#and I hate hate hate admitting it. a recovering alcoholic.

[homeruined]

I want. to be so fucking drunk rn ngl

[jellyfishrnice]

Yandere! Rich suitor idea

Hear me out-

The rich suitor that your parents have in mind for you to marry once you turn 30, the guy who's parents your parents are best friends and how they've been imagining their offspring getting married for decades! And how you absolutely can't stand your unofficial fiance!

Of course, he couldn't stand you either. All your lives grown up together with both your parents insinuating that you two will carry on their names. Each year you two would be sent off to some exotic vacation (your parents loosely supervising) and each year you both failed to hold a conversation without fighting. The pressure was always too much for you, you hated the idea of being tied down to some guy only your parents liked. And no matter how beautiful the boy was, he simply wasn't your type. He was too pretty, too spoiled, too prissy with his blonde hair tied in a ponytail and his stupid eyebrow piercing that made no sense considering his personality.

The guy you were supposed to marry felt the same, he couldn't understand what his parents saw in you. You were too wild, he couldn't imagine trying to carry on a family with how you barely even wanted to do school work. He didn't even consider ugly just so... Weird! With your weird, odd sense of fashion and refusal to think about your future , you were definitely not his type. You two hated each other.

Until the summer you two turned 21. The yearly vacation y'all took started off like any other. With both you dreading the sight of each other. But that changed very quickly once he saw you. This was the first year you two were alone, and maybe it was the fresh alcohol in your systems or the soft lights in whatever high class restaurant you were in, something clicked in your suitor's brain.

Turns out a year (or a couple) can really change the way you see someone. Whether he knew or not he started to admire the way you refused to comply with the strict set of rules set by the high class society you two lived in, and how you didn't care what anyone else thought of your peculiar way of self expression. It was admirable he had to admit.

And the night you two shared an accidental drunken kiss, it made the hair on his arms stand up, it made his face flush red(which he blamed on the liquor), and it made his heart pound in a way he never thought possible.

Every bone chilling reaction was forced out of him and it made his skin light on fire. After that night, he only wanted more to come out of your relationship.

But, the attraction was simply one sided.

You still only saw the same prissy boy. He still refused to look at things from more than one perspective, he still poked fun at your style of clothes, he still refused to say thank you to whatever person who was serving him!

He was everything you hated all wrapped up in one ball of a man.

And when he dropped the idea of getting married the next morning while you were still recovering from your hangover, you almost vomited.

-

"Ew! What the fuck are you talking about?!" You yelled while almost dropping the mug you had in your hand. The guy was just insulting you yesterday like he always does and now he's talking about marriage?

"You act as though marrying me is the worst thing possible." Andrew sighed while sipping on a glass of orange juice. He looked out the nearby window onto the private beach of the resort while leaning on the nearby wall. It didn't show but your response clearly hurt him just a bit.

"'Cuz it is." You groaned in frustration while sitting down on the living room couch. The guy you hate proposing is definitely not helping with your pounding headache.

You took a sip out of the mug of coffee and tried to rub away the ache from your temples. Why now of all times to propose? You two had at least 5 more years of freedom before yours and his parents would put their foot down and set a date for you two to sign the wedding papers.

"I mean- why not now? Its be better sooner than later, it would be like ripping off a bandaid-"

"Hell no." You sighed and set down your mug on the coffee table next to you and dropped your head onto a pillow. How were you going to deal with this?

"Anyway," you paused trying to gather your words, "don't you hate me? Why would you want to tie the knot so soon? I mean, you're an attractive guy right? Why don't you try out other options before having to-"

"I don't want other options."

You lifted your head and stared at Andrew for a second. The pink dusting his fair cheeks and avoidance of eye contact was all you needed to know.

You looked away from his face and stared at the wall behind him. Your head hurts even more than when you had woken up.

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I said I'm leaving." You hauled yourself off the couch and into your room. You could hear Andrews faint footsteps and even more of his questions but ignored it. You packed your backpack, only the necessities and a small bag of seashells. You were getting on the next plane and heading back home. Or wherever you could land first.

You were not staying here. You refused to marry. Not yet at least.

But as you try and open the door to leave, a large hand slams it shut before you can completely open it.

"Andrew. What the hell are you doing."

"You are not leaving." Andrew says while placing his other hand against the door, caging you.

You never realized how muscular Andrew was before this moment.

"Yes, I am. Now let go of the door-"

"No." He says in a much firmer tone.

It dawns on you that you're on a private beach with no one to hear you yell for help. You see one of his hands leave the door and for a second you think he's come back to his senses and stopped whatever crazy shit he was thinking- but instead he snaked his hand around your waist and lays his forehead on your shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

-

HEHEHEHE JUST A THOUGHT THOOO

Not proof read forgive me 😔

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Logan adjusting to this new timeline, becoming sober, and Wade somehow finding Logan's dog tags. ~4k words.

(Tw: Logan's a depressed recovering alcoholic with survivor guilt, unofficial proposal, canon usual implied sex jokes, Logan tries to flirt but fails)

To my wife. Who's halo lit up my dark life to see just how many doors were available to me when I couldn't see them myself<3

He offers him his to wear as a cutesie matching necklace type of thing but Logan is hesitant to take them, scared of what will come of it. He does it anyway though because he sees how happy Wade is wearing his.

What he refuses to tell him though is that just hearing the tags jingle makes him jump, flinch, his heart rate rises, and his mind floods with scenes he's worked so hard draining every bar he could find dry just so he could forget.

For me, I, too, am a man with deeply rooted animal instincts and was raised to behave like an obedient pet instead of the animal they made me.

An animal trained to take orders. A soldier without his post is miserable and constantly is either trying to find it again or defend himself from ever having to go back to a post to begin with.

You aren't good enough for them if you obey what they say and excel past the standards. But you aren't good enough if you question their authority and make choices for yourself either. Hoizer comes to mind.

Running with the bulls

Working my miracles

Holding my world together with a boot string

His night terrors are worse, more frequent, constantly a battle between wanting to protect and defend the less fortunate to saying, 'No, I'm done with that. It's none of my business, It’s someone else's problem now.'

He wakes up screaming, claws drawn, every possible sense he has to run activated, panting, gasping almost for air. He's panting, heaving deep but quick breaths, all of the hairs on his arms raised like a cat who just heard a dog barking after having gotten attacked as a kitten.

Living the dream

Benzos and gasoline

Coffee and blue light screens till the morning

He wakes to the sunlight in his face, gets up, stretches, takes his Valium. Eats some toast, calls it breakfast, gets dressed for his weekly AA meeting. The moment he steps inside it smells like Gasoline. Sweet honey scented lies that he hates to admit that he knew all too well. ‘It was only one’ ‘I asked for a virgin one but they brought me the wrong one’ ‘I'm trying, I really am..it's just.. hard’ He's heard them all before but the last one he could relate to the most.

Coming home at night, Logan puts his face into the back of his partner's neck, hugging him from behind as he offers to watch a cowboy movie marathon with him. He barely eats, only taking what Wade gives him or shoves in his mouth like the now spilled popcorn that was all over the ground, His boyfriend sprawled out on the couch while the “Dvd” bounces back and forth on the blue screen.

Wade never likes it but recently he's been drinking coffee at night, pacing back and forth as he searched online for a job. Kept himself far from the nightmares that were trying to catch up with him.

If I tell you this is drowning

You tell me I'm walking on water

I could bring fire from the mountain

You tell me it feels a little colder

Everyone was telling him how good he was doing, how well he was adjusting, how happy they were that he was here and yet.. He didn't feel like he deserved it. Any of it. Not the second chance, not the love and support of all his new family, not the affection from the man who whispered how proud of him he was each night..

It doesn't help his mental status when multiple jobs reject him either. Interviews don't exactly go that well when you have claws for hands and a reputation for having a temper.

“I'm sorry we're looking for someone with more… experience.. in this field. You need an entry level job.”

“Woah dude! You are WAY too qualified to be working here! you should try looking for something higher up, yeah?”

“I'm sorry. You're too much of a liability.”

“Oh my god- You're the Wolverine!”

“Yes.. but uhm.. No.. I'm just Logan now.”

“Wait, why are you applying here? This is a cashier position.”

“I'm aware..”

“Aren't you like… an X-men?”

“N-no… not anymore.”

“Oh… Did they fire you?”

“I quit.”

“Why?”

“Are.. these questions part of the interview?”

What kind of man was he if he couldn't even get a damn job at McDonald's? It felt useless. Like everybody wanted something different from him, but no one was happy either way. Never pleased with his resume or his reputation. You would think being an ex X-man would make it easy. Of course someone would want to hire a superhero? Right? Wrong.

I don't wanna

Choose between being a salesman or a soldier

Just let me look a little older

It seemed everyone wanted him to rejoin the X-men and as much as he missed that mansion upstate, it wasn't his. So many times he's been told stories about himself that he didn't even remember …well.. because it wasn't him. They wanted The Wolverine.

Their Wolverine.

Not Logan.

There was always that spot at the dealership with Peter. Now that Wade was back on his role with mercenary stuff and doing more “Favors” with Colossus, Negasonic and Yukio, that position was open. Part of him- No. Scratch that. All of him was happy for Wade. He seemed to be enjoying life so much more now that he felt he had purpose. But what was his purpose? Selling cars?? Definitely not. Even if it was, they were looking for something else anyway.

“It says here that you are 286 years old. Is that a typo?”

“Oh- uhm… No..”

“I see…Well we are currently looking for someone… younger.. to fill that spot. Sorry.”

But they were never actually sorry. He could smell it.

Coming home from the failed hunt, he felt like an older lion losing its pride to a younger male lion. Well- if lions could develop arthritis in their knees and hands. Once a day he'd pop out his claws, just to keep them ready though he felt like he hadn't used them in such a long time… Maybe he really was turning into an old house cat like wade said.

Sitting in their shared bedroom, he was grumbling to himself, grunting as he tried to get his claw unstuck. This wasn't the first time they locked up and he feared it wasn't the last either.

He snapped his head up at the sound of tags. Around the corner came who he expected, Wade, quickly hiding his hand under the blanket. Coming in, his eyes widened.

“Woah wolvie! Without me? Really? I would have gladly done it for you.”

At first Logan wanted to thank him for offering to help before quickly realizing that from how his hand was under the blanket, it did look suspiciously like adult alone time.

“T-that's not… no.”

“M'kaay. If you say sooo~”

“H-how uhm.. How was work?”

Watching as he began to grab shower clothes and take off his mask, He smiled.

“Oh you know! Watching the life drain from peoples eyes and what not as they beg for their life! The usual.”

“Oh.. that's.. fun?”

“Extremely liberating stuff.”

Watching as he began to strip, He swallowed, wishing he'd leave already so he could finish shoving the claw back into his skin.

Let me step a little bolder

I don't wanna

Choose between being a butcher or a pauper

“You wanna take a shower with me?” He asked, Beginning to walk around butt naked in nothing but his tags.

“U-uhm… No. No thanks, I had one this morning.”

“D'awwww what? Worried i'll see your peanuts? News flash baby, I've had those things down my throat! And I will say. They're better salty anyways~”

All this teasing changed his monotone face into a small goofy smile as he came close, crawling up into his lap, taking hold of his cheeks as he kissed his nose.

“What's wrong? Did you not get the job?”

He was so envious of how he could say such dirty things. Wade was so confident and yet so shy about his face. It made him think of when he was that confident in himself too. (Probably overly confident if we're being honest) Oh that was so many years ago… he'd never get that back. And honestly? He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Logan said nothing but it was all the answer wade needed.

“I see. Well you'll get’em next time, Right?”

He looked away. Ashamed. Here Wade was, being overly supportive, giving him everything, and still he couldn't find a single happy bone in his body.

Shifting his leg to reassure him more, His knee was placed on the claw, yipping. “Ouch!”

“Sorry! I… I can't.. i-it won't..”

And on top of all that, he just hurt him. Man he sucked at this. All of it. Every little bit of it.

Pulling his hand away, Logan's eyes looked over Wade just as quick as it happened, Trying to see if he was bleeding only to jolt.

“Hey- shh.. Calm down. You're alright.” Grabbing his wrist, he carefully moved the tags that had gotten stuck on the claw.

“What's got you all riled up, Kitty? The interview couldn't have been that bad.”

But what he didn't know is that it WAS that bad.

Instantly Logan broke down, breaking heavily as he began to sob, gritting his teeth as he put his non-stuck hand on his face, wanting to hide. He felt pathetic. Useless. Weak. All of the things he fought not to be.

“Ooh, Honey come her-” Wade reached a hand out, trying to console him only to be shoved away.

“Don't!! I-.. I'm tired of hurting people! That's not who I want to be!”

“Baby cakes, it was an accident-”

“No!! Eveyone wants the Wolverine until the fucking wolverine is actually acting like the Wolverine!” He shouted, trying not to choke on his own tears.

Tilting his head, Wade blinked as if he wasn't aware of what he was talking about, but why would he? Logan hasn't told him anything negative for the past 2 weeks. Keeping it all bottled up, trying to push it deep down but that wasn't him. He couldn't handle it anymore.

“Everyone just keeps saying I should join the X-men again and i-” Wilson put his hands on his shoulders, looking at him with the most serious he has ever been in his entire life.

“Logan, If that's what you want we'll make it work. It's only an hour drive, and i'm sure I could visi-”

“Wade!! Shut. Up! I don't…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he began to apologize, whispering he was sorry for yelling at him.

“I-it's not your fault.. I.. I don't..”

Wade was patient, Nodding, encouraging him to open up with his words. He knew when it was time to zip it and let him talk. Now was one of those times. It was his turn to listen.

“I don't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to fight to begin with but… It's the only thing I'm good at. I'm not good at anything else.. My whole life I've just been jumping team after team and they all eventually die or I just get kicked out for not understanding the power of team work or whatever. Hell, I've been through three different wars and every single time I ran away! Like a damn dog with its tail between its legs! All except the times I was TOLD to run and I didn't. Fuck, Wade! 3 fucking wars and I can't even take orders right!!”

