease. You couldn't see the fond smile on his face, but you could picture it.

"Yeah. We'll plan on it. Promise." He says. You chewed on your lip, as you felt that swell of emptiness build up inside you.

Another night alone.

"Sunshine?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your thoughts. "Sorry, sorry-" You laughed. "Zoned out again. What?"

"I gotta go, got a job. I'll call you later, or in the morning. That alright?"

"Yes, of course." You smiled. "Be safe, okay tough guy?"

You heard a warm chuckle, which made you relax. "Yeah, I will. See you doll."

You heard the phone beep and sighed. Alright.

You and Logan had been dating for a little bit. Meeting in a small little diner that you waitress at. It started as harmless flirting, but then you both managed to find yourself able to talk to each other so easily. Logan listened to you, seemed so openly accepting of you. How could you not be drawn to him?

You thought yourself a little ridiculous for gaining a crush on an older man like Logan, but then his weathered charm got to you - and you just couldn't help it. You'd slip him extra treats on the down-low, not charging him for them. An extra cup of coffee, a slice of apple pie, once you even managed to slip him a stack of pancakes. He'd smile at you and your antics as you slide the plate across the counter and give him a wink- his smile being something tired yet warm that made your knees weak and butterflies shoot through you.

You put more effort into your appearance, especially when you knew he was going to be there. Dolling yourself up - not your usual thing to do but when you got a man like Logan coming around...Well, it's hard not to want to look pretty for him.

It was you that finally convinced him to go on a date with you, and you surprised him by taking him to a gorgeous museum the next city over. You had wondered initially if he scoff at that- him being the gruff and older man he is, but he seemed to really enjoy it. He listened to you ramble on and on about Vincent Van Gogh, one of your favorite painters as you listed everything you knew about him, explaining the misconceptions about him as a painter and a person.

You took the charge of the relationship that formed between you. You planned dates, which seemed to make Logan happy- your infectious happiness- not rubbing off on him but more giving him some much needed relief in what you must believe is a very stressful life for him. He deemed you his sunshine, a pet-name you wore with pride.

You believe it's stressful- or rather assume. He never really told you about his personal life. You know he was a limo driver, you know he lived on the outskirts of town - you never been where he lived. He mentioned something about taking care of his father. He's shared a few stories- always seemingly missing information in them like he was purposely leaving out parts of them.

It made it worse by the fact that he really is the only person in your life right now. You adored Logan and did everything you could to make him happy because he was the only one to give your love to. You spend the time you can together, when he visits your work, or when he comes and stays with you for the night. He's busy though, so he's not really there as often as you wish he was.

Actually, you probably love him. You haven't told him that though. You always feel though that he's hiding something from you. It's disheartening really, he'll listen to you, he's heard your secrets but you never hear his. He refuses to bring you to his place, making some excuse that yours was nicer and maybe it was but you didn't care about that. It created a space between you, something you're not sure if Logan recognizes himself.

You moved to change out of the pretty yellow dress you had on to see Logan, wiping your makeup off and pulling your hair into a messy bun as you prepared to spiral into a night of anxiety, depression, and wine.

You settled on your couch, flipping the tv on, surfing through channel after channel. The night got darker and you got more and more tired. The shadows of your living room, seemingly your only company for tonight, closing in on you as the tv flickered over your curled up form.

Your eyelids grew heavy, as your felt the sinking feeling of your heart, reminding you that you were by yourself again. Inevitably wondering when will Logan leave?

Heavy knocks on your door startled you, as you sat up on the couch and confusion stretched across your face. Worry settled in you, as you had to wonder what shifty characters were knocking on your door at night?

You stood up and crossed the apartment, peeking through the peephole of your door, you're shocked to find Logan standing there. You gasped, stepping back to unlock your door and open it.

"Logan?"

"Hi sunshine." He greeted you, and smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his smile lines became more prominent. He held a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand.

"What are you...What are you doing here?"

"I missed ya." He says gently, a lingering gruff in his voice. "Can I come in?"

You bit your lip, and nodded. Still, your lingering feelings stuck in the back of your head. Stepping back, you forced a smile up at him as he stepped inside, holding the bouquet up.

"I figured you'd like them because...You know. That painter who- Are you okay?" He stopped, squinting at you, as he watched your eyes met with the bouquet, and tears filled your eyes. "Hey, hey sunshine, what's wrong?" He asks softly, bringing his hand up to your chin, tipping it upwards to look up at him. You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Sorry-" You say pulling away from him, wiping your eyes. "I'm just happy to see you..." You lied through your teeth. His eyes, he looked tired.

"Don't know about that sweetheart..." He mutters, examining your expression. "What is it? The flowers? You hate em?"

"No." You let out a small laugh, crossing your arms. He turned to shut the door behind him, locking it before setting the flowers on a nearby table, his hands coming to rest on your arms.

"Well?" He looks down at you, his face serious, but his eyes held concern. "You don't need to pretend with me darling."

You were caught off guard by him, showing up suddenly when you felt your worst. Your instinct screamed at you to push him away, to pretend that it was all okay. You didn't want to bring him down. Your anxiety peeked at the idea that he may be disappointed by this version of yourself, that he would see the lonely person you are, and leave because he wouldn't want to deal with you.

But they way he looked at you, you couldn't help it as the dam broke, and he pulled you tight to his chest, holding you as you cried.

"I'm sorry doll. I didn't mean to hurt you by canceling." He says softly, his hand petting your hair gently.

"No..No, it's not you." You sniffled, stepping away for a moment. "I...I just feel so alone sometimes. I like you a lot Lo, I love us spending time together but when you're not around I'm just by myself and it...It's just terrible."

Logan brows creased, as he brought a hand to cup your cheek. "I didn't know." He says gently. You let out a shaky sigh and looked back up at him.

"You're the only person in my life." You continue. "I don't feel like I don't completely know you though. Not like how you know me. I feel like you're keeping things from me or that you're...Only sticking around temporarily."

"That's not true." He says quickly, and firmly. "I care about you sunshine." His thumb wiped away a tear. "A lot. More than I have a right too. You're....Everything sweetheart. I count myself a damn lucky guy that I met you, that you let me be apart of your life. "

You swallowed and nodded, looking away as you let out a small sigh. You both stood there in silence.

"I..." He started. "I don't know how to stop you from feeling alone but...I get it. You're right. I haven't told you the whole truth."

He grabbed your hand, leading you over to the couch, as you both sat down.

