#and it immediately and simultaneously served to piss me off and then warn me about what i could be

[yatiso]

oh shit just realized i smoked my first cigarette like a year (or slightly longer) before my mom died and only became a Real Smoker like half a year before she died... and that i smoke probably almost entirely as emotional regulation which as person born fucked in the head with multiple afflictions i already struggled with way before she died... uhm okay serve its day 3 of quitting fr and im already learning a lot about myself even if its stuff thats prob obvious to others

[hyewka]

warnings. sub!tyun, noona!reader, desperate shit, degrading, use of whore/slut, handjob

flirt freshman!taehyun who, even if he looks polite and at times would even be described as cute, is definitely a heartbreaker. stringing along, fucking, then ghosting.

you see right through his nice guy act when he subtly hits on you, flashing you his white pearls, blinding smile that show off his dimpled cheeks and the way his eyes form into crescents, his simple charms almost, almost having an effect on you. but you know better, you’ve already passed this chapter of your life, getting yourself fucked over by cute assholes. so you reject any and all advances that he makes on you, even as so far as to completely ignore him whenever he addresses you in a group setting.

you wanted to protect yourself, because again, you knew better. but what you dont realize is how often your blatant rejections have been either straight up cruelly humiliating or just plain harsh to the younger boy. not until you’re stuck with taehyun as you awkwardly wait in the car for your friends.

“why dont you like me?” he starts, quiet as he looks out the window. you turn to look at him, a little astonished that he decided to confront you. then you quickly recollect yourself, clearing your throat.

“who told you that?”

he scoffs, a sneer retching his expression. “you’re kidding aren’t you? i don’t think i know anybody more repulsed with me than you. everyone can see it. you almost jumped out of the car when they told you i was going to sit in the back tonight.”

it’s like hes been keeping all of his thoughts behind a lock with how fast everything spilled out of his mouth and you take in a breath. “okay now that’s an exaggeration.”

“not really.”

then it falls silent again, hearing the distant horns of cars and you awkwardly shift. he’s right, its not.

then suddenly, his eyes shift from the window to you, and the eye contact catches you off guard, you can make out the slight furrow of his brows and the small pout that rests on his lips—you’ve never seen him look like that. you avert your gaze almost immediately.

but he’s still staring. and it has you nervously tapping your finger on your lap.

“i like you, noona.”

your eyes widen a little. not because of the confession, you knew it was coming eventually. something about this variation of gentleness with his voice that you don’t think you’ve quite heard…ever coming from a man has your heart beat just a little faster. noona? its nothing new coming from taehyun, but your hands still slight dig into the fabric of your skirt. “if that wasn’t already obvious enough.” he says bitterly with a non humored laugh.

you spend the entire night, staring at your blank empty google doc, wallowing in all thoughts related to taehyun. it kind of pisses you off that he’s managed to chip a little away from your wall, you usually disperse any thought that comes up in your head that has to do with him. but now you choose to give yourself a leeway, just a little to think over whether he was being genuine, and whatever happened in the car was taehyun serving his heart on the platter to be so…vulnerable, or if it was just the last trick up his sleeve to lure you in like a toy he can’t have.

but then you remember the little features—the way his brows slightly turned up, the way his bottom lip instinctively stuck out, just a tiny bit—the way his eyes twinkled, just somewhat, as cliché as it is to say, it felt genuine, real.

when taehyun sends you a text that night, with a string of other unread messages from weeks or days ago before it—you come to the conclusion that he likes you, really likes you.

sorry, ignore what i said today

i don’t want you feeling uncomfortable around me any more than you do

your heart swells a little, simultaneously feeling the guilt conscience slowly creeping up on you. maybe you really did misread him this entire time.

so imagine your surprise when the next time you see taehyun, a week later, it’s at a frat party, looking down at a girl clinging onto his arms with those same twinkling eyes, smile, dimples, gentle look—eventually laughing then biting down on his lips as he looks away, the red on tips of his ears making you fume more than you’d admit. you don’t know what it was, what exactly made you insane enough to stomp over to him in long strides, wobbly pushing through the drunks, seeing red as you grab taehyun by the arm when he’s of reach—the surprised look on his face only lasting for a second before you furiously turn around, dragging him away from the confused girl that he was getting way too flirty with.

he could’ve easily shaken off your grip, it was weak, but he followed, he let you take him, only when you push him in a non occupied room and lock the door does he finally say something.

“hey, what the fuck was that—”

then you go for it. throwing all logical justifications and reasoning, you pull him into you harshly by the collar of his shirt, crashing your lips onto his. you don’t know what you expected, up to now it felt like you’ve been on airplane mode, but you know it wasn’t what taehyun returns. even if youre the one who came onto him first, he kisses back even more passionately, leaning into you, so quick to be receptive, hands going up to your cheeks as he lets you walk him hard into the door, latching onto your lips as if its a taste of a drug that has him hooked right from the first dose.

he’s so…desperate, it scares you, and turns you on at the same time. every time you try to pull away a little he reels you back almost immediately following your lips, the kiss becoming open mouthed as he breathes in and gets more and more messy, sloppy—he’s so sloppy, it’s the last thing you expected from him.

you finally manage to pull away, both of you catching your breath, with his lips glistening and red, mouth agape, chest heaving, up and down as he stares stunned.

“wha—um, so—fuck, sorry, no wait—” hes stumbling over his words. again, something taehyun never does. whenever hes spoken to you, it always felt so calculated, like every word hes thought over, because it felt so perfect. hes always collected.

you clasp your hand over his mouth, weakly, but he stills shuts up his ramble and jumble of words, blinking at you, with those god damn adorable brown eyes.

“kindly, shut the fuck up.”

his brows twitch a little, but he’s still silent.

your eyes search for something in his, you don’t know what, but it feels like you’ve gotten a green light, sighing. “i wanna fuck you.”

“shit.” he marvels, feeling his breath against your palm, his eyes still just as wide. you don’t know what exactly he’s thinking but if the dick already poking against your thigh was any indication, it was that he wanted it. really bad.

you slip your hand off his lips, then you whisper, fixated on how plump they are, “open your mouth.”

he blinks confused, hesitant until you take it upon yourself to rub your thigh against the tent in his pants, having him almost immediately buckle as he lets out a sinful groan. you should know he’s probably not into what you’re into, so you ease into it, testing the waters as you press yourself flush against him, rubbing your leg up and down against his clothed dick. “feel good?”

“y-yeah, shit, noona, please touch me.”

“i am touching you,” you swipe your hand over his bottom lip, fuck, they really are pretty. and so kissable. you’re shocked you haven’t kissed them sooner.

“no, i want your hand.”

you scoff, he’s so confident with what he wants, and so demanding. bratty. he’s probably so used to dominating. “this isn’t enough? me getting off your crusty dick isn’t enough for you? you’re feeling good, aren’t you?”

you press harder and with no consent of his own, his breaths knocked out of him, a slight squeak by the end that has his ears running red again. your thumb slips into his mouth, easing into it, slowly, before you fully press on his tongue as the friction of your knees against his cock gets more and more frantic and torturous. “you tell me you like me then decide i’m not worth the headache, a week later you run off to another innocent girl you’ll try to break the heart of after getting your fill. someone needs to keep you in check for becoming such an asshole, no? do you have no shame?” you mock, feeding him another finger in his mouth so he can’t retort like you know the smartass in him would do.

he sucks on them, surprising you as you feel his tongue licking eagerly…fuck, how badly did you misread him?

but you can tell with the way his eyes involuntarily water, and the way he shakes his vehemently, he still has the audacity to deny everything.

you scoff, slipping them out of his mouth, string of his saliva coating your fingers and shoving that hand down his pants, promplty grabbing his dick, marveling at the soft, wet feel. he already spilled so much pre-cum—slut. he likes this.

“you don’t like me, you have no right to be jea—hahhh..fuck, you can’t be jealous, you c-can’t. shit, faster, faster please noona, noona…” he whines, delirious as he gets lost at the feeling of your hand, bucking his hips, clearly getting frustrated with how irritatingly slow you’re tugging at his dick.

“i don’t. i don’t like you. i don’t like slutty men who’re bad.”

he whimpers, and fuck does that noise have you pooling your underwear.

“how have i been bad? how? i’m always good to you, i always—”

you twist your hand a little and his head immedietely falls back against the door, mouth hung open as he lets out pathetic, needy pants, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“like it? is it how you imagined it’d feel to have my hands wrapped around your cock?” you press, kissing down his jawline, hand letting out wet sounds as you jerk him off with more speed

“yes, yes, so much better noona, so much—” he chokes on his own words when you suck on his neck, feeling him let out shuddering breaths. cute.

when you use your other hand to trail up under his shirt, feeling up his muscle, you can hear him gulp, and for whatever reason, it turns you on even more.

“fuck, you’ve been trying to dom me, haven’t you?” he breathes out.

you let out an airy laugh out of your nose, grazing your thumb over his nipple, the hitch of his breath being your undoing. “i have been domming you—this entire time. what, don’t like it when a womans in charge?”

he shakes his head immediately, “no, no, i like it. i really do, i like it a lot. i like it when its you, noona.”

even when you have his mind sent to overdrive, he still knows exactly what to say to have your heart racing, it’s dangerous.

“hm?” you hum, throat dry, trying to forget the comment thats repeating over and over in your head. he likes it when its you. you scoff a laugh, “you really know how to get a girl going huh?”

“would treat you right. give me a chance noona, i’ll treat you like a queen.”

“a queen?” you laugh, then pretend to ponder on it as you play with his bud more, his dick leaking through your hand—he’s enjoying it all too much. “think would like goddess more.”

he moans wantonly when you thumb his tip, then transitioning to jacking off his shaft in frantic speed, it gets him delirious. “goddess, goddess, fuck—i’ll treat you like a goddess baby, swear.”

“sure you wouldn’t ghost me?”

his breath hitches again, head dipping into your shoulder, jaw practically hung open, mix of moans and whines spilling out of his mouth dumbly—who would’ve thought, huh? “never. so pretty, you’re so pretty and smart, and and—”

“such a slut, just want your dick touched and you’ll say anything.”

you feel him shake his head, still panting heavily as he grabbles onto you for support. he’s clingier than you expected, he holds onto you so often.

“faster…faster please, ‘m sososo close.” he sobs, his shaky breath fanning on your shoulder.

you chuckle, giving him what he wants, the wet squelching sounds heightening until he breaks. “gonna—gonna-” he spills before he could even finish his sentence, with a high pitched noise he cums in his pants, no doubt creating a big stain in the area of his crotch.

well, shit.

but when he lifts his head, a dopey smile on his face, eyes glazed over still, you think he might not mind all too much.

############

note. long overdue sub taehyun and a noona smut from me 🙏 did they fuck. no. will there be a future continuation of this au. perhaps.

[malleusfucker]

a night with leona and malleus

warnings: smut/nsfw, angry sex, unprotected sex, just malleus and leona being greedy bastards, reader is afab but no gender or pronouns are explicitly specified - i tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible

synopsis: threesome with leona & malleus, they’re both irritated with how you’ve been leading them on so in turn they both come to an agreement to fuck you at the same time just to basically ruin you. 

words: 2k

this is my first ever smut that i tried to write in detail so pls ignore if its shit 😭 my grades in english were terrible so dont judge 😐 also i might as well change my user to malleus&leonafucker bc at this point theyre all i can write about LMAO

-

you can say that you have a very fickle mind. suddenly being placed in a college with so many different and eccentric characters out of the blue definitely piqued your interest. some can say it was almost too much - your eyes constantly diverting to different faces making you act in a way that you never did before, though, that being a result of two people in particular. leona kingscholar and malleus draconia.  

since the moment you set foot in the college, you haven't been able to take your eyes off the two dorm leaders, whose very presence causes you to sweat and shuffle your feet under your desk. and albeit challenging, being placed in classes with them gave you the opportunity to eventually get rid of the itch you'd get under your collar.

the auras that both malleus and leona exuded were so attractive and tempting in their own different ways that they just served to further confuse you every day. you became increasingly irresponsible as you got to know them better with each class, to the point where you would ultimately steal kisses from both of them. you never considered your relationships with them to be anything more than casual sexual encounters; nothing more than that. every time you got close with the two stunning princes, with academic prowess you'd never see in a million years, it both humbled you and boosted your ego. 

however,  you were terribly naive in assuming you could mislead the two men for your own selfish ends because one thing you were unfortunately unaware of  was that they were anything but dumb.

malleus and leona both slowly caught onto your little game - taking note of how you would focus all of your attention on one of them while ignoring the other. to put it mildly, it infuriated them. and to add salt to the wound, they were fiercely competitive with one another, and seeing how you treated them like toys led them to reach a bizarre agreement.

…

you were comfortably asleep in your run-down dorm in the middle of the night when all of a sudden, a hand violently ripped your bedsheets off of you. your eyelids slowly opened as the chill began to spread across your flesh, only to be greeted by two sets of brilliant green eyes. “apologies for intruding on you at such an odd time like this-” the taller male with horns, who was clutching the bed frame at your feet, smirked at you eerily. immediately, you widened your eyes and repositioned yourself so you were sitting up straight 

“wh- leona?! malleus?! what the hell are you doing here? how did you get in-” without even being able to finish your sentence, leona grabbed your face and forcefully pulled you towards both of them grimacing at you with disgust “huh, you got some guts actin’ so innocently like that - ‘just pisses me off even more” you were trying so hard to spit your words out but the more you tried the harder leona gripped your face - it only resulted in your body starting to tremble and fear bubbling up in your stomach. 

you were so confused, what did they want with you? and especially at this hour? all these questions were racking your brain but were immediately cut short when the two princes simultaneously pinned you aggressively onto your bed.

with leona’s firm hand still covering your mouth, you unexpectedly felt a long wet tongue lick a stipe up your exposed neck eventually leading up to the shell of your ear. you yelped at the sudden attention and darted your eyes to your left where you saw malleus leaning against you lowering his hand towards your crotch. the two men were only encouraged by your muffled voice and became more ready to humiliate you.

without warning, malleus pulled down your shorts and slipped his hand inside your pants. his gentle fingers caressed your sensitive spot on your body, turning your dread into shameful pleasure. the two men already had you at their mercy without even touching you that much. and with your arousal increasing by the second, all you wanted was for them to touch and fondle you more. whilst malleus showed some generosity towards you, leona, on the other hand, did not. he hated everything about the situation, just the idea alone that you were secretly getting intimate with malleus whilst also being the same with him made him gag and gave him all the more reason to just completely break you.

whilst malleus was palming your crotch, he leaned in and kissed your lips sweetly. it was his touch that reminded you exactly why you enjoyed his company so much - everything he does is just filled with grace and tenderness which just made this situation feel all the more surreal. you closed your eyes and gave into his kiss, letting his tongue inside your mouth, feeling his slender fingers slowly ease inside of you, making you moan. he steadily pumped his fingers in and out of you, noticing all the slick start to drip from his hand making him smirk against your mouth.

“oi.”

leona interrupted your kiss by once again grabbing your face, but this time he seemed more spiteful than before. “this wasn’t a part of the agreement.” leona scowled and glared across to malleus, still thrusting and curling his fingers inside of you making you rut your hips up against them “hm? what’s the problem?” leona scoffed, furrowing his brow “you don’t get to have all the fun you fucking bastard.” he grabbed malleus’ hand which was in your pants and snatched it away from your body. 

the immediate absence of the pleasure that was slowly building up inside of you made you gasp and you opened your eyes to see leona quickly shove malleus’ fingers straight into your mouth. “ngh!-” you gagged at the sudden force being pressed against the back of your throat and looked over at malleus to see a face of brief shock quickly turn into smugness. “hehe… well go ahead kingscholar. they’re all yours.” the sound of their bickering back and forth over what they were going to do to you made you feel a lot more excited than you’d like to admit and you were beginning to feel restless.

fortunately for you, leona could smell how aroused you were, but due to his arrogant attitude, he was more than furious. you weren't the only one who became restless though, as leona began to fumble with his belt buckle and threw it across the floor. 

while you were kissing malleus, you were unaware of how hard leona was getting just from the sight of you, although feeling guilty about it. he pulled down his pants and let his dick spring free which hit against his stomach before pumping it a few times, pearls of pre-cum started to gently emerge on the head. he then took hold of your hair and forced your face into his crotch, causing you to abruptly gag as the length of his member forced its way inside of your mouth. he didn’t give you any time to adjust or even make you realise what was going on and suddenly snapped his hips up towards you and pushed your head down even further. 

tears already pricked at the corners of your eyes and you felt shame like you had never experienced - the shame being that you have never felt this aroused in your life before. 

leona started to grunt and grind against your face, his grip on your hair only getting harsher and his pace getting more brutal.