Honey, I'm taking no orders

Gonna be nobody’s soldier

It was now Wade's turn to try to stifle a laugh, snorting as he covered his mouth.

“What's so fucking funny?! That your boyfriend is a sad pathetic loser who can't even get his hands to listen to him!?”

Now he burst out laughing, starting to giggle.

“You're over here talking about not being able to take orders and not being good enough for a team while talking to the same guy who can't even GET on a team and was kicked out of Canadian special forces because I didn't listen to a single thing they said! And you think I care if you ‘can't take orders’ ??” He said this last part in a mocking tone, trying hard to be serious but couldn't.

Logan's eyebrows scrunched with a skeptical glare, tears still dripping down his face, feeling embarrassed and stupid.

Cupping his face again, Wade smiled ear to ear, their foreheads together. “You're much dumber than the comics make you out to be if you think I'd care about anything like that. You honestly think I'd care if you don't want to be anyone's soldier? Why do you think I'm my own boss? The world isn't built for guys like us, baby. And if you wanna open a coffee shop or- pursue your dreams of photography, or hell! Even bird watching for all I care, I will still love you. We will make it work. No matter what you choose to do. Even if you don't get a job at all. Do you understand?”

The man started into his eyes, seemingly frozen as he processed all that he said.

“Logan..”

“Hm?”

“You gotta nod hon, we've talked about this.”

Slowly nodding, indicating that he understood, the tears got thicker as he pulled himself into Wade's shoulder, sobbing more.

“Oooh There there… There's my big strong man..” Wrapping his arms around him, he was careful of the single knife still out. Sitting him up, he rubbed the side of his face as he kissed the other cheek, only to gasp.

“GAASSSPP!! Peanut!”

“What!?” His grip tightened around his waist as he looked around urgently, immediately sniffling and starting to wipe his eyes.

“You're getting greys!” He coed, reaching up to pluck a single gray hair from the beast, who flinched. “Ouch..”

Leaning back, Wade held the hair in front of his face, His smile still wider than ever.

“You're turning into A silver fox, wolvie!”

“W-what?”

“Ooh I bet you're gonna be so handsome! Eehh!” Hugging him again, tight around his neck.

Blushing, He wasn't sure what had just happened. How him venting and crying out of the rage he felt to Wade fangirling over one of his single hairs.. though.. I guess it made sense for your bald boyfriend to monitor yours. Wade has even made him start using a fancy shampoo that made his hair a lot softer, curlier, and Less greasy.

“.. you..You're excited that i'm getting old..??”

“Duh! I've always wanted to be a hot silver daddy's sugar baby!”

“What does that even mean?”

“Don't worry about it- Oh hey look! Your claw went back in.”

Looking at his hand, he made a fist and opened it a couple of times, blinking, oblivious. “...How did you do that?”

But what he didn't realize is that the stress was flowing out of him, and the relief that Wade seemed to be obsessed with him no matter what had calmed him down enough for it to slide back in itself.

“I didn't do anything, sweetheart. You opened up. Let it out. All that stress isn't good for you, you know. How do you think I ended up looking like this?” He joked, giggling.

For some reason, He laughed too, finding this a bit funny.

“Do you feel better? Hm?”

“Nngh..”

“I'll take that as a yes.” The naked man whispers, kissing him with his arms lazily on his shoulders, glad that he was able to cry in front of him. Twas a very manly thing to do and there was no one more manly than the Wolverine himself.

“Alright. I'm gonna go shower. I stink worse than you do after being out in the rain.” You know, wet dog and all. Pulling away, there was a clang and a tug at both of their necks, the tags becoming stuck together, making wade smirk more. “I think these tags don't want me to go.”

Quickly frowning, Logan swallowed, moving to take his off, pulling up his hand as he held it, putting the tag inside of it, closing his fingers.

“Wha..I-... what are you doing?”

“Wade.. I..” He sighs, looking away with a nervous pout, Grunting a bit from frustration. Why did words have to be so difficult?

“Are you breaking up with me?!”

“What!? No! I-.. I don't..”

See what Logan didn't know was that Wade had viewed these as promise rings, the equivalent of engagement even but he was okay with never actually getting married. As long as he got to wear the dress in his closet and dance with him he wouldn't mind if it was legal or not. He understood fully that not everyone wanted to marry the stage 4 cancer patient whose skin looked like turkey bacon that was somehow raw and burnt at the same time.

“You don't what? Do you.. want something else? We can get rings! Do you want rings?” shifting to sit closer to him, Wade was obviously becoming upset about this, untangling the tags and looking at him with those big brown puppy eyes.

“Rings…?”

He could see the gears in his head trying their best to turn as he thought what he meant.

“How would we make them into rings?” He finally asks and to Wade, this was basically a proposal.

Sitting up more he began clapping excitedly the same way he did when seeing puppins again about 8 months ago. “Eeh!! Yes!!”

His head turns, Giggling. “I would've taken it in front of the subway like Sanda Bullock but this works too!”

Logan, like a dumb ass, looked too, knowing full well he wouldn't see anyone but still always looked anyway. “Who??”

“Oh I'll show you later! What size are you?”

“In rings?”

“No, your cock, Of course in rings!”

“Hey now- I never agreed to a cock ring, Wade. No.”

The serious tone and the way he pointed his finger at him made him laugh more, taking his hand as he kissed it. “We'll figure it out. Okay so after my shower, I'll call a guy I know. I think Forge would do a much better job but I feel like he'd say no.” He began rambling about how cute they would be and how excited he was, climbing off of his lap (finally) and started to walk off.

“W-wade!” He called, swallowing again, nervous to ask him to listen.

“What? You wanna come shower?”

“No- well.. maybe but..”

Again he waited, rocking back and forth on his heels, trying his best to be patient but it was hard not talking for 0.5 seconds.

“It's not that.. I don't like them. It's just.. I got those a long long time ago.. and I don't want to be the man those belonged to. Not anymore. And it's not that I don't think about rejoining all the time, it's just.. I want to live my life the way I want too. Charles always said that at the end, we'd get to live how we deserve. That's my time. My time is now. I want to sit on a porch somewhere out west and watch the horses graze. I wanna sit around doing nothing with Puppins in my arms. I want… I want to be with.. with you.”

He admitted, and for once Wade was the one speechless.

“I don't want you to visit. I want to live with you. But not here. I want to go somewhere quieter. Somewhere I can just be.. Logan..”

Putting a hand on his chest as he explained, he didn't see his smile move, not a smidge, watching as he bit his lip and covered his mouth trying to stay quiet until he was done.

“Of course I still want to help people though! Protect them from other worse people… I'm just tired of being someone's toy soldier all the time. I want to do what I think is right but.. also have time to listen to you sing when cooking and take Puppins to the dog park. I want to protect..Us.” Yeah. That felt right. Us. Both of them, all of them. Together. His family.

“B-besides.. If I became an X-men again I don't think I could do it. I could barely sleep back then thinking about all the screams.. the people I couldn't help. I don't think I would be able to get over the fact that I can't save everyone… But I definitely want to try to at least save a few people. Take care of them… all of them. Even if they don't think they need help.” He smiled a bit, taking a huge breath as the stress was relieved from his shoulders.

“Alright you can talk now because I'm never doing that ever again, that was super embarrassing.” He muttered, flushed as he looked down at his lap.

The second he gave him permission to speak, Wade screamed, a scream that made Logan's eyes widen and look at him with a slow blink. “....what was tha-”

Immediately he was pulled up from the bed, picked up and squeezed tightly as he jumped around. Grunting some, he held on tight, feeling a little nauseous. Sometimes it was easy to forget how strong he was.

Still screaming, Wade was extremely excited about all that was just said, Logan admitting that he wanted a serious future with him was a lot better news than he could have ever wished for.

“Put me down!... Wade!... I'm gonna throw up!” He said, whining that he was given uppies non consensually. Even he couldn't help but laugh though in response to his giggles. God that laugh was so annoying and yet his world would feel pointless without it.

Putting him down, Wilson grabs his cheeks, petting his beard. “Ooh Logan.. I don't need protection.. because I can't get pregnant. But if I ever find out that I can, I'll definitely hire you.” He jokes, causing more blushes as his hand comes up to Wades, nuzzling into it for a moment.

“You know what I mean…”

“I do. And while I won't stop you, how about you be your own soldier for a bit? Tell yourself how to live. Not anyone else. And i'll be behind you, wearing a shirt with your ugly mug on it, supporting you the whole way. Got it?”

“Aye! I'm not ugly!”

“No you are not! I've barely been home for 20 minutes and am already so wet. I haven't even taken a shower yet “ he mumbles casually as he begins walking away.

“Heh.. Hey…erm Wade?”

“Yes, love?” Just about to leave the room, he turns, smiling gently at how talkative his fiancé was.

Logan blushes more. “I uhm.. If I'm nobody's soldier… can your name be nobody?”

Wade looks confused at first, now it's his turn to figure out what he was saying.

“Cause.. if your name is nobody then i'd be.. nevermind.” Waving A hand, he glanced at his shoes, stuffing his hands in his pocket having just fumbled that line completely.

Within seconds, Wade was back in that room, giving him the sloppiest, deepest kiss that was available, kissing him all over.

“Oh Logie! You're so sweet! But leave the flirting to me, mkay? I don't need you throwing your back out trying too hard.” He pats his chest, grabbing his hand as Wade drug him by the wrist.

They both laugh as they enter the bathroom, closing the door with a click.

[foreverdolly]

this is a self pitying post and i’ll probably delete it later- but when i’m sad i tend to write it out. i’ve used this blog like a diary of sorts for the last two and a half years. i’ve developed a relationship with a lot of you on here and i appreciate all the love i’ve received so far on my last post. my friends that i have in real life, no matter how long i’ve known them, don’t know too much about my upbringing or my parents. i hate the idea of trauma dumping- it’s uncomfortable for other people: so don’t read this if you don’t want to. i wouldn’t blame you.

my dad died from cirrhosis due to alcoholism. he died miserable and alone. he had no friends. his family was sick of him. i tried to call him as often as i could but sometimes he could be mean if he was drunk. i knew not to call him after 11:00 in the afternoon because he would start to drink. he lived in his youngest brother’s basement and almost never came upstairs because he was embarrassed. i haven’t seen him in three years because he lives fourteen hours from me, but i tried my hardest to call him every week and keep him involved in my life. he never saw any of my homes, never met any of my friends, and never even saw me drive a car (i’ve been licensed since i was eighteen). i cried to him almost every week, begging him to get sober.

he never recovered from my parent’s divorce, and for that i feel so sorry. he called my mother his soulmate and always spoke in past tense- talking about when me and my brother were little. he would tear up when talking about the first time he ever saw me in the hospital after my mother gave birth, and he was vocal about the fact that i was his favorite. we shared a lot of the the same interests and always had fun when talking.

when my mom made a suicide attempt two years ago he was there for me almost everyday, calling me despite the demons he was battling with himself.

the last time i spoke to him was thursday- a week from the day he died. he told me that he almost called a treatment facility but he got tired and took a nap instead. his doctors appointment was today at one and he was going to ask to be admitted and then go to a rehab facility. i told him i’d send him money while he was in there- he hasn’t been able to hold a job since i was still in high school.

my dad was a chef. a damn good cook- classically trained in french cooking. he had the loudest laugh i’ve ever heard, so much so that it used to make me cry when i was a baby. we used to wear matching costumes and he’d sign me out from school on halloween and call me out the day after. he took me to my first concert, but he couldn’t afford both the gas and the tickets (so i paid for the gas with my pocket change at the age of thirteen). he wore adidas strictly- shell toe was his favorite.

when i was little my dad was on night duty while my mom was away: tucking us in, reading us books. he refused to read to me and walked out the door but not before saying “bed bugs and stuff”. i thought it was so funny. it became our saying. every night we spent with each other we said “bed bugs and stuff”. so that was my last send off to him. i hope he’s finally resting well and isn’t depressed, ashamed or lonely anymore where he is.

he died in his sleep. they found a solo cup filled with vodka next to his bed and i can’t stop thinking about the fact that he was going to get help today. he was yellow due to jaundice. what a cruel world.

[callmeby-mylastname]

who’s she?

summary- after your fallout with tara you find comfort in the thing you hated most about her, alcohol.

warnings- some sweet angst, meaningless one night stands and some swears. possible grammar n spelling errors

A/N- thank you anon for the suggestion i hope it lived up to your standards. sorry this took so long i have been so damn busy lately but enjoy🙏

part 1

it had been 3 months since your ‘break up’ with tara and to be completely honest you were doing terrible.

you never liked it when tara drank, she became someone you didn’t recognise.

and now you’re here, you barely recognise yourself. drinking copious amounts of liquor sleeping with a new random girl.

if you kept yourslef sober enough you’d be disgusted by the reputation you had acquitted, the ‘life of the party’ the fuck boy who gets with pretty girls and leaves before they wake up. it didn’t mean anything to you it truly didn’t it clearly meant nothing to the hookups. you both wanted a sexual realsie and that’s what you got.

doing anything to distract yourself from losing the one thing that made your life bright.

Tara had heard of your new found reputation along with glaring looking at you drunkly go upstairs with a girl.

she felt guilty, real guilty. yet too stubborn to talk to you. was she scared you’d end up the way amber did? yeah. did she love you? yeah. was her fear a reasonable excuse to hurt you the way she did? not particularly.

but yet here she is, sat in her apartment wallowing in self pity, contemplating texting you.

she’d spend her nights feeling guilty debating to reach out but never truly had the courage. she hears a ping from her phone and checks the message.

nerdymeeks: have u heard of Y/Ns new girl?

Tgiz: wait what? like gf??

nerdymeeks: i think so? they’ve been seen hanging out at their place couple times

nerdymeeks: told u. u should’ve stopped being stubborn n got ur girl back before it was too late

well if she had a reason to text it was definitely now, so with the surge of confidence that had absolutely nothing to do with the raging jealousy she clicked your contact and let it ring.