"You ready for this?" He asks.

~~~~~~~~

You stood outside the hot desert sun, as you look around the barren horizon. Logan let out a small cough, as he puffed on the cigar that he was smoking.

"It's quiet." You say.

"Yeah." He nods, his eyes trailing over you as he tried to read your body language.

After an intense conversation last night, you both passed out on your couch. When you woke up in the morning, Logan had you get dressed, and brought you to his...well, where he lives. Can't really call it a home.

That was you.

He felt terrible when you admitted to him everything you struggled with. He adored the way you always seemed to be optimistic, the way you got yourself all dolled up for him, the way you tried to spoil him and every way possible. That's not why he liked you though. He liked your character, he liked the person you are. Not just for what you do for him. You were a fresh breath of air for him. His sunshine.

He wished you see yourself the way he does. You're always encouraging him, to look at himself and see himself as a good man. He didn't know how long he got but he'll spend every second with you to prove you are the most wonderful and loveable person.

You looked at him and smiled. The sunlight gleamed off his new watch that you gifted him. He finished the cigar, flicking it to the ground and stomping it out with the heel of his shoe, before putting an arm around your shoulders.

"You ready to meet the old man?"

"Uh Lo, you're right here." You tease, wrapping your arm around his waist. He chuckled warmly.

"Real cute." He mutters shaking his head, as he led you to the decrepit water tower. He went to the door, and slid it open, a harsh grunt escaping him as it rolled open, he stood to the side and waited as you walked in.

Inside you saw two men. One, sitting in a chair reading a comic book, looking up at you. He had white skin, and yellow eyes. That one must be Caliban.

"Hello dear-" The other man greets. An older gentleman, lying in a bed with a warm smile. You smiled back as he reached his hand out to you, and walked over and took it. "I've heard so much about you from Logan. It's nice to finally meet you. Tell me...Which of Van Goghs paintings is your favorite?"

[tragedy-of-commons]

step away.

── alhaitham x gn!reader

summary: You seek a reprieve from what is considered "normal".

contains: modern au, nebulous work setting, alcohol discussed but no one actually gets drunk, word vomit, coworkers, implied autistic reader

word count: 2.0k

notes: idk where this came from. uh. reader's relationship with him warrants closer inspection. hehe

The venue wasn’t anything extraordinary, but it was still a far cry from your normal. 

A strip of hospitality suites and conference rooms connected by carpeted hallways, staffed by burly, tired security guards stoically trying to coexist with the raucous speakers. Their bass-driven reverberations could be heard even a floor above, where guests try even now to settle down in their hotel rooms. 

Or, alternatively, said hotel rooms are empty, vacated by their denizens - which happen to mostly consist of your coworkers; a sizable lot are still inside, partaking in drunken karaoke - or even worse - social niceties. 

That was one of the catches to this whole trip: you were brought in here for work. 

Suffice to say, these things have never been your scene. The noise is always borderline unbearable, you’re expected to clean up and burn valuable gas money (that’s not comped like the rooms are - tax write-off it is then), and you always feel so dreadfully out of place, no matter your role in the event. 

Speaking of, the whole reason you bothered showing up in the first place is because you were tasked with the responsibility of giving a concise, edifying lecture on “any topic of your choice”. 

Talk about a fool’s errand. When the memo was unceremoniously dropped into your inbox, you almost laughed, because it sounded like an assignment reminiscent of your highschool Speech 101 class (required credit).

Not to mention, everyone comes to these functions to get drunk - save for you and a certain someone - so preaching to your subordinates and superiors about anything would just result in syrupy laughter and jeering anyway, regardless of the speech’s content. 

Or just eerie silence, because you’ve never been a team player. You’ve been told that your resting bitch face is pretty strong. 

To put it simply: asking you to give a lecture at this gala was frivolous, unnecessary, and of no benefit to you. You even complained as much up the ladder, but you were only passed back down the telltale chorus of a thousand crickets. 

And then, right after, a branch-wide email was sent out tacking on the (apparently unimportant) detail of Oh, sorry, we forgot to mention it, but your holiday bonuses will be awarded at the eastern banquet hall. If you don’t attend, you’ll still get them, but it’ll take four weeks for them to be mailed out. Happy fucking holidays.

The reasons to go were, unfortunately, plentiful - and stacked against you, leaving you dejected and packing your bags like you were going off to war, never to return. But, thankfully, there was one silver lining culled from the tipped scale.

You and your partner, Alhaitham, are employed at the same practice. 

Sure, this feat makes commuting easier, and so does coordinating vacation days and leisure time to align with both of your needs as they evolve - but it also meant, then, that you could drag him along. It meant that you didn’t have to be miserable alone, faced with the challenge of I don’t want to do this, I’d rather quit than do this, and finally, I’d rather burn in hell than do this.

And it wasn’t particularly hard to convince him. Nostalgically juvenile parties with people he couldn’t care less about aren’t his scene either, far from it - but he wasn’t required to give a lecture. He could leave anytime he pleased, trekking back up to the hotel room and enjoying its free amenities for a night, book in hand. 

“We aren’t hurting financially. I’m able to wait for my bonus,” he’d initially reasoned with you, clearly uninterested. “If you’re attempting to entice me, I’d rescind avarice as a potential motivator.” 

Quickly, you’d changed your tune, deflating. “I’d—I’d really like you there. For moral support, I mean. If I have to brave these fuckwads alone, I’ll end up burnt out and crabby for a week, at least.”

Alhaitham had spared you a glance then, satisfied with your candor. “Alright.”

Then, you kissed him on the cheek while he tried to tamp down the quirk of his lip, and life dragged on until the fateful day (of reckoning). 

The drive was hellish, thanks to everyone and their mother pulling into the city for some kind of convention or another - hundreds of cars crammed into the same, discordant business district. You took up the mantle of getting both of you there on time, which was a lot harder than it should’ve been. The GPS mischievously led you astray multiple times, the robotic narration dominating most of the ride. But in the end, you wrangled the dependable SUV en route. 

(Hayi napped for most of the trip. You’re grateful for that; you don’t think you could’ve lived down your nonexistent sense of direction while he was conscious. He usually drives you around anyway…)

With that, you settled into the parking garage with little issue. Loading luggage up onto a cart and checking in wasn’t that notable, either, but you did shut down mid-conversation with one of the affable front desk ladies, and your partner had to tie up the loose ends regarding payment in your stead. 

You remember his voice, a tinge lower from sleep, hurrying things along in that no-nonsense tone you’ve grown so fond of. 

You remember his voice so well because that’s when your nerves started to act up.

The room was up to par, boasting two queen-sized beds, a bathroom, and the standard compact living area. At that point, he definitely began to catch on, his verdant eyes pointedly fixated on the tremulous fumbling of your keycard or the methodical yet neurotic way you unpacked your things. 

It’s the little things that define a relationship.

“You’re truly not obligated to go,” he’d reminded you, practically roosting, posture ramrod straight yet relaxed against a chair. It’s crazy how much you were able to discern from just a single glance - you could practically see the criticisms Alhaitham had about the desk set’s quality and comfortability, all of it in the minute misgivings of his features. 

The way he was looking at you then - only a select few people could’ve placed it as soft - you being among those select few. He’d aptly continued, “Everyone will be three sheets to the wind. You and I both know that no one will be patrolling, making sure you give a sanitized pep-talk on the importance of a strong work ethic.”

“I know,” you’d sighed, flitting back and forth between the modest closet and the innards of your suitcase resting supine on your claimed bed. “But we’re already here, and I know Setaria saw us down at reception.”

“So?”

“She’s gonna ask a lot of questions if I flake at the last minute.”

“Let her. You’re stressing yourself out over practically nothing - consider that.”

You remember groaning and then collapsing onto his neighboring bed, lamenting his damnable sensibility. Deciding to heed his reassurance, because it was reassurance (you know this nerd like the back of your hand), you bit the bullet and got ready anyway, leaving your partner to his own devices.

Everything after that blurred together. You left Alhaitham in room 330, trundling in and out of elevators and through elaborate corridors - the catacombs that led you to the banquet hall was just a prelude of confusion and adversity. For most of the party’s duration, you could barely hear yourself think (as expected), but wondrously, no one paid you enough mind to strike up conversation. One glance at your laminated, nametagged lanyard was enough to scare them off.

The catering job was nothing to sneeze at either. Under strobe lights and through your acute, unpleasant vertigo, you saw many dishes and hors d’oeuvres divided among tables that you couldn’t bother visiting or taking a closer look at. 

It was too loud, too uncomfortable - as most things are for you.

It’s exactly 11:32 in the evening when you step away from the party. 

The main hall sectioning your practice’s festivities off into rooms diverges a number of ways; a left here, you end up in the lobby. A right there, and you end up in an outlet mall meant to eke as many purchases out of trashed vacationers as possible. But a combination of the two directions leads you to the hotel gardens.

Stepping out into the mouth of the retreat, your lips part in awe. It’s not very big, the whole area spanning about two conference rooms. But there are maintained, lush beds of flowers outlining a small gazebo, the structure illuminated by a few lanterns bolted to its latticework. 

In the midst of so much business, it’s almost a little startling to come across a safe haven from social affairs - something entirely pulled together by the absence of humanity and the abundance of nature. 

Your feet ache. Immediately, you ascend the rustic staircase up into the gazebo. Its steepled ceiling and observation railings warmly welcome you. Deciding to rest your elbows and stare transfixed at the greenery, propped up and mentally checked out, your thoughts take an aimless journey.

Why exactly are you here?

It’s not because of any holiday bonus, not really; you wouldn’t have stepped away from the party if you were dead set on extra money. Are you here because you want to grow closer with your colleagues? Hell no, especially since bringing yourself to go to work everyday is such a challenge in its own right.

You think you’re here because you want to feel normal. 

That’s not to say you crave all the trimmings of a conventional work-life balance. No, you don’t want to keep up with friendships you don’t care about. No, you don’t want to know the origins of every inside joke in painstaking detail. What you want, really, is to have your cake and eat it too; you want to experience being a social butterfly without the commitment it comes with, for one night, just to see if it’s all it’s cracked up to be.

That’s why you’re here. And no, it’s not it’s all cracked up to be. Probably. You’ll never truly know, because this experience is one lacking the aforementioned commitment, but the taste you were given was sour on your tongue. You didn’t like it. 

It’s not… you. This is not your scene, and you knew that going in. Stupid. 

Truthfully, you didn’t even prepare any notes for your presentation. Maybe, deep down, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get through the night, pretending to be something you’re not. The way tonight has unfolded makes you giddy with irony, bursting at the seams with self-awareness.

You cup your hand over your mouth and laugh, snickering quietly to yourself in the solitude of the gardens.

At least you didn’t commit so much as to hit up the bar, stuttering out an order that makes no sense and unwisely pounding back a glass to feel, uh, normal-er. No, that’s something you’d do a few years ago, when you used to masquerade around a lot more, to feel normal. That’s a win in your book. 

You’re not the same person you used to be, even if doubts emerge and make you do things you normally wouldn’t. You’re still young and figuring it all out.

Suddenly, your phone pings twice. You vehemently shake your head, awakening from your stupor, then fishing the device out of your pocket, squinting at the way your home screen lights up. It wholly ruins the natural and introspective essence this sanctuary has, but oh well. 

The texts materialize and hover over your wallpaper - which happens to be a sentimental photo of you and Alhaitham, your arm obnoxiously slung around his shoulder while he stares into the camera, unamused but unwilling to shove you away. 

It’s the little things that define a relationship.

Hayi: When you’re finished wrapping up, it’d be in your best interest to hurry back.

Hayi: Your show is on. Though it’s the CN dub, I’d be happy to translate - the subtitles aren’t doing it justice.

…

You’re heading back up to room 330, everything else be damned. 

You: I’m coming. I love you <3

Hayi: I love you too.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Hey I was wondering if you could make a Korra x reader where reader is an engineer for future industries and has been working nonstop with Asami to help rebuild republic city after the events of book four. So since reader is always out Korra plans something like a mini date for when she gets home.

- date night! -

Pairings - korra x fem! Reader

An - I’ll be taking a break from clarisse fics for rn but I will get all the request in my inbox for her out eventually it’ll just take a while 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 but please do request for other wlw characters!!

“Right and if I move this here it’ll clear out this section for this” you mumbled to yourself moving the pawns across the board. The map of republic city before you casted different locations that were in need of repair.

The wooden doors behind you opened, figuring it was just some secretary you payed them no mind. “Set the plans on the desk beside the window” you aimlessly spoke waving your hand off.

“I would do that-” a feminine voice chuckled. “-If i was an assistant.” Turning around quicker than you should of you shockingly looked at asami. Her sweet smile making you feel a little embarrassed. “When did you take a break?”

Smiling cockily you stood up and crossed your arms. “Actually, I took one at 12”

“Am or pm”

You rolled your eyes which gave her the answer she assumed. She shook her head disapproving, leaning on the table she examined the work you had started. Flicking the pawn down asami brought her eyes back to you. “The office will be closed for the weekend.”

“I’ll still be coming in if that’s fine, I just need to finish a few plans an—“

“Do you ever take a stop working?” She laughed. “Whatever plans you have can wait.. besides the avatar has been a quite worried about you” her playful teasing made you hold your head down in shame.

It had been a few months since you began your relationship with Korra. Her only writing you and asami letters for months help build a strong connection between you all, but her getting encouragement and advice from the beautiful woman made her eventually ask you out.

Throwing your papers into a folder and grabbing your bag you left the office embarrassed. If she wanted you to take a break you were going to do it by choice not force.

———

Taking your shoes off and setting your bag aside you sunk down onto the couch. The apartment you shared with Korra had been decorated in water tribe style.

It took only a minute before you felt an all to familiar weight lean beside you. Opening your eyes you saw Korra with her back pressed against your arm. She wore a pair of pajamas with her hair wet.

“Hey” you tiredly smiled.

“Hi” she smiled, moving to fall into your lap. Looking down you couldn’t help but fall in love with her childish yet charming grin.

“Hungry?” She eventually pulled herself up. “I ordered some takeout” walking to the kitchen Korra brought out two containers, one filled with your favorite order.

Sitting with you again she happily ate her meal. It was sweet how she was always thinking about you. “So” she spoke with a mouth full. “How was today?”

“The normal, making adjustments here n’ there, making new plans and changing the budget when needed” you sighed. Even with the spirt world being connected with yours and the multiple improvements you were making after the Kuvira invasion it sometimes still felt like too much. “And you? Any new avatar business”

She shook her head with a smile. “No, actually I spent today doing about the same with you”

“Really?” You playfully went along.

“Yeah” she grunted setting her food on the table in front of you and grabbing a stack of papers. Shuffling through them she handed brightly decorated flier.

Confused you looked down, examining the blue and purple paper you read what you as written in bold ontop.

I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND

My beautiful and wonderful girlfriend has been working so hard to rebuild republic city, so in as a Thank You! She will be receiving a relaxing and soothing spa weekend

“A spa day? Baby you know I can’t do something like that, I have work” you sighed with a heavy heart. It was clear from how her excited expression went flat that she was clearly looking forward to it. However from her smile you knew she wasn’t done just yet.

“About that… the papers that you brought home today asami switched. So for the entire weekend while the office is locked you get to spend time with me with no distractions”

At first you didn’t believe her. Then you got up and ran to your bag, digging through the folder. It was just as Korra said everything you had brought home was just scratch and blank papers.

Giving into her you returned beside your girlfriend. “Fine.. Well do the spa day” her happy cheer made you quickly become content with letting everything go. Only for the weekend though, that’s all you could spare.

———

Laid back you groaned in satisfaction as Korra gently placed the hot stones along your spine. Using her bending she helped adjust the temperature.

“Fuck I needed this” you let out a heavy breath that had been kept in a while. It felt nice to let everything be bygones.

“It’s ok to admit I’m the best” she cockily smiled, setting yet again another stone on your body.

Her comment made you giggle “mm yeah but if I did then who would tell you when your wrong?”

Her scoff like laugh proved you won the banter. Turning your head to the side you watched as the avatar set a group of rocks into the water, using fire bending she created heat around her hands to make it boil.

“Have i ever told you how beautiful you look when your concentrating on your bending?” You mumbled out, falling asleep.

“Yeah but telling me again can’t hurt” her cocky streak was going to be the death of you. Bringing the bucket over she took the now cooled stones off your bare skin. Before placing the newer hotter ones on she kissed you quickly on the lips. Almost like an attempt to embarrass you but it only made you happy.

“Just relax” Korra’s strong voice lulling you to sleep. At this point you couldn’t fight it anymore, maybe she was right you did need the break.

[critterbitter]

HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

[suckerforprettyboys]

illicit affairs- g.hawthorne

in which a simple interview starts fierce rumors of a secret romance.

wc: 1.3K

my inbox is open for requests! xoxo

The backstage room was cloaked in an awkward silence, broken only by the distant echoes of the camera and make-up crew doing their last minute touches. You, a well known and respected interviewer, were sitting patiently waiting for your interviewee to enter the room. You had your papers neatly stacked, hair perfectly set how you liked it, and a bright smile ready. 

Interviews were nothing new for you, it was quite literally your job, but today’s interview would be rather difficult in comparison to the usual interviews. You were interviewing a well known businessman and entrepreneur, the heir to the Hawthorne fortune: Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. 

Your mind is sucked from your thoughts as the door swings open, a rather annoyed and stoic looking Grayson straightening up his suit. He walks over, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

“Grayson Hawthorne, pleased to meet you,” he introduces himself, not even cracking a smile. 

You introduce yourself as well, presenting a sweet smile to go along with your words. He just stares at you, unimpressed, almost looking bored. 

“Oh boy, he seems like a joy” you think to yourself, not letting the negativity of your thoughts slip into your kind and warm demeanor. 

As the two of you settle into the interview space, the atmosphere grows increasingly frosty and tense. Grayson was clearly not in the mood to answer any hard hitting questions today, answering with the most vague responses possible. This left you to navigate through a maze of one-worded answers and dismissive gestures. 

It soon became evident that this interview would be a test of your ability to crack the enigma that was Grayson Hawthorne. 

The minutes ticked by slowly, and you pressed on, determined to unravel the layers of the unyielding celebrity. Little did they know, this encounter would become a battle of wits, a dance between an interviewer seeking to break through his icy demeanor and a stubborn man determined to maintain his impenetrable facade. 

Despite the obvious tension in the room, you continue on with your hard hitting questions, determined to get something out of Grayson Hawthorne. The air hung heavy, each question met with unspoken challenges and calculated responses. Grayson wasn’t a lot in your eyes, but the bastard was good. 

In a subtle shift, you decide to take a less business approach to the questions and quite beating around the bush. 

“So,” You smile sneakily, leaning forward as you fold your hands in your lap. “The Heiress, Ms. Grambs. Any comments on her you would like the world to know, or are you gonna shut this topic down too?” You smirk to yourself as you see a slight glimmer in his eye from your boldness. Maybe it was just the set lights that hit his perfect face just right, but you knew damn well he had something to say from the way he brightened up ever so slightly.

“No comment.” He says coldly, shifting in his chair. He crossed one leg of the other in your direction, body language indicating his slight interest in your approach to the questioning. 