“hah~ you’re so… fucking disgusting you know that?” he continued to blurt out insults to you, only deepening your guilt and humiliation but just turning you on even more to his surprise.

you were gagging and unable to breathe but even so, you couldn’t ignore the throbbing ache you were feeling from your crotch - wishing that something, someone could relieve you of your frustration. luckily for you though, that’s exactly what malleus was there for. 

he could see how your body twitched and how your desire trickled down your thighs and onto the bed from behind. malleus eventually made the decision to satisfy your hunger out of kindness for you.

he grabbed your legs and propped them up so that you were on all-fours. leonas hand still holding your head in a vice, malleus gently touched your crotch. he massaged his fingers in between your wet folds, causing you to whimper and stick your butt into the air to give him better access.

“hehe, so eager.. you do know that you’re the one that caused all of this?” following suit, malleus undid his pants and released both of his cocks, which had already begun to ache when he entered your room.

malleus seemed to be a nice man, yet his actions were anything but. he lined up against your entrance, briefly rubbing the tip against your slit, and slammed his hips into you, giving you no opportunity to prepare. your already watering eyes quickly were screwed shut as a result of the unexpected force and pain. you tried to cry out, but your voice was stifled by leona's length as he continued to abuse the back of your throat and forcibly shoved his way in and out of your mouth.

it was a matter of seconds before malleus started to rock his hips, one of his dicks brutally assaulting your insides whilst the other slapped against your crotch with each thrust. you were starting to dreadfully realise that the two dorm leaders weren’t here for you, but instead to use you just like you had used them. 

as malleus's pace intensified and became more severe, his delicate touch started to lose meaning. when leona saw his climax approaching, he abruptly slammed your face right down to the base and sprayed all of his pent-up cum into the back of your throat. he shoved your face up from his dick, releasing your mouth with an embarrassingly loud ‘pop’ all the while your hole was getting constantly assaulted by the darker-haired male behind you.

as leona descended from his high and malleus continued to drive into you, the room was filled with gasps and moans. now that your mouth was free, your whimpers and whines were becoming louder by the second. you could feel malleus’ cock throb more intensely inside of you. after what felt like hours of agonising pleasure, he spewed thick ropes of cum into you, filling you to the point where it seeped out of your hole. when the two men got you in this position, they felt even more determined to treat you more brutally. you were drained, out of breath, and your legs were shaking like never before wishing that they would be easy on you. 

malleus bared his fangs as he slowly pulled out of you, noticing all of his cum spilling from out of you. 

while malleus was thrusting into you leona sat surprisingly patient, pumping his cock in his hand waiting for his turn. and now that malleus had finished with you he wasted no time before he quickly pounced on you. you were still catching your breath before you felt another cock thrust its way inside of you with no warning. your pleas and cries were starting to become insignificant and only made the two men want to fasten their pace.

hours went on, them constantly switching turns and thrusting more and more cum inside of you every time. your mind had gone white, having lost count of how many times you climaxed and your body had gone limp. 

it was clear as day to you that the two dorm leaders were just using you for their own sadistic pleasure and feared how long they would continue as they didn’t show any signs of stopping.

-

every round was seemingly more intense than the last. to the point where malleus’ frustration started to spill out onto you, though not showing it as much as leona. 

he was still angry with you for secretly getting with leona behind his back and it showed with each thrust getting more merciless and rough. his claws digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs, making your legs buckle from underneath you from all the stimulation. 

your moaning of both their names rang in their ears as they continued their plan to completely break you. you could see how leona's chest was heaving from all the rounds he was having with you, but because of his stuck-up pride, he didn't want to stop until he and malleus were sure that you had learned your lesson to not play around with them. 

-

you could see in the corner of your eye that the sun was slowly beginning to rise and you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside. 

you didn’t realise just how long they were going at it for and were surprised that you weren’t passed out from all the overwhelming pain and pleasure they were constantly forcing onto you. 

your eyes were slowly starting to shut as you felt the lack of touch on your skin, thinking that they finally finished their torturous game with you. hearing malleus faintly giggle behind you, he gently kissed you on your shoulder before him and leona both made their way out of your dorm. 

you felt extremely humiliated, but more than that, you felt exhausted. knowing that it was morning now, you groaned at the thought of having to go to your lessons and worse - having to see the two dorm leaders in your class after having the most intense night of your life.

you were certain of one thing though. that you were never going to toy with leona and malleus ever again.

-

nah bc this was surprisingly so fun to write considering how shite i am at writing longer stuff but also how tf do yall not end up writing 10k words it was so hard not to write a whole ass novel omg 😭😭 but hey im just horny for these two n just wanna fuck the shit outta them lmao

[nuoyipeach]

Couple's Scenarios

so I saw this prank on IG & started thinking of how the "women of nuoyipeach ships" would be like in this scenario, ykwim?😅 (watch video before continuing so you get the gist pls)

SeulYong

"Bitch what's for dinner?"

Seulgi looks up in shock, blinking a few times to make sure she was seeing right that Taeyong just spoke to her in that tone. She couldn't read his face, and just took a few seconds to think how to respond, feeling hurt and confused.

"Are you OK?"

Taeyong blinked at her response. "Yea, why?"

"You... never speak like that. To anyone..."

That was it for Taeyong, who dashed over to her and hugged her, explaining it was a prank to see her reaction, and apologising for making her feel bad. Seulgi eventually laughs it off, but reminds him never to do that, and if he ever was mad about something, to talk to her.

YuJoy

"Bitch what's for dinner?"

Sooyoung looked at Yuta, wondering why those words left his mouth. She wasn't about to tolerate that. Not now, not ever. She turned back to rice cooker and slams it close.

"Rice and stew, its all cooked, serve yourself until you know better."

She was about to walk out of the kitchen when Yuta quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her in for a tight hug, and a quick kiss. He laughed while explaining the prank, only to get a slap on the chest and warning to never do that again.

JohnRene

"Bitch what's for dinner?"

"Excuse me?" Johnny took a step back at Joohyun's immediate response. "Who the fuck do you think you are talking like that?"

Before it escalated any further, he quickly smiled and grabbed her hands apologising while laughing. When learning about the prank, Joohyun laughed in ridicule at how immature and rude it was (even though immaturity was one of his charms she loved).

JaeRi

"Bitch what's for dinner?"

Her face was enough for Jaehyun to quickly hug Yeri. "I'm sorry I'm sorry, I was trying a prank."

"Dumbass, don't do that!"

MarKoeun

"Bitch-"

"Bye." Eun dropped everything and was about to leave before Mark even got through the first word, and he was already grabbing onto her to make sure she wasn't out the main door. After explaining himself, she laughed while simultaneously telling him that's a shit prank to begin with.

extra:

JenoHina

"Bitch what's for dinner?"

Hina dropped everything and looked at him, shocked at his tone and words. "Did I do something wrong? Did someone piss you off?" she asked, her face both hurt and concerned. "Even if I did, don't you think talking like that is too far? That's so mean..."

Jeno ended up in chuckles and explained the prank, and not so much to his surprise, Hina just shook her head and turned back around.

"That's just really wrong."

He smiled and hugged her from behind. "I'm sorry. But if I ever do that to you for real, throw the plate at me."

>>>

just for funsies, hope you enjoyed it😊

[drabbles-mc]

Say It To My Face

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request by @n3ss12​: can I request a smutty fic where Nestor and reader get in a fight and one tells the other to go f*ck themself and ya know you can decide what happens after that

Warnings: language, unprotected sex, choking (sexual), Nestor surviving an argument by the skin of his teeth

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This fic is brought to you in part by half a bottle of my favorite wine lmao. Wine drunk me decided that Nestor likes being choked and tbh??? I love that for him. (Also please friends don’t use sex to avoid arguments. It’s great for fics but terrible for irl relationships lol)

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You’d been giving Nestor the cold shoulder all day, and surprisingly it had actually gotten under his skin a little bit. He was usually good at keeping his cool, but it hit him just a little bit different this time. He’d been distant for a while because of work, both geographically and emotionally, which wasn’t necessarily new, but he wasn’t used to coming home to you being cold and distant as well.

You were always pretty understanding when he couldn’t keep in constant touch with you because of things going on with his job. It was the nature of the beast. However, he always said that if an emergency ever arose that he would be there in a heartbeat, no matter what the circumstances were. And he fell short on that.

“I said that I’m sorry,” he spoke up from the other end of the couch, cutting through the silence of your house.

“And I said that I’m still not done being mad at you.”

“Y/N I—”

“I was in a car accident, Nestor!” you cut him off, shaking your head angrily, “I was in the goddamn ER! I called, I texted, I did everything but send a fucking smoke signal.”

“I had Galindo send—”

He wasn’t going to be getting a word in edge-wise if you could help it. You were too pissed off for that as you stood up off the couch, “But I wanted you! I needed you.”

He stood up as well, turning to face you, “If it had been more serious I would have—”

“I shouldn’t have to be on my deathbed for you to fucking show up. I said that I needed you, and that should’ve been the end of it. Yea I ended up being alright, but fuck, I was scared.”

He recoiled slightly, realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this one. Maybe once you cooled off, but definitely not right now. He shoved his hands into his pockets, “What do you want me to do?”

You looked at him and shook your head, “Nothing. Fucking nothing. You can’t just weasel your way out of this, Nes. I’m fucking mad.”

“Yea, I get that. I see that. That’s why I’m asking wh—”

“I want you to go fuck yourself,” you snapped, not wanting to hear him asking for forgiveness any longer, “Because I’m not in the fucking mood for this right now.”

You turned and started to storm through the house to head to the bedroom that you shared with Nestor, one you were completely set on locking him out of for the night. You only got a few strides away before you heard him mumble something under his breath.

You quickly turned back around to face him, “What?”

His eyes widened slightly, “What?”

“What’d you just say?”

He shook his head, “Nothing.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “C’mon. You got some shit to say? Say it to my face.”

He wasn’t used to you being so confrontational. And while it was frustrating for him, it was also the slightest bit amusing. It wasn’t a side of you he really got to witness very often, lucky for him.

He was biting back a smirk as he cleared his throat and repeated himself, “I said I don’t think that you actually want me to go fuck myself.”

You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for the immaturity, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I swear to god, Nes, sometimes I just wanna fucking—”

“What? You want to what?”

The same way Nestor never saw you get argumentative and snappy, you never really saw it from him either. The attitude caught you off-guard—he’d always been better at keeping his composure than you.

You shook your head, “Forget it. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

You turned back around to continue your walk to the bedroom, but within seconds Nestor was next to you with his hand wrapped around your arm, “Nah. You got some shit to say? Say it to my face.”

The fact that he got such an immediate opportunity to use your own words against you was infuriating. You shook your head, “I just wanna fucking strangle you sometimes,” you snapped.

“Then do it.”

That statement gave you pause, “What?”

“Do it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nestor, I’m not gonna fuckin—”

He slid his hand down so it was wrapped around your wrist. Neither his movements nor his eye contact wavered as he lifted your hand to his neck. You fought him on it at first but you knew it was useless, and part of you was incredibly intrigued.

Your hand looked so small against his throat. You tilted your head slightly, taking in the sight of it. Your eyes traveled back up to his and everything about the look on his face was telling you to go for it. His chest rose and fell, breathing faster in anticipation. You took a second to mentally gear yourself up for it, finally tightening your grip. The second you did, it was like a switch flipped in your brain, and you could see it in Nestor’s eyes that the same thing happened for him.

You pulled him close to you, causing your lips to crash into his in an angry, needy kiss. With no hesitation he scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and walking the two of you to the bedroom without taking his lips off of yours.

He let your feet hit the floor and the two of you pulled apart only to strip yourselves of your clothes. Pieces of clothing were flying in every direction, the buildup of his absence and your fight coming to a head. You kissed him hungrily as you backed him towards the bed, practically pushing him down onto the mattress.

Wasting no time, you threw your leg over him so that you were straddling him. You locked eyes with him as you positioned yourself so he could slide into you. He gripped onto your hips but when he went to pull you down onto him, you braced your hands against his chest, thwarting his efforts.

You shook your head at him, “Let go of me.”

He did as instructed, letting his hands slide down so that they were resting lightly on your thighs, not wanting to completely give up contact. You gave him a slight nod of approval before slowly lowering yourself onto him. The moan that came out of him was like music to your ears, and it reminded you that before you were mad at him, you had missed him. A lot.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath as you let yourself revel in the sensation of having him inside you for the first time in far too long.

You leaned down, pressing your lips hard against his as you started to grind against him. His hands slid up your thighs and hips, landing on your sides. You could feel it in his touch that he was fighting the urge to grip onto you, not wanting to be told to let you go again. The realization made a smile cross your face as you continued to kiss him. Your hand slid up and once again wrapped around his throat. You pulled away from your kiss as you tightened your grip, sucking on his bottom lip.

Nestor had never looked so vulnerable, and you couldn’t deny that you loved it. A small smirk appeared on his face as you tightened your grip a little more. The power trip of it all made your head spin as you continued to ride him.

He reached up and gripped your wrist, and you were about to pull your hand away, thinking that he was going to tell you to stop. But when you went to try and move, he shook his head at you. Your hips came to a stop, brows furrowing as you looked down at him.

“Harder,” he whispered.

That one word was like a shot of straight adrenaline. You let out a breathy laugh as you brought your other hand up to his throat as well, completely enveloping it in your grip. Nestor practically melted into your grasp, his hands resting on the small of your back. His eyes fluttered shut as you simultaneously tightened your grip and picked up your movements once again. Your name fell from his lips in choked gasps, only serving to encourage you to pick up your pace. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, wanting to take in everything about the scene underneath you.

His nails clawed lightly at your back, causing you to moan. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, still not taking your hands away from his throat. You bit down hard on his bottom lip and in response he dug his nails harder into your back with what he could manage of a moan.

You could feel your body beginning to tense up and you knew that you were close. Nestor saw it on your face and with a smug grin he gripped onto your hips and lifted you for a moment before pulling you back down hard, slamming himself into you.

“Fuck,” your grip around his neck tightened but you didn’t want him to stop, “don’t stop.”

His smile grew as he did as you asked. Your legs began to shake and you let go of his neck, hands sliding up to cup his face. You didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath, though, as you instantly pressed your lips to his. You pulled him tight to you, moaning into his mouth as you came.

He wrapped his arms tight around you and with a few final thrusts you felt him release inside you. Your body all but melted into his at the sensation, not letting him take his lips off of yours. Your hands slid up and down his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat underneath your palm. His hand rested on the back of your neck as his lips continued to move needily against yours.

Finally, you pulled away and gave him the first opportunity since you started to catch his breath. You rested your forehead against his chest, and the first thing he did with full access to oxygen was let out a chuckle. His fingertips drummed along your spine as he tried to get his mind and body in order. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of still being inside you. You could feel the slight vibrations in his chest as he tried to fight back another laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you asked as you caught your breath, sitting up so you could look at his face.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath, “Nothing,” he smirked, “Feel better?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “Maybe a little,” you wanted to follow up with another smart comment but instead you lightly traced your fingers along his neck, “You good?”

He nodded, laughing, “I’m great.”

“How long you been thinking about that?” you were genuinely curious.

He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head, “I haven’t been.”

“Just wanted to tell me to put up or shut up?”

“You brought that on yourself,” he smirked.

You smiled, “Maybe,” you paused, “You weren’t worried that I was actually gonna strangle you to death?”

He shrugged, “What a way to go.”

You playfully slapped his chest, “You’re ridiculous.”

He watched you as you traced the outlines of the tattoos on his chest, “I’m sorry,” he gave your sides a light squeeze, “Really sorry.”

You nodded slowly, not looking up from the ink on his chest, “I know.”

“I love you.”

That got you to look up at him. You smiled, your frustrations had faded for the time being, “I love you too,” after a few seconds of silence went by, you let out a laugh, “Who knows what we’ll figure out next time I get royally pissed off at you.”

He laughed, pulling you down so that your chest was against his. He kissed you lightly on the lips, “Hopefully we won’t have to figure that out for a while. You’re scary when you’re mad.”

You chuckled, thumb gliding across his cheekbone, “Keep that in mind next time you wanna do some dumb shit.”

He kissed the tip of your nose, “I will.”

[drakenology]

“he call me throatzillaaa” w/ bakugo, sero and kirishima inspired by “throatzilla” by slayyyter

warnings: cum (like lots of it), d*ck sucking, degrading, cussing, face fucking- just straight nasty head, 69-ing, filthy words, mentions of weed and high sex.

I recommend you listen to the song just to get a feel of the lyrics I used.

minors dni 18+

author’s note: this song came on shuffle and the idea came to mind to write about sucking dick. (one of my many favorite hobbies) Enjoy, besties!

“i know you wanna cover my face in whaaaat?.....”