“sorry the person you’re trying to contact does not exist” and with that the call ended.

tara was left in disbelief, you blocked her? you got some new girl and blocked her? that made a already very jealous mad tara exceptionally more angry

she didn’t particularly have the right to but she still was.

grabbing her shoes and keys, she was going to confront you, luckily for her you’re a couple doors away. it’s honestly shocking you two haven’t seen eachother since the fallout.

and with three knocks, she was stood at the door left with silince. she raised her fist to knock once more when a beautiful black haird girl opened the door.

logically she was stunning, but to tara? you could do better. and it isn’t at all jealousy

“can i help you?” the girl at the door way asked, recovering from the momentary stun tara replied.

“i-uh. i’m here for Y/N?”

“tara?” your voice rang out behind this new mysterious girl.

this was the first time her eyes met yours after THAT. you looked good, better than you did atleast.

but she would hate to admit how she missed the way her eyes instantly found yours wherever you were.

“we need to talk” tara replied to you

you were stuck, on one side you never wanted to see her again but that little part of ur brain was nagging at you to just hear her out.

and so you went for the latter. “okay”

tara looked back at the girl guarding the entrance to your apartment, she reluctantly moved aside and headed towards your bedroom.

“if you need me Y/N i’ll be right here” and with that she entered the room closing the door.

“so are you and broody over there..together?” she was trying to keep composer (it didn’t work)

“what do you care?” you replied bitterly

“i don’t. i-just..wondering” that composer is definitely working very well. “what do you want tara?” you were getting impatient now

“why did you block me?” she asked getting straight to the point

“it’s not like we were talking” you replied. she really had the nerve to throw you to the cerb then comd to your apartment and ask why you had blocked her?

“maybe because you were too busy getting drunk” she folded her arms across her chest.

“oh? so you’re getting judgemental now?” you walked closer to her.

“i have never once judged you, and now you’re judging me for something you’ve done?”

you were face to face with her now. you were a couple inches taller than tara, so you were looking down on her.

she would be lying if she said seeing you mad wasn’t atleast a little bit attractive.

“i had my reasons for what i did” she stated getting louder now.

“and i didn’t?” you were shouting now, both arguing with one an other.

“we were simply fucking Y/N-“ she started “No!” you cut her off. “don’t even act like what we were doing was ‘just fucking’. i loved you and you know damn well you liked me more than just some side bitch-“

it was her turn to intrupt you now “you loved me?” the tension was softer now.

“of course i did tara? you were everything i ever wanted” you paused

“and now i have everything i need” you looked towards the bedroom door, tara following your line of sight.

she felt the tears in her eyes, but she be dammed if she let you see them fall.

the soft “oh” fell from her lips “i see, well i’ll leave you two to it then” and before you could say more she turned around and left, leaving you stood in your apartment once more.

this time you had something, someone to go to. someone worth it.

tag list

@ortegalvr

@tropicals-things

@jusnough

[oph3liatlou]

Heyy,

I‘d love to request a Haymitch x reader fic! Just something wholesome. Some bullet points for the context:

-age gap

-she falls first he falls harder

-enemies to friends with benefits to lovers

-maybe a tiny bit of spice

The rest is totally up to you!!!

— PAST EMOTIONS

@mariechristine00

pairing(s) - soft!haymitch x recovering!fem reader

word count - 801

warnings - mentions of sex (past tense), light bickering, age gap (haymitch is 42 & reader is 27), implied situations.

proofread? - yes.

note from author - why did his flirting make me giggle 🤭 ???

summary - you were rescued from the capitol along with other victors - haymitch is your first visitor and you're happy to see him.

“You don’t happen to have any alcohol on you, do you?” Haymitch asked. He was your very first visitor since you had been brought to District 13 - along with Peeta, Johanna, and Annie. You considered Haymitch as a friend, of sorts…though you two didn’t get along when you first met.

I smile gently when you saw Haymitch was your first visitor. you were definitely happy to see a friendly face. “You think I’d be able to smuggle something like that in?”

“You’d be surprised.” He said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “How’d your visit with Coin go?” He asked, now stepping into your room.

“Haven’t gone yet.” You shook your head. “She thought I’d be in the same shape as Peeta.” And this was true, Coin had said that you should get your rest.

Haymitch seemed to find your words amusing, chuckling slightly before sitting in a nearby chair. "How are you feeling?" He asked, in a much kinder tone than that of how he spoke to you before. He didn't seem like the type to care about other victors' welfare - but he was much more attentive to you since your rescue.

This out-of-character nature seemed to confuse you when you pointed that out to him. "Since when have you started being so nice?"

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow as if he just found your question amusing. "You're not in a condition to be picking fights, are you?"

You scoffed. You two always had this banter going on with eachother but - the tension was released the few times you had slept together.

His grey-blue eyes met yours. "Besides..." He continued. "I've always been nice. To you."

You chuckled at his comment. "No, you haven't. We hated eachother when we first met."

His smirk grew at the mention of your first meeting. He looked as if he had remembered something that amused him greatly - though he kept it to himself. "Maybe, but even then...couldn't deny the chemistry, could we?" He asked.

You gave him a side glance with a soft chuckle. "I wanted to smack you in the face the first time we met - if you wanna call that chemistry..."

"And I would've loved every second of it," He said, his smirk growing. "You have to admit, the physical tension..." He trailed off, hoping you'd finish the sentence.

You smiled looking up from your eyebrows. You had been tracing designs on the blankets of your rather uncomfortable - recovery bed. "I know." You mumbled like a child would have.

"And the times - when we acted on it..." He let his sentence linger again, trying to get you to look over at him - which you eventually did. The playful smile on his expression seemed to indicate that he really did remember - quite clearly - the intimate times you two had spent together.

You met his eyes again and shook your head gently. This wasn't something you wanted to talk about now - especially since boundaries had been set beforehand.

"C'mon. You're telling me you don't remember? I certainly do..." He teased, getting up from his chair and sitting beside you on your bed. "We might've decided not to take it any further, but we both enjoyed every second of it, didn't we?"

You found yourself sighing. "Maybe we should've taken it further." You realized why you had agreed with him on the initial arrangement - you knew there was a chance that you could've been killed since you were helping the rebels. But now you were safe and recovering in the underground of District 13.

His smile grew again at this - it seemed that he had been secretly hoping the same thing this entire time. "I couldn't agree more." He admitted, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into a small side hug. "It's not too late..." He murmured, brushing your hair off your cheek and leaning closer to you.

You looked at him softly. "I'm not too young for you?" You joked gently. You were much younger than him, maybe by 15 years or so.

Haymitch smirked in response to your question. He mimicked your joking tone. "I think you're old enough to make your own decisions. Wouldn't you?" He whispered, his voice tinged with arousal as he moved his head closer to yours. His warm breath lightly brushed against the side of your face - as a chill seemed to travel up your spine.

You nodded with a gentle smile. "The age difference doesn't bother me..."

His lips met yours softly, before he pulled you even closer to him. You felt his warm body pressed against yours as his hand started to softly caress you hair. He broke away from the kiss with a soft laugh. "God, I've missed you."

You smirked gently. "Show me how much you've missed me-" You paused. "I'll close the door."

read my merged works here!

[iamcalmdammit]

Positive || [Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader]

Summary: Ghost finds out you're pregnant with his child.

Warning: None. Fluffish angst.

Ghost stormed into your room without a warning and slammed the door after himself so violently that the whole room shaked in its wake. You almost had a heart attack, but quickly recovered enough to jump up and watch him with arms crossed over your chest, giving him the best disapproving look you could pull off in this situation.

In reality your heart was beating way too fast, as if it was about to escape from between your ribs. There were so many things left unsaid between the two of you that now you hated the thought of being alone with the lieutenant. Every single time you were paired up with him on a mission, you tried your best to stay invisible--you followed his orders without a word and kept communication to the bare minimum.

But now you had no chance to run away from him. You watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, his eyes locked on you as he waited for something. You didn't dare to ask what it was all about, afraid it would only enrage him. Then your eyes moved to his hand and you realized he was holding a smaller paper bag. What was this all about?

"Are you feeling better?" he suddenly asked you.

At first you didn't know what in the hell he was talking about, but then you remembered. You hadn't felt well in the morning and asked Price to let you rest for a while. But that was a private conversation, you weren't expecting him to tell everyone about your medical issues.

Ghost suddenly took a step closer to you as he waited for your answer. Why did he have to be so damn intimidating? "I do, thanks," you managed to say after a little too long. "Did you come here just to ask me that?" you wondered out loud.

Shaking his head, Ghost threw the paper bag to you. You gave him a surprised look, but instead of answering, he only motioned you to take a look inside. So you opened the bag and found two pregnancy tests in it. What the hell was he doing?

"I'll wait," was all he said.

"What are you talking about?"

"I remember my sister-in-law's symptoms from the time she was pregnant," he explained calmly, although it was easy to tell he was all tensed up. "Let's see if I'm right. I brought two just to be sure."

"Even if I was pregnant--which I'm definitely not--what would you have to do with it?"

His gloved fingers curled into a fist as he considered what to say. You had a feeling that you already knew why he was so invested in this theory, but a part of you wished you were wrong. "You're working under my command, sergeant, I need to know if you're pregnant or not. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you or the baby."

"And you think that's the way to do it?" you asked, relieved to hear it was just that. "If I found out I was pregnant, I would tell Price who would then pass the news on to you."

Shaking his head, Ghost drew in a sharp breath which he soon blew out slowly to even his breathing. "That's not the right way to do it if I'm the father," he then said.

This was exactly what you were afraid to hear. Once--just once you both lost control and slept together after drinking some of the Scotch whisky Soap brought with him straight from home. That was the first and so far only time he took off the mask in front of you, too lost in the desire and alcoholic haze to think straight anymore.

Letting out a sigh, you ran a hand through your hair. "Ghost, that only happened once, what makes you think--"

"Have you slept with anyone beside me in the past weeks?" he interrupted you harshly.

"That's none of your business," you replied defensively.

The answer was simple: you didn't. You lacked the time and energy to go out and meet new people, but you were too proud to admit you didn't really have a life outside of work. Sure, you visited your family every now and then, but you didn't have friends in the traditional sense of the word.

Ghost saw through you without a problem. "So you did not," he stated before pointing at the bag in your hand. "Do the test. Now."

"Don't make me do this."

"Y/N," he warned you with a growl.

You closed your eyes for a second to think. Running away would have been an issue. He was standing in your way, and even if you managed to escape, where would you go? So you nodded and went to the bathroom to do as he ordered.

The minutes were passing painfully slowly. As you sat there on the floor, your eyes fixed on the two tests, you began to think about your options. Were you ready to be a parent? Would you have to do it alone? Ghost being here and looking so concerned made you think he would want to be a part of the child's life.

But how would that work with your line of work? You didn't want to quit, to give up your current lifestyle for having a family. As of this moment your maternal instincts were nonexistent, you couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be a parent. To be a single mom, no less.

When your phone began to vibrate next to you, you knew it was time to find out the truth. You took a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled. You got this. It was definitely food poisoning, nothing more. Ghost was just being paranoid. You crawled over to the tests and took a look at them.

Fuck.

A minute or two later you were snapped out of your thoughts by a banging sound. Ghost was growing impatient as he had previously checked how much time it would take. He knew you knew the result by now.

"So?" he asked when you opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Negative," you told him with a forced smile.

"Both of them?"

You nodded. "Yes."

Ghost didn't seem convinced because he shook his head and held out his hand. "Let me see."

"I threw them out."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he groaned before pushing you out of the way and marching into the bathroom. Closing your eyes, you walked over to your bed and sat down on the edge, mentally preparing for what was about to come. "They are positive!" Ghost shouted, showing you the two tests when he got back to you.

Raising your hands defensively, you gulped and tried your best to calm him down. "Okay, now, don't be mad," you said quietly.

"How in the hell wouldn't I get mad, huh? You lied into my face," he snapped after he threw the tests on a nearby table. After letting out a long sigh, he sat on the bed next to you and reached out to wipe your tears away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you, I just…"

Shaking your head, you took one of his gloved hand in yours and watched it in silence. Even now that he was furious, Ghost was keeping himself under strict control. The night you spent together was probably the only time you saw him let loose for a short while. But you were pregnant. The two of you would have a child of you decided to keep it, and this was a matter that had to be discussed.

Before you could say anything, you saw him take off the mask and carefully put it aside. "Do you want this child?" he asked softly.

"I don't know. Right now the answer is closer to no," you admitted. "What about you?"

He thought about it for a while, but eventually he said, "I had a poor excuse of a father growing up so I promised myself that if I ever had the chance, I would be a good dad to my kid."

"So the answer is yes," you noted before you let out a humming sound. "We need to think about it. We are in this together, it would be selfish of me to make this decision on my own."

"So let's do that," Ghost told you with a smile, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek as he spoke.

A part of you hated him for acting like this, being so gentle and considerate. You couldn't blame him for losing control, though, but you sure as hell didn't want to experience it again.

Before you knew it, he had his lips on yours, cautiously testing if you were okay with him kissing you. You were more than okay with it. You wanted him ever since that night, you had an overwhelming need every single time you were near each other. Just a simple touch of the hands would have been enough to make you burst into flames.

"I want you to go home now," he suddenly told you.

"Ghost, you–"

"Simon. I'm the father of your child, you can't keep calling me Ghost when we're alone," the lieutenant said, sounding surprisingly vulnerable. "And I know you don't want to go anywhere, but you need to see a doctor. I'll talk to Price."

Shaking your head, you squeezed his hand and gulped loudly. "You can't tell him. Please, let's not tell anyone."

He smiled at you briefly before leaning over to kiss you again, this time settling for a quick, soft kiss. "He already has his own suspicions, don't worry. And I won't tell anyone else apart from him, okay? Trust me," he added.

"Won't you get into trouble for getting your sergeant pregnant?" you suddenly asked.

After licking his lower lip nervously, Ghost shook his head. "Price won't make a big deal out of it hopefully, and we can tell the others you have a boyfriend back home."

Nodding, you accepted his words. You rested your head on his broad shoulder and thought about the next step. Now that you know he wanted this child, it was up to you to make your own decision.

"Can I go and talk to Price with you?" you suddenly asked.

Ghost took your hand. "Sure. Maybe it's for the better."