He didn’t trust you, but he was opening up. Ever so slightly.

You smile warmly, laughing softly to try and clear the atmosphere. “Well folks, there’s your answer.” You turn back towards Grayson, looking him straight in the eyes as if willing him to give you something, anything. “Not to sound too forward, but you are a very handsome and wealthy young man. You have stated in previous interviews that, and I quote, ‘dating is not your thing, never has been and won’t be for the foreseeable future if you can help it,” You smile sneakily once again. 

“Does that still apply, or has a special someone changed your perspective on that?”

Grayson goes slightly stiff at your words. You take note of this, deciding that this would be that last romance question in an attempt to get him to feel comfortable. 

“I stand by the previous statements made regarding that particular topic.” He says, unfazed and bored. 

You lean back in your seat, uncrossing you legs and sighing, “Mr. Hawthorne, you are one tough cookie to crack.” You laugh, smiling sweetly at him. “I assume privacy is one of the things you value most?”

“Yes, it is.” He nods, but gives no other indication of emotions.

Bingo. You’ve gotten him to talk. And you are running with it. 

You smile, locking eyes with him again, “And is there any particular situation that made that choice set in stone? Or has that just been something you’ve always lived by?” You watch his eyes flicker with something, but you aren’t sure what.

“I grew up watching what the media had done to family members and the little bit they showed the press and chose to just steer clear indefinitely. It is better to avoid a burning building and wonder what would have happened then to walk in and burn.” He folds his hands in his lap, re-cuffing the sleeves.

You smile from ear to ear, overjoyed that he had gotten out more than a few words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“You never had to.” Grayson cuts in, expression cold. It was clear this was a sensitive topic, so you decide not to push any farther. 

“I suppose I never did, my sympathy to those who found out the hard way.” You nod. Then, as if nothing had happened, your bright smile is back.

“Alright, Mr. Hawthorne. I believe that is all the questions I have for today.” You shake his hand again, thanking him for coming out and saying goodbye to your audience. Grayson gets up immediately, looking as if he was fighting to leave the room. 

You choose to ignore it, speaking with the camera crew and production team as the wrap up.

---

Less than a half hour later you are walking back to your dressing room, a nagging feeling in your cut. You feel guilty, not sure for what, but the feeling is there non the less. 

“Fuck it,” You think to yourself, heading towards the guest dressing room.

You knock on the door. No response. 

“Hello?” You call out, only to be met with no response once again. You continue to knock for a few more minutes, ear pressed to the door for any indication of life on the other side of the door.

Eventually, a staff member finds you looking like a creep with your ear pressed to the door. She tells you that Grayson was on his way to his limo and he was quite grumpy. At this news your stomach drops, concerned that you had been the root of his unhappiness. 

You weren’t sure why that particular fact bothered you.

You intercept him outside on the way to his car, hand waving in the air to catch his attention. 

“Mr. Hawthorne!” You yell, causing him to turn. His eyes narrow, brows furrowing as he looks down at you.

“Hi,” You smile, slightly out of breath from chasing him down. “Can I speak with you for a quick second?”

Grayson glances back at his bodyguard, giving a silent signal in the form of a nod. He steps off to the side, nodding at you stiffly. 

“Quickly.” He spits out rather rudely.

“I wanted to apologize.” You say softly, eyes locked on his to show your genuine intention.

This catches Grayson off guard, “Apologize for what exactly?” He slightly quirks a brow, still peering down at you.

“For overstepping the boundaries of the interview. The description of the question I sent your agent had nothing to do with personal life or romance and it was inappropriate of me to ask such things of a total stranger.” You ramble, talking with your hands, the complete opposite from your shiny and perfect interviewer persona. 

Grayson just nods stiffly at you once again, offering no answer as you continue on.

“I’ll have the production team cut anything other than strictly business conversation or we can cut the interview entirely if you wish.”

“No need.” He says quietly. “Just cut the things not described in the papers sent to my agent and myself.”

You let out a sigh of relief, smiling at him “Thank you so much, Mr. Hawthorne”

“Grayson.” He cuts you off. “Just Grayson is ok. Mr. Hawthorne makes me sound old.” He says curtly, turning to leave.

You just stand there as he gets in the limo, waving stiffly at you. Your eyes follow the limo as it leaves, confused as to what had just happened.

The picks up, causing you to shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. The shutter of a camera catches your attention in the distance. A group of maybe 3 paparazzi were huddled behind a group of bushes, holding their cameras in your direction.

You offer a sweet and warm smile, waving at them as they flick a few more pictures before walking off. You simply shrug, heading back inside for the warmth of the building.

Weird. 

---

Later that evening, you were finishing up with the production team getting the right clips in the right order and making everything look amazing. 

“Ok, guys. Looks great!” You smile proudly, thanking your team for all their great work throughout the day. The sound of your name being called catches your attention, causing you to turn.

Your eyes land on your agent, peeking her head through the door and asking to speak with you outside. You nod, slightly confused, and follow her into the small hallway. 

She looks at you with an odd look, “How are we gonna clean this up?” She says.

“Clean up what?” You laugh nervously, “What happened?”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, telling you to check your phone. You furrow your brows in confusion, pulling out your phone.

The second you laid eyes on it the screen glows with an endless amount of notifications: texts, dm’s, emails, and missed phone calls. Out of curiosity you click on one of the emails, leading you to an article link.

Hawthorne Heir Apparent and Heart-throb Grayson Hawthorne Spotted with Well-Known Interviewer and Possible New Girlfriend, and the cover was a picture of you and Grayson speaking in the parking lot.

Your stomach drops, “Shit.”

[sealofarchives]

Can you create a headcanon for ROTTMNT’s Raph who is secretly in love with a female reader? She is an antisocial, hot-headed, and fearless woman who excels in combat and prefers to solve her problems with her fists. She embodies the typical ‘tough girl’ stereotype, and she has no idea that Raph has feelings for her

Headcanon: GN!Reader who fights like an absolute beast. And unaware of Raph's crush on them.

(Requested prompt but can be read with she/her pronouns.)

Warnings: A brief vomit mention

A/N: Heavily recommended to have “Crash Addiction from Yakuza 0” playing as background music for this (because this is what I thought of after seeing this request in my inbox lol)

You stood there with wide eyes at an alligator snapping turtle mutant. Who shyly asked if you needed some extra help carrying a few packages. While the bad guy in the background struggles carrying his injured lackeys to safety. (Heavily regretting picking a fight with you, near a place now scattered with pieces of broken motorcycles by the empty alleyway.)

You still glared at the turtle wearing a red bandana but, didn't want to waste more time for another fight.

"Just don't drop the merch! I'm on a tight schedule trying to deliver these figurines on time!"

As you said that, Raph almost dropped it. Causing you to let out a sigh while the turtle carefully stacked the small pile of fragile boxes in his arms.

Ever since that day, you became aware of him and his family.

Donnie very much keeps his distance. Especially after collecting some data of your past fights. The one that almost made him throw up was, a thief lucky to survive stab wounds above the stomach area. From you, utilizing a traffic cone connector snapped in half as a temporary dual-wield weapon.

No chuckling response was enough for Leo to know that. He needed to cool it with some jokes at your direction. Its one of the few times he'll be serious because he got tired of Raph being lovesick around you.

Mikey made some decent progress being your friend but, still carefully waits for the right timing to talk to you. Usually when you have a decent day or during laidback movie nights.

If you tag along during any of the night patrols, Raph is usually the one that patches you up.

- You sometimes do a double take because, at least one of the bandages near your wrist will be tied into a ribbon. (Mostly noticing it until you get back home)

The boy is very eager when you teach him some new fighting moves. However, it always devolves into absurd antics that spiral out of control.

- One of the few times, you had to swallow your pride and call Leo for help. Because the snapping turtle thought it would be a cool idea to impress you by lifting a nearby outdoor electric panel box. As a new object to throw at opponents. Nope, he passed out within 3 minutes.

"I mean that's not the first time he passed out.

"Like, he tried to lift a school bus that guarded a pet cat that's part praying mantis."

"At least two times before we parked the bus back in its place."

"..."

"A lot of thieves rarely scope out that place. Now that the cat is trained to guard Repo Mantis' junkyard."

"???"

Any accidental physical contact between you two will make that red bandana turn pink.

- You used to reply with an angry 'watch it!!!' but, with how many times he had a sincere sorry paired with the most gentle toothy smile. Its just a hum, too tired to get mad at him for that.

Bonus:

The mini scuffle he had with himself (namely mind raph and his angry counterpart) was enough for you to show some concern. Before you could ask if he was okay, the blurted words of a confession to his new feelings to you. Finally dented a crack to your tough persona attitude. Which immediately dropped your guard with you blushing at him. The big guy snapped out of it as both of you awkwardly stood there.

"Uhhh, how much did you hear?"

"A bit of everything but..."

"Your family will absolutely kill me if I just spat and toss away your feelings in the trash."

"And I have no intentions of doing so because..."

"I wish there were more guys who acted like you."

"Because I can finally take it easy and relax thanks to your kind nature..."

You gave a kiss on his forehead causing him to almost melt from the touch.

Two of the three brothers breathed a sigh of relief while restraining an annoyed Mikey who whispered.

("I still think a matchmaking date would have easily solved 'Raph having a crush on (Y/N)' situation...")

You shook your head but, still amused at the his brothers. Their company also grew on you. Brightening boring delivery days to eagerly visiting the graffiti filled lair.

[ashsostrange]

bitches are soooooo annoying and so wack so let’s clear up misconceptions! 🫶

“they kept posting about me!!!”

nobody was worried about bro, but she felt the need to keep shading us time and time again on multiple occasions + respond to anons (which she sent herself). what’s even crazier is that none of us shaded her back. nobody moved bc we’re not miserable. i peeped smthn again and THAT’S when i made a post. she still has yet to address ts bc i am correct, tyvm! meanwhile, she continues to send herself anons in support of herself. sad.

“they’re bullying me!!!”

bree claims we’re “recruiting” people.

i haven’t urged any of my mutuals to insert themselves into what’s going on, nor have i sent them or anyone else inboxes. i haven’t bothered anyone who’s sided with bree, bc i genuinely do not care. same goes for my girls. anyone who does agree with us can simply see thru her facade and that’s it. how ironic is it that anyone who publicly condemned her ended up getting harassed in their inbox thru anon? she scared a thirteen year old into submission, like, how pathetic is that? 😭 then she posed as us in that same thirteen year old’s inbox after we let the drama go. she did the same thing w chess recently. she received an anon about her and said some bs like “chess i know this is you.” it wasn’t chess, obviously, so she reblogged it clearing that up and bree gon say “i know it’s not you” so girl what the hell??? were you on about??? 💀 then she proceeds to say: “the people you’re aligned with” meaning… what? get so real w yourself girl. “i’m not being miserable thru anon,” yes, you are. it’s midterms rn. i promise you that nobody is THAT invested in tumblr drama to be flooding your inbox the way you do.

i know i’m not a bully. ion need confirmation, thanks. depression and suicidal thoughts are very real. mental health is very serious. you CANNOT pull the suicide/self harm card bc you’re being outed for the person that you truly are. you’re not a victim of anything. all this evidence stacked against you, and how are you the victim again? if anything, everyone else is a victim of YOU.

this girl acts like what’s going on now is something we do to everyone for fun or smthn, when in reality, it’s only happened with two other people, one of which bree ran off the app along with everyone else. the other one doesn’t continuously shade us online, so there’s no issue. that’s why you haven’t seen nb talking ab ts for months! bree girl, you are not being bullied, you’re being called out cz you’re a weirdo. quit trying to victimize yourself cz no the hell you not.. nobody is running to your aid bc for that very reason.

you like drama until you’re in the middle of it. quit sending yourself anons n take that “well deserved break.” you’ll come back to find that absolutely nobody was talking about you while you were gone.

[minisugakoobies]

Ashes Falling | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: weapons - guns, switching POVs, angst!, allusions to murder, mentions of blood/wounds, fighting (hand-to-hand), shooting, Yoongi shows off that tongue technology (oral sex - f receiving), rough fucking (protected sex), Yoongi is not a good guy (ymmv)

Word Count: 5.3k (whoops)

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: I see the ashes falling out your window There's someone in the mirror that you don't know And everything was all wrong So burn it till it's all gone

A/N: And we've reached the end! This series came out of absolutely nowhere thanks to @minttangerines's beautiful brain and it's been fun just writing with no plan and no expectations. Thank you for riding along! 💜

Chapter title and summary from Agust D's masterpiece Burn It 🔥

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 6 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist

Then

Yoongi sits across from you, one hand resting on the dining table, the other playing with a glass of whisky. Around and around, the caramel liquid swirls. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was trying to hypnotize you. 

And it might work, if you were anyone else. Of course, anyone else would already be under the handsome man’s thrall. Especially the way he looks tonight - in his tailored suit, bespoke undoubtedly, since money is apparently no object for him, and with his dark hair slicked back to reveal more of his gorgeous face.

When he’d asked you to dinner tonight, you’d felt a slight thrill of victory, knowing that your plan was working. You’d succeeded so far in inserting yourself into his life. All the secrets the Bureau wanted so desperately for you to discover were practically within your grasp. You just needed a sign from him to confirm that you’re in. 

“So are you thinking of extending your contact?” Yoongi asks, sipping at his drink. You’d told him when you’d first met that you were working for Da-som’s school for a year, with the option to extend if the school agreed. He speaks casually, almost disinterestedly, but you can hear the true question beneath - are you staying?

“I think so. I really like it here.” 

A hint of a smile crosses his face at your answer. Long fingers reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and produce a cigarette, which he lights with the click of a flashy silver lighter. There’s not supposed to be any smoking in this restaurant, but no one’s going to stop the chief detective of the city’s police force, and he knows it. It’s a power move. 

“Good,” is all he says, blowing a smoke ring towards the ceiling. 

Anyone other than you would be affected by his reaction. By the heated look he gives you, gaze slipping down your face, down to your waist, and back. Not you, though. You know better than to fall for any of this. 

This is what you remind yourself as you push your thighs together, trying to still the sudden throbbing there. 

Your waiter returns with the bill and Yoongi simply reaches into his pocket, dropping a stack of cash on the tray without looking. Another power move. 

“Thank you for dinner,” you smile shyly, setting down your dessert fork. “I’m - I’m glad you asked me. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you better these last few weeks.” 

He leans forward, reaching his hand across the table to where yours is resting. When his fingers tap you, you flip your hand over and he slides his hand on top of yours. You immediately register something cool and hard between your palms. 

“Me too,” he says softly. “And I don’t want to stop.” 

He pulls his hand back a little, curling your fingers around what he’s left behind. Yoongi stands, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it as he bows. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmurs, lips humming against your skin, and then he walks away. You track him as he saunters confidently through the crowded room, until he reaches the entrance of the restaurant and vanishes. 

Opening your hand, you stare down at the piece of plastic lying there. A room key, to the hotel next door. There it is - your sign. 

The excitement that blazes through you is the ecstasy of knowing you’ve succeeded. Of realizing that you’re one step closer to the win, and nothing else.

This is what you tell yourself as you rise to your feet, and follow. 

Now

Your bag rests on the passenger seat as you hurtle down the highway. The car you’re driving is a piece of shit, but you were in no position to barter when you’d asked Seokjin if he had anything you could borrow to finish your mission. He’d called a friend of a friend and mere minutes later you were on your way. 

The police cruiser is still at Seokjin's, along with Jungkook. Your partner had been sleeping when you’d left, whispering a quick goodbye, telling him to stay put and rest while you finished the job. Seokjin promised he’d take care of him and you had no doubt that he would be safe there. 

The car’s shocks are fairly worn, meaning every little bump in the road sends your satchel bouncing. Instinctively, you reach out, searching until you find the little key tucked away in an inner pocket. The cold metal soothes you as you clutch at it anxiously. This is it, the final key to bringing Yoongi down. 

Your plan is, frankly, insane. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Thankfully, Seokjin gave you access to his personal arsenal, which is not small. But even if you’re strapped to the teeth, you’ll practically need a miracle. 

However, you’re not the praying type. Your faith resides solely in yourself. So you breathe deeply, and keep your eyes firmly on the road as you run through your plan again and again in your mind. 

As the bay comes into view, you pull over, parking the car near the entrance to the neighborhood where Yoongi’s second house resides. You’ll have to go on foot from here, to remain unseen by his men. Yoongi’s too careful to leave this place unmanned. 

You approach the fence bordering his mansion, peering between the iron bars. His vacation home is massive, a sprawling ode to excess, flaunting his new wealth. The layout of the place is fresh in your mind, thanks to floor plans stolen from the developer. Unfortunately, that’s not going to help you much if you’re outnumbered by Yoongi’s men. If only you could’ve waited for sundown, to give you more cover, or waited for backup, but right now you don’t have the luxury of time. 

A hand suddenly slips over your mouth and your eyes widen as someone presses their body against your back. Fuck! You grasp at their arm, readying yourself to attack, when a familiar voice hisses, “Don’t scream! It’s me.” 

“Jungkook! What the fuck!” 

Your partner releases you. He’s a little paler than usual, but otherwise looks like himself, even in Seokjin’s clothing, a black t-shirt tucked under a Kevlar vest, colorful sleeve of tattoos bright in the midday sun. 

“Did you really think I was gonna let you do this alone?” He grins, ignoring your scowl. “Now what’s the plan?” 

There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s here now, and even though you’re full of conflicting emotions - anger that he didn’t listen to you, guilt that you’re the reason he got injured - the feeling that overrides them all is pure, intense relief. Of course he’s by your side. You’re not alone.

It doesn’t take long to fill him in. You’re basically just going in there with guns blazing, hoping to fight your way to where you believe Yoongi’s safe sits, holding the box with the secrets that little key will unlock. 

Jungkook just nods when you’ve finished. “Got it.”

“We should probably call for backup.” 

“Already did, on the way here. They’ll be here as fast as they can, but something tells me that you don’t want to wait.” 

“I don’t.” You need this to be over, now. 

“Okay then. Ready when you are.” 

“Jungkook.” You pause, unsure how to say this. “I’m sorry. For everythi- ”

But he stops you with a shake of his head. “None of that. We’ve got a job to do.” He cups his hands, waiting to give you a boost over the fence. “Come on. You lead. I’ll follow. Like always.” 

With a nod of your own, you step onto his hands, and climb the fence.

Then

Yoongi glances at his watch. It’s only been five minutes since he left you sitting at the table, but it feels much, much longer. Too long. He loosens his tie a bit as he waits. His suit jacket is folded over the back of the chair beside the bed. The room is quiet. 

Is he rushing things? It’s very like him to do that. He could move more slowly with you. But, well, he doesn’t want to. He wants you now.

Which is why he’s here, perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. Waiting.

It’s not just about sex. If Yoongi only wanted to get his dick wet, he wouldn’t have to take anyone out on several dates first. That’s not arrogance - it’s a fact that he radiates power, and women are attracted to that. And he knows he looks good. He has mirrors. 

No, it’s more than that - although he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been imagining this moment since the first time he saw you in Da-som’s classroom. He’d been so distracted by your beauty at the parent-teacher conference that he’d accidentally agreed to chaperone a class trip, just nodding along to whatever you were saying while picturing what you’d look like if he bent you over your desk right then and there. But beyond his baser needs, there’s something else. Something that draws him to you. He senses a kindred spirit. He needs to know how deep that connection goes.