- b. katsuki

bakugo’s in a testy mood and that could only mean two things

1. He’s horny

2. He’s genuinely pissed about something

more times than most it’s the first reason

so you being the caring s/o you are, you help him out *wink* *wink*

Katsuki sat on the couch scowling at nothing. He had ranted to his pretty baby that everything and everyone was just pissing him off; a telltale sign he needed a release. All that pent up aggression must have been a heavy load to carry so why not let him spill it all over your face? So being the sweet and considerate significant other that you are you happily get on your knees for him, palming at his growing dick through his jeans. Your eyes sink into his as you unzip them, Katsuki stopping midsentence at your boldness. His dick breaks free from the confines of his boxers, springing and slapping against his stomach. Hm. His proud boner stood tall, its bright red head leaking precum serving as further proof the man was just irritatingly horny.

You practically salivate at the sight, taking him into your mouth immediately. Words just took too much time to say. Your need to suck every aggression out of your bratty boyfriend nullified any other thought in mind as you slide your mouth down his length, your tongue stroking the bottom of his cock. Bakugo relaxed in his seat, watching as your pretty mouth take in his whole length. He moans when he feels himself slide into your throat, yanking your hair to bob your head up and down. You start gagging and drooling all over his dick as you pull away. Strings of your spit connect your mouth to his throbbing cock from the separation, your tongue returning and following the trail of his vein up to the head with focused and teary eyes darting into Bakugo.

“So big...” You gasp, taking him into your mouth again, your hands stroking what you can’t fit. Katsuki’s so astounded by the warmth of your mouth and all the slurping that came from it he’s a moaning mess, his head hanging back as he cussed. Your hands twist and pump his blushing cock, your spit making it feel as if he’s inside your tight walls as you work his most sensitive spots with your tongue.

“That’s it baby. Suck my fucking dick. Such a whore.” Katsuki slurred, hissing as you urge him to fuck your mouth again.

You moan around his dick, the vibrations sending shockwaves into Bakugo as he pulled your mouth off of his throbbing cock. He takes his cock into his hand and pumped a few times before erupting all over your face, your mouth open and tongue hanging out as you try and taste him. Hot, sticky globs of his cum drip all over your face much to Bakugo’s delight. You lick your lips and look up at him, eyes teary as you blink them away. Bakugo just stares down at your coated face, kissing your lips to taste himself like the filthy man he is, pulling away with lovesick eyes.

“Shit..... Go upstairs.”

“dirty talk so good it was poetry.”

- s. hanta

hanta sero is a resident “tree” smoker. 💨

so high sex is a must. he gets real horny when he’s stoned with his baby.

there’s no better feeling than smoking a blunt, kicked back watching you struggle to swallow him whole.

sometimes he’ll look at you with those pretty brown eyes all low and hazy and ask oh so nicely for you to suck his dick.

and what kinda s/o would you be to deny your sexy boyfriend the privilege of being sucked off by you?

filthy praise >>>>>>

like his dirty talk game is strong 💪🏽

like his words alone could make you wet mmhm yessir

sero just finished his blunt. you could tell because he reeked of weed and ash, his eyes low and red riddled with lust when he saw you just minding your business in your bedroom. you were reading something, laying on your stomach and swinging your legs all innocent like.

“You smoked without me didn’t you?” You question, looking up from your book to see Sero taking off his shirt. He smirks, noticing your face flush and turn back to your book. Sero walks up to you, crotch standing in your peripheral vision showing off a hefty boner.

“Whatcha gonna do about it, huh?” Sero slurred, swatting your ass to catch your full attention. Whenever Sero got high, he was insatiable in bed. You fondly remember a time you were bonded by his tape, ass up and face buried into the mattress as he fiendishly pounded at your cervix. Throwing your book somewhere, you pull Sero towards you in a heated kiss. Something in you just needed him, needed to feel him in some way or another. Clothes molt away and thrown all over the bed, making out with each other with fervor.

You’re now straddling his face, leaning down and sucking his dick to return the favor simultaneously. Sero’s tongue plays with your clit, slipping into your folds as his hands knead and grab at your plush ass. Your soft moans tingle on his cock, your head bobbing up and down to try and keep up with him.

“Having trouble, baby?” Sero teased, replacing his tongue with two slender fingers so he can talk you through the high he was about to give you.

“Your pussy’s so wet for me. Sucking my cock’s fun, isn’t it babe?” His filthy words cause arousal to resurface, your pussy dripping onto his fingers as he thrusts them inside with a deliberate pace. You’re shaking, unable to focus on sucking his dick from the seering pleasure he was giving you.

He slides his fingers out, wet sounds following as he slid them back in, lips kissing your thighs while he worked you. “Go on baby. Keep sucking my cock... if you can that is.” Sero laughed, bucking his hips up to keep you focused on your task. You gag around him, slurping as he started fucking your mouth and devouring your pussy at the same time. Tears stream down your face as Sero filled you with his tongue and dick, playful hums vibrating against you as he groaned and talked shit once again.

“Mmm.. listen to that pussy. So fucking sloppy. She likes it doesn’t she? Yeah I know she fucking does. This pussy’s mine, ya hear?” Sero moans, his fingers yet again fucking your soft walls so you hear him clearly.

“Face so pretty and my head go dumb like...”

- e. kirishima

eijiro loves you. like that’s not surprise.

and he thinks you’re the prettiest and sweetest thing he’s ever met.

so imagine his shock when he finds out you’re an absolute savant at sucking dick.

the thought of coating your pretty face in his cum just- like he short circuits.

damn like you’re the whole package.. gorgeous and you can suck dick like a pro?? scuse him while he goes and buys the biggest ring in the jewlery store.

“Fuuck, you look so sexy right now.” Eijiro gasps, feeling your warm mouth take him in. Your pretty eyes look up at him as your mouth works his length, slurping and choking on him as you drool all over it. Eijiro takes your head and holds it still to pull himself out of your mouth, holding his cock in one hand and tapping it on your tongue. You happily stick it out further, panting a little from trying to catch your breath.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y/n.” Kirishima lulled, groaning at the sight of your pretty face becoming so lewd. He loved seeing you like this, spit dripping down your chin, skin flushed and eyes teary, your mascara running all over your face.

Eijiro sticks himself inside your mouth again, missing the warm wetness as he fucked your throat. You slack your jaw, sticking out your tongue to take him in. He’s moaning into the air, spewing out his desire to cum all over your face and then bend you over to fuck you for hours with a fistfull of your hair. You moan around his dick, slipping a hand down to play with your pussy shamelessly while keeping that hypnotizing eye contact.

“God you’re so fucking sexy. I bet you’re wet as fuck right now. Mm keep going like this and I’m gonna cum all over that pretty mouth.”

[juniorgman187]

Sleight of Hand (Reid Fic)

Summary: Practical Joker Reader makes the unsuspecting naive Dr. Reid the object of her most recent prank - stealing his ID badge.  Category: Pure Fluff, Drabble, One Shot Pairing: Platonic Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Super brief mentioning of dark nature of job, prank Word Count: 2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Despite what anyone else may believe, or what my resting face may convey, I’m not a mean person. I don’t take pleasure in people’s pain, and I certainly don’t intend to hurt anyone.  

With that being said - I do thoroughly enjoy messing with people from time to time. Which, in my opinion, is a completely different thing than being mean. 

At work, I’m known for pulling harmless pranks. Keyword: harmless. The dark nature that surrounds our job can consume us whole if we let it, and if anyone needs a good laugh here and there, it’s the BAU. Sometimes we all just need reminders that life shouldn’t be taken so seriously, and my silly antics are just the remedy. 

A window of opportunity for my most recent practical joke presented itself when I was packing up to leave for the day. 

Right across my desk was Reid’s and to my right was Derek’s, but at the moment, Reid was parked at the kitchenette, diligently stirring his coffee and copious amounts of sugar packets together while Derek’s head was buried six feet deep in paperwork. I could tell they would both be in for a long night and I didn’t envy them for that. 

“Alright, I’m out!” I announced to them both, but before I could actually get far, Derek stopped me. 

“Wait, (y/n)! Hold up,” He sat up from his chair to reach me with an outstretched arm. “Can you put this back on Reid’s desk?” 

I blinked hard when he tossed an object at me, so only after I caught it did I open my eyes and realize it was just a pen. 

“Wow. Lazy much?” I scoffed, gesturing to Reid’s desk that was less than seven feet away. Derek was probably exerting more effort into stretching out his arm like that to give me the pen as opposed to if he just got off his butt and walked to the desk himself.

“Pleaseee,” He partially begged, causing me to roll my eyes and replace the pen dutifully. As I slipped the pen into its rightful spot in his little cup of writing utensils, something caught my eye.

Lightbulb!

Just sitting there on Spencer’s desk was his badge. It was so carelessly placed in comparison to everything else on the table that had been situated in such a carefully, almost calculated, manner.

I knew Spencer had a habit of taking it off at the end of the day, but it baffled me just how flippantly he treated it. I figured he coveted his badge, but his haphazard placement of it suggested otherwise, while simultaneously showing his humanity to me. He wasn’t so cookie-cutter perfect after all, he could be messy, too.

It was that epiphany that almost made me not want to tamper with it, but it was my own humor that pushed me to do it anyway. 

Maybe it’s time Spencer learned a lesson, rather than being the one to teach it. 

If he was going to just let this thing lie around like it was nothing, then how would he react if it wasn’t there at all? 

I slyly looked up from the badge and to Spencer, whose back was still turned to me in the kitchen and then to Derek, who was too focused on his work to even notice that I was still here. Fully taking advantage of Spencer’s oblivion and the lack of a witness in Derek, I slipped the ID swiftly into my purse. Even if Derek wasn’t the type to be a snitch, it was better that absolutely no one knew.

Less than a millisecond after successfully concealing the badge within my bag, Spencer finally turned around and saw me lingering by his desk.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked with the slightest bit of suspicion in his voice. There was no way he could’ve known what’d I’d just done unless he had eyes at the back of his head, so I stayed calm and collected, relishing in my guaranteed safety.

“Derek wanted me to return your pen,” I explained casually from across the bullpen. I watched as Spencer strolled unhurriedly towards me, and it might’ve been my paranoia that led me to this belief, but I swore I saw his eyes dart to his desk momentarily. However, if he had noticed the absence of his badge, he didn’t say anything. 

“Oh, thanks! Have a good night.” He smiled and waved back to me, showing no indication of mistrust. 

Sucker. 

“You, too!” I said with more zeal than the situation warranted. I was worried that might’ve given me away, but I had timed my escape so perfectly that I was already in the elevator by the time he returned to his desk, giving him no chance to inquire about my uncharacteristic behavior. 

That was a close one. 

When I came in the next morning, Spencer wasn’t there yet. Which was slightly strange given the fact that I was barely on time, so if he came in at any point after my own arrival, Spencer would be considered late for work. Occurrences like that only happen once in a blue moon, and usually, the reason for them are mysterious haircuts or something’s wrong. I hoped for his sake it was the former. 

Now you might consider me an impeccable troublemaker, but I’d first and foremost be rendered outstandingly forgetful. I say this only because I had completely forgotten that I stole Spencer’s badge the night before. But can you blame me? It was stashed away in my purse, hidden to my immediate sight, and the object was so small that it didn’t stick out to me or add an excess of weight in my bag that would serve as an unintentional reminder. It never once crossed my mind, not even when I looked to Derek to ask, “Where’s Reid?”

With a coffee mug in one hand, Derek put his arms out to either side of him and shrugged. Suddenly, the mug precariously shook from the draft created by someone blowing right by him. 

It was Reid.

“Whoa, slow your roll there, Pretty Boy. Almost knocked my coffee over.” Derek reprimanded playfully, clutching on tighter to his precious coffee that almost succumbed to Spencer’s speed when he breezed by.

But rather than apologizing or laughing, Spencer kept on his pursuit. Since the time he got here, his eyes were glued to his desk with determination. Even as he approached his desk, he hadn’t yet acknowledged me or Derek. Instead, he was mumbling to himself while haphazardly sorting through his desk. He was frantic and in disarray, a manner that worried both me and Derek.

“What’s wrong, Reid?” I leaned forward to observe his desk, which by now, was what I had to think was a direct reflection of his brain - completely chaotic. Papers were scattered, books were open to random pages, he even emptied out his well-maintained writing utensil cup. 

“I lost my badge.” He answered with his attention still trained on finding it. Luckily for me, that meant he couldn’t see the sudden smirk that grew on my face as a result of his response. There was no way to hide my entertainment without biting down on my lip to keep it from contorting into a smile or perching my head on my hand and using my knuckles to hide my devilish grin. 

“When’s the last time you had it?” Derek was surprisingly just as concerned as Reid and just as eager to help him find it, even setting down his coffee on his own desk to help Reid sort through his. 

“I always take it off at the end of the day, and I remember setting it on my desk, but I didn’t take it home with me. I don’t recall even leaving here with it, so I must’ve left it somewhere here.” 

At this point, my unbridled enjoyment of this was too much to physically contain, that I actually had to spin my chair a complete 180 degrees just to shield them from the sight of my imminent laughter. 

“(Y/n), do you remember seeing it -” Derek’s voice overpowered my muffled giggles, and when he looked up to ask me that, he would’ve seen my shuddering shoulders from where I was laughing hard, yet noiselessly. I spun my chair back around and looked at him with cool indifference. 

He quickly noted the shade of red I had turned and profiled the situation. But rather than outing me, he followed the instruction of my index finger to my lips and stayed quiet. 

I took his alliance as an opportunity to nonchalantly retrieve the badge from my purse. At a tantalizingly slow pace, I raised it in the air, until it was so high, Reid would be able to see it dangling from my thumb and forefinger. 

“Looking for this?” 

Spencer’s gaze immediately shot upward to look right at the badge, before flashing to me. 

What part of him reacted first, I wasn’t sure. Was it the sigh of relief or the flared nostrils and clenched jaw that came soon after? 

He wasn’t even going to say anything to me before grabbing it from me, that’s how pissed he was. But my quick reflexes lunged me backward at the same moment he reached out to get his badge from me, preventing him from successfully taking it back. I couldn’t believe he actually tried that and thought it would work. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” I wagged my finger left to right to communicate my disapproval. “Not so fast, Pretty Boy. I want something in return.”

He shot me the most deadpan glare. “What do you want?” 

I put my finger to my chin and looked up to coyly think about it, but more so to extend his torture for just a few seconds longer. I could feel him staring a hole into me as he grew more and more impatient. “Well, it’s gotta be something good. I mean, imagine what would’ve happened if this landed in the wrong hands.” 

“Evidently, it did.” He coldly replied. 

“Ouch,” I feigned offense and brought my hand to my chest to clutch my heart with a short gasp. “I’m so hurt,” I said with the biggest pout.

He was not nearly as entertained as I was, and his lack of amusement came in the form of a stoic, “I’ll teach you sleight of hand.” 

My body actually had to reboot at the sound of his proposal. “Wait, are you serious?” I clarified. 

“Yes. It physically pains me every time I watch you try to do it, so I figure it’s better for me if I teach you how to do it properly instead of having to sit through another one of your lousy, pathetic magic tricks.”

I would’ve been offended, but I’d been begging him to teach me sleight of hand for months, so the insults were quickly disregarded by me in case he changed his mind during the time I’d take up being hurt by his cruelty.  

“Deal,” I smirked while handing him his badge back. 

Needless to say, I did teach the good doctor a lesson, but it seems he still hasn’t learned … for why would you teach the biggest practical joker in the office sleight of hand? That only adds to my arsenal of tricks I have up my sleeve to use against my coworkers.

Maybe I should teach Spencer another lesson and see if he learns this time around.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722​ @spencersmagic​ @spencerreid-mgg​ @half-blood-dork​ @goldeng1rl8​ @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms​ 

[camelove]

Quest for Camelove

Paring: Reader x Regret

Rating: T

Warnings: blood, violence, fainting, strong language, implied drinking

Summary: A regular trip to the Tavern sends you off searching for the vision of a soulmate... not your own, but of a random drunkard you’d been forced to sit beside for lack of any free seating.

A/N:  This post was made to serve as inspiration for the Camelove 2021 event which will take place from 8th till 14th of February. For more examples, follow the #Camelove2021 example posts tag! We look forward to seeing what you create for the event!

A writer, an artist and a giffer walk into a bar. 

You’re one of them. 

You’re good at what you do - if you do say so yourself - but recently, inspiration has been running dry. So, as one does when hit by a dry spell, you’re stopping by the Tavern in hopes of drowning your frustrations. 

As you make your way inside, you look around at the sorry bunch of sloshed sods, wrinkling your nose at the claggy smell of sweat and cringing away from a man who collapses against the table in front of you, having just been socked in the nose by one of the other customers. 