Soon you were standing in front of the captain like two students who did something wrong and now had to go see the principal. Well, in a military sense you actually did something wrong, so no wonder you felt like that. You could tell even Ghost was tense, although it wasn't as obvious as it could have been without the mask.

But Price understood. He scolded Ghost for all of this, sure, but apart from that he seemed happy for the two of you. "Ghost, you go with her. If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're making sure she gets home safe," he said in the end.

"Captain, I can go alone. I'll keep Ghost updated," you promised.

Shaking his head, Price pointed at Ghost. "His head will be with you. If he can't focus on the mission, he's no use for us."

And he was right. You couldn't risk others' lives because of this. Ghost apparently understood this as well, because he let out a sigh and said, "All right, I'll go with her. Thank you."

•••••••••••••

taglist: @untoldshortsofthefandoms

[syd-djarin]

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo)  squirting (sue me),  Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him. 

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel. 

Boiling water for pasta? Joel. 

Doing the dishes? Joel. 

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel. 

And this morning is no different. 

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters. 

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements. 

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not. 

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.  

 Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time. 

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache. 

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend. 

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year. 

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door. 

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock. 

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible. 

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel. 

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment. 

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise. 

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything. 

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.  

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech. 

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence. 

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you? 

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile,  learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you. 

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you. 

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face. 

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice. 

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought. 

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house. 

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you. 

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country? 

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore. 

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you. 

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again. 

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you. 

Driving home from work? You. 

Making dinner? You. 

Making his morning coffee? You. 

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you. 

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience. 

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron. 

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now. 

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.” 

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable. 

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.” 

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab. 

“You’re doing great.  Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.” 

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough. 

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet. 

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her. 

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him. 

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven. 

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?” 

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination. 

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes. 

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie. 

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too. 

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion. 

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go. 

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places. 

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra. 

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot. 

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy. 

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn. 

 Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home. 

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed? 

“What uh-what’re you doing here?” 

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings. 

You have a moment of realization. 

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

 You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises. 

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so. 

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace. 

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation. 

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.” 

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here. 

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel.  You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation. 

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile. 

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat. 

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny.  He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him. 

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again. 

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants.  You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too. 

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him. 

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind. 

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together. 

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same. 

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears. 

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together. 

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time. 

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves. 

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core. 

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties. 

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter. 

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort. 

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?” 

“Mhmmm…”  You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.  

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him. 

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions. 

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it. 

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.” 

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable. 

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice.  His rock hard cock twitches in his pants. 

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him. 

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests. 

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning. 

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him. 

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs. 

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more. 

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure. 

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad. 

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. 

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched. 

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.” 

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed. 

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release. 

 You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-” 

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole. 

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth. 

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex. 

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong. 

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours. 

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure. 

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before. 

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene. 

You fucking squirted. Everywhere. 

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. 

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.” 

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.” 

His gaze goes dark. 

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you. 

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough. 

THE END

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 10

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 3.5k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 10: Chasing Distractions

The relentless midday sun bore down through the windows of the crow’s nest, searing rays infiltrating your closed eyelids. A low groan escaped your lips. The persistent throb of a headache mercilessly intensified with each passing moment. Slowly, you forced your eyes open, grappling with the harsh light that invaded your senses. The assault on your vision made you want to hurl. You mindlessly pulled the blanket draped over you over your head in a pointless attempt to block out the sun.

You stopped midway.

It wasn’t a blanket.

It was the swordsman’s overcoat.

You snorted at the unexpected kind gesture. It smelled like the sea air, his faint musk in the background. You blushed. What in the hells did you think you were doing.

With a weary groan, you mustered the strength to elevate yourself into a sitting position, wincing as the movement aggravated the relentless throbbing in your head. The events of the previous night played out in a hazy cascade of laughter, intertwining with the persistent drumming within your skull.

Chopper was going to kill you.

The thought of facing the doctor’s inevitable lecture sent a shiver down your back. A reminder of your foolishness for indulging so far beyond your well-known threshold.

You took in a deep breath, wishing you could go back to the mindless buzz of alcohol. You wanted to forget, let go of reality if just for a moment longer.

With clumsy movements you made your way down the ladder, precariously juggling your swords and the folded overcoat.

The ship's deck greeted you with a gentle sway, a comforting rhythm amidst the disorientation of your hangover. You squinted against the bright sunlight, the intensity of which only served to worsen the ache behind your eyes. You instinctively made your way towards the infirmary in search of some sort of relief. You might as well get it over with the scolding too.

The pounding ache in your head seemed to worsen with every step you took, each movement sending fresh waves of nausea crashing over you. As you crashed into the infirmary, Chopper's concerned gaze immediately locked onto you, his expression a blend of relief and reproach.

"(Y/n), there you are!" Chopper exclaimed, his voice filled with worry. "I've been looking all over for you. How are you feeling?"

You winced at the sound of his voice, the throbbing ache in your head growing as the words seemed to echo in your mind. "Like shit, Chopper” you muttered, wittiness escaping you. You sank into a chair next to the reindeer’s desk.

Chopper's brow furrowed in concern as he approached you, his small hooves clacking against the wooden floor with each step. "You know you're not supposed to drink, especially when you're not fully recovered." He said, his tone gentle yet tinged with disapproval.

You rubbed at your temples, the pain in your head making it difficult to focus on his words. "I know, Doc," you admitted, your voice strained with discomfort. "I just… wanted to forget.”

The little reindeer's expression softened with sympathy as he reached out to examine you, the speech he’d been preparing dying in the face of your confession. "I understand that you're going through a lot," he said softly, his tiny hoofs gentle against your forehead. "But you need to take better care of yourself. Drinking this much when you're still recovering can only make things worse."

You sighed deeply, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know,” you murmured, feeling a pang of guilt for your reckless behavior. "I'll try to do better next time."

Chopper nodded in understanding, his eyes filled with concern as he fetched a glass of water for you to swallow the painkillers with.

“It’s almost time for lunch,” the small doctor said, looking at the clock. “You should try to eat something too.”

With a nod of gratitude for the doctor's wisdom, you eagerly reached for the glass he handed you, the urgency of your parched throat urging you on. As the cool liquid cascaded down your throat, a soothing wave of relief washed over you, quenching the dryness and temporarily alleviating the discomfort of your headache with each gulp.

With a groan you stood back up, making your way out clumsily. You turned back to Chopper with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Doc,” You said. “I keep on making trouble for ya.”

The reindeer shot you a bright smile. “Don’t worry about it” he said.

“Oh! Look who’s back from the dead!” Franky roared as you entered the galley.

You winced at the cyborg’s booming greeting, the sudden noise feeling like a hammer pounding against your skull. "Keep it down, will you?" you pleaded, making your way to your chair.

Franky's grin widened as he leaned back, amused by your obvious discomfort. "Sorry about that, Firecracker! Didn't mean to add insult to injury," he chuckled, his laughter reverberating through the room.

You shot him a half-hearted glare, your hand still pressed against your throbbing temple. "Yeah, well, consider me insulted and injured," you muttered, your attempt at humor falling flat in the face of your pounding headache.

You let your swords clank loudly as you dropped them unceremoniously on the floor next to you before throwing the coat to the swordsman.

“Thanks for the blanket.” You said as you plopped down on your chair.

Zoro caught the coat effortlessly, shooting you an amused glance. "Didn’t know you were such a lightweight,” he remarked with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m never touching alcohol ever again” you muttered under your breath.

The crew erupted into laughter at your proclamation, their amusement filling the galley. Nami, busy with a map at the nearby table, looked up with an arched eyebrow. "Sure, (Y/n), we've all said that one before," she teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

You shot Nami a weak smile, the corners of your lips twitching in resignation. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you grumbled, slumping further down.

Sanji emerged from the kitchen with a knowing smile as he glanced at your disheveled appearance. "Looks like someone had a rough night," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he began setting plates of food on the table.

You shot him a mock glare, your headache slowly starting to dull. "Thanks for the observation, Chef," you retorted, reaching for a glass of water with trembling hands.

Luffy, who had been watching the exchange with barely contained amusement, couldn't contain his laughter any longer. "You're all wobbly, (Y/n)!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

You shot Luffy a pretend scowl, the sound of his laughter feeling like tiny needles piercing your already throbbing skull. "Real insightful, Captain Obvious," you grumbled, taking a sip of water to alleviate the pounding in your head.

Just as you were starting to contemplate crawling back into bed and never emerging again, Sanji set a bowl of something steaming in front of you. “A little something special to cure your hangover, my lady.”

You eyed the bowl warily, the scent wafting from the bowl somehow familiar. “Is that… Is that Mary’s recipe?” You asked the chef.

Sanji flashed you a smile. “It is,” he said proudly.

You took a spoonful, tears blurring your vision at the unexpected nostalgia. “Sanji,” you sniffed loudly, blinking back tears. “You’re the freaking best.”

The chef’s expression softened at your reaction. “Hey now, none of that,” he said gently, ruffling your hair.

You leaned back on your chair satisfied, empty bowl before you. “Hey, Nami, what’s with the map?” You asked curiously.

“We’re approaching a new island,” She answered not looking up. “I’m making a rough draft from what we can see.”

“A new island?” you exclaimed, excitement bubbling within you at the prospect of adventure. “What’s it like?”

“It looks like a pretty busy port” Nami glanced up, clearly amused by what she was about to say. “We were thinking of celebrating a little, but with your current state maybe we’ll wait until tomorrow to do that.”

“What? No!” you shouted indignantly, all thoughts of your hangover gone with the relief the painkillers provided.

The crew exchanged amused glances at your sudden enthusiasm, their own excitement mounting at the prospect of discovering a new island.

Luffy's eyes practically sparkled with anticipation. "Let’s celebrate then!" he exclaimed, already mentally preparing for a feast.

Chopper looked at you suspiciously. You’d cleaned up and put on that one party outfit you’d brought with you. Your short skirt rode dangerously high as you leaned against the railing of the ship, observing the bustling city before you.

Despite the encroaching darkness, the streets gleamed with vibrant life. The cityscape was a dazzling tapestry, each avenue pulsating with energy. From your vantage point, the streets appeared to be an intricate dance of lights, a symphony of colors that defied the advancing night.

You couldn’t wait to set out on this new adventure. The promise of its distraction a tantalizing prospect.

The doctor approached you. His eyes narrowed in doubt, he tilted his head, brows furrowing with concern as he looked you over. “You should be resting,” he said worry apparent.

“I’ll be fine, Chopper” you reassured him, flashing the reindeer an excited grin.

He eyed you skeptically, clearly unconvinced. “Just promise me you’ll take it easy.”

“I’ll be careful” you replied, tone light and carefree.

“Promise me” he pleaded, his worry for your well-being evident in his big, doe-like eyes.

Your heart melted at the doctor’s cute face. “Fine, I promise” You conceded.

…

You, in fact, did not keep that promise.

The pulsating beats of the music throbbed in sync with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, propelling you into a whirlwind of movement in the middle of the dance floor. Enveloped by a sea of people, you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating melody, letting it guide your every step and sway. The pleasant buzz of alcohol kept your mind empty, agreeably distracted… it felt good to forget.

With relentless determination, you had dragged the crew through several taverns, your thirst for a distraction from your mind unquenchable. Most of them, however, had succumbed to the allure of quieter activities or the ship’s comforting embrace. Yet, somehow, you had managed to drag Robin, Nami and an unwilling swordsman far into the night.

The two women, however, had reached their limits. "I'm too old for bar hopping," Robin remarked with a wry smile, her elegant demeanor not quite suited for the chaotic energy around her.

"And I'm too tired," Nami added, her voice laced with exhaustion as she gently placed a hand on Robin's shoulder, silently signaling their imminent departure.

“Zoro,” the navigator looked at the swordsman pleadingly. “Make sure she gets back to the ship alright?”

“She’s not my responsibility” He grumbled.

The two straw hats exchanged a long stare, a silent conversation raging quietly in their eyes as they debated their next course of action – a testament to the unspoken bond that bound the crew together.

“Fine” He conceded with a heavy sigh.

With a triumphant grin, Nami and Robin bid their farewells, disappearing into the sea of revelers. You remained unaware, lost in the euphoria of the moment as you continued to dance with wild abandon.

 Zoro kept a watchful eye on you, watching as you moved sensually in synch with a woman in front of you. He leaned back, bringing the bottle of alcohol in his hands to his lips. You were hypnotizing, abandon clear on your face. You stumbled drunkenly, he couldn’t help the smirk that played on his lips at the clumsy display.

A man. No. A boy really, caught you, fingers grazing a touch too long on your arms. He said something in your ear that made you laugh. The swordsman’s brows furrowed slightly, his grip tightening around the bottle in his hand, the glass cold against his skin as his eye narrowed with an unknown feeling of annoyance. His gaze followed the interaction between you and the stranger, a flicker of irritation dancing in the depths of his eye as he observed the boy's bold advances.

As the stranger's fingers settled on your waist, pushing your shirt up slightly so his hand touched bare skin, Zoro's jaw clenched involuntarily. His instincts screamed at him to intervene, to put an end to the encounter before it went any further, but he forced himself to stay rooted to the spot. He was there to make sure you came back to the ship safe, not monitor who you danced with.

The boy’s attempts at closeness became bolder. Zoro’s patience waned. As lips met your neck, the swordsman stood up suddenly. With purposeful movements, he navigated through the crowd with expert precision. His gaze bore into the boy’s intoxicated eyes sending a silent warning that chased him off instantly.

Turning his attention to you, Zoro’s voice cut through the din of the tavern, firm and authoritative. “Time to go,” he declared, his tone allowing no argument.

You looked up at him with hazy eyes, protesting his decision with a pout. “What? No! I’m having fun!” you objected, your words slurred with alcohol.

“We’re going back to the ship” he stated firmly.

You paid him no mind, looking around you for your dance partner. Your eyes circled back to the swordsman before you with an accusing glare. “You bastard, you scared the fun away.”

“We’re going back to the ship” He repeated.