There’s a loud click and the door suddenly opens. Yoongi stands as you enter. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” you say, biting your lip before smiling sweetly. 

In just three steps he’s across the room, pulling you into his arms for a passionate kiss. 

He quietly orders you to lift your arms, and the gorgeous dress you’d worn to dinner crumples into a soft ball of fabric on the ground. With sure steps he maneuvers you towards the bed, helping you sit on the edge, kindly freeing your breasts from the confining corsetry of your bra as he goes. While you settle onto the soft sheets, he slides your panties down your legs, taking care to rake his fingers along the soft skin there, delighting in the way you shudder at his touch. 

The plush carpet gives way beneath his knees as he kneels, leaning over to kiss you, getting lost in the incredible softness of your lips for a moment, until your hands reach for the buttons on his shirt. His hands lightly push yours away as he shakes his head. 

“Not yet, baby.” 

“But I wanna see you,” you say, pretty mouth turning down in a lovely little pout. “It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.”

He just chuckles. Smoothly, he undoes one cufflink, then the other, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. His forearms flex with the motion, drawing your attention, and he smirks. 

“Don’t worry,” he assures you, “I’ll still put on a good show for you.” 

He kneels again, gently pressing his fingers into the bare skin of your stomach, urging you to lie back. One of your thighs comes to rest on his shoulder, then the other. With one hand he spreads your folds, saliva flooding his mouth at the glistening sight in front of him. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look good enough to eat.” 

You mewl as he kisses your dripping cunt, over and over, getting his mouth all sticky with your desire. Yoongi always follows through on his promises, and this is no exception. You can’t tear your eyes away from the dark-haired man as he rubs his lips, his tongue, his nose all over you, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Occasionally your head drops back, your eyes closing as if overwhelmed by the sensations, but then they immediately open again, not wanting to miss a second. 

“Yoongi.” 

Panting moans fill Yoongi’s ears as he drowns in you. When he finds the right rhythm with his tongue on your clit, a rapid lapping that has your hips lifting off the bed, he slides a finger inside your slick warmth, then two, three, and your moans become cries. Pleas, broken and desperate, begging him for more. 

Impatience roars up inside him again and he lets your legs slide from his broad shoulders. His cock aches as he tears off his clothing, sheathing himself with the condom waiting in his pocket, and you’ve barely moved up on the bed to make room for him when he’s sliding inside you. Fuck. So warm, so tight. A space carved out just for him. 

The headboard smacks into the wall repeatedly as Yoongi thrusts into you, hips slapping your ass with every sharp snap. You’re babbling, an endless stream of words pouring from your mouth, but the only words Yoongi can make out are “Yoongi” and “more.” 

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you everything. Anything you could ever want.”  

He goes harder, faster, driving his cock deeper and deeper. His hands grope at your breasts, your ass, as you take everything he has to give. When he feels your walls start to constrict, it’s almost a relief, because he’s not going to last much longer. And sure enough, when your orgasm hits, your cunt grips his cock so tightly that he cums, head dropping onto your chest as he fills the condom with his hot release.  

He lies that way, cheek pressed into the curve of your breast, breathing heavily as you both come down. From here, he can feel your heart pounding. It’s not identical to the way his own drums, but instead compliments it, a wild syncopation beating along to the steady pulse of his own tempo. His fingers tap along your sternum. 

“Is that morse code?” Your voice is just barely above a whisper, as if you don’t want to shatter the peaceful stillness of the moment. 

He lifts his head, smiling. “That’s your heartbeat. I’m playing along.” 

“Playing what, my collarbones?” 

“My piano.” His fingers dance over imaginary keys, caressing your skin so, so gently. 

“I didn’t know you had a piano. Or that you could play.” 

There’s so much you don’t know about him. So much he wants to show you. But he knows that it will take time. He has to ease you into his world. 

“I’ll play for you sometime,” he says, crawling up your body until his face hovers over yours. “If you’d like.” 

“I would like that. Very much,” you reply, lips curling into a shy grin, and he kisses it away until you’re breathless. 

Eventually, he has to go. He needs to get home to Da-som. Yoongi can defeat any enemy - except a babysitter with a curfew. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, fixing his tie, as you watch him from beneath the sheets. “The room’s paid for until tomorrow, so you can stay all night if you want. Order some room service in the morning. Treat yourself, sweetheart.” 

The corner of your mouth twitches. “You keep calling me that.” 

“Is that okay?” 

In reply, you pull him in for another kiss, and he sighs, wishing he could stay. Or take you home with him. But he’s not ready to have that conversation with Da-som yet. Even though he’s rushing everything else. 

He taps his fingers on your chest. “Sleep well, sweetheart.” 

He starts to rise, but you grab his wrist, holding him in place. 

“Yoongi. I don’t…” 

He says nothing, waiting for you to find your words. 

“I don’t do this with every father I meet, you know,” you finish, flashing that beautiful bashful smile again.

“Just me?” 

“Just you.” Your hand reaches out to straighten his tie, but then you gently brush your fingertips over his chest, mimicking his actions from earlier. Tap-tap-tap. 

In that moment, Yoongi knows. He’ll do anything for you. Like he told you earlier, when he was wrapped in your arms - he’ll give you anything you want. 

All you have to do is ask. 

Now

Bodies. So many bodies, scattered around the grounds of his house. Yoongi blinks dispassionately at them all. He thought he’d hired the best. Clearly, he was wrong. 

Yoongi honestly hadn’t known what to expect when he and Jimin arrived at his house on the bay. One of his guards had called him while he was on his way here and alerted him that you’d been spotted near the fence bordering his property. He’d hoped that when he got here, he’d find you waiting for him, tied to a chair by one of his guards. But it appears that he’d underestimated your skills, if you managed to take out so many of his men at once. 

No one appears to be dead, but they’re all knocked out or wounded. Interesting. Are you afraid to use lethal force? Or are you just saving your best shots for him? 

Together, he and Jimin sweep the first floor, finding nothing but his more useless guards. With a few silent signals, Jimin indicates that he’s going to scout ahead, and begins to climb the stairs. Yoongi watches him disappear down the hallway with a growing sense of unease. He tightens his grip on his gun. 

Jimin reappears after a moment, shaking his head. There’s only the other end of the hallway to explore now. The master suite is down that way. Where, in one of the walk-in closets, nestled in the corner, sits Yoongi’s safe. 

Maybe you’re not here. Maybe you’re already gone, with the contents of the safe firmly in tow. Maybe it’s all over, and any second now, this place will be swarming with feds. For the briefest of moments, Yoongi feels the strangest sense of relief at the thought. 

And then the moment is broken as a very loud “God damn it!!” rings out. 

Jimin instinctively points his gun in the direction of the screaming. It’s coming from the master suite. Yoongi joins him at the top of the stairs. 

“It’s her,” he states in a hushed tone. “That’s her voice.” 

“Sounds like someone might be giving her a rough time?” 

There are no other sounds coming from the direction of the suite. No more curses, no scuffling, none of the sickening noises that a human body makes when someone else is beating the shit out of it.

“Nah. She’s working on the combination.” 

“At least it sounds like it’s not going well.” 

For the moment. You have the key to the safe, but it’s a dual lock system, requiring a combination as well. Yoongi has no doubt you’ll figure out the date he used. It’s just a matter of time. 

So he’d better not give you any more. 

Yoongi grimaces, the gun suddenly heavy in his hands. “You ready?” 

Jimin nods. 

Silently, they creep forward. The door to the master suite looms at the end of the hall, and Yoongi feels his already frantic pulse increasing with every step. 

And then a floorboard creaks under Yoongi’s foot. Loudly. 

Both men pause, staring at one another. Listening. Waiting. 

The door at the end of the hall starts to open. Jimin dives into an empty room to his left, while Yoongi dashes into the bathroom on his right

The mirror mounted on the wall faces towards the end of the hallway. As Yoongi hides, he stares at the reflection of the person emerging from the suite. Shit, it’s Jungkook, gun drawn as he carefully sweeps the other open rooms down the hall. So much for Jimin’s incredible marksman skills - the rookie cop slash undercover agent doesn’t look any worse for wear, let alone dead. 

The door at the end of the hall opens again. Yoongi’s breath catches. With a fiercely determined expression on your face and that gun in your hand, you look nothing like the sweet, shy teacher he met all those months ago. A mirthless chuckle bubbles up in his chest. He clenches his jaw to keep it down. Funny how he was right - you are a kindred spirit, after all. Just a funhouse version of one. Staring at him from the other side of the mirror.

“Jungkook,” he hears you whisper, tracing your partner’s footsteps. “Where are you?” 

“In here. Did you crack it?” Jungkook reappears, gun lowered, and - 

BANG!

A bullet slices through the air between you and Jungkook. The two of you immediately dive, raising your guns in the direction of the gunshot - which, of course, was just Jimin announcing his presence. 

“Drop your weapon and come out!” you shout. 

Jimin just laughs, shaking his head. “Does that shit ever work?”

“Goddamn it, it’s that maniac again,” you hiss, loud enough for Yoongi to hear. 

“Did you miss me, love?” Another wild cackle. Yoongi glares at the younger man, but says nothing, not wanting to give away his location. 

Faster than lightning, Jimin fires another shot towards the end of the hall. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook yells, placing himself between you and the line of sight to the room where Yoongi can see Jimin crouching just inside. “Get back in there and keep trying! I’ll handle this asshole.” 

As soon as the door closes behind you, Yoongi looks at Jimin. He points to himself and then the door at the end of the hall. Jimin nods. 

“Oh, you will, will you?” Jimin taunts Jungkook. He grins at Yoongi. “I think - HEY!” Jimin dives aside as a bullet pierces the doorway, embedding itself firmly in the open door that Jimin was just leaning against. “You son of a bitch, you almost clipped my hair!” 

“Next one’s going in your forehead!” 

“As if you could hit my forehead!” 

“How can I miss a target that big?” 

“THAT’S IT!” Jimin roars. “YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?” He rolls up his sleeves, giant snake tattoo on his arm practically dancing as he clenches his fists. 

“Yeah! You already took one from me! It’s time for payback!” 

Jimin unbuckles his harness, letting the weapons hit the floor. “Then let’s do this! I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands!”

“LET’S GO, MOTHERFUCKER!” Jungkook screams, and suddenly there are two blurs flying down the hallway towards each other. They collide with a loud “whump!” and Yoongi quickly slips out of the bathroom and towards the master suite. 

He opens the door slowly, much slower than the adrenaline coursing through his body wants him to, but he doesn’t want you to hear him entering. The two men behind him pay no attention, lost in their frenzy, powerful blows landing left and right. Yoongi closes the door just as carefully, twisting the knob so the lock clicks quietly into place. 

Gun raised, he takes one step towards the closet. Then another. The door is wide open, but the closet is so big that he can’t see the safe in the corner. Or you. 

As soon as he crosses the threshold, there’s a loud shriek as you jump out from behind the door and tackle him. His gun goes flying. He lands on his side, the breath in his lungs whooshing out hurriedly as you roll on top of him, thighs straddling his chest. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” You cock your gun, aiming it straight at his head. “I knew that maniac didn’t come alone.” 

Although your hands are steady, your chest rises with every panting breath you take, Yoongi notes. He feels his entire tensed body relax. You’re scared.

Good.

Yoongi smirks. “What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Shoot me?” He grabs the barrel of your gun as you gasp, but your finger doesn’t squeeze the trigger, even when he pulls it down until it presses into his forehead. “Go ahead.” 

“Stop it!” You try to yank your gun free, but he refuses to let go. You tug harder and harder, until he finally relinquishes his grip, and the force of your momentum throws you off balance. Yoongi scrambles to grab his gun as you’re knocked into a pile of hangers and clothing lying in a heap on the ground. When you rise, there’s a bright red line of blood seeping down your cheek, from where a hanger has cut you.

The two of you face off, guns drawn. Yoongi tuts. 

“Oh, sweetheart, your face. That looks nasty.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snarl. 

“No? But I thought you liked it?” 

“I never did.” 

“Ah. Right. All part of the game, huh?” Yoongi laughs. “None of it was real, huh.” 

“It’s all over now.” Blood trickles down your cheek, dripping onto the pristine white carpet below. “Put the gun down, Yoongi. Think about Da-som. Think about -”

“No!” Yoongi takes a step forward. You hold your ground, but he swears he catches a flash of fear in your eyes. He should know, he’s seen it many times before. “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do! No one tells me what to do! I make the rules around here. I call the shots!” 

“Not anymore! We know everything. Everything. Your empire is burning down, Yoongi - don’t throw your life away trying to protect ashes!” 

“Oh, you know everything?” The mad laughter that’s been choking him finally slips past his lips. “Do you really? Fuck! You have no fucking idea!” Another step forward. He keeps his gun raised, but he’s cackling so wildly that his aim is all over the place. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done for you? What I would’ve given you? Anything you wanted, anything you needed, it all would’ve been yours!”

“It wasn’t real, Yoongi!” 

“IT WAS REAL TO ME!” 

You freeze, eyes wide, as his shout echoes through the suite. Faintly, Yoongi can hear Jungkook and Jimin still fighting in the hallway. But it’s dead silent in the closet, where you’re still gazing at his face, as if searching for some sort of sign. 

Yoongi lowers his gun. He closes the gap between you, ignoring that your gun is now pointed directly at his heart, and reaches out with steady fingers.

Tap-tap-tap 

The silence in the closet is stifling, pressing in on him. But then you take in a shuddery breath. When Yoongi dares to look up, he sees tears in your eyes. 

But time, it seems, has run out. 

In the distance, but growing closer, he can hear the blaring wail of sirens. 

“YN!” Jungkook yells. The doorknob rattles. “Are you okay in there?” 

Yoongi’s fucked. He’s going down, and -

“Go,” you whisper. “You have to run.” 

There’s a loud thumping. Jungkook must be trying to break the door down with brute force. He’ll probably go grab his gun and try to shoot his way in next. Or any moment now, agents are going to come crashing through the windows. These are the panicked thoughts that race through Yoongi’s mind and prevent him from understanding what you’ve said. You drop your gun and grab his arms, shaking him. 

“Yoongi! Do you hear me? You have to run!” There’s a ferocity in your eyes that Yoongi’s never seen in anyone’s gaze but his own. “I know you have a back way out of here. You have to go now. Yoongi? Hey!” 

SMACK!

There’s a white-hot sting on his cheek. 

“Fuck, sweetheart!” He rubs away the pain left behind by your slap. 

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. The door has stopped shaking. “Listen, Jungkook will be in here any second. My team is likely already setting up a barricade and surrounding the place. You have to get to the water. Grab Da-som, start running, and never look back.” 

Da-som. Son of a bitch, he can’t lose her. The weight of everything he stands to lose finally comes crashing down. “Fuck, what have I done?” 

There’s a shout from the hallway, a berserker cry, and Yoongi realizes Jimin must have rallied for one last attack. Quickly, you take Yoongi’s hands, guiding him to stand again, and then lead him to the far corner of the master bedroom, where you push aside a bookshelf to reveal a darkened passageway, hidden from the outside. You really did know everything.

Or at least, now you do. 

The screaming sirens have stopped. Yoongi can hear voices out on the lawn. 

“I know you said you’re the one calling the shots, but you need to listen to me now. I’ll take care of everything else. But you - you can’t ever resurface, Yoongi. This is a one-time deal. Take Da-som and disappear. Please,” you whisper, clutching his hands. “Please, do this. If not for Da-som, if not for you - do it for me.” 

Even with his impending doom hovering just on the other side of the bedroom door, Yoongi can’t stop the way he feels. Of course he’ll run. 

Anything for you. 

Footsteps begin to echo throughout the house. Yoongi pulls you into his arms, embracing you one last time as his lips crash onto yours.

And then he runs.

Epilogue

You open the door to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and flop onto the couch. Another fucking long day. The planning for your latest mission is completely draining your energy. For not the first time in recent weeks, you wonder if you should listen to Jungkook’s advice and put in for that time off request. You could definitely use the break. 

Unconsciously, your fingers rub at the scar on your cheek. It hasn’t hurt for years, but in the last few weeks, it’s been itching like crazy. Jungkook always jokes that he can tell that it’s going to rain whenever his bullet wound aches. You wonder what the scar is trying to tell you. 

Eventually, you drag yourself off the couch and shuffle down the hallway towards the bathroom, dying for a shower. But then you hear a soft sound coming from the door behind you, like something’s sliding along the floor, and you freeze.

There’s an envelope laying in the entryway. Instinctively, you place a hand on the holster of your gun as you peer through the peephole. No one there. No one in the hallway, either, when you open your door. 

The envelope has your first name on it, nothing else. With careful fingers, you tear it open, and read the scrap of paper inside:

35.9285° N, 128.5774° E

Coordinates. To what location? 

You flip it over: 

I’ll be waiting.

You sink onto the couch, staring so intently at the words that you’re surprised the paper doesn’t burst into flames from the intensity of your gaze. 

It’s been five years with no word on Yoongi’s whereabouts. Once Jungkook finally knocked out Jimin and shot the door open, he’d found you lying on the floor, pretending to be unconscious. Yoongi had given up and fled the scene. The Bureau believed your story, likely helped by the fact that Yoongi had left behind his safe and all the secrets it contained. His empire crumbled.

Even though Yoongi’d evaded your capture, you were hailed as the hero of the day and moved on to the next case. And the next, and the next. Days turned into months turned into years. 

Once the mission was over, you never brought it up again. Occasionally, Jungkook or Seokjin would try to get you to talk. But you simply told them that you had nothing to say. The case was closed. 

(To say nothing of your heart.) 

And yet… it wasn’t entirely true. If you’d chosen to talk to your friends, you might have told them that you still found yourself thinking about it from time to time. About Yoongi. And where he was. That sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d scour countless resources, searching for him. Yet no matter how much you looked, you never found a single sign.

Until, maybe, now. You glance at the paper, and it dawns on you what it really is.

A key. 

…

You rise to your feet.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[missmungoe]

ok first of all, i love your writing. the way you write shanks and makino together and sepertaley is amazing and i have read all of your fics like three times now and i love them. I especially love the friendship between makino and ben beckman. I was wondering if you're gonna do any more one shots with makino and ben's friendship??

(This has been in my inbox forever, but I’ve been working on a follow-up chapter to Tethered to Kinder Shores and while writing this scene, I remembered it, so here’s a little something with Makino and Ben!)

She occupied a special place in their crew.

For their youngest members, she was a presence some of them had been without growing up, meeting them with a kindness and empathy that allowed them to be boys, even if the sea had long since taken that from them. For their older veterans, she was a reminder of the good still in the world, but more importantly, the good still in themselves, which the sea had come for after it had taken the last of their boyhood.

For their captain, she was everything. And for all of them, she was an anchor, to people they’d once been and that they sometimes needed reminding they still were, and to the future they hoped was still there for them, in the new era, however long and hard the voyage would be getting there. And she loved them all, veterans and newbies alike, and didn’t have favourites, at least aside from the obvious, but other than their captain, there was one who stood out, and no matter how many things had changed over the past ten years, his hair being only the most visually apparent, Ben was glad their friendship had remained the same.

Of course, some things were different. Back then, she hadn’t known half of it; not the truth of who they were, or the place they occupied in the world balance, but her role was different now, and not just in terms of who she was to their captain.

“And these are the ones he broke out of Impel Down?”

Ben nodded, observing as she perused the list, along with the accompanying wanted posters. “Bounties are recently updated.”

Down the street from the porch where they were sitting, their ship lay docked in the harbour, a sleeping dragon in a cove of gold as the evening sun sank like an anchor through the deepening sky, the sails of the windmills casting long shadows across the rolling fields further inland.