You sigh long-sufferingly. To your despair, there’s at least one person crammed into every nook in the damn place. If you want to sit anywhere, you’ll be getting up-close and personal with one of your fellow patrons. 

You weigh up your options - briefly considering just turning around and heading home - but eventually your thirst wins out, and you resolve to suck it up and squeeze yourself into whatever spot seems the least unappealing. You set about ordering a drink and, once armed with two pints of apple juice, you turn to deciding whose company you’re going to subject yourself to. In the end, you pick... 

A - The stooped elder currently engrossed in a book of lizard anatomy

B - The bloody-nosed man at your feet who’s slowly returning to consciousness 

C - The bloody-knuckled person responsible for the man at your feet who’s slowly returning to consciousness

D - The Barkeep who’s wringing out a cloth, looking like they wish it were the neck of their current customer

E - The customer who’s pissing off the Barkeep with inane complaints 

F - The person nursing their wrist after getting thoroughly trounced in an arm-wrestle

G - The person at the dart-board who’s started directing their shots towards the bard in the corner

H - The bard in the corner currently using their lute as a shield while simultaneously warbling about pixies with long, agile tongues

I - The person crying alone in the corner opposite to the bard

J - The person in the other corner currently shoving their tongue-- actually, scratch that, they look busy-- 

K - The cloaked figure at the final corner table who you see surreptitiously swapping a coin for a vial of… something

L - None. You turn on your heel and stalk out, planning to join the horses, only to find that someone has decided to hit the hay right there amongst the muck. They startle and wake as you approach. 

...who, you later find out is: 

A - Old Man Simmons 

B - Julius Borden

C - Balinor 

D - Mary the Barmaid 

E - Dragoon

F - Valiant

G - Elena

H- Gilli

I - Edwin Muirden

J - Tristan and Isolde

K - Will 

L - Tyr

You flop down and pray that for the love of Camelot, your unwanted companion does not decide to get chatty. 

“Hey.” 

You groan and let your head thump against the surface before you. 

“Hey,” they persist, leaning closer. You roll your head to the side in order to send them a scathing glare. They tut sympathetically. “Bad day? I feel you, mate.” 

You wonder to yourself what you’d done to deserve this. 

Your parasite companion keeps talking. 

“Everything’s just a bit much, lately,” they sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m not going crazy, you know?” ‘Oh, really?’ you want to snark back, but you keep your lips zipped in hopes that they’ll take a hint. 

They don’t. 

“I mean, it’s not every day a dragon says you have a soulmate.” They whistle lowly. “I mean - a soulmate. Can you imagine?” 

You can’t, actually. Mostly because you wonder who could stand the company of such a blabbering prat. If the dragon had told them they knew where they’d meet their doom, you’d have gladly taken up the role yourself. 

“Well,” they continue, oblivious to your plotting of their demise. “He didn’t say soulmate, exactly. He said “Destiny”, though I figure that’s basically the same thing. Still - I could meet the person meant to complete me - the apple of my eye, the other side of my coin, the courage to my strength…” 

You roll your eyes and hit them with a deadpan expression. 

“Bully for you.” Their eyes widen. 

“Oh, I hope not,” they say, sounding worried, “I wouldn’t want my soulmate to be an ass.” 

‘Why the hell not?’ you brood, ‘you’d be a matching set.’

They sigh from beside you, a melancholy look overtaking their features. 

“Wish I could go after them myself, but I’ve just… y’know. Got too much stuff on my plate to go tracking down some hidden stranger.” 

‘But you have ample time to talk one’s ear off? Glad to see you have your priorities in order.’ 

They’re twiddling their thumbs nervously. Their eyes keep flicking towards your face and away again. You purse your lips tighter. “Though... I know it’s not like I’m the only one who has a job to do. I’ll happily compensate, mind.” 

You take a sip of your juice. You look over at them. You sigh. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

They perk up immediately at the sight of your attention. 

“I know you,” they blurt. You edge away slightly. “Not in - not in a creepy way. I just follow you.” You edge away another few inches.  “I mean- wait. The stuff you post out, I scroll past it, sometimes. I always like it.” 

“You mean ‘stroll’.” 

“I said that, yeah.” 

Despite yourself, you’re flattered. You put a lot of effort and pride into your work, and it’s always pleasant to hear that someone appreciates it. You grunt out a thanks. 

“I just mean-” they’re fidgeting again, and you wonder what has them so worked up. Clearly, they’re sitting on a question, and it’s just when they’re beginning to get a constipated colour to their cheeks that you sigh, heavily. 

“Just ask.”

“How much d’you want? To - uh - find my soulmate?” 

A shocked silence, before- 

“What?” 

“How much d’you want? A hundred? Two hundred? Mind you, I’m talking copper, I haven’t got a lot on me right now-” 

“Why-” you interrupt, wild with disbelief, “in Albion’s name would I want to go and find your Soulmate?” 

“Er…” They scratch at their head. “You mean you don’t know?” 

“Know what?” 

“What the dragon said.” 

“What did the dragon say?” 

“It said that- well…” They shuffle awkwardly. “He said that I just had to wait and… help would come to me. And I waited. And you came to me.” 

You stare. They wince. “He, uh... he said it was Destiny?”

You continue to stare. 

“Why me?”

“Well... I’m not... entirely sure.” They cough into their fist, avoiding your eyes. Then they perk up. “But you’ve done a lot of work for couples in the past, right? Put ‘em together in those lovely pieces of yours.”

You grit your teeth, grinding them together. 

“I create fanworks of them,” you hiss, “I don’t- play their bloody matchmaker, and I certainly don’t go gallivanting across the five kingdoms to do so, either.” 

“You wouldn’t have to go through all five kingdoms,” they have the audacity to say, as though that’ll soothe your ire, “only, like, two. Camelot and Mercia.” They deflate slightly at your unimpressed glare. “C’mon,” they whine, “You’re so skilled. I’m sure you could pull something off.” 

You continue to glare. You pin them with it until they squirm and flush, looking down. With a sigh, you turn away and stare into your juice. You drink. Slam the pint glass down, sharp. 

“I’ll go collect your damn damsel.”  

Their eyes light up. 

“You will?” they gush. “Cailleach below, if I didn’t have a Soulmate, I’d ask you to marry me.” 

You grimace. 

“Please don’t.” 

They babble out a recount of the cryptic information the dragon had given them. You nod here and there, mostly letting their words fly over your head, only taking a mental note of the stuff that might be of use. You’ll face many difficult decisions. Light will come to your aid. Take a note of any numbers you choose along the way. At the end of it, you’ll find a vision of the one you’re searching for. 

It’s more for yourself than them that you’re doing this, you say to yourself. Who knows; this trip might be the spark you need to fire up your creativity. Besides, you’ve been cooped up inside long enough. It’s high time you got out a bit. 

That’s how, half an hour and a few more pints of apple-flavoured drinks later, you’re picking thorns from your person after having fallen into a bush in the middle of the woods, and you find yourself faced with a fork in the path. One prong takes you through the forest. The other, through caves.

As you mull over which path you should take, you wonder what kind of person this elusive Soulmate will be. 

Will this pairing be sweet? Or will it be a bit more… unsavory? 

Once you've gone through and collected the numbers, click here

[dudeandduchess]

Sanemi x F!S/O: Slow Burn (Modern AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: Sanemi wants to get married immediately for personal reasons, and it just so happened that a feisty woman at a restaurant caught his eye. Little did he know that she was going to be his future boss— and even knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to pursue her. Cue (Y/n), whose siblings are all meddlesome and bratty; enough to tell their father that she had a boyfriend, just for laughs. Not wanting to disappoint him with the thought of her living the rest of her life by herself, she sets out to find the perfect fake boyfriend. Note: This was written waaaay back in 2017, but it never saw the light of day. But I rewrote it for Sanemi, and here it is now. This is only the first part, since i initially planned it to be a three-part fic. But, enjoy, bbys. Hopefully I get to writing part 2 soon. It really depends on your feedback. Haha. Words: 6,252

Warnings: This is more OC-insert than reader-insert. Weird kitchen terms will fly. Which is why I want to scrap the idea altogether, but not without sharing it first.

***

Being away from home was always hard; not only did the person that was away miss the people closest to them, but also felt like they were wedging a gap between themselves and all of their loved ones as time went by. The longer someone was away from home, the bigger the gap grew, and the clearer it was to them that life moved on without them in the picture.

It hurt— of course it did— because it felt like everyone that that person left behind had forgotten about them, like they had become insignificant. But life did go on, even for those who had been the ones to leave— still, that didn’t erase their longing for days long past when their world seemed a much smaller, and marginally simpler place.

Almost nine years had passed since (L/n) (Y/n) moved away from her home to pursue her dreams. She wasn’t going to sugar-coat her story and tell people that she struggled financially while studying at Les Roche International in Switzerland for her Bachelor’s Degree in Hospitality Management, nor was she going to lie and say that she got into the New York campus of the Culinary Institute of America after so many setbacks.

She had been, however, downplaying her lifestyle after getting her associate degree for culinary arts at CIA. It was like she was leading a double life that the friends she made, while flitting from kitchen to kitchen, didn’t know about.

At 25, she had moved to Tokyo by herself to work at the city with the most Michelin Stars in the world; and now that she was at the cusp of turning 27, she was still in the same city, and the same restaurant, with the same one Michelin Star award— but she was a chef de partie now, which just meant more work for her.

Her one-year experience spent working in America after culinary school was a walk in the park compared to working for her current restaurant— well, three restaurants, if one were to be technical about things. Back at her old kitchen in the west, there was a full staff— and a very low employee turnover rate; in fact, it was rare to have people quit back there.

But her current place was— most possibly— worse than what everyone imagined when they heard the term ‘hell on Earth’. It was so bad that it was a regular sight to see people on the line quit on the spot, once they were so deep in the shits during service. She could have always left along with the others before her, but she found a perverse sense of joy from surviving in such a toxic workplace.

Not to mention the fact that she got to rub elbows with some of the best chefs from all over the world, when they came in as guests for one of the three restaurants.

The breakdown of the restaurants was the fine dining restaurant (where the Michelin Star was awarded), a gastropub, and a sub-kitchen for the events that they catered— as well as for those guest chefs that came in once a month for an entire week. The restaurant was huge— spanning 14,500 square feet, as well as a having a basement level where all the nitty gritty parts of the kitchen were.

When she first started there, she felt so exposed in the expansive open kitchen, that allowed the guests in the gastropub to see the hot line in the kitchen; while the pastry and garde manger stations were tucked away behind the wall, that separated the kitchen from the fine dining restaurant.

She couldn’t find a perfect way to describe the layout because it was just that big but, basically, the fine dining restaurant was tucked away from all the commotion— and people had to pass through a tunnel of sorts to get there.

While the gastropub housed both an open bar and the open kitchen, the event spaces as well as the sub-kitchen were hidden away at a loft-type space. It was so confusing to get around at first, but she eventually got used to it.

And now here she was, enjoying the last five minutes of peace of her supposed lunch break standing at the sauté station— her new station— and staring at the 22-quart Cambro filled with freshly-made Mornay, that she had almost shouted at one of the sous chefs about.

She was just lucky that she came in three (unpaid) hours early for work, because she wanted to get ahead on her prep; so she had enough time to squeeze in making the mornay with the other hundred things she had to do.

With such a big kitchen and a lack of people, everyone ended up stealing each other’s prep— whether it was for a VIP, or a party, or basically whatever that needed to be made. As long as it was in the walk-in fridge, it was fair game.

She was just happy to finally have been taken out of garde manger because— even if the station was meant for two people since it was prep-heavy (four if you count the two other people needed to take care of the parties)— she had been stuck working it by herself for the past five months.

“(Y/n), did you go on break yet?” The executive sous chef yelled from the pass— which was basically the area where their executive chef stood and expedited food during service; and just behind the pass was the stairs leading down to the basement floor. They also had an elevator, which was extremely helpful… when it wasn’t out of service.

“I am on break, chef,” the (h/c) haired girl answered with a laugh— when she just wanted to punch the guy square in the face, since he was the one who had used up the 14 quarts of Mornay that she had in the upstairs walk-in fridge yesterday.

“You know you shouldn’t be working, right?” The man asked her with a sardonic tilt of his head, that made (Y/n) want to scream. Just because he was higher up in the ranks than her made him think that he was the shit when, in fact, he was just shit— shit at his job, and shit as a person.

I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. She repeated her age-old mantra in her head, and then answered, “I know, chef. I’m-” the apology was about to slip from her lips when she caught it. “It won’t happen again, chef.”

“Make sure it doesn’t.” One of the banes of her existence called out before going down the stairs.

“Oui, chef!” (Y/n) cried, gritting her teeth afterwards, so she could hold back the snarky comeback that was threatening to spill from her lips. Really, she loved her job, but it was pricks like that who stressed her out.

And so, she took a deep breath and exhaled it in one strong gust— refocusing her mind so that she would be ready for the five parties up in the lofts, as well as the 250 covers that they had in the fine dining restaurant.

*** 

“Fire trio!” The executive chef, a 37-year old man from Florida (that used to be fit when he first arrived at the restaurant a year ago), called out from the pass— marking the ticket in his hand and tucking it into the slider bar mounted to the steel shelf that was mounted to the ceiling.

Everyone called out a loud chorus of ‘Oui’ in response.

Trios were there appetizer, and those got sent to the table before anything else, so it was synonymous with ‘another table just sat down’.

(Y/n) kept on making the orders that she had on her board, often moving from her stove to the Josper oven to put sauté pans with food inside. She was running out of burners on the stove, and it was starting to piss her off.

From behind her, the ticket machine whirred to life and started printing out an extremely long ticket. She internally groaned, before picking up one of the sauté pans on her stove and giving the mushrooms in it a little toss.

And all of that was happening while she had another ticket in her hand— memorizing all of her items on it.

“Order in! Four soup, two kale salads on the fly!” Whoever was serving the table on this ticket must have hated her, because she was already in the shits without any orders of their version of vichyssoise. But they just had to recommend the fucking thing now.

“Oui, chef! Four soup on the fly! Give me three minutes, chef!” (Y/n) yelled in a gruff voice— letting her frustration out in a non-hostile manner as she practically threw the pan of mushrooms in her hand, into the Josper behind her to cook them further.

Her brain was buzzing with so many things that she had to remember— the mushrooms in the Josper, the pan of broccolini she put in before the mushrooms, the truffle gnocchi that she still had to make in the next five minutes, and all of the other dishes from her station that needed to be up for the next table.

Sometimes even she amazed herself when she managed to finish a busy night, without getting yelled at even once.

“171 up at 15,” the executive chef yelled once more, and (Y/n) clicked her tongue as she hurriedly heated up the soup, while simultaneously plating her orders on that ticket— since it was already 7:14, so she had only a minute to get that done.

“Where’s my soup!? How long here, chef?”

“One minute, chef!” Her head was pounding with so much stress, but she pushed through it by taking all the food she had for table 171, and parked them beneath the heat lamps at the pass— calling out ‘hot, behind’ frantically at almost the top of her lungs.

“Fuck my life.” (Y/n) grumbled under her breath, as she plated up the dry components for the soup. She then grabbed her quenelle spoon from its secluded bain to make rochers of whipped crème fraîche. And once those were done, she poured the soup into four tiny, ceramic pitchers, before putting everything up at the pass. “Soup at the window, chef!”

No answer came, which was normal, so the (h/c) haired girl kept on cooking whatever was printed out on the new tickets that came in. It wasn’t until she picked up one of the pans on her stove that she froze.

She wanted to scream and let go of the pan because she had forgotten that she had just taken it out from the Josper, yet she couldn’t let it go, because it was filled with the truffle gnocchi. So, she slammed it down on the steel countertop beside her before she waved her right hand around.

There was a nice, clear burn mark where the piping hot steel handle had touched her skin, and she clicked her tongue as she resumed working; trying to ignore the pain as she put up ticket after ticket.

***

Shinazugawa Sanemi had been watching her all night from his table, that was a mere few feet away from where she was working.

The moment that he sat down and turned to watch the show inside the kitchen, his gaze instantly gravitated towards her. She didn’t stick out because she was a woman, no, he was used to seeing women not being forced into gender roles now— but she stuck out because of the way that she moved in there. She held herself with so much poise and grace, that it looked like she was gliding across the floor at times, all while yelling in a brusque tone.

He took a sip of his beer and licked his lips— eyes never leaving her. It was so obvious that she was getting overwhelmed with the influx of orders bombarding her every second, but he was impressed with the way she handled all of that pressure with a mere furrow of her brows here and there; until she burned her hand.

Sanemi expected her to stop the show to ask for help, and he chuckled in mild disbelief when she merely shook her right hand, before picking up where she had left off.  It was as if nothing had happened.