You huffed in response, starting to make your way out of the crowd, the swordsman in tow. “I’m going to the next bar,” you announced defiantly.

“You’ve had enough for one night.” He argued, following you out of the building.

“You took away my fun, I’m fucking going to find someone else.” You ignored his comment, making your way into the streets, the cool night air feeling good against your heated cheeks.

Zoro trailed behind you, his brow furrowed in exasperation as he tried in vain to keep pace with your drunken antics. “Come on, witch, we need to get back to the ship” he called out, his voice laced with a hint of frustration as he reached out to steady you.

You turned to face him, a playful gleam in your eyes as you leaned in closer, your breath warm on his skin. “But I don’t want to” You protested coyly, your hands burying themselves in his black overcoat as you stumbled forward.

“You’re drunk” He said, as though it justified ending this night early.

“Me? Drunk? Nah, I’m just… pleasantly buzzed,” You declared, punctuating your words with an unsteady giggle.

With a playful grin, you leaned in closer. Your hand traveled from his black overcoat to the sharp curve of his jaw. You weren’t sure if it was the haze of the alcohol, or how the light of the lantern reflected softly on his features, but there was something different about the swordsman today. Your eyes scanned his face settling on soft freckles you’d never noticed before.

“You know, you’re not so bad when you’re not scowling all the time.” Your fingers danced playfully down along his throat.

His hand grabbed yours. Annoyance filling his gaze.

“That’s enough, (Y/n)” there was a warning in his voice.

“Ah!” You broke out in a wide smile. “You said my name!”

You looked at him through your lashes. “I think….” You trailed off. “I think I rather liked the sound of that, say it again” You demanded, voice laden with suggestive undertones as you pried your hand out of his, trailing your finger down his chest.

Zoro’s eye widened in surprise at your boldness, a light flush rising to his cheeks. “Let’s go before you do something you’ll regret.” He insisted.

“What if I want to do something I’ll regret?” You countered bringing him down to your level. Your lips hovering millimeters away, lidded eyes meeting each other’s.  

His hand settled on your throat softly but firmly, pushing back. “You’re drunk,” he reiterated.

You let out a small tsk in frustration, your playful demeanor morphing into stubborn insolence as you planted your feet firmly on the ground. “I don’t want to go back yet,” You protested, your tone petulant as you crossed your arms over your chest in a childish display of resistance.

Zoro sighed in resignation. “For fuck’s sake” He mumbled under his breath, scooping you up effortlessly and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You giggled at the sudden change in your vision. The hand he used to steady you felt searing hot against the coolness of your thigh, his fingers digging into the softness of your flesh.

“You’re no fun, swordsman.” You complained, giving a weak punch at his back as you swayed softly in the rhythm of his steps.

Your eyes suddenly shot open at the nausea taking over your senses. “Put me down.” You said urgently. “I’m going to throw up.”

With swift efficiency, he placed you down. You hurried drunkenly to the side of the road, hand looking for balance on a stone wall as the contents of your night hit the graveled ground. Your eyes darted around as you tried to recompose yourself. The sound of the ocean seemed further than when you’d set out of the bar.

“Oi, swordsman” you started “I think the ship’s that way.” You pointed lazily in the opposite direction you’d been moving as you let yourself drop down on your heels in exhaustion. “You’re lost aren’t you?” You asked under your breath.

“I’m not lost,” he protested, moving to pick you back up.

“Wait, wait, wait” You said putting your hand up to stop him. “If you put me upside down, I think I’ll throw up again.”

Zoro sighed as he watched you stumble to get up. “You’re a fucking handful,” he muttered under his breath, squatting down. “Come on, get on.”

“Are you going to give me a piggyback ride?” You asked excitedly.

He glared back at you.

You laughed as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I didn’t know you could be such a gentleman.” You said teasingly, as you buried your face in his neck.

He grumbled something you didn’t quite catch as he picked up your legs without effort. “Which way?” he demanded.

You lazily pointed down the road you’d just gone up.

“You didn’t have to chase my fun away like that, you know?” you said lightly, the tips of your fingers playfully drawing patterns alongst the swordsman’s neck.

“I swear if you keep this up, I’m dropping you down” He warned. “Just focus on telling me which way to go.”

 You protested unintelligibly, but your fingers dropped their movements.

“You know, swordsman” You trailed off sluggishly as your eyes stayed fixed on the hypnotizing sway of his earrings. “I think I’ll let you hold Shiawase.”

He sighed. “Decide that when you’re sober.” He said softly.

You ignored the comment. “Let you work your way up to Yokubari, eventually.” You explained.

He didn’t answer.

“So how ‘bout it? A sword for a sword. You master one, I study one.” You asked.

Silence. You pointed at the next turn, he followed.

“Don’t ignore me!” You exclaimed indignantly at his lack of response.

He sighed. He stopped at a crossroad, “Which way?” He requested.

“You bastard! You’re ignoring me!” You bit down on his ear, intrusive thought winning you over in your inebriety.

“What the fuck, witch!” He shouted, trying to bring his head away from yours.

You giggled, as you pointed purposely on the wrong path.

Zoro sighed in exasperation. "You're unbelievable," he muttered, his patience wearing increasingly thin as he followed your drunken directions. The night seemed to stretch endlessly as you took wrong turn after the other, the dimly lit streets and occasional flickering lanterns creating a surreal atmosphere.

Your fingers absentmindedly started drawing patterns again. “You know, I bet you secretly enjoy being my knight in shining swords” You joked.

He snorted at the pun, a small grin appearing on his face. “You’re delusional if you think I’m enjoying this.”

Your index moved higher, near the back of his ear. His shoulders twitched as a shiver ran down his spine.

“I told you to cut it out,” he warned again.

You merely chuckled at his discomfort, your playful demeanor showing no sign of faltering.

He shook his head, the motion swaying you slightly. “I should have left you in that bar.” He said to himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You replied anyway, your voice full of mock innocence.

The sun was starting to appear on the horizon when you finally made it back on the ship. The swordsman’s patience was nonexistent as you continued your teasing. He’d eventually figured out you’d been making him turn in an endless loop after coming across the same lamp a dozen times. With angry steps he made his way to the women’s quarter, kicking the door open.

“What the fuck” Nami shrieked, awoken from her slumber.

“Never again,” he said disheveled from your antics.

He plopped you down unceremoniously on your bed.

You snickered drunkenly. “Thanks for the ride, swordsman,” You said with a lopsided grin as he made his way out, slamming the door shut to punctuate his ire.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Masterlist

[slowd1ving]

[KILLER] SNIPPET ゜・MOZE

I'd kill for one of those really long cigarette holders but like those bubble pipes

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

It happens like this. Occasionally, a man as ill-fortuned as Moze receives gets a break. 

There’s a tumbler of whiskey on the low coffee table in the living room. Polished chestnut—if you had to describe it—with the light shining through the amber liquid just so, until it reflects onto the varnished surface. A cube of ice sits dainty in the middle, clinking as you tip the glass this way and that. 

“Don’t spill it,” the assassin murmurs. From behind the couch, breath ghosting just past your ear. You don’t shriek (perhaps he hoped you would)—you don’t even glance his way. 

“I feel like that was a redundant warning,” you remark brusquely, taking a swill of the liquor. It’s sweeter than it would’ve been normally: courtesy of the saccharine pipe nestled betwixt your fingers and the smoke still lingering in your mouth. “Were you hoping I’d jump?”

“Yes.” Short. To the point. Laconic. That’s how those outside this home would describe the man currently leaning down, hands splayed on the backrest of the couch. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and you still haven’t done the dishes.”

“It’s your turn,” he adds, because he likes seeing how this man’s expression wrinkles in exasperation, likes that stupid cant of your head—for it means Moze has won this little encounter. It’s all because he strongly dislikes his roommate, no other reason. 

“You suck.” Syrupy plumes ghost his face as you exhale into his face above—he doesn’t move back, even as the traces of burnt caramel become far more prominent, even as it feels like you’re blowing him a kiss more than anything.

“And you need to clean and go to sleep before you’re late,” he grits out, more annoyed than he was a moment ago. He’d say it was due to your lack of responsibility, but this angle allows the loose robe to expose your bitten collarbone—like some stupid fucking trophy. “Like you always are.”

“I’m never late, A-ze,” you enunciate each word in such a way that makes it clear you’re not drunk—so clearly the nickname is just to piss him off. A last-ditch middle finger; a threat that hasn’t worked for some time, one that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably but not enough to admit defeat. “You’re just up stupid early.”

He goes silent, in the way he does when you’re right. Instead of saying anything, he instead plucks the glass from your hand: downing the smooth alcohol from where you drank it, enjoying how for once your mouth closes just like his. The pipe in your hand tilts this way and that as you take a drag thoughtfully—recovering far too quickly for his liking. 

“A-ze.” Like this, with wisps exiting your mouth and silk draped over you, you look good enough to eat. He freezes at the implication of his thoughts, freezes at the sound of the name blanketed in some gruesome replica of affection. He hates it; hates how his heart squeezes and a faint flush of red dusts his cheekbones. Aeons. 

It is common knowledge to not toss a starving dog a bone before it hungers for more. 

“What, you don’t hate it anymore? Here I was, hoping you’d turn tail and leave,” you sigh, theatrically despondent—much like you normally are. Too damn dramatic for your own good. 

So desperate, drinking your sorrows away as if that’ll possibly work. He scoffs, striding the short distance over so he can tower over from the front. 

“Maybe you just like calling me that,” he breathes. There’s a smile playing on his lips: the rare one he gets when he knows he’s got a point, knows when he’s right. It’s unconscious—he’s far too oblivious to notice it only occurs around you. 

“I do,” you murmur. “Bet it warms your heart though. No one likes you enough to call you that.”

“So you like me?” There’s an odd buzz in his veins tonight. As the orange lights from the street blink into existence, and the room is no longer illuminated by ‘day’, he’s glad for the darkness that conceals the heat in his face. Your clothing rustles as you stand—practically nose to nose with the man in front of you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze,” you mutter, and the heated breath from your lips fans over his sensitive skin—mingling with the tobacco wisps and alcohol vapour. He swallows. “It’s pity.”

“Pity?” he sneers. “Like how you sleep around to get over your boyfriend? That’s not pitiful?”

“Like I said—” your tone becomes frigid as you shift closer: until his chest brushes up against yours, until he can count every lash that glows amber in the incandescent street lamps, until he can practically taste the rolling fury off your tongue. Warm. Scalding heat ebbs from your body and flows right into his own. “—don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze.”

His breath comes in ragged waves. So close. When he stands so near to a human, it typically means he’s feeling life flow from them. Not like this; but he cannot bring himself to get away. 

He’s never been more thankful for his unwavering voice. 

“Don’t give bones to starving dogs,” he murmurs, mellifluous rather than jarringly annoying. “They’ll bite.”

Smoke wafts into his face as you survey his expression: flushed, brows knitted taut, lips still slick with liquor. 

“So you’re a dog, now?” Your fingers graze his chin, canting his head this way and that as he makes no moves to evade your grasp: heart beating miserably in his chest. There’s a strange sort of hunger in your gaze. 

He’s never seen it before. 

“No, it was proverbial—” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “—you know?”

“Just as desperate as one,” you mutter. Trailing your finger down until they graze his collarbones, it’s no wonder he flinches—and you stare at him, unimpressed. “If I tell people about this, your reputation would immediately disintegrate. How many years have you cultivated that stupid mysterious image?”

“Hah—who would believe you?” It’s true, not many people would—but alas, the important ones have already witnessed this man looking at you. 

“Jiaoqiu, but I guess he already knows what a loser you are.” And you miss how when he lowers his head, he looks like a completely different person—flushed visage mired in shadow, like the assassin he truly is. He’s staring right at you, unblinking as he watches the cruel movement of your lips. 

“Don’t talk about him right now.”

And so, you don’t. 

[mvrtaiswriting]

Hi! I love your OP writing! I know you said pick 2 characters, but the injury no.8 prompt screams Zoro. Inspo for another swiftie!! Like imagine Safe and Sound is you trying to convince him to rest because you almost lost him, but he's too macho to admit it and just wants to drink....

Roronoa Zoro x prompt 8 (taking care of a lover's injury) - "You need stitches and bedrest, not booze and more fights."

aaah thanks for this request and sorry about the wait! i absolutely agree - this scenario can only fit zoro!! it's so nice to have a fellow swiftie among my readers!! i have to admit, however, that this diverted a bit from safe and sound cause Zoro just screams angst to me :// hope this is okay and worth the wait! enjoy and lmk what you think!

gender neutral | 582 words | mentions of wounds.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated ♡ if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. -> from this event.

The usual crouch on the bridge of his nose never left Zoro's face, not even now, resting in his bed with his whole body wrapped in bandages. If anything, the crouch seemed deeper - the usual peacefulness of his sleep being instead replaced with annoyance. It was a miracle Zoro was still alive - he had several broken bones, stitches in various parts of his body and a very severe concussion that worried Chopper enough to force the swordsman to bed. All of that and a whole lot of attitude - nothing could stop him from crossing his arms across his chest, trying to maintain his menacing appearance.

"Would you just relax?" you sighed.

"You know what would relax me?" he retorted, his good eye shooting daggers at you.

Causing you to sigh again, you sat on the bed with him. Zoro was holding a grudge, and it wasn't different from a toddler protesting against their parents, kicking his feet, giving you the silent treatment but never sparing a venomous remark. Only because you dared to stop him from leaving the bed and drink some booze; all because his strength failed him when his body collapsed under your touch, unable to push against you. As much as he hated to admit it, Zoro needed rest. He needed time to heal, to let his body recover from the multiple traumas it had just endured. Being forced to stay in bed made Zoro to think - memories, feelings, doubts: they all came back to surface the moment he stopped focusing on his rigorous training and gave up on being too inebriated by alcohol to think. And he didn't like it - he didn't like the nostalgia, the questioning, the feelings.

"You need stitches and bedrest, not booze and more fights." you answered, another long sigh escaping your lips.

Sitting down next to him, you checked his bandages. He was healing fine but slowly, his constant movements and stupid attempts to snuggle out of bed reopening his wounds.