She had her ledger in her lap, perched atop the pregnant curve of her belly, a pen tucked between her fingers as she made notes, her eyes moving between Ben’s own ledgers where they lay around her, and the wanted posters bearing the faces of Blackbeard’s commanders.

The late sunlight brought out the freckles on the tops of her shoulders, bared by the delicately flaring sleeves of her ivory sundress. It hugged her belly, and her feet were bare, her apron discarded in a tender heap, all of her a study in gentleness, and if he hadn’t known better, he might have thought she was poring over her usual work, only these weren’t her lists of inventory or shipments from her distilleries, but she’d approached them with the same meticulous care, categorising all the information he’d shared with her, names and bounties and affiliations. She had her own system, different from his, but Ben didn’t question it, observing instead as she catalogued the information, classified things even the navy brass didn’t know, some of it he wagered the World Government would have paid a pretty penny for, and not something he would have given just anyone, but it said something about her importance that he shared it with her.

And it said something about her, and the sharp, meticulous mind behind those deceptively gentle features. But then even if she’d never been off the docks, she was more cunning than people realised, and he would have been a fool if he’d believed all she’d been doing for ten years had been the newspaper crossword puzzles. The stack of clippings and notes she’d shown him hadn’t been a surprise; at least not to Ben.

Tucking the pen into her kerchief, she leafed through the wanted posters, before she paused, the slender hand hovering over the one bearing Blackbeard’s grinning face, before she slid it from between the others.

She considered it, her brow furrowed gently, unmarred but for the silver line bisecting one of her eyebrows, but he saw their captain’s scars in her eyes as they lifted from the wanted poster to his.

“Are you strong enough to defeat him?” Makino asked.

Those eyes took no prisoners. And he’d stared down death more times than he could count without breaking a sweat, and yet somehow, being at the centre of that gentle scrutiny made him feel stripped of all his guards.

He didn’t sugarcoat it, but then he’d never done that with her. “We’ll have to be.”

“And if you aren’t?” she pressed, even as the gentle lilt of her voice didn’t change. Her eyes hadn’t dropped his, and didn’t give him allowance to do the same.

He chose his next words with care, although didn’t mince them, but then she of all people deserved the truth, for all she’d given them.

“If we’re not strong enough to defeat him,” Ben said, “there won’t be a second chance.”

“So it’s defeat him or die trying,” Makino said.

Ben nodded.

The setting sun had come to rest on the horizon’s collar, the warm light filtered through the rigging of their ship. In the shade of the porch, her eyes looked bottomless, but Ben only met them calmly.

Then that soft mouth firmed, and shutting her ledger, “No,” Makino said.

His brows lifted, but then there were few on this sea who could catch him off guard. The only other person who’d ever succeeded was currently inside the bar behind them, tapping drinks for their crew. “No?”

Putting the ledger away, Makino didn’t yield, her chin lifted where she stared him down, tiny and pregnant and having none of it as she repeated, “No.”

When had she become so bold? There was no trace of the girl who’d once quailed at confrontations, and who’d been unwilling to demand even what she was owed. The woman sitting in her place now didn’t even flinch, as Makino told him, “I don’t accept that.”

His breath left him in a gust, his startled smile compelled entirely in spite of himself, lifting his toothpick as Ben said, “I don’t make the rules, Makino.”

“Maybe not,” Makino said. “But that doesn’t stop you from bending them when it pleases you.”

“This is a little different than the betting pools,” Ben reminded her, with a glance at the ledger that lay a little ways off from the rest.

“Fine,” Makino countered, prim. “Then I’ll make an official bet.”

His look softened, but then it was hard to withstand that gentle force. “On?”

The eyes that met his held nothing back, but then when it came to betting on them, she’d always gone all in. “On a safe return,” Makino said.

He heard what she didn’t say, and saw that she knew when her eyes lowered to her belly where his godchild slept, cupped beneath her hand.

Her eyes turned to the harbour, and their ship, and smoothing her fingers over the curve of her belly, Ben saw how they shook, as Makino said, “I’m thinking of staying. The next time you leave.”

He said nothing, allowing the words instead to settle between them, with the weight of a heavy truth that had been carried for a while. And he didn’t have to wonder if she’d told Shanks yet, finding it in her eyes, but even if this was her first time speaking it, he knew his captain, a shrewder man than most even without his wife’s face failing to keep her secrets, and doubted he’d missed it.

“I know you’re always telling me,” Makino continued, as her eyes lifted from her belly to his, “that I’m a pirate, and that I’m one of you. But even if I am, I’m still just a barmaid.”

Ben didn’t disagree, even if he might have told her that she’d never been just that, but knew this wasn’t about technicalities or personal feelings, which was why she was telling him.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Makino said, and before he could object, “If you remove all feelings from the equation, and if I ask you to make the most practical decision…”

She didn’t finish, but then she didn’t need to. Because while they’d all changed, so had the sea, and it wasn’t the same as when their captain had asked her to come with them ten years ago.

And he knew what the practical choice was, even if he wondered if she knew that as far as she was concerned, none of them could have given less of a shit about what was practical.

But she had asked him, and with a sigh, “Staying would be safer,” Ben conceded. Given where they were headed, and their enemies…

And yet, even if it was a fact, for once, he felt recklessly inclined to ignore it.

But they’d always given her the choice, and no matter what she chose, it didn’t change who she was, if she was with them or in Fuschia. And as theirs, she was theirs to protect, in any way they could.

She didn’t smile, her spine straight where she sat on the steps of her bar, and in that moment she had never looked more like what she was, regal in her gentle conviction, dressed in soft linen and the last of the sunlight and with the horizon behind her.

“Then it’s decided,” Makino said, cupping her belly. “When you go back to the New World, we’re staying.”

Ben only nodded, but then an order was an order, although he did wonder at her influence, that for all his loyalty, he wanted to object.

“And you’ll come back to me alive,” Makino said, this time with a look. “All of you. That’s the only alternative I accept.”

His startled grin was as helpless as his hope, for all that he was rarely inclined towards the feeling, as he chuckled, “Aye, ma’am.”

Reaching for her ledger, the front of which bore a cheerful sticker of a sunflower, she opened it, this time on a different page, well-thumbed by the look of it, and the leather-bound spine cracking open naturally, as though it had been opened here many times.

The wanted poster that appeared looked worn but carefully kept, Shanks’ serious features printed above the obscene row of numbers and the bold black letters that declared him what he was. Wanted, dead or alive.

Behind it were more posters, so many Ben wondered how she’d gotten her hands on all of them, and if Garp had had a hand in it.

“Anything new to share?” Makino asked, smiling. “I like to stay up to date.”

“Captain’s found a few more grey hairs,” Ben said. “He’s taking it as well as could be expected.”

“Meaning with unflappable grace?”

Grinning around his toothpick, Ben deadpanned, “A master of aplomb and self-control, that guy.”

Her adoring smile betrayed her teasing, before her eyes softened, and this time she asked him, gentler, “But aside from the usual melodrama, he’s doing well?”

His look told her she knew that better than they did, but he knew she wasn’t asking about his physical health, and so, “Some days are harder than others,” Ben said, and saw her eyes softening. And then, because it was her, “He misses you.”

Her flustered smile looked like it couldn’t be helped, but, “Thank you,” she said, meeting his eyes. “For taking care of him.”

His mouth jutted, as Ben said wryly, “It’s a team effort.”

“Hmm, well he’s a bit of a handful.”

His grin hurt, but then it had been a while since he’d felt freed enough of his usual burdens to indulge.

He watched as she considered the wanted poster, before Makino asked him, “Any weaknesses to report? All I’ve noted here is kimchi fried rice and single malt whiskey. As his first mate, you would know.”

Ben just looked at her, and saw she’d caught on when she huffed softly. “I’m not writing myself down,” Makino said.

“You would if you’d seen him wax about you after a few drinks,” Ben said.

He doubted she could have concealed her gratified grin if she’d tried her hardest, but lowering her eyes to Shanks’ wanted poster, it faltered a bit as Makino told him, “I don’t want to be a weakness.”

A different man might have offered her reassurance, but he wasn’t about to start coddling her now. “You don’t choose what you are to someone,” Ben said. “But weakness doesn’t mean liability. It just means he has something to lose.”

Brown eyes lifted from the wanted poster to his, but then for all her importance, her humility cheerfully defied it.

A small smile pursed her mouth then, and, “What about you?” Makino asked. “What’s your weakness?”

His pointed look answered, but then it was the same answer for all of them who’d ever known her, and he saw her flustered smile breaking her composure, but then they were always trying their hardest to remind her.

Still, because she had asked, “I like intelligent conversation and a dry sense of humour,” Ben said. “A little cleavage doesn’t hurt.”

“So wits and tits?” Makino asked demurely, as a barking laugh ripped from him, as startled as any he’d ever made, and he heard the conversation stilling inside the bar behind them.

Looking at her where she sat, the picture of angelic innocence with that smile on her face, Ben shook his head. “They’d never believe me if I relayed this conversation verbatim,” he told her. Shanks would be the only one. “But you’re not wrong.”

“And you’re still breaking hearts in every port?”

His brows furrowed, but then she was terrible at hiding when she was fishing for something. “What did Yasopp tell you?”

She shrugged daintily. “Nothing. Just something about a recent incident.” A beat passed, and he knew what was coming even before her grin broke and she blurted, “A princess, Ben?”

“I didn’t know she was a princess until after the fact,” Ben said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“How?” Makino asked. “With my eyes?”

“Yes.”

When she just continued to look at him, he sighed. “I made it very clear to her that it was just going to be a one-time thing.”

“Shanks said the king threatened to have you executed.”

“Believe it or not, it’s not my first time,” Ben said.

Her look told him she did believe it, before she asked, “Was it at least worth it?”

Ben looked at her, and the wide brown eyes that were so easy to enthrall. And he didn’t kiss and tell, no matter how relentlessly his crew tried to get it out of him, but she was different, and so, “She made me laugh,” Ben said, and when her whole face brightened with delight, surprised himself by adding, “And she was very generously blessed.”

“And the conversation?”

“Let’s just say it was a good thing we didn’t need to do a lot of talking.”

“Oof,” she said. “But hey, two out of three?”

“I’m not complaining,” Ben said.

“Even though you’re now banned from ever setting foot in her country?”

“I’ll live.”

“As long as you never go there, at least,” Makino shot back, before her grin eased. “So no thoughts of settling down yet?”

“I thought that was a given,” Ben said, with a look. “Or did you ask me to be godfather and expect me to take off?”

Her grin had no shame, but it was too delighted to be anything but earnest. “I’m sure you’ll still be able to find someone to provide intellectual conversation,” Makino said, before quipping, demure, “and other things.”

Grinning, “The order isn’t important,” Ben deadpanned, although didn’t say that as far as his future was concerned, there were more important things than who warmed his bed at night.

As though in response to the thought, her hand flew to her belly, her features contorting a bit, before she breathed out through her mouth.

“Is it kicking?” Ben asked.

Makino nodded, her hand moving over the taut curve, seeking it. “Want to feel it?”

It was a permission she granted freely, but unlike the rest of their crew who had no qualms about infringing on her person, including cooing at her belly whenever the opportunity presented itself, Ben respected her privacy, although reaching out his hand, Makino didn’t hesitate, as gentle fingers guided it towards where the kicking was strongest, his hand big where it spanned her belly, and weathered in a way he hadn’t really noticed before now, all his years and deeds marked in the scars along the back of it.

Then he felt the movement under his palm, and every single thought in his mind proceeded to leave it.

And he’d been wrong, earlier. There was one more who could catch him off guard.

Her hands moved it lower, and catching his look, her own was wry, as Makino said, “Since you all came back, I no longer have a concept of personal space.”

She didn’t sound particularly upset about this, the smile in her eyes recalling the eager hands always touching her belly, or singing to it, as they’d taken to doing, their captain in particular.

Still, they were both private creatures, and, “Try being stuck on a ship with them,” Ben said, although immediately regretted it when her smile faltered, her earlier decision recalled with brutal swiftness.

But, “One day,” Makino said, with a hope he might have called idealistic, had it been anyone else, as she murmured, smiling, “I did promise him.”

As though on cue, a loud laugh reached them through the bat-wing doors, and Ben saw how it drew her eyes. Under his palm, the baby gave another kick.

“Getting close now,” he said, the jut of his mouth lifting his toothpick, but his usual craving was nowhere to be found. “Is he ready?”

“Are any of you?” Makino countered smoothly.

His grin was his answer, as Ben told her honestly, “Not in the least.”

She hummed. “Then it’s a good thing you have me at the helm.”

Ben silently agreed, although kept himself from saying he’d trust her at the actual helm, if it came down to it.

From atop her belly, his hand looked back. And he knew the things it had done, and would do without hesitation, and anyone else might have paused before trusting him with something as fragile as their unborn child, but there was no hesitation in the eyes that had looked at him and seen, and more than even Ben had told her, for all his painful honesty. But while he carried no shame for the things he’d done, it was still humbling, faced with the life you’d lived and the choices you’d made, in the presence of one that hadn’t yet begun.

Footsteps on the gravel drew his eyes up from her belly to an unfamiliar man, having stopped before the porch, his eyes lifted to Party’s sign, before they lowered to the two of them where they sat on the steps.

Ben saw him glance towards the harbour, his gaze lingering a moment longer on Red Force, before he asked them, “Is this Fuschia village?”

Not an islander, or he wouldn’t have asked, but he must have come from Goa. Dadan usually kept abreast of anyone passing through the forest, but Ben’s Den Den Mushi hadn’t rung, which meant he must have slipped her notice.

“It is,” Makino said, with a benign smile. “Can I help you?”

It was offered with her usual hospitality, and a gentle authority that belonged to more than just the proprietor of the local bar, but then anyone who’d ever set foot in this village knew it wasn’t the mayor who held the highest seat.

The stranger looked her up and down, a glimmer brightening his eyes that had Ben’s brows furrowing. He wore a simple shirt and breeches under a leather coat, and wasn’t armed from what Ben could see, but he knew people, and a weapon was just a weapon. There were other, more telling details for those who knew where to look.

Pirate, he thought, and there was a straightness to his shoulders that said former navy, although whatever rank or title he held, there was only one designation that mattered, marked in his mind like the notes in his ledgers.

Dangerous.

Placing his hand on his flintlock, Ben saw how it drew her gaze, and the stranger’s from where he’d been watching her. But if he was threatened by the display, he didn’t let on.

“You the one who owns this place?” he asked Ben, but before he could answer,

“I am,” Makino said, a firmness in her voice now, dragging the stranger’s eyes back to her, and Ben watched as they lowered to her belly, cupped under her hand.

Rising from his seat, Ben saw her look up, but the stranger didn’t move, only looked at him where he’d put himself in front of her, his flintlock in his hand.

“We’re full,” Ben said.

He got a snort for that, as the stranger looked him up and down. “What are you, her bouncer?”

“Yes,” Ben said, unfazed. “So bounce.”

Shifting his weight, “No,” he said. “I’d like a drink. This is a bar, right? Where���s the smalltown hospitality I keep hearing about?”

“You’re looking at it,” Ben said.

When he didn’t move, “I’ll count to three,” Ben said. “You choose what to do with those seconds. How’s that for hospitality?”

“And if I decide to use them to take you out?” the stranger asked.

“Ben,” Makino said, a gentle warning, although he wondered for whose sake. But from how warily she was watching the stranger, he didn’t need to wonder what she’d deduced, although the fact that she hadn’t offered him a drink said enough.

He considered his options. He didn’t want to bloody the threshold of her bar, but the way the guy was watching her said he wasn’t about to be talked into leaving.

He’d only need a few seconds, and usually, he wouldn’t have hesitated, although knew why he did, aware of the eyes on his back that had only ever looked at him with trust, never with fear.

He thought of the movements under his hand, wrapped around the cold metal of his flintlock.

The doors behind them sang then, and Makino started, her eyes flying up where Shanks had appeared, his fingers reaching to brush her jaw gently. “Did I hear someone asking for a drink?”

His voice was amicable, even if Ben didn’t miss the slight edge in it, and wondered if Makino heard it, as Shanks came to a stop, angled slightly in front of her. Smiling, he told the stranger, “We’re a bit short-staffed today but I’m sure we could find room.”

He wasn’t wearing his cloak or his sword, in his shirtsleeves and with his missing arm apparent, an apron slung low on his hips and a towel draped over his shoulder, but while anyone else could have been mistaken for a barkeep, the way he held himself left little room for misinterpretation, like the telling shiver in the air, but then even in its mildest form, his conqueror’s haki was enough to make the planks beneath them creak forebodingly, the foundation of her bar trembling, sending the glasses and bottles on the shelves within chiming softly.

It was a rare show of aggression for a man who laughed off most threats, but then he’d seen the same thing Ben had, a fact that was only confirmed when the stranger’s eyes widened, his face blanching as he staggered back, his wide eyes fixed on Shanks.

“Y-you’re―!”

The doors swung open again, this time with a little more force, before the rest of their crew were there, filling her porch as Makino’s eyes widened, her head lifting from where she was still sitting on the steps, until they’d surrounded her.

“A customer?” Limejuice asked. From his rolled-up shirtsleeves, he’d been in the middle of doing the dishes.

Grinning, “Our lady doesn’t turn away patrons,” Lucky said, from where he’d come to loom behind her. “Right, Ma-chan?”

“A parting glass before he’s on his way,” Yasopp agreed, his arms crossed where he leaned against one of the supports. “Or what do you say, Boss?”

Shanks said nothing, his scars furrowed with his brow, but whatever he might have told him, the stranger didn’t seem inclined to listen, as he stumbled back, his former confidence shucked as he turned and bolted in the direction he’d come, down the road where it wound between the windmills towards the forest.

Watching him run, “Do you think he’ll be a problem?” Makino asked, with a glance up at Shanks. “He recognised you.”

“One guy flapping his gums?” Hongou asked. “I doubt it.”

“And who’s gonna believe him?” Bonk Punch asked, as Monstar chittered in agreement. “That an Emperor’s docked in a little village in East Blue?”

Their laughter agreed, but Makino wasn’t smiling. She was looking in the direction of the windmills, her hand cupped over her belly.

Touching the bare curve of her shoulder, Shanks smiled when she started. “Gab wants a drink but refuses to let me mix it. Claims I don’t have your touch. I know you’re supposed to be taking it easy…”

“The reason you don’t have my touch is because you measure the components with blind luck and your eyes closed,” Makino pointed out primly, placing her hand in his where Shanks held it out, before allowing him to help her to her feet, his head bent to kiss the parting of her hair as his knuckles grazed the curve of her belly tenderly.

“No heavy lifting,” he warned. “And glasses from the bottom shelf only. Lucky?”

“On it, Boss!”

“I’m not a deck hand,” Makino said, her neck craned to look up at him, tiny but undaunted by the height he had on her. “You can’t captain me around my own bar.”

His innocent look was met with faltering resistance, and a grin she didn’t succeed in stifling, before she huffed her surrender, and his laughter followed her as she turned to walk inside, her walk a little awkward with the weight of her belly. She didn’t look in the direction the stranger had gone.

They all stepped aside to let her pass, lining the entrance to her bar, beaming where they held the bat-wing doors open for her, before following her inside, blocking the path to her, the protective display missed, like the looks they cast over their shoulders.

Shanks didn’t meet them, waiting instead until they were all inside, and it was just the two of them left on the porch.

“Affiliation?” he asked Ben, his voice pitched a little lower. From within the bar, their voices drifted out, chased by her laughter.

“Unknown,” Ben said, his gaze trained in the direction of the windmills. “He’s not in my ledgers.”

His eyes fleeted down to the one she’d left, the cheerful sticker on the front surrendering no clues of its contents, its unassuming nature a fitting reflection of its owner, and this whole place, which made it only more important that it remained that way.

Shanks nodded. “Take care of it,” he said simply, before turning to follow Makino, the doors left swinging in his wake.

“Aye, Captain.”

Lighting himself a cigarette now that Makino was out of rage, Ben shifted his grip on his flintlock, letting out a curl of smoke before he set off down the road in the direction of the turning windmills.

He’d always been painfully pragmatic―a peddler of difficult decisions, made with unflinching conviction. He didn’t always show mercy, not like her, but then he had his own role in this crew, and this family.