That woman was really something, and his curiosity was piqued.

Sanemi had to admit that he had been lacking female company as of late, because of four things; namely:

He had gotten tired of sleeping with his flings, because they always expected more than one night.

No woman had a personality that kept him interested for longer than a week, as every single one of them had a heart like a marshmallow— too soft and sweet.

No one could put up with his abrasive personality, and most importantly…

He wanted to get married. The sooner, the better.

Part of his desire to get married was because his younger brother, Genya, was already engaged and getting married next year— so he wanted to get another thing over his brother. He had been taught better than to think of a life commitment as a means for a competition, but he simply didn’t care: he wanted to have what his brother always said was unparalleled happiness.

But the more pressing issue was that… he was starting to feel lonely. He didn’t make a habit of getting jealous, but he found himself going green with envy whenever his married staff— both from his previous company and the new one— mentioned even the simplest night with their respective wives. He wanted that for himself as well.

Hell, he was prepared to pay any amount to any woman that could keep up with him, just so she would marry him. But maybe he was doomed to stay single forever— he didn’t know.

So, there he was— out drinking beer by his lonesome self on a Thursday night, because he didn’t want to be alone in his apartment.

He had thought that it was too small for his taste at first but, as time went by, he realized that it felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. After the party was done and all the bottles of alcohol were picked up, he was always left with a cold feeling of emptiness weighing him down.

“Would you like another pint, sir?” One of the waiters asked Sanemi as they were passing by. He didn’t even realize that he’d finished the whole glass.

The silver-haired man shook his head even though he wanted nothing more than to get plastered, so he could just amble home and instantly fall asleep on his bed. “No, thanks. But… could you get me a menu?”

It didn’t take long for the waiter to get back to him with a menu booklet in hand. He briefly thanked the man and browsed through the pages; lifting his eyes up to the (h/c) haired woman every once in a while. Based on what he had observed, the dishes that she was making wasn’t on this menu, so he flagged down another waiter.

“Are you ready to order, sir?”

“I was wondering if I could order some soup to start?” Sanemi asked in a no-nonsense manner, that he hoped would let him order something that clearly wasn’t on the menu for that part of the restaurant.

The waiter cast a glance over at the kitchen, and seemed to hesitate before nodding. “Of course, sir. Our soup is our chef’s version of a vichyssoise-” The young man drowned his voice out then, only half listening as is gaze flitted back to the woman. “Do you have any allergies or specifications?”

“No, no allergies.”

“Would you like anything else to go with your soup? A steak, perhaps? Or our truffle gnocchi; it’s one of our best sellers.”

He vaguely remembered her using truffles, so he found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t even matter to him that he had no clue what gnocchi was. “Sure. And I’d like to send a glass of red wine to one of the chefs— the finest you have.”

Again, he didn’t know a lick about wines or any of the fancy food that they served. And since he was more of a beer and anything-with-rice kind of guy, who was trying to get her attention, he had to play it up. He did have the money for it, so why not?

“Very well, sir. To which of the chefs would you like me to give your present to?” The waiter asked graciously, and Sanemi pointed over to where the woman was still working.

“To her.”

“Oh, I… uh…” the guy stuttered uncomfortably, hesitating a bit as Sanemi raised his eyebrows at him. “Yes, sir. I’ll give it to (Y/n); may I tell her who it’s from?”

“No. Just tell her that it’s from a new admirer— and that she should get that hand checked.”

***

“Chef, I have tomorrow and the next two days off, okay?” (Y/n) chirped as she popped her head into the chefs’ office, only to see the higher ups filing last minute orders and double-checking inventories for the night. It was always like that every night after service; everyone on the line would clean up in the kitchen— consolidating their mise and storing them in the upstairs walk-in chiller— before scrubbing everything down and doing their own little tasks for their stations.

“Why?” The executive chef asked, turning his chair so that he was facing her. “When did you ask me to give you that off?”

“Two weeks ago, chef. Remember?” She rolled her eyes with a sigh, which she never would have gotten away with during service. But after she was off the clock was a very different story. “I even wrote it down on a blue sticky note— right there!”

The man laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Have fun doing whatever it is that you’re going to do.”

“I wish I could, but I know that it’s going to be boring as fuck.”

“You can always work.” He offered with a grin.

(Y/n) laughed and shook her head. “Nice try, chef. But no. My attendance is a must at this family thing.”

“You’re going home to Osaka?” The sous-chef asked, turning his chair as well, so that he could look at the (h/c) haired girl standing in the doorway.

“No. If only Chef Jason would let me have a week off, right, chef?” She turned to the executive chef— Jason— with an innocent grin. “But alas, he’s going to miss me too much.”

“Your station’s going to crash and burn without you,” Jason griped with a huff.

“You’ll manage, chef. It’s only three days. But please don’t burn through all of my prep. I already stocked up on the things I could stock up on, and the rest of the gnocchi is in the freezer. I also finished doing my prep list. So, I’ll be going now! Bye, chefs!” With a wave, (Y/n) hightailed it out of there before they could tell her to get a jacket on and help them with party prep for tomorrow.

Like hell she was going to let that happen again. Fool her once, shame on her; but fool her twice… then she was dumb as fuck.

Once she made it out of the restaurant, she slowly made her way up the street— thinking about whether she should call an Uber to drive her to her condominium building. It was only three blocks away, but her feet were already killing her.

In the end, she took out her phone and sat down at the nearest bus stop to wait for her ride.

She looked down at her hands under the dim light above her, sighing heavily as she took note of how her cuts and burns stood out starkly against her skin. What once used to be unmarred and flawless— the envy of her friends back in high school— were so different now. Ugly as fuck for everyone else, but for her… “It gives me more character.”

A quiet laugh escaped her lips at that, and she heaved another sigh when she was reminded of what she had to face tomorrow at Nanafumi’s 50th anniversary party. Had it been any of the other companies in the long string of companies under her family’s ownership, she wouldn’t have even bothered to show her face, but since it was her family’s flagship company in Japan, attendance was a must.

Nanafumi was the crowning glory of her father’s empire— and it was the closest to his heart, because it had always been his late wife’s dream to become a big player in the Japanese market. Fifty years later, and the company that she had helped build was still one of the biggest players in the business world.

Along with the news of how the upcoming anniversary was going to be extremely fancy, there were so many talks going around that (Y/n) was the one who was going to be taking over the company. Since it was a food manufacturing company, many people thought that it made sense for her to take over.

But she didn’t want to take over the company; not because she was being rebellious, but because she wasn’t born with her father’s business acumen or her mother’s sharp business mind. Her sharp tongue, yes, but her mind… not so much.

Hell, there were six other siblings of hers to choose from, and all of them were just as qualified as she was to run Nanafumi. She could run it, but she would be running it into the ground.

(Y/n) was shaken from her reverie when a car pulled up in front of her. She checked the plates, and once she confirmed that it was her Uber, she hopped in for the quick trip to her building.

Suffice to say, her living quarters were… more than adequate for one person to live in. It used to be where she and her family lived when they spent month-long vacations in Tokyo, and her dad had given it to her as a present… along with the building itself.

She didn’t want to accept it at first, but she was a reasonable person. Not only was the unit already fully-paid for (which meant no rent to think of), but she also used the profits from the building itself (from the commercial spaces on the first three floors, to the monthly rent that some residential tenants paid) to pay for her own expenses.

She was basically set for life, but she didn’t want to just sit back and be a bum for the rest of her existence. Her mother had raised her better than that.

Even though both of her parents came from old money, they were pretty decent people. They didn’t look down on others, and made her and her siblings know the value of working hard for something you were passionate about. She liked to believe that all seven of them turned out to be well-rounded individuals.

And they were. If only her four older brothers and two younger sisters weren’t batshit crazy.

If she were to be honest, her family was like a pack of wild animals when all of them managed to get together. Everyone was so rowdy (sometimes even herself), but all of that was due to their closeness with each other; not because they fought or anything like that.

Yes, they did fight, but that was only when a good number of them were drunk as fuck.

She was just about ready to collapse when she managed to enter her place, swinging the door shut behind her, as she kicked her kitchen clogs off in the foyer. With a sigh, she walked towards her phone and pressed the button to hear all of her messages.

In this day and age, only her family would still use landline phones, and leave messages on answering machines.

“(Y/n), don’t forget the party tomorrow. It’s at seven.” Her father’s deep voice rang in the cavernous living area, making her smile as he spoke in their native Kansai dialect. “And bring your boyfriend with you— Miko told me that you got one over there? Is he husband material? (Y/n), you’re already 27, it’s time you got married and had kids.”

A loud groan escaped (Y/n)’s lips, as she pressed stop on the machine. She was going to kill Miko— her youngest sister— tomorrow. But tonight, it was time to eat something for her first meal of the day, get showered to get rid of the horrendous kitchen smell, and then get some much-needed sleep.

There was a stigma about people who worked in a kitchen: that they always had time to eat because they had access to so much food, but that was a laughable rumor.

They didn’t even have time to breathe, because they were always so busy doing their prep for the day. The most that she could eat on busy days was a French fry, or maybe a piece of raw tuna, but that was it.

And there was that time, about two weeks ago, that she got a glass of wine in the middle of service. The waiter didn’t say who it was from exactly, only that it was from an admirer— someone that knew about her burning her hand.

It was weird, not to mention creepy, but she took the glass with fervor and raised it up to the dining room— thanking whomever had sent her the alcohol, before downing it.

It certainly wasn’t her most refined moment, but she needed alcohol in her system at that time— and that more than did the trick for her. She had a slight buzz going, which emptied her mind and made her work more efficiently, so whomever it was that sent her that glass of wine had saved her from losing her sanity that day.

The wine kept coming every other day or so for a whole week, until it just stopped. She was bummed at first— because hey, it was free alcohol— until she had almost completely forgotten about it; until that moment.

She grabbed a pack of instant ramen from her cupboard stash, and promptly set out to make it.

Another misconception about chefs was that they always ate the best kinds of food— even at home, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Most chefs— especially those who worked full time in a restaurant— ate junk when they got home. The quicker it cooked, the better.

So all those last-minute aglio olio dreams, that some people imagined that chefs ate at home were just those: dreams.

The irony wasn’t lost on (Y/n), though. She spent her days making some of the best and most expensive food for people, but she always ate like a broke college student at home. Hell, broke college students even had time to order pizza— and she could have done that, if she didn’t get out of work at 11 or 12 at night.

Still, she loved what she did. After all, she also had a little of the crazy gene in her.

 ***

Dresses weren’t really high up on (Y/n)’s list of things that she liked to wear. Not anymore, anyway.

When she was in university, she loved dressing up and putting so much effort into her make up, but when she entered culinary school (where everything that wasn’t an ingredient was a food safety hazard) she let go of all the make-up, and the dresses, as well as the high heels that went with them.

There was one thing that culinary school helped her with, though: her confidence. When before, she had a hard time talking to people and had to force herself to be sociable at parties; after culinary school, she was so used to being the center of attention, because some of her mentors had a knack for yelling at their students in front of the entire class.

Hell, in the restaurant industry, people tended to treat everyone like shit— so she had basically been through a few mortifying situations that toughened her up enough to be somewhat shameless.

A downside to being toughened up by the kitchen was the potty mouth that came with the territory, though. And so, it took quite some effort for (Y/n) to keep herself from slipping a few casual ‘fuck’s, ‘damn’s, ‘shit’s, and a few other choice words into regular conversation, like she was adding salt to a bland dish.

“(Y/n)!” Her second-oldest brothers— twins— chorused as she entered the expansive events hall.

“Hello, motherfuckers,” (Y/n) greeted with a grin, which made a few heads turn to look at her, because of her language. Frankly, she couldn’t care less. She then hugged her brothers tightly and kissed their cheeks. “I haven’t seen you two in forever. How’s life in sunny Australia?”

“Really hot,” Yoshio, the older one of the twins, answered— fanning himself with his hand to emphasize his point.

“Lots of kangaroos,” Ren, the younger one of the two, piped up with a laugh. “Some even find their way on campus.”

“And you didn’t bring one for me? What kind of brothers are you?” (Y/n) asked with a chortle, before making eye contact with Yoshio. He hadn’t been trying to be discreet with his perusal of the faint scars that littered the backs of her hands.

With a brief shake of his head at his twin, Ren vocalized his thoughts, “It’s part of her job, bro. And haven’t you gotten used to seeing them on her already?”

Yoshio didn’t even have time to answer, because he was suddenly tackled in a hug from behind. The same happened to Ren, and (Y/n) just about laughed, only to be cut off when a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her in a bear hug.

“Akio-nii!” (Y/n) managed to breathe past her lips, and her older brother set her down once more. She whirled around to face him, and was about to hit his chest with the back of her hand, when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head.

Out of all her siblings, she had to admit that she had always been the closest to Akio. They were the closest in age, but that played very little with their closeness. When their mother died a few years after Miko was born, Akio was the one who had doted on her. It was as if herself and her siblings had become self-sufficient once the matriarch of the house was gone.

The twins took care of Miko and Chiasa— which explained why the girls were clinging on to each of their brothers tightly. And while Akio took care of her, their eldest sibling— Masaru— served as their father figure, as their actual father was almost always away on business.

In line of birth order, it was Masaru, Akio, Yoshio and Ren, then her, which was followed by Chiasa, and last came Miko.

People were starting to stare at their sizeable group, but they paid the prying gazes no mind as they all caught up with each other’s lives.

“Where’s your boyfriend, (Y/n)-nee?” Chiasa asked aloud. Her curiosity wasn’t even veiled with any sort of pleasantry. It was plain as day that her younger sister wanted to meet this nonexistent boyfriend that Miko had been talking about.

“Boyfriend? There’s no such person?” (Y/n) answered with a glare at Miko. Her sister frantically shook her head and raised her hands up in mock surrender.

“It wasn’t me. It was Ren-nii that told me about it.” Miko replied in her defense.

All five pairs of eyes swiveled over to the man in question, who only balked before shaking his head. “It was otō-san. He told me you had a boyfriend.”

“But he left a message telling me that it was Miko who told him.” (Y/n) quirked her eyebrows at her sister, and then added, “Miko, tell the truth.”

“It really wasn’t me. I swear!” The youngest (L/n) pleaded earnestly, which made (Y/n) sigh and shake her head in mild irritation.

“(Y/n), there you are.” Masaru’s familiar voice rang out over the din of voices inside the ballroom. And all six of his siblings turned to look at him, as he crossed the room with an envelope in his hand. “Dad wants you to deliver the speech. Just read this. Come on, the program’s already starting.”

Her eldest brother didn’t give her much of a choice after that, as he took her by the wrist and dragged her over to where a stage was set up. She couldn’t even look over her shoulder to see their other siblings’ expressions, since she was too busy trying not to do a face plant on the floor.

It didn’t take long for her and Masaru to reach the side of the stage, where a lady in a pantsuit was waiting rather impatiently. She looked a bit frazzled already, so she didn’t want to add anymore to her stress. She knew what being under so much stress felt like, and she wasn’t going to be the reason why someone had a breakdown.

“I just need to read this, right?” (Y/n) snatched the envelope out of her brother’s hand.

“Yeah,” Masaru answered with a slight smile. He then wrapped his arms around his sister and pressed a kiss to the top of her head; which was an easy feat considering how tall he was. “Dad would do it, but he’s running a bit late. He said that he wants you to do it.”

That just sounded off to (Y/n), but she remained quiet. Now wasn’t the time for protests about taking over the company, or anything like that. If that wasn’t heavy implication coming from her father, then she didn’t know what was.

And with that, the lady with them explained her cues, before practically pushing her up the side stairs of the stage. She listened attentively to the host as he went on about useless drivel concerning the party, and then some of her background information, before finally introducing her to the crowd.

Gingerly, she made her way to the podium that was set up to the right side of the stage, and smiled at the crowd. She couldn’t exactly pick out who to smile at, since the spotlight practically blinded her, but she didn’t dwell on that fact as she opened the envelope and read through the speech that was written inside.

“What the fuck is this?” She whispered to herself, as she quickly skimmed through the contents of the speech. It sounded so impersonal and generic, even to her.

So, with a suppressed sigh of irritation, she folded the speech up and set it down on the podium. She reckoned that anything that came from her mouth would sound more sincere and personal than the drivel that was written in that letter.

“Good evening, everyone. It’s nice to see all of you celebrating with my family and I tonight,” (Y/n) began hesitantly, but eventually gathered up the courage to push through with her sudden change of plans. She just had to remember not to curse, and she would be good. “As all of you may know, Nanafumi was my parents’ dream fifty years ago. It used to be called Mochifumi, as my mother loved mochi very much. But it was changed around nineteen years ago, after my youngest sister was born. That made seven of us, hence Nana in the name, and Fumi— as in Fumiko, our mother.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/n) saw her father enter through a side entrance by the stage. He even had the gall to grin and offer her two thumbs up, which made her chuckle and shake her head. Her old man had always been a sly one.