Defenceless, Zoro let you fix his bandaids, a few flebile grunts rolling of his lips anytime you cleaned his wounds. Looking away from you, a warm red coloured his cheeks - deep down, Zoro liked this. Having you so close to him drove him crazy, goosebumps forming all over his body, causing him to shiver so much it almost hurt.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?"

Zoro asked, almost through gritted teeth. If he really had to stay in bed, he might as well take advantage of it. If you really had to take care of him, he thought, you might as well snuggle against his chest. If he really had to give up drinking for a while, then the butterflies he felt in his stomach every time you were around would get him high enough.

"Of course."

A smile immediately appeared on your lips, lightening up your whole face.

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (4) (teaser)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: TBD Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, best boyfriend Jimin, did I say angst????, past drug use, past alcohol addiction, past trauma talk, crying, anxiety, hand holding, touching as a love language, Jimin can't keep his hands to himself, pining, sexual tension, banter; to be continued.... Release date: 05/18/2024

prev || masterlist || next || playlist

“I forgive you. Now, why do you want to pack your life up for good?”

That made me laugh. It was a sad, pitiful sound. One that did not hold my usual spunk. One I don’t think Jimin had ever heard before. It was impossible to feel sad when he was around.

“I forgot how quiet my house is,” I admitted softly. “I love my friends, but I think coming back just reminded me of how easily I was able to fall back into the routine of it all. Jin and Andy are parents, Tilly has a new boyfriend, and Hoseok and Minho are always so busy with their own lives that I don’t see any of them as often as I would like to.”

Turning on my side, I blinked back a few tears.

“It might sound stupid, but I really do love Saline. I like how busy I am and all of my friends. I bought this place with the hopes of kids and a dog one day, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen, and now it’s just rooms collecting dust. I just-” I let a tear fall, my emotions starting to bubble over. “I don’t like how lonely it feels out here.”

“Doesn’t sound like you like it there. Have you always felt like this?” He asked.

I shook my head, the tears free falling in between sniffles and shaky breaths.

“Not always. Ever since Namjoon died things have been weird. There was a point when I felt suffocated because no one would leave me alone, and then one day everything resumed and I just got left behind. It was like I woke up and two years just passed me by.”

Jimin comforted me while I cried, telling me how much he hated to hear me so upset, while I worked on calming down. There had been a time in my life when I was not so emotional, but therapy had opened up a whole new side of myself I didn't know existed. Rubbing my face, I sniffled and sank deeper into my mattress. For now the waterworks had stopped.

“You were recovering,” He soothed. “Your body needed time to heal, and you were traumatized. I don’t think anyone can blame you for zoning out for a bit.”

I hummed, “I know. Doesn’t make it easier to swallow.”

“I know how you feel. When I pulled out of the Olympics last time there was a part of me that felt like a huge failure, but my dad was there to help get my head back on straight. He doesn’t seem like it, but he’s a really great shoulder to cry on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” My voice was like sandpaper. “James is the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

I felt heavy. Worn. Used. My eyes begged for me to shut them, but we were just getting back into safer waters and I didn’t want to burst the bubble. I yawned, covering my mouth and hoping Jimin could not hear the sound. He had gone quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin’s voice broke through the comfortable silence that had formed around us. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Shoot,” I forced myself to smile.

“What happened to Namjoon?”

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

[hyacinth-venom]

Whoops! I did a thing.

... I wrote a short fic based off this ask on @themostwantedphighter's blog

It's not great shhjkfdg but I did try my best :'D

Brushing Hands with the Other Side (Just Barely)

Canon-typical violence, non-graphic depictions of death, and a tiny bit of alcohol, but it's all pretty light :]

[Ao3 Link for your convenience], or you can keep reading it right here on Tumblr. :]

The sun sinking beneath the mountains brought a chill over the cold-blooded demon camped against the rocks catching the last of the daylight, who had been sunning herself up until a few minutes ago. The boulders and sand were still satisfyingly warm against her skin, and her tail subconsciously buried itself under the sand as she piled dry brush together, setting up a fire before the true cold set in.

The soft clinking of iron against flint filled air, and a pale orange flare soon started up, almost smoking itself out only a moment into life.

“Aw, c’mon, yah silly thing.” She muttered softly before she gently blew on it, fostering a small flame. 

A few moments passed before it slowly grew, and a few minutes more before it was a strong enough flame to put lumber on, creating a dry heat that seeped warmth back into the air around her. It took a shuddery sigh to relieve the tension that had slowly been building in her muscles, brought on by the growing chill that made everything feel stiff.

While the outdoors was beautiful, and every day she was outside seeing stars meant another day she had succeeded, she didn’t always enjoy the night sky when it meant she would be sleeping outside once again, especially with how cold the desert tended to be at night.

Cold air now warded off, she sat back against the warm rocks. Scythe could check out after the long day she’d spent backtracking across the desert, throwing the ever-pursuing Banhammer off her tail. She hated retreating, but this was a necessary action for the time being.

More times than she would admit to, fate bested her skillful management of her gear, and her defenses, and even her escapes in bitter desperation. There were a handful of times that she’d died- only once to Banhammer’s reckless handling of his hammer, a clumsy weapon that only a brute like him could manage so effectively.

Never did she stay down for long, however, since her loyal medic- as begrudging as he was about it- was at her side in those moments, there to sweep her away from death.

As Scythe settled in for the night, she let these thoughts that she usually repressed have free reign, pulling her flask of whiskey out and taking a swig to take the edge off. 

It was a vivid feeling, one that faded little with time. And although she’d died on more than one occasion, it was always the first time that came to the forefront of her mind, the jarringly prideful grin Banhammer wore that day as he finally won was an image engraved firmly in her mind that drove her forward through rough times- it was a jagged reminder that fate wasn’t unlike a rattlesnake and it’s tail- it would inevitably snap back at you, if you ignored the warnings of consequences enough. 

 —-

Well that’s no good.

Scythe reflected as she felt the absence of the familiar weight of her scythe in her hand, recognizing the painful clatter of metal as the motion of air just in front of her swept her back, dodging the follow-up swing Banhammer directed at her head with the thin space between her and the easily deadly weapon.

A quick glance to the side confirmed her situation, settling adrenaline in her veins as she saw the electric blade of her scythe buried in the trunk of a tree just nearby. 

 There wasn’t time for her to think about recovering it as she had to dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the hammer once again as she was forced to face her opponent on an uneven playing field- one where there wasn’t a whole ocean of opportunity for her to gain any ground like there once was. Banhammer was driven forward in a frenzy, erratically pressing her backwards up a hill with practiced steps meant to handle his momentum. 

All it took was a moment of hesitation, and he’d taken the upper hand.

“I’ve got you now, snake!” Came Banhammer’s triumphant cry as he grabbed her by the throat while she was unguarded, throwing her roughly into the grass with a hissed protest. She attempted to sink her fangs into his hand with little success, the metal skin of his armor there to protect him from such a fickle attack.

“Yer’ a damned clutz, Banny! Ya know that?” She hissed through her teeth, digging the spurs of her heels into the softened terrain as she fought to remain upright despite the advantage he had leering over her. She grabbed at the handle of his hammer, though it was ripped away before she could get a firm grip on it, being slammed against her chest and knocking the wind out of her.

With the world spinning, dizzyingly quick and sickening, the only pressure she felt was the weight against her stomach- that of Banhammer’s boot- and the grassy green hill that she’d found herself pinned to. This seemed an unfittingly sunny scene for such an experience.

As a serial killer, she knew she’d be damned to an awful fate for her actions if she got caught by the wrong hands- She’d killed remorselessly, and would do so again time and time again to serve her family’s purposes.

However, knowing the bitter consequences of her actions beforehand didn’t take the edge off the scathing frustration that rattled in her chest as she stared up at Banhammer, prosthetic arm instinctively extended to shield herself from the coming pain.

She’d never imagined what it’d be like to die, but in their frenzy, both Banhammer and Scythe knew they both slip up at times. It was at this moment she was grateful that Banhammer was getting ahead of himself, since if he’d had the thought to use his Phinisher, her death would have been far more excruciating.

Instead, she took reprieve in a nearly painless blow to the head, sentencing her to death as quickly as falling through thin ice into a deep, dark lake.

—

…

“Let’s not do that again.” 

The voice of her savior was tired, pulling her out of the dark just as quickly as it fell over her. Green lights flashing around her brought a certain lightness to her body, rejuvenated though still pained.

Inpherno, her head hurt.

Dizziness followed as she sat up too quickly, still laying on the hill that they had both been fighting on. Medkit’s hooved hand gently pushed her back down, which she met with a rough groan. 

“Don’t sit up so quickly, you’ve been revived, but I haven’t finished healing you yet.” He instructed firmly. 

“Yah don’t have ta’ tell me twice, doc.” She chuckled humorlessly, eliciting a deepened scowl from Medkit as he turned away, loading the healing bullets into his gun with a practiced ease before cocking it, bringing it to be aimed directly at her sternum before firing it off. She felt the impact of the bullet, but the properties it was charged with brought a relieving sense of warmth to her limbs rather than further ache. 

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a doctor.” He told her flatly, tucking his gun away into his medkit and rising to his feet. “Take it easy, I’m not catching you if you fall over.”

Scythe nodded, only acknowledging the latter statement, and sat up again, this time her head didn’t cry out in protest, so she took the risk of standing, brushing dirt and grass off the sleek white fabric of her suit, correcting her visor to sit comfortably over her eye, and fixing her hat so that it sat against her horns the way it was supposed to. 

“Did yah see where Banny went off ta’, Medkit?” Scythe inquired, already set on leveling the scores. He killed her once, now it was her turn to return the favor- though he wouldn’t have the convenience of a healer on his side to raise him from the dead when he finally got his turn.

“You’re off to fight him again? Already?” He asked in an exasperated tone. “No, I didn’t see where he went, but give it a rest. He’s probably back at Banland by now, and he doesn’t know that you’re alive yet, so maybe stay off his radar for the time being?” He implored, giving her a precursory glance as she stalked down the hill, grabbing the handle of her scythe firmly and ripping it out of the tree with a rain of splintering bark.

“No can do, Medkit. I’ve got ta’ make sure he don’t let that little victory get ta’ his head, last thing he needs is more ego ta’ trip over.” She responded smoothly, tossing the weapon between her hands, acclimating to the reassuring weight as she settled it back into her prosthetic hand, the grip with which she’d grasped it tighter than usual.

She just needed to make sure she didn’t lose it again.

—

From that day forward, Scythe was a little more mindful, and with her sureness in her ability to handle both her scythe and rifle easily, changing from one to another with little effort in battle, her losses had been few.

The following times she died had been caused by interferences from the SFOTH, discrepancies among her family- a right traitor who soon after found his horns hung up on her wall back home- a lovely little scrap he was, shame he had to go and blow it for himself, she was willing to stretch her patience thin for her family, but poisoning was pushing it too far.  

Dying was no fun, but having a way to cheat out death sure was comforting when she was up to risky business so often, all for the sake of the church.

Maybe she’d give Medkit a raise, just to make sure he’d stay loyal, though she doubted that he’d have a reason to be leaving her, seeing as there wasn’t much of a better place to be than on her side.

Scythe tipped her head back as she emptied the remains of her whiskey flask down her throat, letting the invigorating sting in her chest and the warmth settling in her stomach remind her of just how grateful she was to still be here, even if it was camped under the stars, where the cold could bite her skin.

[btsgotjams27]

fool for you ~ jjk | 2

Jungkook won't give up until you say yes.

✨ title: fool for you | ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ word count: 4.0k | ✨ rating: mature ✨ genre/au: fluff, angst | college, fake dating, strangers to friends to lovers ✨ warnings: language, alcohol consumption, peer pressure, reader gets drunk (pls drink responsibly), mentions of (sex, fingering, cheating, throwing up), smol kisses ✨ a/n: sooo it looks like this will be a five-part mini-series lol, and then istg this will be the last series i post on here. pls don't let this flop lol

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | prev | next ✨ part three

During Spring Break, all you could think about was Jeon Jungkook and how you had left him high and dry. What a lovely way to make an impression on him. You lie to him first, then practically ghost him. Lyla foolishly gave him your phone number, and he texted you a few times, but you never responded. You had no idea what to message back. The entire plan was done on the spur of the moment and never intended to become anything.

You would not do it again if you had the opportunity. You would have told Lyla she was insane and that you would be a hermit crab who would never come out of her shell. You couldn't figure out what made you think you had a chance with Jeon Jungkook. And kissing him in front of Lee Jieun, Captain of the cheer squad...maybe you should drop out of school and join the circus because you're a clown.

"What are you gonna do about Jungkook?" Lyla inquired as she packed the car, shifting bags around to make room for her belongings.

"Nothing," you casually stated. There was nothing that could be done about it. You went out on a limb because your best friend told you to, but Jungkook wasn't ready for a relationship, and you were certain he was still recovering from Jieun.

"You obviously piqued Jungkook's attention. Why don't you follow it and see where it leads?" Lyla is the optimist. You adored her, and she was always on your side.

See where it leads? You wouldn't claim to be on Jungkook's level, let alone his ideal type. You laughed at the thought. Your crush was just a crush - and you may have fantasized about him more than you should have or thought about him on lonely nights in the dorm room - but Jeon Jungkook being remotely interested in you? Only in your dreams.

"I truly think you've seen too many rom-coms, Ly, and enough about me. How about you, Namjoon? You've been texting him non-stop throughout the break. So much for friends with benefits.” You made fun of your best friend. Several times during the trip, you caught her smiling at her phone.

"Err-ugh-I might be in love with him," she admitted, burying her face in her hands.

In love? You've known Lyla for three years, and she's never said she loved anyone.

"Lyla? In love? Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?" You teased her, pointing up and down. "I don't know this girl right here."

"Shut up, please. I'm unsure what will happen with Namjoon and me, but please stop! You're trying to avoid addressing Jungkook." Lyla came to a halt while maneuvering around the bags in the trunk and turned to face you. "Look, babe, you're a catch, and I know what you're thinking - that you're not good enough for him, which is a complete lie, by the way."