And to keep them safe, the choice would always be painfully simple.

[uglypastels]

Pleeaaassee I’m begging for another Hell Diver chapter!!!!

i feel ashamed for how long it took me to write this but i hope it's alright.

warnings: nothing explicit, kissing?? sneaking around. its all just fluff

Catch up on the mini series: Hell Diver - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

masterlist // inbox // add yourself to my taglist

Chapter 6: Up in the Tower

The second you returned home after school, you threw your shoes off and ran upstairs to your bedroom. It was just the right amount of chaotically out of character for you to get your mom off the phone to ask if everything was alright but not that much to make her worried. She was content with a rushed “I’m fine, mom!” from you and a slam of your bedroom door. 

Yeah, you remembered it right; your room was a mess. 

Piles of clothes were strewn everywhere; your desk was hidden underneath a stack of books, schoolwork, and makeup. All you could think about was how this would be the first time Eddie would see your room. You remembered what it was like in his trailer. You had looked everywhere, trying to get a bit of an insight into him. It is the natural response in a new place, to want to look around at everything, isn’t it? So you had to make sure to hide all of your most embarrassing items.

Unfortunately, you could not do anything about the dusty pink wallpaper you had chosen in middle school, but it could have been worse, you reminded yourself. And it wasn’t that you were scared Eddie would judge you; you didn’t want— well, ok, you were slightly scared of being judged. Who wouldn’t be? You and Eddie had completely different styles; your rooms spoke for that perfectly. The fact you had any common interests was a miracle in itself, yet here you were… cleaning up in a rush before he would come over to catch you up on the D&D campaign you were soon to join. 

You spent the entire afternoon cleaning up and would have kept going if your mother had not called you downstairs for dinner.

‘What are you doing up there anyway?’ she asked.

‘Just some spring cleaning.’ Which was technically true. And your mother had been nagging you to sort out your room for weeks, so everything worked perfectly. 

The rest of the dinner went by fast. Finally, the table was cleaned up, and your family went back to the TV room, but you excused yourself to ran back up to your room. The clock on your wall just ticked by 7. You still had three hours before he would get here.

It was a nightmarish 3 hours. You tried to busy yourself by going over all your shelves, straightening out picture frames, re-organising some books, and doing anything to ignore that feeling of anticipation gnawing at your stomach. There was absolutely no reason for you to be this nervous. You had never been really nervous around Eddie, just… you couldn’t quite describe how you felt around him, but it was pleasant. Nice. 

The clock neared ten, and you were getting worried for different reasons. Usually, by this time, you would hear your parents head upstairs, brush their teeth and go to bed. Your mother would come by and say good night, telling you off for not doing the dishes as meticulously as she would have liked. Lights would go off in the house room by room, but, 5 minutes to 10, none of that had happened. They were still downstairs, chatting away.

Then you heard it. At first, you weren’t sure where it came from. This ticking sound, louder than your clock. But it persisted, and you looked around. It was a pure coincidence you decided to look at your window when you saw a little pebble hit it. He wouldn’t…

You leaned to look out your window, and there, right below you stood Eddie Munson. He waved to you enthusiastically, proudly even. You pushed the window open, and the cool night air grazed your face. 

‘How did you know this was my room?’ You whisper shouted. 

‘I assume you don’t live in the basement and that was the only window upstairs where the light was on.’ He said something along those lines. You couldn’t hear him perfectly from how soft he was talking. Reminder, your parents were right there and would probably hear someone shouting in your backyard. 

You were unsure how he did it, but a few seconds later, his hands reached your windowsill and peaked his head into your room. The warm light from your room caught his eyes perfectly, illuminating them golden brown. 

‘May I enter?’ he looked up at you.

‘You sound like a vampire,’ you laughed. 

‘No,’ he said, ‘den I voold tok like dees,’ he put on some kind of horrible impression of the Count from Sesame Street. ‘Ok, that was pretty bad, but seriously, can I come in, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.’

‘Oh, right, of course.’ You quickly paved the way for him by pushing some stuff away from the window. Unfortunately, all his elegance from climbing up to your room had vanished, as he let himself fall forward, nearly face-planting into your plush carpet. You cringed at the thump that your parents must have heard downstairs.

Eddie got up as if nothing had happened, dusting himself off of any invisible dirt and taking off the backpack you just noticed he had with him. It was black, like most of his belongings, but in a way that made you think he had dyed it himself. 

‘You can put it overwhere,’ you pointed at your desk, not completely clutter-free, only your school essentials laid out neatly next to each other. 

‘So, you’re one of those neat freaks, huh?’ He asked, looking around just like you had predicted. His words, however, hit you by surprise. Sure, your room was clean, but did it look obsessively clean? Oh god–

‘No, not at all. I mean, I’m not a big fan of mess, but I just had a little time today so I–’

‘Hey, calm down,’ Eddie chuckled, ‘I was joking. It’s cute.’ He picked up one of your stuffed animals that you put on the chair in the corner. ‘Really cute. Does he have a name?’

‘No,’ you responded quickly, trying to grab the fat bunny from him. Eddie avoided each attempt easily. 

‘No? I don’t believe that.’ He kept manoeuvring around you, ‘he must have a name. Looks like a Tony to me.’ 

‘Tony?’ you stopped in your tracks for a second to process his ridiculous suggestion.

‘You’re right, not Tony… but he is a Bardolph!’ Eddie got a bit too excited at that point, and you were quick to silence him. Without thinking, you leapt over to him and placed your hand over his mouth, shushing him. 

‘My parents are still up,’ you explained. ‘So we got to be quiet.’

‘Sorry,’ Eddie whispered. Then, slowly, he held up the bunny again. ‘What about Dorcas?’

‘You’re a Dorcas, Eddie Munson.’ You rolled your eyes and finally snatched the bunny out of his grip. ‘And I didn’t invite you here for you to make fun of my stuff.’ You put the bunny back in its place.

‘First of all, I’m not making fun of anything. I swear,’ Eddie let himself fall onto your bed, and the springs creaked only slightly. ‘And second, why did you invite me here, then?’ He leaned back on the bed, putting his weight on his elbows, looking up at you with a smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he was insinuating and leading the conversation to. 

‘Catch me up on your campaign? Remember that?’

‘Right, the campaign.’  he exhaled deeply with his words, dramatically. ‘The big scary campaign you’re o-so scared of ruining, which is why you needed your mighty and all-knowing Dungeon Master,’ he pointed at himself proudly, making you laugh, ‘to save you from this predicament.’

‘Woah, try not to sell yourself short there, Munson.’ You smiled and sat down beside him on your bed. He put his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, on which plastic glow-in-the-dark stars were glued. 

‘Cute,’ he said, tilting his chin up at the stars.

‘Not everything is cute,’ you rolled your eyes. Why must he be like this?

‘But it’s all yours, and you’re cute, ergo…’ If he had looked to his side at you, he would have caught your blank and dazed stare. The way you were incomprehensibly lost for words. Or maybe he did catch it from the corner of his eyes. Perhaps he took your frazzled expression as a negative because he closed his eyes and laughed lightly in embarrassment the next moment. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to–’ 

‘No, it’s fine, uhh, thanks.’ Your face felt extremely hot. Things could keep going like this; you wouldn’t be able to stay with him in a room if he kept talking to you like that and you stayed lost for words at everything. You had to get the conversation back on track, so you cleared your throat. ‘So, the campaign, what did you guys do up to now?’ 

Eddie started telling you about the adventures he had dragged the party through for the past weeks. As he went on, you made yourself more comfortable beside him. Your bed was large for when it was just you sleeping in it, but with Eddie beside you, the two of you barely fit. He had shuffled nearer to the edge, moving his arm away so you could place your head on your pillow. 

He kept on talking, and you tried to listen; you really did. It was just so difficult to focus when all you could think about was how different he smelled from anything in your room. You were used to a sweet smell, the air freshener and scented candles you’d put on some evenings. Then there was Eddie, who smelled like the fresh night air in the woods; musky, deep, perfect. 

You were so lost in it that you hadn’t even realised he had stopped talking. There was a peaceful moment of silence until he called your name. ‘y/n? You alright?’ 

‘Huh? Yeah, yeah. Sorry.’ You blinked slowly. He was now looking right at you, most definitely aware of how you had been staring at him. 

‘Did you hear anything I said?’ Thankfully, he was taking it all with humour, the corners of his mouth spread in a wide grin. 

‘Of course,’ you tried to regain your memory of the last few minutes, ‘uhh– dude, one arm, one eye- Vector….’

‘Vecna,’ laughed, ‘you totally didn not listen to me at all.’

‘I did!’ you said, way too loud, and immediately shut your hand in front of your mouth before giggling. ‘I did. I just–’

‘Uhuh, you just weren’t paying any attention to me.’ Eddie sat up, pouting. Then, before you could ask what he was doing, he threw his leg over you, blocking you in on each side and leaned so far forward that his hair was tickling your face, ‘how is that supposed to make me feel, princess?’ Did he really ask you that? How were you supposed to feel with your faces only inches apart, heat radiating off of each other? 

‘I’m sorry,’ you couldn’t help but let the nervous laugh out. He mirrored you with a chuckle, which was the sweetest sound you had heard, only enhanced by your proximity.

Your noses touched the faintest touch. 

‘You really hurt my little rusty heart, you know.’ He kept on pulling his pout while those big brown eyes pulled you in more and more. 

‘How can I make it up to you?’ with your faces so close, there was no need to speak louder than a faint whisper.

‘Well, I have wanted to kiss you since I saw you sitting in the drama room,’ his eyes had been locked with your lips, but after saying that, he looked directly into yours, and you could have sworn that if you had not been lying in your bed, you would have fallen. Fast and hard. ‘Would that– would that be alright?’

‘Yes.’ And he didn’t need anything more than that. Framing your cheek with his palm, his lips touched yours gently. The kiss was slow, filling up the silence in the room. The longer it went on, the more the fire inside you burned, yearning for more fuel. It felt like a deliciously beautiful dream, unreal and wonderful in every way.

But all dreams must come to an end, don’t they?

And yours ended with the sound of your door opening and your full name being shouted so loud the entire neighbourhood could probably tell your parents just caught you with a boy who was most definitely not allowed to be there.

thank you for reading!! please reblog and comment, maybe consider leaving a review <3

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[melop-sia]

for @elphabaoftheopera

WOOT WOOOOOT!!! TO CELEBRATE THE FINAL CHAPTER BEING RELEASED, ME AND MYSTIC THOUGHT OF A BUNCH OF QUESTIONS TO ANSWER IN REGARDS TO LFAY!!!!!!!!!!! TO SHOW OUR GRATITUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What was your overall experience / journey reading the fic?

esper / melop-sia: when i started reading, i was instantly hooked. i genuinely don't think i have liked a fic this much as this one. i loved it so much that id actively check my gmail inbox every hour or so to see if a new chapter was posted 🥲 the most chapters i read in a row was 6, and that was when i first discovered the fic!!! after, i became a slow reader and soaked up every little description you wrote because i didn't wanna miss anything– thats probably why i noticed so many parallels 😁!! doing that also let me take it your writing and it's awesome! even awesome enough to get me back into reading stuff! hell, this fic was a reason why i bought gregory maguire's wicked novel 😅 it lit back a love for reading that i hadn't seen for a few years at least! and back to parallels, they were undoubtedly a key part of enjoyment in my journey with lfay! i always got so excited when i found one and wouldn't hesitate to kick around all energised 🥳🥳 im so glad that you went the extra mile by adding the parallels, it vastly improved my reading experience!

mystic / mystic-oni: Okay I've gotta admit I'm not usually the romantic type but they r so cute omgggggg 🥺

I think if i could change anything about the story or my experience reading it i would leave everything the same. It was just something fun, exciting and immersive i could go to after a rough day and although I am guilty of sometimes having one or two chapters stacked up after forgetting to read 😅, I was never finding myself not wanting to read it unless I was trying to savour it for a time when I would need it most. Plus gave me something extra to talk about with esper/melop-sia 😁😁😁

Especially if we were both reading a chapter at the same time. O ye and the characters are so well done and like the ones we all know so sometimes i just forget i'm reading something fan made because it's that good. I actually sometimes finding myself just melding the two together on accident (i mean thats probably expected considering i'm still somewhat new to the wicked fandom but still it wouldnt be possible if the characters weren't portrayed accurately)!

What about the AU stood out to you (in comparison to the adapted material)?

esper: i think what really stood out to me was how much more you fleshed out each character in comparison to the musical. i loved how you gave everyone another layer of personality along with the ones already set by the musical, yet keeping dialogue and interactions so on point 💓! one thing that is so important to me is a character's personality being accurate. i have so much less enjoyment with a fic when characters are written completely different to their "source", so it was a relief and delight to see the consistent characterisation ⭐️⭐️⭐️!!! a bit off topic but i also really liked how you included some references from the book!

mystic: Well, i've only seen one of the musicals on yt (so far, might read the book cuz esper has it and she said she could lend it to me after they had finished it 😁😁). I really felt though from my experience with wicked (not much but anyways 😅) it really fleshed out more of the characters, like how elphaba has nyctophobia cuz it just added another like, obstacle and really added to her character and existing challenges. Also like the letters were a crucial part of moving this fic away from the original material, im rlly proud of myself because while it was in the part of the story where letters were most important, i noticed a lot of familiarity with something but i couldn't figure out what. Then i remembered i had seen the movie "You've got mail" and it was one of the inspirations which i love and made me enjoy the story even more just because it felt familiar in a way.

What was your favourite chapter? Why?

esper: wooof that is a hard questionn 😯😯 i have a few favourites, but ill try to limit it to one or two...... after a bit of thinking, i think i have to say 11 and 19: each for pretty different reasons admittedly 😅. for one, i loved 19 particularly because of how sweet the fiyeraba date was!!! it was the [infodumping gf] and [polite listening bf] dynamic that i lovee so much 🥺🥺🥺 it was so cuteee!!!! the angst was saddening to say the least, but i really enjoyed how you wrote their dialogue and how they finally came to an agreement.

and. onto 11. that chapter was just insane /pos. it was so good i reread it multiple times and thought about it for a while and, at the same time was utterly speechless. i can say one thing though: the yearning. THE YEARNING!!!!!!!! the yearning was so good dudee!!!!!! i usually don't even like yearning but it was just wild how caught up they were both getting and the suspense was palpable. it was so impactful and therefore one of my favourites. close runner up for most favourites is 9 i loved how it finally broke down the established initial barrier and tension between elphaba and fiyero in an engaging way!! another runner up is 21 for an awesome sequence of scenes that made me feeeellll 🥺 soon to be elaborated on!

mystic: Oke im gonna be honest, in order to answer this question i found myself skimming over a lot of chapters that i had remembered i liked and i cant decide on one because they were all so great or had an important event that i couldn't compare to other chapters. I was planning on going into specifics but since i'm so torn im gonna save it for the moments question 😭

Tysm for the indecisiveness cuz all ur chapters are soo good u should be proud. Also it gave me a reason to look back to try and find my favourite and although i didnt get a clear result it was really refreshing reading the older chapters again.

What was your favourite scene or moment? Why?

esper: I HAVE A FEW FOR THIS ONE TOO!!! the first one that comes to mind is fiyero getting to kick jozsef's ass 😁 i absolutely loved how he got back at him after so long and im just a sucker for people getting what they deserve 🥳!!! it was an awesome inclusion and i was so satisfyed with how that turned out. alsooo i loved fiyeraba's bickering pre-museum break in, it definitely wasnt the first or last time i audibly laughed at something in this fic! and elphaba playing go fish with dorothy was hilarious and not near anything i expected for the last chapter of the main story 😅😅😅 that as well as her warming up to dorothy was simply amazing to me!

onto a more wholesome moment, i loved the dance between fiyero and elphie in the empty ozdust, it was such an intimate and romantic moment between them and i couldn't help but love them more after 🥺 following that, the scene of glinda and elphaba making up with each other and becoming friends again! it was just amazing and all around so pleasant to read!!! another few follow ups, glinda confronting fiyero and forgiving him, as well as starting the party! it was a nice flow of funny to touching and then hopeful!

mystic: oke for me its gotta be those bits where elphie does something cool or funny, like in chapter five when Jozsef was tryna splash her with water and she just dumped it all back on him, like that was pretty badass. Also the petition bit in chapter 7 had me dyinggggggg 💀💀💀 (especially the intimidation and fear, i found it pretty funny and also smart how they used that to get people to support their cause). Also the closet bit in chapter nine was really memorable, and exciting to read and I think most people really liked that part. Just the awkwardness and tensionnnnnn aaaaaaah!!! 😁🥲👏👏👏

Okay, and im sure the Ozdust in chapter 13 had everyone on the edge of their seats (Depending on whether u were sitting 😅) when all the secrets were revealed and the truth was spilled everywhere. Ending with quick escape and a great cliffhanger that kept everyone wondering about the chapters to come. There are so, so, so many more but I end up forgetting where after I try to reread (maybe i should have written notes or something idk 😆). Once again thank you so much for making these truly ✨magical✨ moments for people to enjoy.

Thoughts on the ending / last chapter?

esper: i know i already wrote my thoughts in a comment before, but now we have the epilogue so i can talk about that too!! for one, i don't think i would've had the ending any other way. 34 just had a great balance between presented aspects: it was heart-warming but bittersweet. not to mention such a satisfactory read after keeping up for the last month or two!

honestly im so happy about 35!!! honestly after the roller coaster of the "act 2 chapters" im glad we got a tonn of fluff. it was a wonderful peek into fiyeraba's new life and it was sooo cute 🥺🥺 genuinely loved it so much, another one of my favourite chapters❣️ im glad their story got to continue on into a fulfilling lifestyle for both of them 💗💗💗

mystic: Perfect. I didn't think too much about the last chapter before I read it because i didn't really want to go in with a predetermined idea of what I thought would happen because I just knew it might ruin the experience although I was very excited for it and did ponder for... maybe a minute or two 👀, and I came to the conclusion that I wasn't really sure where they would be next, but the fact they got to be together in the end without disturbance was good enough for me. I feel like the mood and especially the dialogue at the end of the chapter and just everything was more than I could have wanted, it was really good and never did I expect she would still be able to help the animals even after she moved and decided to try and just live a quiet, worry-free and normal life with Fiyero. Also just about the chapters before the epilogue, which i also really enjoyed, like how well Elphie got along with Dorothy, how she ultimately beat her final obstacle - her enemy since the beginning, the dark. Also Glinda in charge and Morrible in prison 😈✨🥳 yayyyyy 🎊

Final thoughts

esper: i thank you so much for this fic, it has really helped me through these few weeks and i commend you for making a fic worth all the praise given and more!!!!! im a little sad to see this journey over now, but im glad i was able to be part of it and get my friend into it too! ill likely be rereading as well as consuming some of your past content in waiting for your next project!! i really hope to experience that too 💖 sending much love and support

mystic: One of the only times that I can't help myself from writing "also" way too much because there are so many things I loved about this. Love, Fae & Yero was an adventure that I really felt apart of, and I hope I'm not too attached to let go of it now 😭😭😭

Me and esper spent a while writing this and they and I really want to thank you for your hard work, we tried to have this finished by a certain time and spent a while thinking of our questions as well as the most important things we should say. Hope we weren't too late 😅

AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR WRITING!!!!!

FROM ESPER AND MYSTIC 💚❤💖

[bratkook]

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: none this chapter. word count: 2.8k author’s note: this chapter is on the shorter side, just diving into them meeting and giving you all a small glimpse into them as individuals! im really excited for this story so let me know what you think, feel free to scream about anything in my inbox bye ily lmao summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