He had planned this; down to the shitty, pre-written speech.

***

To say that that speech had taken a lot out of (Y/n) would be the understatement of the century. She felt as if most of her energy was sapped the moment she got off that goddamned stage. And one measly glass of champagne wasn’t going to cut it; which was why she was already on her third one when he came up to her.

“That speech was quite something,” Sanemi hadn’t meant for his words to come out as mocking, but they had, and he already wanted to slap himself. Initially, he was surprised to find out that the lady that he had been so hard-up for at that restaurant was his boss’ boss’ boss’ daughter; but he had gotten over that initial shock and had carefully crafted a plan to get her to go home with him.

Or maybe even make out with him in a supply closet somewhere. Anything to get her to think about him enough to make her interested.

“Thank you, but… do I know you?”

Sanemi had to admit that the comment stung, but he wasn’t going to let that deter him from getting the (h/c) haired woman where he wanted her; preferably in his bed.

[fandom-necromancer]

1151+1153. “Shut up and kiss me.” “Stay with me forever.”

This was prompted by the awesome @anxiousmessofaperson! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: mentioning of severe injury, temporary character death (both for an android))

An android’s processor was always active. Always running millions of tasks, calculating and pre-constructing. And the processor of an RK900 was the most advanced ever created. That allowed him to analyse their planned tactic for today’s mission over and over again, thinking of all possible outcomes and complications, and simultaneously preparing his partner a coffee. He gladly helped the human and would likely do anything for him. Unfortunately, Gavin Reed had only ever asked for a coffee. Nines had joined forces with Tina for that reason, but even his best friend wasn’t able to have a serious talk with him. Still, they would not back down. If Nines could be anything then persistent.

He continued to let two sugar cubes fall into the thermos and started stirring. He should get back to them, but he decided to linger as he overheard Gavin and Tina speak to each other. Apparently, he had taken too long for the human and he had decided to pass the time with a chat. ‘Did you ever think of dating an android?’, Tina asked, and Nines immediately had his hearing amplified. ‘Hah! Why are you asking?’ Of course, Gavin would evade the question and laugh it off. ‘Found someone?’ ‘Maybe.’ Nines could practically hear her smile. He knew a specific receptionist had caught Tina’s eye. But that was their secret. ‘But don’t you chicken out now. Would you?’ ‘Pff… You know, I would have given a clear no just a few months ago. But with the revolution and all… Maybe? I don’t know, I would have to know one for that first, I guess.’ ‘Hmm… You know Connor?’ ‘Are you shitting me? Plastic Detective sent by my brother’s phcking empire? Hell no. Never. I mean, he looks alright and all that but… Hey, I would also have a buy one get two deal going whatever his relationship with Hank is. And… no, I’m a disaster myself, I don’t need another one.’ ‘What’s with Nines then? You know him, too. And he basically has the looks of Connor but sharper.’

Needless to say, the coffee was forgotten by now.

‘Nines?’ It stayed quiet for some time. The laughter: ‘Come on Tina! That’s Nines.’ ‘And?’ ‘Have you seen the tin-can? He’s all cold calculation and his missions. Hadn’t I known him pre-deviation, I would have said the thing’s still a machine.’ ‘He has a lot of emotions, Gavin and you know it.’ ‘Yeah, anger and fury and an overall sense of not-my-phcking-problem. That’s not emotions, Tina, that’s a defence mechanism. It’s not like he could feel anything that is nice, it’s not like he could be earnestly passionate. And it’s not his fault, I mean, he wasn’t built for that. But I need someone who, you know, wants to be with me because of these feelings, not because it’s what I want.’ ‘I think he likes you a lot.’ ‘Maybe. But it’s not like he would suddenly shout “I love you, shut up and kiss me! Now!” He’s a machine for all it’s worth, Tina. He doesn’t feel anything.’ Nines had to concentrate a good fraction of his processing power to keep his LED on yellow and his hand from crushing the brushed steel of the thermos in his hand. ‘A machine that’s phcking late. Tell him I’m in the car once he decided to re-emerge!’

Nines shook out of it, screwing the lid on and walking out to Tina’s desk. ‘Oh god, Nines, you heard all of it, didn’t you?’, Tina rushed to say. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry! He’s just embarrassed, I’m sure. He knows you feel a lot. And he’s wrong. I just… I was too quick to ask him something like that.’ ‘No’, Nines interrupted her. ‘He is right. I would never shout that.’ ‘But only because you are shy and thoughtful, and he is brash and aggressive! Don’t lose faith, he is just an idiot. But I know the only reason he is like this is because he thinks he isn’t worth you. Give him time and he will be convinced you mean it!’ ‘If you say so. I’m sorry. We have a mission. And I’m late. I should go.’ He left for the front door and Tina watched him walk away. Only then did her gaze stray to her desk and a familiar thermos stand on it. ‘Hey, Nines, you-‘ She looked for the android, but he was already gone. ‘forgot something…’

-

They pulled up to an abandoned Cyberlife store amidst the abandoned district of Detroit and Gavin killed the engine. ‘Ready, tin-can?’, he asked joyfully. ‘Of course, Detective.’ ‘Oh, so we’re back to “Detective”? What did I do wrong this time?’ ‘Nothing major’, Nines answered as neutral as he possibly could. ‘You just talked.’ ‘Watch out, toaster!’, Gavin mocked, holding a hand to his chest. ‘It sounded almost like you had a sense of humour!’ Nines stayed silent and exited the car. ‘Oh wow’, Gavin sighed, following his partner. ‘So, we are particularly pissed together. What’s happened? Someone hurt your simulated robo-feelings?’ Nines looked the man dead in the eye. ‘Only some prick I thought was my friend.’ Gavin squirmed under his gaze, but like so often laughed to hide it. ‘What, you have friends?’ Nines looked away. ‘You know, sometimes I question that myself… Let’s go, we have work to do.’ ‘Yeah, fine, how do we do this?’ ‘We have worked out a plan together. You know how, Detective.’ ‘Okay, okay! Goddamn, whoever it was who pissed you off, I guess he won’t live long.’

They climbed through a broken window and slipped into the store. It was completely empty, the pedestals for androids on display were barren and only a lone dead android laid in some corner. Well, his torso at least. Where the rest was, not even Nines could reconstruct. They strode through the shop, Nines taking to whichever corner he hadn’t looked at that was also farthest from Reed. They suspected a Red Ice lab somewhere around this shop. All their evidence led to a graffiti that was used as a marker for it on the outer wall. ‘Hey, Nines, has this phcker been moved recently?’ The android decided to ignore the undignified way the Detective referred to a dead body – he had done far worse today – and knelt down in front of the unit. ‘Yes’, he pressed out. ‘Figured. His clothing is raised up. He has been dragged.’ Nines nodded and scanned the body’s shoulders. ‘Fingerprints’, he murmured. ‘Belonging to Axel Bernhardi. Was at the station once already. Attempted theft of an android. Served community service for three months.’ ‘Great. Any clue to-‘ ‘The android has been moved recently’, Nines interrupted and Gavin grunted. ‘Fine. Any clue to where he is then?’ Nines inspected the android’s clothing closer. ‘The body had been pulled from two directions. First up, then from the back into the direction of the wall.’ ‘What?’ Nines stood up and pulled the android away, unveiling a narrow whole with a ladder underneath. ‘Phck, is he still there?’, Gavin whispered and after a quick scan Nines nodded. The human took out his gun and was about to climb down, but Nines held him back. The Detective might have been a total idiot today, but Nines wouldn’t let him slide ass first into danger. He pushed off his white Cyberlife jacket, wriggled himself into the narrow space and scraped along the walls downwards. He heard Gavin following him but concentrated on climbing and listening to any noise from underneath him.

They found back on solid ground in a room that had been excavated by handheld machines. It was newer than the building above, likely dug just to house the lab. They stood in front of a curtain made from milky plastic sheets. Light flooded from behind it covering everything in a cold glow. Someone was moving behind the curtain, Nines suspected it to be Mr. Bernhardi. He held his finger to his lips before taking his own gun and taking position in front of the curtain. Gavin stood behind him ready to jump on his notice.

Nines counted down from three with his right hand, then they both entered, shouting: ‘DPD, away from the table!’ The red-haired man was shocked to the bone and stared at both of them speechless. Thankfully he stepped back from the table and another step into the room. Only then did Nines have the chance to scan the room and regretted his manoeuvre immediately. The first thing he noticed was an escape route dug into the water drainage system of Detroit. The second was a big red button on the wall. The third that the man was side eyeing the button and the fourth that it led somewhere behind them. All of that was detected in the same second Mr. Bernhardi decided that attempted theft wasn’t enough to his folder. He jumped to the side, pressed the button and darted out of the room into the sewers. Gavin reacted fast enough to shoot but missed and Nines had reacted even faster than Gavin had, throwing himself on the Detective as behind him the bomb went off. The impact made them scoot across the floor and ripped apart Nines entire back hull, but the human was okay, Gavin was okay. And he himself was okay too. Technically. For the next few seconds. Enough to realise the structural integrity of the room was failing. He picked himself and the Detective groaning underneath him up and ran to the escape route. The room would collapse every second now, but the sewer system would hold out. He managed to get himself to the edge of the room as it collapsed and Gavin had recovered enough to pull him out after him before the rubble slid into the canal. ‘Oof, that was close…’, Gavin panted, adrenaline still flushing his body. ‘Hey, tin-can, you okay?’ No. The seconds that Nines had been okay had run out now. The little rivulet in the canal was quickly more Thirium than water and Nines couldn’t even begin to process the damage warnings coming into view. ‘Ga…vin…’ ‘Shit! Nines!’ The human was immediately next to him. ‘Nines! What’s wrong? Hey, Nines!’ The android wasn’t capable of clear thoughts anymore. All he knew that there was so much damage, so much, so much. He felt the Thirium depleting and his systems running burning hot as a result. He knew he would shut down soon and he wasn’t sure he was repairable. There were so many warnings and notices… He didn’t want to stop existing. There was so much left to do, so much left to say. Despite everything he still wanted to tell Gavin what he felt and hopefully the human would allow it. Gavin… Where was he? Was he still there? Had he left him behind like the useless piece of plastic he was? Was he off chasing the criminal, Nines’ death only a footnote in some report? Maybe repairing him would be too expensive. But Gavin would want that, right? They were a good team, right? ‘Ga…vin?’ His hands searched for purchase and they grabbed something, although Nines didn’t know what that was. He hoped it was his human. ‘Stay… with… me…’ He heard laughter over thick static and held onto it. ‘Heh, for how long, toaster. Come on, get your ass up, we have a criminal to catch!’ Nines imagined how it would be to simply do that. It would be wonderful. Gavin sounded scared. Why was he scared? Too many questions, too many thoughts. Only one that counted: ‘Ga…vin… stay… with… me… forever…’

[Warning: Core temperature critical.] [Commencing emergency shutdown.] [Unit deactivated.]

-

The machine above him was busy. Multiple arms fastened to an enormous joint in the ceiling moved back and forth, getting rid of old bent metal and torn plastic and gathering new parts for assembly. Under Gavin’s dull gaze lights flickered and wires were reconnected, Thirium-tubes were sealed and refilled. Gavin saw it all and noticed nothing. He was too deep in his thoughts, the only thing he really felt the android’s hand in his.

Tina had told him everything.

Every talk she had with the tin-can, every carefully selected detail Nines trusted her with over time, every little thing Nines liked about him and every minute gesture he had failed to realise as Nines being friendly to him. Tina had told him Nines liked him. Had a crush on him. Kinda. It was weird to think of the android in such ways. He had never shown any signs of affection towards him. Or maybe Gavin had just never bothered to look for them. If he was being honest, he couldn’t really believe it. The android was… Even if Nines had been a human, he would have been way out of his league. He was a functioning person; he didn’t look out for a new disaster to dive into and didn’t create them if he didn’t find one. He was kind, in his own way. He never spoke or emoted much. But…

God, Gavin had taken his extremely slow pace, his careful steps as a sign the android wasn’t interested in anyone at all. He had even told him he didn’t feel anything, that he was simulating everything and… “Stay with me forever.” Shit.

‘Hey… errr… tin-can…’ He took a few breaths, following the mechanic arms. There were fewer now. Nines back was nearly fully restored. ‘I don’t know if you can hear me. But I’m sorry. For all that I’ve said. I just… I never thought… I… I’m a huge idiot, okay?’ He couldn’t keep his composure and a part of him hoped Nines couldn’t hear him. ‘I am a dumb, dumb human, who only understands what someone wants if they push it into my face so hard it hurts, and you were so gentle with… with everything. Phck I didn’t notice any of it and you were trying so hard to be perfect when this asshole right here can’t handle perfect and I should phcking go, because you don’t deserve someone like me and-‘ ‘Gavin.’ There was an impossibly faint pressure on his hand from where the android was squeezing his. Gavin couldn’t do anything but stare at the smile on Nines’ face. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t talk, he could only stare. ‘Shut up and kiss me.’

[akechicrimes]

there’s this thing called the “perfect victim myth” that a friend of mine introduced me to, which is the myth, even the requirement, that a person’s pain and trauma is only valid if they were on their best behavior, did nothing wrong, and can in no way be faulted for contributing to their own terrible situation. trauma is only trauma if you sat there as an unsuspecting, poor faultless blameless disempowered victim, and terrible things were inflicted upon you without any of your input whatsoever. it’s only if you did absolutely zero things wrong that you’re allowed to be considered a victim.

therefore, akechi did things wrong, and therefore cannot be a victim of anything on his own end. right?

i cannot stress enough that this is simply not how abuse, abusive behaviors, or trauma works in real life, and that believing such a thing does a disservice to not only all people who’s been victims of abuse, but also anyone who believes such a myth.

look--insofar as persona 5 is a game in which the main characters are all victims of someone else doing something bad to them, i think yusuke is probably the best example of an unfortunate real-life victim situation, so let’s talk about yusuke for five seconds: he actively prevents the PT from trying to save him, defends his abuser at the expense of himself, and even after he’s joined the PT, he sometimes oscillates wildly between “i hate madarame and refuse to even speak of him” and “i miss him terribly and still speak fondly about him and my time living with him.” he never really seems to unlearn a lot of behaviors he picked up from living with madarame--things like not caring for himself at the expense of art, not listening to his own hunger cues, and arguably has a whacked-out relationship with money due to madarame’s own whacked-out relationship with money. personally, i think he also has difficulty with respecting other people’s personal boundaries because madarame never respected his, hence him inviting himself to live with ann, or inviting himself to live with akira.

now consider a situation where yusuke drives the PT off, continues to live with madarame, drives himself into the dirt to supply madarame with his art, and eventually fulfills nakanohara’s prediction of killing himself in despair. is that yusuke’s fault? arguably, it is, isn’t it? someone extended a hand to him, and yusuke refused. even consider a situation in which yusuke successfully calls the cops on the PT, like he very genuinely attempted to in canon, and akira goes to jail because of violating his probation. what then? now it’s not just yusuke is at fault for his own suicide, but he’s also done a terrible harm to akira that will follow him for the rest of his life. what then? are we supposed to have sympathy for him now?

that’s not such an unusual situation. that happens. that’s why nakanohara warned the PT about it. it has happened before and will happen again, and not just in the gameworld of persona 5.

if you come away from that story believing that that’s yusuke’s fault, i’d say that you’re not wrong, but you’re not right, either. it is probably partly yusuke’s fault. is he still a victim? did terrible things still happen to him? that is also true. 

does it really matter if it was partly his fault?

also now consider the woman that shido was harassing. what about her? do we sympathize with her? she helped get akira convicted to save her own skin. is she a victim or an abuser? should i sympathize with her or not? arguably she should have stood up for herself in the first place, right? maybe she shouldn’t have left herself alone with shido, either. when akira came to save her, maybe she should have run. when the police came, she should have testified that akira did nothing wrong. she probably would have had her life ruined by shido for the rest of her life, in that he’d probably go out of his way to destroy her career forever after, and she knew that, but hey, she should have stuck up for akira, right?