You hate to admit it, but Lyla hit the nail on the head, and it was exactly what you were thinking.

She captured your hand in hers. "You are beautiful, intelligent, funny, and a little nerdy. The list goes on, and if Jungkook doesn't see that in you, I'll be the first to tell you he's the biggest idiot alive, "Lyla said as she rubbed the back of your hand. "Don't downplay yourself, babe."

If there was someone you could always count on, it was Lyla.

But you were certain that when you returned to campus, you'd hear that Jungkook had a new girlfriend on his arm. Someone with his looks couldn't possibly go a week without hooking up with someone.

Back from break, the campus was swarming with students, and your only goal was to avoid Jeon Jungkook at all costs. Nobody could tell who you were because of the cap and dark sunglasses. Right?

When you walked into your hall's lobby, Jungkook sat on the couch, drumming the armrest as he looked around. You muttered a curse under your breath, covering your face with your hand as you turned the corner.

Even though Jungkook couldn't see you because of your disguise, he did see Lyla and Namjoon. He called out to them as he ran to catch up, but you had already dashed into your dorm room and shut the door behind you.

What could Jeon Jungkook possibly want? You knew you'd have to face him eventually; you'd prefer not to, but who were you kidding?

There was a knock on your door not five minutes later. You sighed, your shoulders slumped. It couldn't be anyone else because Lyla would have opened the door with her key. You closed your eyes and centered yourself with your hand on the knob before facing Jeon Jungkook. You've got it.

The one person you were hoping to avoid for the rest of your college career appeared right before you. Your lips thinned into a hesitant smile as you greeted Jungkook. Never in a million years would you expect him to pay you a visit outside your dorm. "Can I help you?"

He snickered at your sass. "Giving me the cold shoulder already? Didn't you ask me to hold your hand and kiss me just last week?" Jungkook sported a shit-eating grin on his face. "Can I come in?"

You let him in while holding the door open, removing your dreadful disguise and readjusting stray hairs. You quickly glanced at Jungkook, noticing him in one of his favorite outfits: a large black tee, gray sweatpants, and those stupid clear glasses you adored. Really though? And then there was his hair—his stupid hair, which was soft and fluffy. As if you hadn't already been through enough. You swear to God he was taking advantage of your crush on him, practically making you squirm whenever he was around.

Jungkook entered, leaning against Lyla's desk, his hands in his pockets. He licked his lips and tilted his head, watching as you sat on your bed.

"What?" You glared at him. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

He chuckled, finding your adorableness endearing. "How am I looking at you?"

Like you're about to eat me, you thought. "I—I don't know—just stop," you warned, making him laugh again. "What can I do for you?"

He was hoping you'd say yes to his question, but he had a feeling it would be harder to convince you otherwise. "Be my fake girlfriend."

That was brief and to the point. "Are you asking or demanding?" you asked, narrowing your eyes and crossing your arms at him. Jungkook was bold, that's for sure.

"Both," he said, making you roll your eyes at him.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because…" he trailed off, stepping closer towards you. "You owe me."

"Owe you for what exactly?" You challenged his demand.

"Well, for starters, I did hold your hand when you asked me even though you lied about having an ex," Jungkook stated.

You knew it would come back to bite you in the ass and it bit you hard. "That was completely innocent and harmless. It didn't hurt anyone."

"Come on, please? I'm tired of girls hounding me," he whined, stomping his feet.

"You could just say no to them," you suggested before standing up and walking over to your desk, where you began straightening the book stack. You would never agree to this. Fake girlfriend? Fake relationship? What would you gain from it?

"Yeah, but it would be easier if you just pretended to be my girlfriend, then it'd be a given, and all the hyenas would stay away from me."

You laughed as he compared the girls outside his dorm to hyenas. You came to a halt and turned around to face him. "Look, Jungkook, I'm flattered that you've come to me for help, but you've asked the wrong person. I'm sorry."

A few days went by without a word from Jungkook. Maybe he found another fake girlfriend, but he wasn't joking when girls constantly surrounded him, desperate for his attention. You'd see him walking around campus with girls hounding him, fearless in their pursuit of his next girlfriend. You can only imagine how exhausting it must be to have a swarm of hungry hyenas circling Jungkook.

Did you feel for Jungkook? Yes, but he was a big boy. He can handle it, and he doesn't need your help.

Just when you thought you'd heard the last of Jungkook. You were sorely mistaken. Every day, something new awaited you outside your dorm room.

Chocolates, flowers, balloons–all attached with a note, "Will you be my fake girlfriend?"

You didn't expect Jungkook to be so persistent with this. Was the crowd of girls outside his room really that bad? Regardless, you did not respond to his question, but you did accept all of the gifts. You weren't going to throw those away.

But you were overwhelmed and wanted to put an end to it. You marched up to Jungkook's dorm, knocked furiously, and when he didn't answer, you tried again. You sighed, irritated that he wasn't responding. "Ugh!" You sighed as you turned around to see a half-naked Jungkook. Water beads dripped from his dark curls onto his chest, down to his abs, and his white towel hung low on his hips, exposing his v-line.

"Fancy seeing you here," Jungkook smirked. He wasn't expecting you outside his room, looking all pissed off, which he found sexy.

"Can—can we talk?" you asked, your gaze averted from this half-naked man. You had often imagined what his body would look like, but it was even better than you had imagined.

Jungkook approached you and opened the door, leaving it ajar for you to enter. For a moment, you wondered if this was the right time to talk; perhaps you should catch him at a different time, but this conversation with him was necessary.

You entered his room and stood awkwardly in the middle of it. "Um," you said, clearing your throat and turning away from him, "could you—put on a shirt or something?" It hurt you to ask that of him. It was distracting you from your thoughts.

He chuckled, amused by how flustered you were. But he finally did as you asked, walking over to his dresser, pulling out an oversized shirt, and slipping it on. He sat on his bed with his legs spread and a towel that left little to the imagination.

"So, what's up–"

"Please stop sending me gifts," you said quickly, not even giving him a chance to respond.

"You don't like them?" He perked up, disappointed that his romantic gestures had failed to impress you.

That was the problem, you did like them, found them sweet and cute, but you didn't like their intention. "You're wasting your time."

He held his head, "I'm not giving up until you say yes."

"If you work this hard for a fake girlfriend, I wonder how hard you work to get a real one," you wondered, batting your eyes at the very sexy, unrelenting man.

Jungkook laughed. He was irritated by your remark. "FYI. I'm a great boyfriend who would treat you well."

"You mean you'd make a good pretend boyfriend?" That's what you were afraid of if you agreed to fake dating. It would only harm you in the long run, and only Jungkook would benefit from it. "Why me? There are a lot of girls who would love to be your fake girlfriend."

He shrugged. "Because—you're different. You're not like other girls."

You mulled over his answer. "Jungkook, we barely know each other. How do you know that?"

How did he know that you're different? To be honest, you were most likely like the others. Waiting for an opportunity to pounce on him - the funny thing was, he was giving you exactly that - an opportunity to get what you wanted finally. Even so, you were embarrassed that he was asking this of you. Perhaps he felt sorry for your pathetic attempt to get his attention.

Jungkook shifted his position on the bed. "I don't know…I just do. I just have a feeling about you, that's all."

"And…what will I get out of this?" You finally asked the question at the forefront of your mind.

Jungkook pushed himself off the bed, stepping closer to you, making your heart skip a beat and filling your nose with the cotton scent from his body wash. Fuck. He looked great after a shower, and you had to tell yourself to calm down. It's just Jeon Jungkook - a boy, but a cute, hot, and sexy boy. All the girls on campus could only wish to be in your shoes right now.

He gently lifted your chin with his finger, his gaze focusing on the details of your face. This is the closest he's come to you since the kiss. "What do you want?" he asked, his lips slightly parted.

The answer was simple. You wanted Jungkook. You desired his lips and hands on you. You expected him to scream his name, throw you on the bed, and possibly fuck you against the wall. Perhaps you should finger you in the library under the table while others study quietly. Making you writhe and whimper under his touch - the endless fantasies running through your head for miles.

But that's all they were: fantasies.

So you suppressed the reveries that lingered in your mind, which you could never speak of, and said what was on your mind at the time. "A friend," you said, taking a step back from his touch. Who knows what would have happened if you had stayed too close to him?

Jungkook knitted his brows in perplexity, a chuckle escaping his lips. "A friend? That's it? Nothing more?"  Your response surprised him, confirming that you were not like the other girls waiting outside his door.

"Why? What were you expecting me to say?"

"You sure you don't want anything else?"

Ah—jeez. Jeon Jungkook was unrelenting. You were aware of what he was implying but refused to give in. Everything does not have to be sexual; relationships are more than just sex.

"Do you want something else?" With a deadpan expression, you cocked your brow. He'd have to say it if he wanted it.

He gave you a half-smile and licked his teeth before responding, "Nope. Just thought I'd ask."

"If I agree to this fake girlfriend thing, here are my ground rules: you may hold my hand, give me hugs and kisses—but only on my cheek—and if the situation calls for it, I will initiate a kiss."

Jungkook grinned at your rules. At the very least, you knew what you wanted, he reasoned. "'Kay," he said, shrugging. He thought it would be simple. "We're going to spend a lot of time together now that you've agreed to this, right? You'll have to come to my parties and other events."

You let out a sigh. You almost forgot about the parties. "That's fine, but keep in mind that I drink, but I'm not going to get shitfaced at these events. And remember that because you agreed to be my friend, you'll have to do things I want to do as well."

"I'm game for anything, princess–"

"Okay–I'm gonna stop you right there," you held up your hand. "Another rule–don't call me pet names like that."

"What should I call you then?"

"Babe, baby–I'm fine with those," you firmly stated with no remorse whatsoever.

Jungkook giggled, thinking how cute you were. "I'm game for anything, baby–" You knew what he was alluding to, but you weren't going to fake date just to sleep with him. He brought his hand up to his mouth, hiding a smile. "Should we seal this deal with a kiss?" He asked, jokingly, of course.

You rolled your eyes. "Already breaking the rules, Jeon?"

"Ready?" Jungkook asked, holding his hand for yours was reminiscent of when you used your pick-up line on him. You nodded, your hand entwined in his large, warm ones.

The crowd was chaotic when he opened the door, with people playing drinking games, dancing, and couples making out here and there. Jungkook clutched your hand tightly as he led you through the crowd, glancing back every now and then to see if you were okay, and you reassured him with a soft smile.

The first stop was the kitchen to get something to drink. Lyla was sitting on Namjoon's lap, whispering, laughing, and kissing each other. She jumped when she saw you and Jungkook walking towards them. Lyla said something to Namjoon before permitting Jungkook to greet his friend.

"Don't stray too far away now," Jungkook joked after Lyla separated your and Jungkook's hands.

"I'll bring your girl back to you, don't worry," Lyla smirked.

His girl? You scoffed at your best friend, and she was fucking loving this so much.

"You guys are so fucking cute together—I can't believe this is finally happening," Lyla exclaimed as she drew you into a corner.

"It's all a sham, Ly. Don't get too worked up,” you muttered. It took every fiber of your being to suppress romantic feelings for him, and remember that this was all for show. You set yourself up to avoid getting hurt, but who are you kidding?

Lyla waved you off. "Mmhm. Sooner or later, he'll recognize you're the real deal. It's only a matter of time."

Across the room, your gaze met Jungkook's. His gaze softened, and he smiled before being interrupted by two girls vying for his attention.

"Go get your man before someone else," Lyla advised when she noticed what was diverting your attention away from her.

"Here we go," you mumbled as you returned to Jungkook. You caught him off guard by slipping your arms around his shoulders, pulling his back against your chest, whispering "hi," and kissing him on the cheek.

The two girls immediately gave you a twisted expression before fleeing. "You're good at this," Jungkook chuckled as he peered up.

You raised both brows at him, then he whirled you around from behind, forcing you to sit on your lap, gripping your waist as he drew you into his frame. And he couldn't stop himself from kissing your neck.

"Someone was watching us," he lied.

Whatever, you thought, at least he was playing by your rules.

"Well, what do we have here?" A voice chimed in from behind.

You and Jungkook both turned to see Jieun, his ex-girlfriend, staring at this new, unexpected development. You weren't on the same level as Jieun - you weren't in the popular circles, and you didn't have guys fawning over you. But your presence on Jungkook's lap certainly drew her attention.

"Over me already, Kook?" Jieun pouted along with puppy eyes.

Jungkook remained silent. Instead, he patted your leg and motioned for you to stand up. He didn't want to deal with Jieun and was only here to have a good time, not to be stalked by his ex.

"Aw, come on. Have a drink with me," Jieun mocked, aiming it at you. She stood there, waiting for an answer, and she wasn't about to let you two go so easily.

"Leave her alone, Jieun. She doesn't want to drink," Jungkook argued, his gaze darting to yours, looking for a cue from you to leave if you were uncomfortable.

"What's the matter? Can't hold your liquor?" She mocked you once more.

"No, unlike you, I want to remember the next day." You were referring to her debacle with Jungkook with Jimin. The entire school had heard about what had happened between her and Jimin by this point.

Jieun clenched her fist and clicked her tongue. "Come on, one drink won't hurt anyone," she sighed.

"Baby–you don't have to do anything you don't want to," Jungkook muttered.

Jieun's eyes perked up when she heard Jungkook call you by a pet name she was so used to.

You chewed on the bottom of your lip, debating on your answer. "One drink."

"Atta girl," Jieun clapped excitedly.

You were feeling woozy after seven shots. The room began to spin a little. Normally, you'd limit yourself to two drinks, but you wanted to prove to Jieun that you weren't a coward.

She persevered in enabling you to take one more shot. She was about to hand over the glass when Jungkook grabbed it and knocked it back.

"Hey—" you pouted, mumbling something incoherently under your breath, "that was mine." You attempted to grab Jungkook's glass but completely missed, almost stumbling, but Jungkook caught you in time.

"I think you've had enough. Come on, baby–let's get you to bed."

"Kook–I'm not done with her yet," Jieun threatened. She didn't like Jungkook coming to your rescue.