Yoongi loves the rain, really he does. The way the clouds gloom over the city, encompassing it in this darkness that reminds him of underexposed film. He wishes he could always see the world through this filter, always smell the scent of wet soil and tarmac as he makes his way through the streets. Something about hearing the soft patter hitting the sidewalk, bouncing off the rooftops and dripping from the gutters calms him. A soft smile spreads across his face as he exhales the smoke in his lungs, letting the stick hang loosely off his lips while his hands clutch onto his umbrella.

When he stomps his foot into a wide puddle, the cold water splashes up onto his ankle and he grimaces. He hates being caught in the middle of rain. It didn’t matter if he had his umbrella or not, or if he managed to bundle enough for the downpour, he hates stepping into puddles and getting his socks wet. Hates how some of the raindrops that slipped under his umbrella—since it was now raining sideways—have managed to make his cigarette slightly soggy.

Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth this time, he holds it in front of his face with a frown. It was halfway done but no longer burning properly due to how wet it had become. 

What a waste.

As he passes a trash can, he stubs it out fully and tosses it inside, a small pout on his face at the loss of something to fidget with. But then he sees the glowing sign inching closer, the bright neon yellow standing out in the grim weather. The illuminated Rkive360 in the distance stops him from slipping out another smoke, choosing to stuff his unoccupied hand into the pocket of his jeans, moving his legs a little faster to get to his destination.

The bell at the top of the door jingles as he stumbles in, his foot tripping over the small lip of the mat by the door. That was a safety hazard he’d playfully bitch to Namjoon about later. 

“Yoongi, hey!” When he balances out, closing his umbrella and giving it a good shake by the door, he looks up and grins at Taehyung. He spots him standing by a flat spread of clothes a few feet away, folding out some new items as he stares at Yoongi with a genuine smile. His curls flop over his eyes and Yoongi chuckles to himself as he wonders how a guy like him was here folding shirts when he should probably be the face of Gucci or something. 

Well, that’s life. 

“Hey man,” Yoongi mumbles out, his eyes catching the plastic bin beside the door that’s labeled ‘umbrellas here’ in a messy scribble he can only attribute to Taehyung. Not needing to be told twice, he sticks his dripping umbrella upside down into it and shuffles inside the shop, taking a minute to look around like he always did. 

Record stores have always been his safe space, even as a teenager. The amount of time spent in one after school, loitering inside with his friends as he sorted through the racks of CDs and vinyl, exiting with his bag of new goodies that left him excited to get home and play them. It was god sent that his best friend decided to open up his own place years ago, keeping it fully stocked with anything he could imagine. Maybe Yoongi was a little biased, but this was definitely the best shop in the country. 

It’s a welcoming place, pops of color in every corner, tall standing sculptures mixed in with displays of music, autographed albums and posters framed onto the wall behind the counter. It’s the full embodiment of his best friend, down to the tiny KAWS figurines perched beside the register and the music playing through the speakers. The small melody in the background fills his ears once the door is shut, recognizing the song playing as Dang! by Mac Miller and he bobs along as he approaches Taehyung.

“Quick question,” he starts, his hands coming up to shake at his gray hair that was slightly damp from the rain. Taehyung sets the shirt down, resting both of his palms on the table as he leans towards Yoongi with interest. “Any chance you guys miraculously got Seventeen Seconds in your stock this week?”

Taehyung hums in thought, his brows furrowing together as he tries to mentally sort through the massive boxes of new vinyl Namjoon had brought in a few days ago. New shipment comes once a week but every now and then Namjoon goes out of his way to find specific records, never missing with his selection. 

A small flash of blurry trees crosses his mind and then he's smiling at him. “Yeah, we actually got it the other day. Pretty sure Namjoon hunted it down for you since you’ve been asking. It should be in the back.” His thumb points behind him, towards the display tables that held all the LP’s available at the store, a very familiar spot. 

Yoongi mumbles out a thanks as he makes his way over, eyes already locked onto the bin that he knew would hold his prized possession. It’s not until he gets a few feet closer that he sees your crouched frame over a box, figure slightly hidden by a giant CD rack. You’re rummaging through the records, almost making him flinch when you quickly stand back up and find their proper spot in the display. You don’t notice him approaching until he’s right beside you, eyes once again glued to the bins lined in alphabetical order once the initial shock of another person subsided.

That’s when you give him a glance, sending him a soft smile as you slip the record in its rightful spot, crouching back down to grab the next bunch. His hand pauses on the edge of the bin at the glimpse of something familiar, momentarily distracted by your shirt. When you stand back up, feeling him staring at you, you slowly turn to face him once more with your eyebrows raised up in question.

He takes note of the tag clipped to your shirt, it reads Sana but he’s used to dealing with Sana and you are definitely not her. You’re new.

The smile remains on your lips as you rest your hip against the edge of the table holding up the record bins, preparing to put your best customer service voice to use. His eyes glance at the writing on your shirt again, cracking a grin when he confirms it's a New Order shirt tucked into your black jeans. “You like New Order?”

Your smile falters slightly, your arms crossing in front of you as you narrow your eyes at him in defense, not entirely sure how to take his tone. “If you’re about to ask me to name five of their songs I’ll have to walk away to avoid getting fired.”

His smile widens at that, soft and gummy, breaking his cold appearance as his arms raise up in front of him in surrender. “No, just an observation.”

Your demeanor softens again, your arms sagging back down to your sides and smiling once more. “Good, it's my first day on the job and I’d really like to keep it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, going back to his searching for his precious album, leaning over the third bin dedicated to bands starting with the letter C. His nimble fingers flip through the LPs until he gets to the Cure, sorting through Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, passing Pornography until he reaches Wish and his brows furrow, flicking back and forth as if the album he wanted would magically appear.

“Need help finding something?” You speak up again when you take note of him sorting through the same chunk of vinyl. He grunts lightly, letting the stack slant back in a heap as he purses his lips.

“Yeah actually, Taehyung said you guys got the album Seventeen Seconds but I don’t see it.

You step back from reorganizing the bin labeled S, trying to remember if you had brought the record out or if it was still sitting in the second box ready to be unpacked. Your brain was already overwhelmed from all of the information you had been given on your first day, trying to unscramble the entire backroom and it’s countless boxes—most of which were unlabeled because Taehyung said it’s not necessary since he knows where everything is. 

Much like Taehyung, you recall seeing a flash of the album cover when you sorted through the new box of records, knowing exactly where it was tucked away since you had been the one to store it. You were under strict orders to not put it out on the floor, because according to Namjoon, if someone else took this album you’d be attending his funeral. 

“Oh, uh gimme a sec.” You shuffle away, leaving him behind as you approach Taehyung, still folding away. “Hey, Tae?”

He hums in question, turning to stare at you with a small smile. “Whats up?”

“That guy is asking for Seventeen Seconds but Namjoon told me he’d be murdered if I gave this out to anyone.”

Taehyung starts laughing instantly, setting the shirt down as he stares at a confused looking Yoongi still standing by the LP’s. “Yeah, he was saving it for him specifically.”

“Got it, okay. Thanks.” You make a beeline back to the tables at the back, passing Yoongi with a polite smile. “Be right back!” you exclaim, wagging your finger at him as you make your way towards the back room, clearly on a mission.

Yoongi just stands there as you enter the employee stock room, not trying to cross any professional lines and follow you since you have no idea who he is. It's only a few feet away and you left the door propped open so when a few minutes pass and he hears rustling, followed by a heavy sounding thud and some curse words, he can’t help but wander over and peak his head in.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face when he sees the way you’re frozen, one foot on the ledge of the shelf and the other on a not so sturdy looking stool, caught in the act of a poorly made decision. Below you lay two brown boxes that carry shirts you’re meant to unpack later, definitely the cause of the loud thud he had heard.

“Yep,” you confirm as you pluck out the record you need, shoving the box back into its safe spot and hopping down haphazardly. “Here you go.”

Grabbing the record carefully, he flips it over to skim the track list and smiles widely when he looks back up at you. That familiar warmth fills his chest as he holds the new item, making him feel the same way he had as a teenager when he bought his first LP. He had been searching for this vinyl for months now. It wasn’t as if it was no longer in production, he just couldn’t seem to find it in stock anywhere he looked and buying it internationally was the last resort he would take since the shipping fees were downright illegal. “Thanks.”

You’re already hunched down on the floor as you open up one of the boxes that had fallen in your haste to scale the shelves, deciding to just unpack in now since you were here. 

“Yeah, no problem. Tae can ring you up at the front.” Sending him off with a smile and a wave, he takes that as his cue to exit, making his way to the front again. 

When he leaves the backroom you flop onto your butt with a huff, your legs sprawling out with the second box in between them. You were hoping your words didn’t come across as rude to him but you couldn’t take the way his sharp eyes stared at you. Had he lingered any longer you would have embarrassed yourself, it was a miracle your footing hadn’t slipped on your way down from the shelves. You can’t imagine your ego being able to recover from a tumble like that. 

Taehyung spots Yoongi leaning against the front counter, setting the final shirt down and going to stand behind it with a smile. “Did you find everything okay?” he asks automatically, the general phrases they had to use coming out without a thought and Yoongi scoffs, sliding the record across the counter and nodding.

“Of course I did, you let Namjoon know that I said your customer service is unmatched.” His finger gently rubs against the first black KAWS figurine, smiling at the remaining four as he remembers how Namjoon had excitedly told him that this was their friend group, representing them all perfectly. 

Taehyung grins with a roll of his eyes, scanning the album and slipping it into the brown paper bag they provided. “Wonderful. Your total is 40,000 won.”

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

Taehyung laughs now, his nose crinkling up at Yoongi's sarcastic tone, watching how Yoongi grins back at him, succeeding in getting him to crack. “Fuck you, man.”

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi hums with a chuckle as he pulls out his wallet, sorting through his bills and handing them to Taehyung. “Who’s New Order girl?”

Tae raises his brows as he enters the amount into the POS, the drawer popping open against his hips. “Oh, Y/N?” Yoongi only shrugs, you had Sana’s name tag on so how the hell should he know.

Taehyung stuffs the money into the drawer and slams it shut, ripping off the receipt from the machine and slipping it into the bag. “She just started today, can’t remember where she moved from, some place far though.” He shrugs as he hands the bag over to Yoongi.

The older boy ruffles his damp hair up, accepting the bag with his right hand. “Oh, cool. Well thanks, I’ll see you guys later then?” Taehyung just waves him off with a smile, similar to the way you did and he laughs to himself when he realizes Taehyung must be the one in charge of training you.

As he approaches the front door he pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, sliding one out and slipping it between his lips. He finds himself looking towards the back of the shop again, seeing you resuming your organization, but your head lifts up as you feel him staring at you from his spot at the door. The spark of his lighter flashes across his face when he lights up his smoke, opening his umbrella once more now that he's partially outside. When your eyes meet, he smiles around the stick, giving you a nod before turning and walking back out into the rain.

You watch as his figure disappears down the street, his dark silhouette blending in with the rest of the people roaming the city, and when you can no longer see him through the store window you turn towards Taehyung. He’s stood at the POS, fidgeting with the screen, but when you call his name he glances up at you. “Is he a regular?”

He nods in response, eyes going back to stare at the screen as he begins to print out a sheet to fulfill the online orders the store received. “Yeah, he comes in at least once a week. Buys strictly vinyl. I think Namjoon mentioned he’s a music producer, or maybe it was a DJ, I can’t remember.”

Taehyung evidently doesn’t have the best memory, that much had been made clear in the short span you’ve known him. He had forgotten your name twice during your interview, Namjoon having to subtly repeat it for him, he had also asked you three times where you were from and at first you thought he was joking but when his face remained serious you realized he had really forgotten already.

“Hey, where’d you move from again?” he asks one more, genuinely curious as if you hadn’t told him a handful of times already. 

“I told you, Iceland.” It’s a lie, but when he hums in thought—pretending to suddenly remember—you chuckle at the newfound way to mess with him. 

He’s quick to start questioning you about Iceland, nodding along to the lies you spill while you both go back to your tasks of sorting albums and folding shirts. It makes your first full shift eventful, passing jokes back and forth as the sky grows gloomier. As distracting as your conversations get, you can’t help but glance up through the windows whenever a dark clad figure walks by, the thought of the sharp eyed stranger lingering in your mind. 

[dreamii-yume]

So, in the event, Rook has shown that he just carries rope with him. You may do whatever you wish with that information 👀

This was an ask from a few...weeks ago? I don’t remember exactly how long this was sitting in my inbox because I was waiting for the perfect time to answer it (//∇//)

Rook had been a very kind and helpful senior to you this year. You’ll be lying if you say that you didn’t think he was a bit strange like the others, but he has that certain charm in him that makes it difficult for you to complete look away from his direction. Besides, it got to the point where you just got used to him and even thought his actions were somehow entertaining...If you were the spectator, rather than the target that is.

Rook is a very doting person as well, you are by no means an exception to this peculiarity of his. He’ll appear when you least expected it, often startling you out of your skin just by a mere greeting alone. He would always talk to you as if he’s reciting a poem ever so often, making you think that you may or may not have completely lost his point here, it’s almost like he’s talking in a different language. He always acts like this towards you, and to everyone else as well, you could never know what he’s thinking or what he wants in the first place. Part of you just thought that he may just have been built differently than others, but then again, Rook is an elusive individual to begin with so everything could all be an act in the first place.

Long store short; you were both fascinated and terrified of this man.

But as strange and conflicting your relationship with Rook is, you still respected the guy as your senior to some extent. Say what you want about the the Pomefiore Vice Dorm Leader but you can’t deny his wide range of capabilities. When you are at a lost for things that you think you can’t do, he was the one who provided you with the advices and help that you needed during those times. Before you knew it, you had already owe him in many ways and yet, Rook had never once asked for anything in return.

“Worry not, mon petite chérie. For I am only doing of what I must.” He would say to you as an excuse, often filling you with guilt sometimes. Especially whenever he would ever so gently pat your head, chuckling to himself as he towers down upon you. “Seeing the beauty in your smile is enough to make my own heart flutter in happiness. Oui, believe me when I say that it’s that marvelous.”

Huh...So, people who accepts things like that as payment still exists in this time and age too. Forgive yourself from being too suspicious of his behavior though, you just don’t think a single smile is worth all that trouble but you guessed this was just another “agree-to-disagree” kind of situation. Who knows? The two of you did grew up in two different upbringings. Or quite literally, two different worlds.

Anyways, although you respected his choices after all this time, you thought it was just common sense to at least provide him with a simple gift in his birthday. You saw how everyone else such as Epel, Vil, and Trey were preparing their own gifts, so you don’t think he’ll be able to reject yours this time. You made your way through the Pomefiore lounge where the party was being held, but was unable to see a single glimpse of your peculiar senior around. It was a lively party and he may be busy with the other dorm residents, so you felt a bit out of place and proceeded to ask people you personally knew about his whereabouts.

“Rook? I was talking to him earlier but now, I have no idea where he went.” Vil said with a sigh as he crossed his arms. “That guy is as elusive as always, even I wouldn’t know exactly what’s running through that mind of his. It puts me in an unsettling position actually.”

“But it’s his birthday for goodness sake, he’s the main protagonist of the day. He should be the one to at least entertain the guest out here, not hiding in plain shadows, seriously.” You laughed nervously as Vil ranted in irritation, huffing by the end. He then glanced at you and soon took notice of the gift you’re holding. “If that gift is for him then, just leave it at his room. It’s unlocked, I believe. We stacked the other gifts he got earlier there too so it wouldn’t clog up the lounge.”

“O-Oh, is that so...Thank you very much.” Thus, ended your conversation with the Dorm Leader with a bow, watching as he walked away saying how Epel had been consuming way too much sugar for the night. With no more leads to follow, you chose to go with Vil’s suggestion and headed out to his room, still at a lost for where your senior could be.

It was true, the moment you spotted the room and turned the doorknob around, it easily spun open. “...Pardon my intrusion...” You slowly said as you took a peak before entering, unsure if anyone was actually inside. There was no one, just some elagant room design as expected with the Pomefiore dorm, with neat furnitures decorated all around. You could feel your own heart cry when you compare to your own dorm which trademark lies within the ghost residents.

You felt slightly anxious, it was your first time visiting his room like this so you couldn’t help but to gawk at some things you’ve never seen before. This was your chance to explore another man’s room, albeit only for a few seconds and by the looks of it, it really hits different that of Ace or Deuce. It has the exact same smell as Rook and the sense of familiarity was somehow calming, probably because you’re so used to being in close proximity with him now. His belongings were all well-organized, the books are neatly stacked on the bookshelves, along with some...questionable collection of bows and arrows stuck on the wall. You also noticed a spare hat and a single telescope lying on his desk, you could ask what it was for, but you preferred to keep the question for yourself.

You shook your head eventually, quickly but carefully prancing inside to place your gift on his desk. Finally, your quest has been conquered, although looking around, the other presents that Vil mentioned was nowhere to be found. Maybe he has them already opened and kept at a certain storage of some sort? Anyways, that wasn’t your problem now, you did what you needed to do, it was your time to bounce out of this room, feeling as if you’re invading too much of his personal privacy. Rook did told you that he never liked that in a person.

...Until, something else caught your eye.

You stopped, eyes blinking repeatedly at the slight tear in the wallpaper near his bed. There was something hidden inside, no, it doesn’t seem like it’s trying to hide at all. It was deliberately placed in a place like that for everyone to see. So, like a cat overwhelmed by curiosity, you stepped close to inspect it, even going as far as stepping on the neatly draped bed sheets of his to get a closer look.

“Eh...?” It was a mass of pictures of almost everything and everyone you can think of upon coming to this school. It was stuck inside the wall like a collection of some sort and it took you a while to actually get what all of this meant. “There’s so many pictures...Pfft...!”

You ended up laughing at yourself for feeling so tense, you honestly felt stupid for the amount of suspense you gave yourself. Of course, this was definitely something that Rook Hunt will do, what did you think it was going to be? Sure, it is creepy to think that someone is keeping tabs at everyone and everything through photography but this is just normal in this school. At least, to those who knew Rook to some extent, it’s not really a big deal nowadays, especially at this school. Anyways, you calmed your laughter down and stared back at the pictures to actually admire them as despite it all, every one of them are all well-taken.

Humming throughout your exploration, you thought it would be interesting to see if you could spot yourself in one of these photos. You looked around and at first, it was tough since you weren’t anywhere in the photos that the wallpaper could reveal but after a while you found a glimpse of your own face at the very edge. However, the tear in the wallpaper stops there so it filled you with disappointment to not be able to see the photo he took of you. “That’s a bummer...” You pouted slightly.