then there’s makoto--makoto who did some pretty colossally stupid things re: the yakuza incident, makoto who still had the nerve to love her sister despite her sister’s vaguely-immortal legal practices, makoto who didn’t immediately refuse kobayakawa when he arm-twisted her into doing his dirty work. what if makoto had decided that the letter of recommendation was more important? do you know how badly makoto shot herself in the foot by pissing kobayakawa off? that letter of recommendation might have been the difference between her going to the best college in the country to graduate as a doctor in law, and going to a run-of-the-mill college for a simple undergrad degree. her pissing kobayakawa off probably didn’t make her sister’s life any easier, for that matter; half the reason why sae acts as ruthless as she does is because there’s so much workplace misogyny against women in the justice system, and sae’s little sister being a shit to her principal probably didn’t help at all. so who’s to blame for all this? are we allowed to sympathize with makoto? how about sae? how about kobayakawa--makoto refused to help kobayakawa, and that directly contributes to kobayakawa getting fucked over by shido because kobayakawa wasn’t able to give shido what he wants. am i allowed to feel bad for him?

a lot of the cast of persona 5 doesn’t do anything even morally grey in this respect. the game goes out of its way to inform us that akira did Zero things wrong in trying to defend that woman from shido. ann is nothing but a perfect victim on her end, and is the model of a victim who resisted; she tried to run away, tried to tell kamoshida to stop, even had a good long sympathetic cry in an animated cutscene. haru is the exact same way. (ryuji gets put through the meatgrinder by his old track team for his actions, but if anything, ryuji has the opposite problem--he did everything right, and was punished for it. he’s the situation in which the woman stands up to shido and gets brutally destroyed for it.)

the point that i’m trying to make is that issues of victimhood and abuse get really messy. shido has a lot of dialogue that implies that he groomed akechi to do what he wanted, and there’s dialogue that tells us that akechi willingly volunteered himself for the role. both of those things can be true. we can acknowledge that akechi probably didn’t have much other options in his life besides his half-cocked plan to get revenge on shido. we can acknowledge that in all likelihood, i don’t think akechi ever really thought he’d live for very long; either he dies in poverty or he goes out with a bang against shido. we can acknowledge that simultaneously he probably did have other options that he should have chosen, like working a shitty low-wage job for the rest of his life because of his parentage.

so was akechi forced into this situation or not? if we can answer that question, things will be simpler, won’t it? we can say definitively: akechi had a choice, and therefore it’s his fault. akechi didn’t have a choice, and therefore it’s not his fault. 

so which is it? was he forced or not?

the truth about abuse is that the victim always has agency. always. ALWAYS. and because the victim has agency, it is often very difficult to say that the victim was “forced.”

the victim is always making choices for themselves. the victim always feels a modicum of control. the victim is always telling themselves that they could walk if they really wanted to; they’re staying because they’re going to make the situation better; they’re going to work hard and achieve their goals, even. this is the case of people looking at a battered woman and saying, good god, why doesn’t she just leave him? isn’t this a simple issue? is she being literally forced to stay with him? if she’s choosing to stay with him, is she really still a victim or a battered woman?

the truth about abuse is that it relies on pressure, and on limiting options. very rarely does abuse ever force anyone. in yusuke’s situation, there is enormous pressure for him to stay with madarame, both because of emotional ties, yusuke not having legal rights as a minor, yusuke not having the financial means to support himself, and simply the career prestige of having been madarame’s student--but is yusuke being forced to stay with madarame? arguably no. for the woman who accused akira, there’s pressure to do as shido says. but she has the option to refuse shido only in technicality, in the same way that someone being mugged technically has the option not to hand their wallet over, and consequently get shanked or shot.

as for akechi, there’s a lot of pressure to comply with shido, even when akechi feels like he’s doing it willingly, and even when akechi IS doing it willingly. there’s a lot of pressure to do terrible things such as murder, that akechi could technically say no to. akechi retains agency throughout his entire story, even when his agency is highly pressured to operate in ways that serve only shido’s benefit.

this is because akechi is a far more realistic victim than most victims of abuse in most media. he retains agency. and sometimes having agency means that you are highly pressured to do bad things.

this is the other thing about the “perfect victim myth”--a lot of it relies on arguing, “well, the victim is a victim because they had no other options.” that is to say, someone can only be a victim if it’s clearly demonstrable that they had no agency whatsoever in the situation. and this is simply not true. not of real life victims, and it shouldn’t be so for fictional victims.

and, not to mention, sometimes having agency means that you just straight-up do bad things because you’re coping badly. i mentioned earlier that i don’t think akechi intended to live very long, and that comes primarily from his willingness to sacrifice himself the instant he decides not to go through with his plan to kill shido. for a lot of kids in shitty situations growing up, it’s very difficult to see yourself growing up and having a fulfilling, happy future as an adult. if you’re not intending to live very long, why wouldn’t you consider all bets off? it’s not like you’re getting through this alive.

the other unfortunate fact of victims retaining agency is that they don’t always use it well, especially when they’ve been thru some shit, and this is almost always used against the victim to say, “well, you should have done this instead.” the entire thing smacks of ways to gatekeep “victimhood”--this magical status that lifts someone above criticism, above having flaws, and above the unfortunate status of being a human being. it’s a way of saying that certain characters are not allowed a right to their own pain because they didn’t fulfill certain criteria. it’s also a way of dehumanization, and avoiding the fact that real life is complex, and that doing good, doing bad, and even just doing living with other people is messy and often painful even at its best.

when someone acts out and makes bad decisions because they’ve been through a terrible situation or are in a bad headspace, obviously this does not excuse their actions, but it is possible to not excuse their actions and understand that people do not always cope well. coping is not always a cute waifish girl in an indie road trip movie. coping is not always a cute waifish girl crying in a bathtub. sometimes coping is being in such a headspace that you’re A-Okay with being murdered by your cognitive double because you don’t have anything else to live for. sometimes coping is latching on to the idea that if you just get revenge on the person who did this to you, maybe then you’ll be okay.

in the myths, the perfect victim is never responsible. the perfect victim is never an active player in their own lives. the perfect victim always copes well, according to the script, and never inconveniences anyone else. the perfect victim is always a heartwarming and uplifting story for other folks to feel good about. the perfect victim is, in a lot of ways, neatly packaged, bundled up, sanitized, and further dehumanized by removing their flaws.

i strongly do not recommend subscribing to the perfect victim myth. it benefits almost nobody, except for abusers who get to claim they didn’t abuse anyone because their victim didn’t fit the perfect victim model.

ultimately, my point is that i understand if akechi is not your cup of tea. lots of characters are not my cup of tea. i will never be a die-hard fan of, say, hifumi togo. i like her well enough, but she’s not for me.  you can dislike akechi!! nobody said you have to like him!!!

but i strongly dislike when people bring morality, victimhood, and rhetoric of abuse into justifying why they don’t like akechi.  but when you start talking about the reasons why akechi is the absolute worst and nobody should be allowed to like him because of reasons you’ve pulled out of the perfect victim fallacy, you’re doing a disservice to literally everyone everywhere who’s ever been in an abusive situation. no, not even that--you’re doing a disservice to everyone everywhere who’s ever suffered pain because of what someone else did to them. you become part of the rhetoric that invalidates people’s suffering and keeps us thinking of victimhood/abuse/trauma as a black and white issue.

and ultimately you’re doing a disservice to yourself, because one day, someone will hurt you, and you’ll believe that you don’t deserve to feel bad about it because you weren’t the perfect victim. 

do yourself a favor and quit it.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Can i get a hoyt x reader smut pls...(this message was brought to u by an awkward ass person)

This is what the Hoyt x Wife!Reader on my other blog was supposed to be but at that point I was still felt iffy about writing smut but as I have unlocked it now, we can do this ^^ I hope you like it! 

Warnings: Super smutty, guys. Angry sex, course language (Terrible language). Also, this is Hoyt so he will say some horrible things. Suggested rape, etc. Not fluffy

Smut under the cut of course. 

You know what? I think, weeks after the transformation. I’ve tried everything to get this man’s attention back from himself, and I’m his wife, so it shouldn’t be so hard.

But the only times he looks at me, pays me any mind, is when he’s pissed or he’s playing boss. And I just want him to look at me like Charlie, like my husband.

So, fine, Hoyt. We’ll do it your way.

By making you really, really mad. Then you’ll look at me, wont you?

It’s been weeks since my husband went missing. And in his place was left a sorry, evil pantomime in uniform called Sheriff Hoyt.

God, he thinks he’s cool in that uniform. Even though the hat looks goofy as hell, and gives him hat hair. Anger stirs in my chest just thinking about my dilemma. I can’t get through to the dumbass bastard wearing Charlies tattoo’s and sleeping in his bed. My bed. Glancing spitefully at him across from me at the dinner table, I consider kicking him like I did, ‘accidentally’ in the middle of the night last night. He was deeply asleep, snoring and dreaming and I found it wholly unfair that he got to rest like that and I was still up, confined by myself to the left side of the bed away from him, and had just done it. Totally bitterly, but it felt good.

Luckily, he believed me when I said I had had a nightmare and sleep kicked, but alas. I don’t think that excuse will work here.  

I’m just, immaturely wondering how I can aim a piece of lettuce at his face and blame it on arthritis when Luda Mae starts up a conversation for the table, successfully causing me too look up her instead of darkly at my fork. I must have really been looking darkly at my fork, too, because Luda Mae looks pointedly at me as if she knows what I was thinking and Monty, beside me subtly shakes his head at me. I look at Thomas and Hoyt, next, and luckily neither of them were paying much attention.

Sighing in defeat, I turn my attention to the conversation, turning my knees slightly to face Luda Mae and Monty. “I don’t really have plans tomorrow, thanks! Monty and I were thinking about chess, since its been a while, but… “I shrug, looking pleasantly at her and trying to ignore the fiery fury still beating in my chest.

The effort becomes redundant when Hoyt speaks up and I can no longer keep it at bay. “Well, you won’t be doing that.” I watch him chew for a moment, feeling my rage levels rise dangerously high seeing him not even lift his head when he’s trying to control me. This is 2003, Sheriff! Not the freaken middle ages, I don’t obey you!

“Actually, yes.” I spit, venomously, looking straight at his forehead and just daring him to look up back at me. I drop my fork with a clatter, and get half the way out of my seat, alerting Thomas that something out of the ordinary is happening. “We will be. In fact, Uncle Monty, let’s go play right now- “

He raises his head to dare an connect eye contact with me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?? Sit back down, we’re eating a fucking dinner.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” I revel in the furious way he looks at me. It’s better than being ignored, anyway. I may have gone insane, but it feels really good to make ‘Sheriff Hoyt’ feel that way. I get the rest of the way out of my seat and nod with a smile to Luda Mae. “Thanks for dinner, Luda. Goodnight everyone- except you, Charlie!” He’ll have a bad night, because either he’s going to going to get a crick in his back from sleeping on the couch to avoid my crazy ass, or I’m not going to let him get any sleep in our room.

“You call me Hoyt, woman- Argh.” As I disappear up the stairs to our room, I hear Hoyt shout after me and realise I’m not listening, and drop his own fork in favour of violently pushing off the table and after me. I faintly hear Luda Mae sigh and say something shamelessly about kicking us out of her home. I throw the bedroom door open and barge in, slamming it spitefully behind me so Hoyt has to open it himself.

When he does, I’m sitting curtly, stiffly in the armchair by his side of the bed with a book tight in my hands, knuckles white from anger. He looks frustratedly as hell at me and points vaguely toward the dining room. “The fuck was that??”

“Nothing,” I hiss, acting uncooperative on purpose. “What are you talking about?”

“You know goddamn well what I’m talking about, Y/N.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to fight in front of them.”

“Why are we fighting in the first place? I’m lost as fuck, and you need to catch me up.” He looks at me with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised all the way up his forehead, frustratingly expectant.

I’m tempted to give him more lip and say that no, I don’t need to catch him up. In fact, I’d love to leave him in the dark and just go to bed. It would drive him mad, and make me feel a thousand times better, but I figure my immaturity has reached its pique for the night. Instead, I try to relax my shoulders and my fingers and look up, seriously at Hoyt. More level-headed. “I miss Charlie.” He looks irritated immediately, and sighs deeply, looking around the room like a huge eyeroll with his head. When he stills again, he’s cleaning the bottom set of teeth with his tongue, squinting one eye at me. Hands still on his hips, patronising me.  Oooh, how I’d love to smack that look off his face. But, I’m elegant.

… ignoring the kicking him in the middle of the night and the attempt I made on him at dinner with the lettuce.  

“Y/N, Charlie’s dead. We’ve been through this. When are you gonna get it through your head- “

“Well then I want a divorce!” I exclaim, getting up from the chair. His eyes darken, but the corner of his lips quirk up, and shakes his head. Calming down, he pulls the stupid hat off his head and runs a hand through his hair to fix it, turning his back on me and turning to start getting ready for bed.

“Don’t interrupt a man of the law when he’s talking, darling, and no. You don’t.”

That’s rich! He can sure parade himself around like a real sheriff with victims if he likes but that is a moot point, with family. “Man of the law?? Man of the la- You’re a murdering cannibal!”

“So’s Tommy, gonna get mad at him?”

“I’m not married to Tommy.” I watch his movements, heart sinking. Is he losing interest again? It’s a weird feeling, wanting the argument to be over but simultaneously being afraid it is.  “And you made him that way.”

“Yeah? Well, this households never been better.”  

Oh. No, that’s it. I drop the book down on the bed, nearly flinging it actually, and cross the room in 2 fast steps to slap him.

He… he grabs my wrist before I can. “Goddamnit, let go of me. Bastard.” Slowly, I look across from his hand on my wrist to his face, or more specifically his eyes. They twitch, like he’s thinking, and I watch as he looks from my eyes to the rest of me. Assessing the situation with self-taught reliability.

“Honey,” His voice is dark now, familiarly husky and terrifying. Well, to anyone but me it might be terrifying. “You weren’t about to do what I think you were,” He lifts his chin and looks down at me. He raises his eyebrows. “Were you?”

If he thinks he’s scaring me he really is an idiot. I straighten myself, squaring up. “I sure was.”

“Now, see. That won’t work for me.”

“Well, then. To the couch with y- “The rude ass bastard cuts off my sentence, with his mouth on mine and strong, greedy fingers scraping at my waist. It takes me 2 seconds to think about, decide and agree to the new medium for my anger, and part my lips hungrily for a deeper connection to curb my anger at him but he pulls back and sets my face with a mischievous look like he thinks he’s in control here. I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I’m gonna show you who’s wife you are. Its been too long.”

One, that’s not my fault. Two, “Shut up.”

“Gladly.” He growls, and puts his mouth on mine again, drawing a begrudgingly salacious moan from me. What? Its been a long time, since my husband has touched me. To further things situation-wise, I tilt my head slowly to the side against him and tug him closer by the front of his uniform. Hoyt can’t help himself, can’t just stand and kiss me for a few minutes before taking more, and I know it because I feel his fingers creep up my sides, under my shirt and god are they hot. How his skin stays so warm all the time, I have no idea, but as long as it serves me, I don’t care. They feel really good inside me, and oh. They will be inside me before this is over and the bastards out of kick.

Switching tact, because I can’t say I don’t want more then this also -you can’t be married to a pervert like him for as long as I have and be happy with just some kisses when you can have more,- , I turn him around and push him, not at all carefully onto the bed. Honestly, if he falls off, I don’t mind.

He doesn’t, but he does sit up immediately on the edge, knees apart and yanks me down by the arm to him again, causing a yelp to come from me. “You- “A weirdly soft kiss is put on my lips, before the look in his eyes turns completely dark and puts my hand on the tent in his pants. “Feels good.” I tell him, then let go and make like I’m going to leave.

“Oh no you don’t- “He yanks me back and onto the bed, shut me in with his body. I shift, to get comfortable, but get distracted by the way he’s looking at me. “Hmmm,” Looking me over, a lude grin finds its way to his mouth. “I would force your pretty mouth over my cock, darling, god knows you’re good at that, don’t we. But, later. Right now, I’m gonna screw you, my Y/N.” Momentarily slipping in my resolve, I lean into his touch when he strokes the side of my face, twisting some of my hair around a finger.

Ughhhh, fuck! What was it, the rape threat or the basically calling me a whore that did that to you, Y/N? Fucks sake. Let’s just do this. Get your head in the game, Y/N. “Shut up Charlie, fuck me.”

He chuckles and buckles his belt. “Yes ma’am.” Avoiding his eyes and feeling slick and impatient, I undo my own bottoms and wriggle out of them. With a final sigh, and a squish sound, Hoyt fills me up in one satisfying thrust. “Ohhh,” A stutter groan escapes him, before he berries his face in my neck and hides there. I, on the other hand, am a dangerous, mewling mess under him. Having his stiff, thick cock sinking into me feels a wicked kind of heaven. Familiar of a better time, yet wrong. Mostly though just really, really pleasureful.

I lay there with my mouth half open, breathy moans coming out of me as a arch, and frustratedly meet him at every thrust. It’s not enough! “It’s not enou- oh~” As I tried to talk, his hand traced down my body and touched my clit, began rubbing to add to the pleasure. “Oh my god, that’ll do. Ahh,”

Against my neck, he chuckles breathily. The hand not on my clit come up, and wraps around my throat. Doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t hurt. Just holds it, enough to feel my pulse.