Jungkook looked over at you in his arms, all smiley and giggly. "We're leaving," he warned, slinging your arm over his shoulders and forcing you to lean on him.

"My legs are all wobbly," you said, slurring your words.

He let you go abruptly, crouching in front of you and motioning for you to climb onto his back, which you did without hesitation. He hooked under your thighs as you wrapped your arms around Jungkook's neck.

The heat from his body was making your skin burn, but you still wanted to be close to him. So you leaned in and nuzzled into the nape of his neck. Jungkook laughed at how sleepy and adorable you were. "Why'd you do it?"

Without opening your eyes, you replied, "Do what?"

"Let her get to you?"

"I don't know," you grumbled, snuggling closer to Jungkook. "I just didn't like how she looked at us."

Jungkook furrowed his brows. "How did she look at us?" He asked, pausing to re-lift you to keep you from slipping.

"Like we shouldn't be together."

Jieun, on the other hand, had every reason to believe so. Jungkook and you? To say the least, it was an unusual pairing. You two couldn't be more different, on opposite ends of a spectrum, which is probably why Jieun was staring at you all funny.

"Forget about her. She's not worth your time."

"She's not worth yours either," you retorted. "You deserve better than her."

Jungkook scrunched his nose, revealing a bunny smile. "Okay–we're almost to your room. You have your key?"

"Mmhm, it's in my back pocket."

The desire to throw up was strong, and you swallowed the acid in your throat as best you could, afraid of puking all over Jungkook's back. To avoid Jeon Jungkook, you'd have to consider relocating to Antarctica.

After walking across campus, you were relieved to see the door to your room. Jungkook gently pushed you to your feet as he waited for you to open the door, but the alcohol hadn't worn off yet. He inserted the key into the slot, which opened it.

Your fairy lights lit up the room just enough for you to stumble onto your bed. All that mattered was your fluffy pillow and duvet, not taking off your makeup or changing into something comfortable. You crept beneath, ready to drift off to sleep.

Jungkook watched as you kicked off your shoes, and unhooked your bra from beneath your top, flinging it at his feet. "Don't you think we're moving too fast, fake girlfriend?" He teased you by picking up your underwear and draping it over your desk chair.

"Mm, moving too fast? We already kissed. What else do you want from me?" You grumbled, nuzzling deeper into your pillow, your makeup starting to smudge - in which you'd hate yourself for later.

Jungkook looked around for a garbage can in case you threw up in the middle of the night. Then he searched your bathroom for aspirin and a glass of water to keep by your bed. He sat beside you, sinking into the mattress, peering and softly chuckling at the girl who had gotten drunk to spite his ex - he'd never had a girl do that before. He gently caressed your warm, flushed cheek as he tucked a stray piece of hair away from your face.

"G'night," he whispered before reaching down and placing a kiss on your cheek.

✨ next ~ part three

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

Hi flap! Feel free to ignore this if this idea isn't all that interesting, you probably have a lot going on rn, sending you love. But anyway this is the ask: A love interest who can move Sevika? We know Sev has had it ground and beaten into her by Zaunite reality that people are fundamentally worthless and expendable, so let's say this person gets her to feel human again. Like truly move her on a deep level and make her feel like a person worth loving, somehow. Maybe it's a small glow of a feeling that she instinctively pushes away but it happens

A/N: It's been awhile, I'm rusty, and I hope I got this right!

Warnings: Short section of smut, Sevika being a fool in love

As one could easily guess, camaraderie amongst her fellow Zaunites evaded Sevika like the plague. Sure, there were a few she regularly swindled in various games of her liking. Some that offered a seldom amount of words that stretched across rounds, the easy silence euphoric after a long day. Those few had enough respect from Sevika to earn themselves a nod in their direction when she passed by, if she were feeling particularly jovial.

Sevika also had a few favorites at the brothel but it’s not like she went there for friendship. Anyone she met there she viewed as a tool, a stress relief to make her life just a tad easier, her work more efficient. No one to write home about, if there even was anyone to write to. Long before Sevika had dedicated her life to Zaun, the notion that she was worth anything had been beaten and choked out of her by enforcers and the mines they had her in when she was barely old enough to hold a pickaxe. 

So, no. No friends (the closest she could think of was- Janna -Silco, that’s how fucking far she was from friendship), no ‘lovers’ (unless you counted those she paid), and no desire for either. Just fucking enemies. Like Vander’s girl. 

That was before the new shit-for-brains recruit. 

Sevika hadn’t thought much of you. Easy on the eyes, but annoying as shit, proved by your incessant attempts to get buddy-buddy with her every damn day. She didn’t think you’d be this much of a pain, for sure.

You, however, were insufferable. Jinx was the one who hired you because of course you befriended that little monster. You could make friends with an axe murderer, which, admittedly, Sevika does classify as some kind of murderer. Not that she’d ever admit you managed to chip away at her cold exterior enough so that when she thought of friends she thought of you and she’s definitely not happy about it.

It’s the way you come to pester her everyday after shift. The way you refill her drink without her needing to ask when she’s in the middle of a round. The infuriating way you switch her over to water after her fourth cup, claiming her blood is more alcohol than water at this point, to which she implies she’ll be seeing what yours is made of if you don’t get her more whiskey. And see it she almost did, after you took a bullet for her at the docks. Sevika will never forget or understand the feeling of her heart collapsing until she verified you were wearing a vest.

She still fucking hates you, but you might just be the best friend she’s ever had. 

After that, Sevika deemed you worthy enough to break her no-fucking-coworkers rule- which she never even thought about doing before, seriously what were you doing to her-

A kiss was as far as Sevika went (because she has some class) and because your body needs to recover first (the only bruises she wants on it are from her).

The ice cubes clink at the bottom of her empty glass, breaking her out of one of her numerous attempts to think of a way you repulse her. Sevika much prefers that feeling to this new, unpleasant one. 

A slight limping gait catches her attention from halfway across the room, headed towards the poker table where she is currently situated. The frustrated groan that leaves her mouth is paired with the slamming of her cards on the table, alerting the now-cautious group of players that their game is now over. You were supposed to be resting- is that a skirt?

A few of the guys glance curiously at the brief half-smile that sneaks its way across Sevika’s face. Contrary to popular belief, they’re intelligent enough to know it has nothing to do with the stack of coins nearly toppled in front of her. 

Sevika catches herself and knows a glare will just prove she has something to hide, so she tries bluffing that her shitty hand is the cause of her joy.

“Another winning hand. Thought I’d save you the tears.”

It’s surely not you, who’s headed her way in some cute little getup. 

And then there’s that. You had started dressing up for her. She can only assume, because you started doing it a week ago- ever since that kiss- and only hung around her before heading home for the night. 

“Hi.” Your warmth reaches her from both your tone and body with how close you’re standing next to her chair. 

“Why are you out of bed?” Sevika, feigning composure, gives you the same no-nonsense tone you always ignore.

“Just came to see how bad you were losing.”

Sevika pointedly sweeps her gaze across the array of gold and silver and uses an embarrassing amount of effort to keep her tone gruff.

“Yeah, don’t know how I’m recovering from this one. Why are you out of bed?”

“Missed you.”

Fuck.

Sevika gracefully jolts to her feet, muttering a ‘see ya, boys’ like some kind of whipped dog, and guides you to the nearest private room. It just so happens to be the bathroom. Romantic. Not that she hasn’t ate someone out on this very sink, but this is you and it feels wrong and like it’s not enough and neither is she-

As soon as the door is locked, her lips are on yours in a kiss so gentle it’s painful. The whine you give when she pulls away is just as agonizing.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? You were shot, busted ribs, could’ve punctured a lung-”

“It’s not that bad.” 

Sevika’s almost grateful for the anger that resurfaces and allows her to get a reign on her emotions. The unsavory ones, at least. 

“Not bad? You were shot. With a bullet-” 

Your lips quirk in an effort to stifle some smart ass remark that’ll have Sevika putting her fist through a wall. You’re not disciplined enough to conceal an eyeroll.

“I was wearing a vest.”

“Doesn’t fucking help.” A cracked tooth throbbed in protest as Sevika’s jaw clenched, the nonchalance of your almost-death leaving a pain in her heart she was unfamiliar with. It kept her steady, prevented her from falling back into the blood-red rage she found herself in when you were lying on the ground, so she kept applying pressure until the searing pain cleared her vision. 

“Helped a lot, actually.”

Something splintered. Sevika did wince this time. Your eyes flash with worry and that was somehow more painful.

“Hey, what happened?” Your fingers brush against the light bruise on her jaw. After you were hit, you woke up in Singed’s hellish medical room with a drained-looking Sevika by your side. That had been where you two shared your first kiss which is about the only good memory you have in that room. 

“Someone had to finish the job while you were sitting on your ass.”

Sevika’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, circumferencing the soft skin with little hassle. Her thumb rubs soothing lines over your veins and the same pulse she had to check with shaking hands. 

“Sooo, these guys. I’m assuming they’re… past tense?”

Her glare doesn’t change, yet you somehow, infuriatingly, pick up on the question in her eyes.

“Yknow, the ones who shot me. You… evicted them from this realm? You-“ 

“I fucking killed them.” Sevika says slowly, though her anger hardens the words.

“Oh. Cool.”

“You have two choices,” Sevika digressed, finally reaching her limit of your avoidance of her command. “You can either go to bed yourself, or I can bend you over and make sure you can’t leave that bed.”

…

Sevika noses her way between your breasts, lips peppering small kisses on her trail until she gets to the nasty purple bruising on your abdomen. Her eyebrows furrow for just a moment before she continues her wordless apologies, her reverence, her gratitude against your skin. The elastic of your panties comes into reach, which Sevika pulls back to lightly slap against your hip with a half-grin. 

“Ow, you fucker-”

“Oh, so now you know what pain is?”

Your head goes back hard against the fluffy pillows with a dramatic huff, looking truly affronted by the teasing. Sevika’s lips purse, taking in the expression she finally sees on your face instead of her own. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” 

The way your head snaps upwards, eyebrows raised in interest, has Sevika chuckling against your thigh.

“Well, I mean, if you’re offering-”

The fabric tears as easily as paper in Sevika’s scarred hands, the destruction only a fraction of what she could truly cause, before they go back to cradling your thighs as if you were a delicacy. 

“Okay, yeah, you’re definitely buying me another pair because- ohmygod.”

Her tongue parted your folds like the petals of a flower, your thighs going lax enough for her to spread them more and settle inbetween. The reverberations of a pleased hum have you canting your hips towards her mouth, her nose, anything of hers you can feel against you before the remaining elastic around your hips is once again snapped against your skin.

“Sev, I swear.”

“Stop moving, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You hurt me.”

That tongue begins lazily working between your legs. Your body sinks into the pillows as easily as butter, any past transgressions well and truly forgotten. As if it were possible to hold a grudge with two fingers working their way into you, tongue delving deliciously over your swollen clit, Sevika takes a moment to press a kiss to your center.

“Sorry, baby.”

…

“It was the mini skirt, wasn’t it?”

“I trusted you with my one weakness.” Smoke spilled from her lips, though her dry tone was from a pleasant kind of exhaustion. “And you exploited it.”

“You caught me.” The luminous blue of Sevika’s scars disappear under your tracing finger until they find her cheek. A much larger hand cups yours and holds it to her face, preventing its escape. 

You’re much more preoccupied with the serene smile adorning her lips, the rarity rendering you stupid enough to comment on it.

“Your smile is so fucking pretty.”

Just like that, it falls faster than your heart plummeting in your chest. She doesn’t seem pissed, you hope, but concentrated like she’s processing some valuable intel. That thumb of hers is running over your veins again.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“But why?” You whine, horribly exaggerated, to see her roll her eyes and scoff. You swear you hear a barely audible ‘brat’ muttered underneath your pouting. While you’re being honest, you add, “It’s now one of my favorite expressions of yours.”

“Doesn’t that make it more special? The rarity?” Sevika tries in what you assume is an attempt at placating you.

“True. But I could never tire of seeing it, Sev.” You never would have thought this balls-to-the-wall method of being vulnerable and sharing emotions would have gotten you this far, but she hasn’t kicked you out yet. 

That notch appears between her brows in reminisce of her usual disgruntled expression and you startle her when you huff out a laugh. “Or that one.”

[heldentenxr]

i DONT like Harry.

now, if you’re a de fan and you love him, please don’t take it as a personal offense, i have nothing against you and i don’t think you’re a bad person just because you happen to like a fictional character i don’t. this post is going to be my (negative) take on a character that you may or may not agree with.

back to the point. i have to endure playing as Harry (and sometimes, i have to admit, it’s hilarious), but if i met him irl i would hate his guts.

first, he’s an alcoholic. at least. and i think even if you don’t take any drugs in-game he still took them before Martinaise. it’s a big red flag for me. from my own life and experience i’ve seen what the addiction can do to a person, and a family. it’s not nice. and, coming back to Harry, it honestly kinda causes all the other stuff i don’t like him for.

he’s suicidal, but why is he suicidal? because his wife left him. why did she leave him? because he’s a drunk. duh. but i say, good for her. i hope she’s happy.

there may, of course, also be a reason that he’s an alcoholic and suicidal just because “the world around us is so bad”, but somehow it’s even worse, because it gets all the responsibility over his actions off him.

his drunk driving, him losing his badge and gun (and uniform), him throwing the ledger in the trash, even him losing all memory – i just couldn’t care less for it. Harry caused his own suffering so it’s no wonder he got it all fucked up.

i hope it was the creators’ intention to make him so unappealing to the player because the man does not raise any empathy in me, no matter how he’s played.

EDIT: okay so apparently people didn’t like that i put a main tag on this post. my bad.

also, please PLEASE don’t judge me for the words i didn’t say. i never said he was “beyond help”. all i said was that i don’t like him personally because of my bad experience with alcoholism. to all people who struggle with substance abuse and are recovering – i wish you all the strength you need to become a better version of yourselves. you CAN change and are not irredeemable. it is difficult, and it takes time, but i’m sure you’re able to do that. i’m sorry if any of my commentary affected you negatively.