However, combined with overwhelming curiosity, your mischievous side couldn’t help but to come out. You peaked through the small hole inside the wallpaper and confirmed that there is more, as you expected Rook would have, just not visible from your angle. You didn’t want to damage anything but you carefully slipped your fingers in the small opening, trying to get a better look of the picture. You were mainly trying to shine light on them, just a little bit more and you could make out of its content. It got your heart pumping somehow, eager to see what kind of photo you were in.

“Bonjour~”

Screaming almost immediately due to panic and shock, you made the mistake of instinctively gripping his wallpaper tight, dragging them down completely by accident. You turned around, face flushed and clutched your chest as your heart beats so fast that it feels like it could jump out at any moment. “R-Ro-Rook-san!?” You stammered out, your butt hitting the bed while your legs shook. “W-Wha-When...!?”

Rook only gave out a chuckle as you frantically try to calm your nerves, which was nearly impossible after the stunt that he just pulled. You knew he loved doing this and to think you’d be used to it by now, but this one felt so different than the other times you were startled by him. He was so close to you with that greeting, too close in fact. Just where the hell does he keep coming from, you didn’t even hear a single sound from your surroundings. Rook stood straight before glancing over at the mess you had realized you made when his expression turned that of worry.

You were still gripping onto the ruined wallpaper at this point so, you gasped and quickly turned around, preparing for any damage you may have caused. However, at that moment, you stopped once your eyes had finally caught what kind of picture were inside those wallpapers all along.

“Aah...To think mon chére fleur herself would be the one to unravel my collection! How embarrassing~!” Rook said, placing a hand on his slowly heating up his cheeks. He bats an eye to your direction, looking all embarrassed as you stared, unblinking at his work. He soon smirked and chuckled darkly, leaning in closer to you from behind, in which you shivered at. “...But how does it look in your perspective? Aren’t they all beautiful?”

Yes, they were harmless pictures, that’s all there is supposed to be on it. But these pictures striked a nerve in you, one such that you didn’t know could cause this much wave of alarming fear in your body.

They were harmless but they were not normal in the slightest. For almost all of what the wallpaper had revealed was all about you, and only you that it makes you sick to the stomach. Everything that you remember doing in your daily routine had been taken into consideration, from a picture of you yawning as you wake up in the morning, to a picture of you sleeping peacefully at night. Pictures of you seemingly eating, walking, talking, everything that you’ve been doing is pasted on the same wall before you, all taken in such high resolution. If that wasn’t enough, even a few photos of you in the nude was in there, bathing and changing, you unconsciously wrapped your hands around yourself as goosebumps quickly formed.

Rook had literally been watching your every movements, documenting your life with a camera and capturing everything, including things that hits way too close. Deeply disturbed, your eyes tried to glance everywhere but the pictures, only to find no escape to them. Some pictures had even been tampered with before taking the shot, like that one photo where his hands shows his hands deliberately spreading your legs for the camera as you slept. You shivered, unconsciously thinking about that other one where it was your breasts that was fully out for the world to see and oh, god...That one with your sleeping face covered with a suspicious white liquid, you almost gagged at the mental image.

“...W-What is this...” You slowly looked up at Rook with fear in your eyes, trembling like a leaf as the same guy looked down upon you with a chilling smile. It was honestly too nauseating that you instinctively brought a hand to your mouth, just in case something does come out.

“Beauty, my Love.” Rook purred closer to you, his eyes brimming with desire. “Your beauty.”

He caught your chin in a gentle yet tight grip. “I had it preserve in a memory that I would forever see. Just keeping them in my mind alone was not enough.” He said, closing in on you on his bed, preventing any possible escape routes. “...For I am a greedy man.”

And with that, you found yourself in his bind, pinning you down on the bed with your hands on each side of your head. “Now...The reason why you invaded my sanctuary was...?” Rook asked but he was not expecting you to answer at all. Instead, his eyes glanced to the side, eyeing the gift you left on his desk. “...Ah, of course. Vil must’ve given you permission to hand your gift in.”

You were as stiff as a rock, too tense to even act and move. The hands on your wrists doesn’t seem too tight but a feeling in your gut screams at you to not even try if you didn’t want to get hurt. You were left gulping down your own nervousness as Rook turned back to you with the same smile. “Merci. I’ll be sure to treasure whatever you have given me.” He whispered as he leaned closer, giving you a delicate kiss on the temple in which you squeaked at. “...But nonetheless, you trespassed on someone else’s territory, petite proie. A predator’s territory, on top of that.”

“I-I’m sor-“

“Non, an apology is not what I need. Someone as beautiful as you should not make that kind face.” Rook cuts you off, before suggestively licking his lips. He sat up, confident enough to let go of your wrist, knowing fully well that you wouldn’t have the guts to push him off. He straddled above your stomach, which left you confused and wary to wonder what he was planning to do. However, looking back at him, your eyes widened in caution as he suddenly pulled out a long and thick rope, one that would certainly burn your skin if you struggle too much. Where in the hell did he... “Lift your head up high and reap what you have sowed. That is the beauty that can justify your crimes.”

“Now...” You breathe heavily as he tightened his hold on the rope, biting his lip eagerly. You can’t even imagine how much he has planned inside his head. It made you visit the terrifying possibility that he was ready for this moment from the very beginning, curiated and planned. Your heart drops at the thought, if that is really the case, then...Just how much? How much further into the future did he plan exactly? “Allow me to indulge myself to this fine opportunity you gave me, beloved Trickster.

“...A fine opportunity, indeed. Beautifully so.”

Allow Yume to flex on her non-existing French skills along with her companion, Google Translate. i sincerely apologize to any French Darlings out there yume did not attend a single French class in her life lol

Someone teach me French so I can write more things about this sexy bitch.

[spencerscoven]

— sad girl

about ; Spencer wants you more than anything, but he already has someone waiting at home for him.

gif by saramichellesgellar

CONTENT WARNING: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), slight choking, fingering, semi public intercourse, unprotected sex, cheating, brief mentions of violence, slight angst

a/n : came out of the fic closet for this <3 any request, concepts, or if you would like to be in a tag list, send your request to my inbox !! and enjoy

Being a mistress on the side, it might not appeal to fools like you...

What you could never tell a soul was that it started months before, weeks before he had ever first officially laid his hands on you. The lingering eyes, antsy hands, the words that had meant something else that went unsaid. They had implied the words that Spencer would never say out loud, in fear of the guilt that lined his stomach: I want you. But I have her.

Creeping around on the side, would not be something you would do...

JJ kissed him on the cheek, hands softly massaging the knots of his shoulders while she whispered the words that announced, "something came up..." and with that, she left Spencer with the taste of desire on his lips as his eyes gaped towards your direction. He watched you like he always did when he got a chance, seeing how the tips of your fingers ran across the edge of your cubical, your legs cross and eyebrows furrowed in thought. He knew what you were reading— only because his eyes glazed over the same file. The unsub was a 43 year old man with the signature of engraving x's into his victim's chests. And he wondered, thought hard, if you could focus on the case while you wore a skirt that tight.

"JJ's gone? Hotch just left, looks like it's just you and me. Now, what do you think of this?"

You inquired, shocking Spencer into looking up to see you standing beside him, the steps you took to get there unknown to him at the time they had happened. He pinched his thigh through his slacks. Get a grip.

You slid into his cubical next to him, stacking "The Narrative Of John Smith" in the next corner, along with his other books that were too advanced for you to even begin to understand, so you could sit your hips on his desk and place the annotated file next to him.

"So, I've found that Avery Pincher was abandoned by his mother at eight. She found another life elsewhere, and he didn't fit into the picture... you get the gist of it all," You looked up and smiled sheepishly, flattening out the top of your skirt which allowed Spencer's eyes to heed recognition of the smooth goosebumps laid on your thighs. He wanted skin to skin, mouth to mouth.

But you haven't seen my man... you haven't seen my man.

"Cold?" He questioned, sight trailing up your torso, only to see that your eyes already met his.

He could keep this up like he had for months, he could act like he couldn't cut though the tension between them. He could imagine that Morgan didn't squint his eyes at him every time he said your name in the conference room. He could set his hopes on thinking he had enough strength to go home and meet JJ, make love to her instead of fantasizing about fucking you. It was part of his job, bending people to his decree and staying in control. But he just didn't have the will when it came to you.

"Cold? No Reid— So I studied the letters his mother sent him after she left, all of them signed with an X, for kisses, as she signed them off. She thought it was endearing, he didn't seem to like it... hence his signature and the victims looking like her—"

"Then why do you have goosebumps?" He announced, rather than asked, as his long fingers wrapped around the top of your knee. He felt you take in a sharp breath before he heard it.

He's got the fire, and he walks with flames...

"Think about what you're doing, Reid. You think I haven’t caught onto these little things? Because I have,” Your words were spoken with quiet vexation even though you leaned towards his chest, but most importantly they told him that you knew. Your eyes were criminal, finally revealing your awareness of the depraved cat and mouse game that kept up between the two of you.

You'd seen the way he watched you. You'd felt his eyes down your blouse, his fingers that ghosted too long on your waist as he opened the door for you in the mornings. You’d spent nights thinking, rationalizing that Spencer was brilliant, and surely knew what was good for himself. You fought so hard, only to land on the realization he was just a man. A man with an insufferable craving in the pit of his stomache.

"I can feel your pulse. I have thought about this. Day in, day out. You don't think I've seen you looking too?" He stood, hands dragging further up your legs, to your waist, under your skirt, your hipbone, the insides of your thighs to feel your heat. He couldn't stop the soft smile forming on his lips when you sighed.

"Here you are, ass on my desk, pussy right in front of me, and you're telling me you didn't know this was bound to happen?”

His Bonnie on the side, his Bonnie on the side...

His lips mashed into yours, wasting no time, both your breaths hitching as teeth clashed and he fought to destroy you, to drown you in dizziness and lust. Finally, finally, finally, skin to skin, mouth to mouth. With his hands wrapped around your neck, nails digging in and stifling the moans threatening to uprise in your throat as he held you back from his lips, allowing you to gaze up drunkenly as your head lulled back and forth.

"I've barely touched you." You could hear the smirk in his voice, sticking your tongue out as he slowly pulled at your wet panties, your black skirt already bunched up your waist.

"This is what you want?" He mockingly laughed, gathering his saliva and spitting upon your tongue, serving his passion with hostility.

Obediently, you swallowed, thrusting your lower half into his own abdomen before your lips connected again, good sense and respect thrown out the window as you two forgot completely about the world outside, allowing each other to envelop each whole.

"You've been waiting to do this forever, I can taste it on my lips... so go ahead and ruin me." You murmured softly, as if the building was full and it was only meant for him to hear, but roughy in nature, your hands reaching for his cock that was already hard and showcasing a tent in his pants. Spencer slapped them away, placing your hands back on the edge of the desk as he situated himself in the leather chair of his office, pulling your pussy closer to his face.

"Spencer—"

"I think about you a little more than I should. I think about this," He hungrily ran his middle finger down your vagina, spreading your wetness from your hole to your clit, basking in the way it glimmered off the insides of your thighs before placing the tip of his finger between his lips, a selfish act. "well, I think about this a lot."

You reach your hands down to cup his cheeks in silent approval, his pupils dilated while he begins to pump just his middle finger in and out at a steady pace, your hips thrusting up to meet his just seconds before his tongue pounces. At first he doesn't hear your noises— too focused on your taste and allure as he takes your clit into his mouth and sucks, adding another finger. Above him, you grasp the short cubical wall, holding on as if you'd fall into endless abyss without it, making animalistic noises that make Spencer think he could die right there and here, his face and fingers buried in your cunt. He's a man of science, yet he thinks he's seen God.

He witnesses you grab his head of hair, pushing him up against you and grinding up and down as if you couldn't get enough, shouting his name, and spouting your release on his lips. You twitch, riding out your high with his face planted between your legs and your soul located on another planet.

You look down to witness Spencer cleaning you off with his tongue, his mouth swallowing your wetness that had spread to your thighs, his hips under a spell, causing them to thrust into the empty space, allowing you to realize in that moment that he hadn't even noticed he was doing it, either. You grab him by the top of his sweater bringing his face to your level with a simple request,

"Fuck me, Spencer?"

He smiles gleefully, reaching down to unbuckle his trousers that already spotted precum on the front of them, a moan rising lowly in his throat.

"I need to get this dick inside of you before I cum." He pumps himself a few times, before pushing into your cunt, hand rising to hold your legs back, unable to keep the strident moan from coming out of his throat, your fingernails drilling into his hips, waist, mouth, neck, anything you could grasp.

He's got the fire and he walks with flames...

One after the other, his hips snap to yours quickly, meeting in a smack as his thumb connects between the both of you in circles to rub, coaxing your second orgasm out.

He's got the fire and he talks with flames...

You both moan out, cumming over one another, producing what Spencer would call "the perfect melody", if there had ever been one.

He kisses you one last time, and this time's different. It feels like longing, and you can't be too sure as you draw back to look at him and he stares blankly across the room, breath heavy. You watch as he bends to look through his desk, pulling out a tissue and wiping his cum from your core softly, eyes focused on anything but your face before he's shoving it into his pocket to dispose of outside the office.

What shocks you most is when he takes your peach panties that were once discarded on the floor and tucks them into his desk, under files, for safe keeping. But Spencer still won't meet your eyes.

You hoist your hips up, sliding off the surface of the wooden desk to spread out your skirt, now wrinkled, and to sweep your hair out of your face, that to your surprise, he does himself to catch your attention.

"Look, I just..." He begins, and you bite your lip, the realization of what you've done setting in.

In the back of your mind, you know what makes you actually feel bad. It’s the fact that you don't feel much remorse, if at all, and it causes the high tides of your mind to drown, shame swallowing you from the inside out. The lingering touches, the stares— the everything, they happened before Spencer and JJ. You reminisce, afraid to blink, scared that you’d see the memories of Spencer telling you about her would come flashing behind your eyelids, replaying like they always did at night.

Before he was JJ's, he was yours. Part of you begged to say he still was, even though you watched who he walked into the office with each day when they exited the same car, hand in hand. You tilted your head, as if to encourage him to go on, to finish telling you he regretted it, even if his eyes showed the opposite. There was not a single chance in the world that he could utter what he really wanted to, not after he had been pining after her for years. Not one of you were stupid enough to do that and you knew it.

His Bonnie on the side, his Bonnie on the side, makes me a sad, sad girl...

"I just wanted to tell you that I know we shouldn't have done this but—"

He glances down as the phone in his left pocket begins to ring, and before he even pulls it out, both of you are eerily aware of exactly who it is, the ironical energy of it all lingers in the air as Spencer gives you a sad look, picking up the phone.

"Hello? Oh— no. I was just getting ready to leave. Just finishing up the night." He looks right at you, contemplating, before cleaning off the rest of your wetness on his chin with the sleeve of his jumper. He’s just fucked you silly, only to go home to her.

You find yourself shoving your heels on and collecting your things off your desk across the room, his eyes following you and doing the same.

I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl...

Spencer walks beside you to the doors of the BAU, knowing that hours from now, in the morning, you’d both come to work. You'd act like it never happened, avoid and ignore each other, until wondering hands wondered again. Until then, Spencer would deny himself of the woman he spent his time thinking about. He’d act as if he didn't need you.

He placed his hand on your lower back as he opened the doors ahead of you, slinging his messenger bag strap higher up his shoulders, and let his fingers dawdle there for just a second more than needed, the signal not unbeknownst to you. With just the two of you here, he loiters on the idea that that cannot ever be, you and him. And on his lips he tastes spite, mixed with wishful thinking.

I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl, I'm a mad girl.

part 2

masterlist

[mintjamsblog]

Different anon here, but another lurker! Do you have any headcanons about Omega Tommy and Alpha Alfie?

Hi different anon! I'm slowly getting through my inbox, sorry for the delay. Well ... where to start? I do have thoughts on omega Tommy but they aren't fully developed in a verse (and I do feel a particular need to work out the whole world in which they might exist). But, as a starter, and so as not to chicken out of another a/b/o ask, here are my starters for ten...

TOMMY

1) Tommy gets off on being an omega. It's an added complication, of course, but he's used to having the cards stacked against him; it only makes him fight harder. He's already a poor, gypsy, Irish, Catholic ... it's just one more tick in the disadvantaged box. Besides, no one's ever looking to be attacked from below, from the realms that they deem beneath them.

2) He uses his omega status to his advantage. Flirts like a whore when it helps his cause, uses his scent to swing a deal, plays on the bigoted assumptions of his opponents. If people choose to underestimate him based on his status then that is their weakness, their problem. He will use his superior emotional intelligence to outsmart his opponents, whether aloof self-satisfied Betas (inclined to rely upon their assumed superiority and rationality, freer as they are from the whims of the body and the heart) or the more unpredictable Alphas (prone to volatility and impulsive behaviours that Tommy delights in exploiting).

3) He doesn't go out of his way to hide his status. He definitely takes suppressants, knows that he's prone to recklessness if the right (or should that be wrong?) Alpha comes along. It's happened before, he's been blinded —by an Alpha named Grace — so now he takes more care. He prefers to control his hormones rather than let them control him. He never suppresses them fully though, he likes to keep the emotional edge his status gives him; thrives on the power of his scent. In business and pleasure he makes sure no one ever mistakes him for an Alpha or Beta.

ALFIE

1) There are those in polite society who look down on alphas and omegas. Alfie has never given a flying fuck about being polite; he is out and proud, a bear of a man in every sense and more than happy to growl when looked at the wrong fuckin' way. The passion for which Alpha's are famed, and which has led to the downfall of more than a few of his kind, is only a problem (far as Alfie can see) when combined with a dullness of mind. Alfie has many, many faults, but dullness of mind ain't one.

2) He has the Alpha's natural instinct to protect (goes hand in hand with the omega's instinct to nurture) which makes him a great leader of men. Served him well in the army and has served him better since. Sure, his employees are terrified of him, but they also know he has their backs. If anyone messes with Alfie's boys they'll end up torn to shreds. That reputation breeds fear. Breeds loyalty. Both are good for business.

3) The day that sharp-eyed omega, Thomas Shelby, walked into Alfie's office half-battered to shit, is the day Alfie understood why some Alphas seek chemical assistance. He'd always thought himself above such things. Not that it ain't common, of course, but mainly for omegas, who conceal their status with drugs (which frankly does Alfie a favour, makes the world a little less exciting, it's true, but also a little less likely to go up in flames). But this omega weren't hiding anything, was he? Not his status, not his physical weakness, not the dismal stench of iron and scorched tar that hung around him like an invitation to Alfie's least cerebral instincts. The result was terrifying, sent Alfie way off kilter and straight for the gun in his drawer. As soon as he'd got Shelby off the premises he sent Ollie to the worst sort of chemist for one of them nasal sprays that block the ability to smell. Couldn't taste his mother's bread for a month, but at least he made it through the next meeting without sinking his teeth into Tommy.

(And no, I have no plans to write an Omegaverse, but I do enjoy bouncing ABO ideas around with @still-the-seventh so if you want to add to this love, please do!!)