As the knot in more core pleasure becomes unbearable, my breaths become short and I get so close to orgasming all over the shaft between my folds. Desperate for more, I wrap my calf’s around him and pull myself as flush to his pelvis as possible in one last, delicious buck. A deep, guttural groan escapes him and when I squeeze my walls around him, he explodes.

The hot cum, just his fingers explodes in me and that does me in. With a slow slide off of him and back down onto the bed, unlocking my legs from him, I sigh and cum in climax, feeling exhausted.

That was the most, frantic exercises I’ve done weeks, of course I’m tired. I watch him sigh, and stand back up. Bluffing me and trying to make me think he isn’t just as tired as he tucks himself away and buttons his pants back up. “Sweetheart, thank you… You stay here and rest up. I’ll be back.”

“Uhuh… “ I sigh, ready to take a nap.

“You look beautiful like that.”

“Go get us new sheets, Hoyt.”

“I love you, too.”

[joeycupcakerichter]

Zach Dempsey - Changes

A/N: So I watched the trailer and I saw Zach with Chloe and so I had to write something because my heart was screaming. As always, gif not mine but I needed it for reasons and it wouldn’t pop up in the gif search thing >< (also, any and all dislike discern toward Chloe is because of Steel Bars and not a reflection of how I actually feel about the character outside of the fact I am a little surprised Zach is going to be with her despite the fact that I suppose that should’ve been obvious)

Pairing: Zach x Reader

Warnings: There’s some violence, there’s a reference to what Monty did to Tyler, there’s angst and there’s Monty

Prompt: The goddamn S3 trailer if I’m perfectly honest.

Word Count: 1939

Masterlist

Pulling the door open with a long groan, you weren’t ready for the sight you were treated to within. Zach, your Zach, was snuggled up with her. With Chloe. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself, again and again, he wasn’t yours anymore. You had seen to that. You just hadn’t expected him to move on so quickly.

Realizing you were frozen in your place by all the stares pouring in around you, you shook your head sharply. Pointedly avoiding all of gazes burning holes into your skin, you took extra care to avoid the one that felt like an actual fire lapping your skin. You could feel Zach’s eyes following you as you disappeared into the bathroom, wiping away the tears that started stinging in your eyes. The bathroom was blissfully empty, and you allowed yourself to dissolve onto the floor as the weight of your pain sunk onto your shoulders. 

“(Y/N)? Are you in here?” A cautious voice cut through your sobs. Jerking your head up, you found Jessica pushing through the door at the sight of you crumpled on the filthy bathroom floor. “(Y/N)! Are you okay? What’s wrong?” she asked, shaking her head almost immediately when she realized how stupid of a question that had been, instead addressing the obvious, “I thought you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t think he would move on so quickly,” you croaked, looking back at your hands through your blurred vision, “I told him I wanted to take a break for a little while. We’d been having a lot of problems lately but I didn’t think he would go straight after… her.”

“Sweetheart, I hate to be the one to tell you this but-”

“Save it Jess, I really don’t need this right now,” you cut her off, pushing yourself off the floor and moving over to sink to see where to start salvaging your make-up.

“Uh, okay, rude. Fuck you too then.” She rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and pulling the door open with enough force to send it ricocheting into the wall behind it.

Taking a breath, you focused on your make-up, knowing if you thought about how much you’d just pissed Jessica off you’d only serve to make yourself more upset. Using a damp paper towel, you started dabbing under your eyes, trying to reduce the redness that had taken over your face. The bell ringing startled you, but you resolved to finish up first, telling yourself that first period would just have to understand. When you were finally satisfied that your appearance didn’t give away that you’d been crying, you pulled the door open to the bathroom and headed to first period.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), thank you so much for joining us.” Mr. Clarke frowned as you entered the classroom.

“Uh, feminine issues,” you muttered as you found your seat and plopping into it.

“Yeah, she thinks she fu- messed up dumping Dempsey,” a smug voice called from behind you. You turned to find Monty staring at you lecherously, “You should give me a chance, (Y/N). Dempsey can’t treat you right like I can.”

“I don’t think we have the same kinks,” you shot back dangerously, “See, I don’t like foreign objects in any of my orifices like you seem to be more than happy to prov-”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Clarke interrupted you.

“I didn’t fucking do whatever that little fucking psychopath said I did,” Monty glared, ignoring the teacher.

“So worried about being a ‘man’,” you scoffed, “Why don’t you man up to what you did to Tyler.” You stood up, knocking your chair down.

“(Y/N), Montgomery!” Mr. Clarke intervened again, pushing his way between the two of you. Your chest heaved with anger, grateful to have someone to take your aggression out on.

“Everyone knows what you did, Monty. Just because you didn’t go to jail doesn’t mean you got away with it,” you glared coldly. “I mean, just look at what happened to your pal Bryce.”

Everything happened so quickly, Monty’s chair hit the ground with a loud slap as it came in contact with the floor and he lunged for you, stopped only by the teacher cutting in between the two of you again. He shoved Monty back onto the floor but Monty leapt to his feet again, pushing Mr. Clarke into the desk behind him. He balled up his fist and sent it crashing painfully into your jaw. Initially stunned by the impact, you were able to dodge out of the way of his follow up, leaving only the wall for his fist to come in contact with. He cried out in anguish, trying to shake the pain out of his hand.

“Montgomery! Principal’s office!” Mr. Clarke bellowed, finally at his wit’s end as he grabbed the scruff of Monty’s shirt and dragged him out into the hall. Monty glared at you the entire time, spitting at you as he was pulled through the doorway.

Unable to take the stares from around the room, you grabbed your bag, following the two out of the classroom, heading out the front door instead. You started walking, to nowhere in particular, until you finally threw your belongings onto the bleachers as you rubbed your jaw gingerly. How could things have gone so wrong so quickly? Two days ago, you and Zach had been sitting out here, talking about random bullshit and now you were alone nursing a bruised jaw.

“H-Hey, (Y/N),” a voice you were simultaneously ecstatic and enraged to hear called nervously behind you, “You okay?”

“Leave me alone, Zach,” you shot him down, despite every fiber of your being begging you not to. You were silently relieved when he ignored your demands, plopping his bag down next to yours as he sat down next to you.

“I heard about Monty hitting you, are you okay?” he asked again, trying to get a good look at your face to assess the damage.

“I’m just mad I didn’t get the chance to hit him harder,” you lie, looking out onto the field opposite of where he was sitting, not allowing him a good look at the bruise already formed on your chin.

“You expect me to believe you hit him at all?” Zach grinned, reaching out and grabbing your hand gently, “These knuckles have never seen a fight a day in their lives,” he murmured, rubbing them softly. “No sense in tarnishing them on Monty’s ugly face.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?” you demanded, ripping your hand out of his.

“G-Girlfriend?” he asked, genuine confusion flooding his voice. “I thought that’s what I was doing?”

“You know what I mean Zachary.”

“A-Are you talking about Chloe?” Just by saying her name, you could feel his words cut open that fresh wound open all over again. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked over at him, demanding he continue wordlessly.

“I really don’t know what that was about. I was talking to Clay and Alex about how we were on a break and the next thing I knew she had her arm around my waist and-”

“I really don’t need to hear anymore,” you cut him off, grabbing your things as you started making your way off the bleachers, “I hope you guys are happy together.”

“(Y/N)- Come back!” he called after you, as you stormed off the bleachers. He caught up when you were halfway across the field, grabbing your arm to get you to turn and face him. You rip out of his grip, turning to glare at him when he raised his hands in surrender.

“Like I said, Dempsey, leave me the fuck alone,” you told him coldly, meeting his gaze with a determination that surprised even you. “These hands may not have been sullied by Monty’s face, but I’m sure your face would do fine just the same.”

“(Y/N), Jesus, chill the fuck out,” Zach shot back, stepping away from you, “I don’t want to be with Chloe, I want to be with you. Why don’t you believe that?”

“You’ve been dodging my calls for the past two weeks and I’m not supposed to pick up on the fact you’ve been acting weird? I’m supposed to just smile and assume everything’s okay?”

“(Y/N), I’ve been busy!”

“Zach, you’re always busy, but somehow you were able to make time for me before. What changed now?” you demanded, securing your hands on your waist as you glared up at him.

“Well before, we weren’t all being called in because of a fucking murder investigation for one? Bryce is dead, (Y/N), and we’re all fucking suspects,” he reminded you.

“Okay? How does that explain why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Jensen has been trying to figure out who did it, just like he always fucking does, and he’s enlisted my help and it’s just been a lot of talking with no real conclusions and I miss your calls and-”

“So now your game is to blame Clay?” you seethe, “Just fucking admit it Zachary, I told you I wanted a break, and you took that as a fucking free-for-all.”

“What are you talking about?” Zach asked, running his hands through his hair wildly. “Is something going on? Where is this coming from?”

“I thought everything was great and then you stopped texting me all the time like you used to, you stopped answering my calls and then I show up to school to find you all snuggled up with fucking Chloe Rice- I’m a little fucking pissed off,” you finish, letting out a huge breath, happy to finally have it all off of your chest.

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me,” Zach murmured softly, grabbing your arm again, far more gentle than before, “I love you. The past couple months I’ve spent with you have been amazing. I’m sorry if I made you feel insecure, I didn’t mean to.” Tears poured down your cheeks as you force your way into his arms, relieved to finally hear words you hadn’t realized you’d been so desperate to hear.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you wept into his shirt, sniffling as you pull away to look up at him. “Th-there’s just been so much going on, everything with Bryce a-and Tyler-”

(Y/N), it’s okay. Trust me, I understand. I just need you to trust me. Trust what we have together, okay?”

“I’ve just been so messed up and I felt like I didn’t have anyone to turn to,” you murmur, pushing your way into his arms again, “I thought maybe if I asked you for a break you would notice something was up but you just seemed so happy to let me go and I guess it just broke my heart a little, I’m sorry, Zach, I’m so sorry,” you rambled.

“You don’t think that didn’t kill me inside?” he asked softly, running his fingers through your hair. “I thought Bryce was going to take everything away from me from beyond the grave,” he scoffed.

“I guess we better get back to class,” you remarked as the bell rang across campus. Taking Zach’s hand into yours, the two of you walked back into the school, earning you a sharp glare from Chloe.

“You never answered me, how’s your face?” Zach asked again, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at you.

“It fucking hurts, what do you think?” you grin up at him.

“You know if I have to kill Monty too we’ll just have to go through this all over again, right?” he lamented, sighing dramatically.

“W-Wait? TOO?”

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

THE IMPORTANCE OF NOT BEING NOSY

One-shot #: 13

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: M (Not too much though)

Note: Because I always love Zoro-Nami-Usopp interactions, I went ahead placed them in one crazy situation where Usopp, obviously, takes the brunt of everything. And somehow I keep on hitting 7k words and up recently. Though I already toned this one down because the first drafts of this story would’ve ended in a two-shot or even a multi-chap fic and I don’t want to drag it that much. Anyway enjoy.

Summary: “Because poking your long nose in other people’s business, is never a good thing.”  

Soft wind blew from the sea making the white curtains of the open window flitter lazily. The port and the nearby market started to come to life as the townsfolk poured into the street for their afternoon errands. Their noises drifted inside the rather inconspicuous room along with the lulling sound of the waves, making a smile appear on the lips of one engrossed observant.  

“What’s amusing out there?”

Nami spun around to look at the speaker who—very obviously—had just woken up, as he sat up on the bed, sleepily running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Hmm…” she hummed in answer. “Nothing really.”

“Aren’t you coming back to bed?”

The corners of her lips quirked up at that as their eyes meet. There was that familiar, mischievous glint in his that she always adored as it never fails to send a delicious shiver down her spine.

She smiled impishly at him and he in turn threw a cocky smirk her way.

“Now that you are awake, yeah,” she murmured before sauntering towards bed, never breaking their eye contact.

The moment she was near enough, he reached for her robe’s belt, yanking her brusquely to him and simultaneously untying the knot as well. The silky fabric immediately slid down her shoulders to pool at her feet.

His rough hands grabbed her waist, effortlessly lifting her, only to friskily push her down the bed. The mattress dipped from their movements and she laughed when he playfully trapped her underneath his well-built physique; the blankets tangling around their legs.

He grazed her lips with his teasingly, before kissing her fully.

“We still have time?” He asked huskily against her mouth, before moving to that ticklish spot just below her jaw.

“I think we do…” she breathed, angling her head to give him more access.

“Good.” He muttered before attacking the slender column of her neck with soft, tantalizing kisses.

She moaned when he nipped at her skin, and gasped his name when he deliberately traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. She ran both of her hands through his hair as she felt him grabbed at her thighs, urging her to wrap them around him as he settled comfortably between her legs.

A sudden commotion outside interrupted them as shouting and loud, running footsteps can be heard all over the street. There was an unmistakable sound of explosion somewhere. Followed by another and another.

“Uuuh…” the orange-haired woman groaned irritably.

The man above her stopped his ministrations and stared at her amusedly with a smirk on his face. “Duty calls?”

“I think my captain just got himself into trouble again,” she pouted. Planting a sweet kiss on his jaw, she looked at him slyly as she let her hands caressed his well-toned pectorals. “Too bad,” she said with a sigh as she lightly pushed him away from her so she could sit up.

His deep laugh filled the room and he leaned down to brush one last kiss on her lips. “It’s alright. We can always do this some other time.”

Nami smiled brightly at that. “Well… I guess see you on the next island then.”

-------------------------

The galley of the Thousand Sunny that night was startlingly at its quietest. Dinner was put on hold for the meantime as Nami all but bit off the heads of their two nakamas; who were both sitting soundlessly on the galley’s couch like two children being reproached by their mother.

“That’s it aho sencho!” Nami hissed furiously, gripping the front of Luffy’s red shirt tightly. “The next time you create a ruckus and gets us chased out of town again, I swear I will drown your sorry ass!”

Usopp watch edgily from the sidelines. He was one of the unlucky ones (aside from the cooking Sanji), who was in the galley the moment Nami entered while dragging Luffy and Zoro inside.

Luffy just grinned sheepishly in response to her. “Shishishi! But Nami, we did make it out of there!” He tapped her in the shoulder in an attempt to appease her. But that only served to ignite the orange-haired’s temper more.

“WE ALMOST DID NOT!” Nami roared and clocked him with enough force to plant his face on the galley’s floor, almost breaking it.

Everyone present inwardly winced at the sound it made.

Usopp’s eyes met Zoro’s. The green-haired man seemed unfazed with Nami’s anger. Most probably because he was used to it since he is usually the person at the receiving end of it.

But much to the sniper’s surprise, he was just silent all-throughout Nami’s outburst. Zoro kept his mouth shut with his arms folded across his chest. Not once did he answer back to the navigator.

Though Usopp had seen the way the corner of his mouth twitched slightly indicating that he was trying really hard to stop himself from snapping back at her.

From the way Zoro was looking, he was probably planning an absolutely painful demise for Nami right now… if he still hadn’t killed her a dozen times already inside his head.

He heard a huff from the kitchen. Sanji had busied himself with preparing their dinner, never once butting in like he usually did lest he join the other two morons on the couch.

“Serves you right, shitty gomu,” he finally muttered, peering at them from behind the bar counter. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. “Three times in a row. In every damn island. I can’t believe it.” He blew out the smoke with a slight shake of his head. “Wait I take that back. Actually I can since it’s you.”

Luffy lifted his head off the floor. “But Sanji. It’s not my fault!”

“Shut up Luffy!” Nami snarled. “I don’t care whose fault it is! I swear you piss me off so much right now!” She closed her eyes, fingers rubbing circles on her temples.

She was forced to run all over the town earlier looking for her doofus captain. Much to her trepidation, Luffy was being chased by two different pirate crews for reasons she doesn’t even want to know.  

The navigator nearly got trampled when the idiot cheerfully ran towards her direction, waving at her enthusiastically, with the pack of enraged men still at his heels. If it wasn’t for Zoro suddenly appearing out of nowhere and sending a powerful attack towards Luffy’s pursuers that had them flying everywhere, she would’ve been flattened beyond recognition.

Relief washed over her but it was short-lived. Before she can stop him, Luffy drew his arms back and released a Gomu Gomu no Gatling on the remaining pirates who were luckily at the far back of the horde they were missed by Zoro’s attack.

She looked on in horror as other pirates arrived to help their fallen crew mates. Luffy and Zoro plus a horde of violent pirates in one place…

It was a disaster!

Nami can only watch in dismay as the two dove head first into an all-out brawl before she can grab them by the scruff of their necks.

A vein popped on her forehead, then another and another. Not only did Luffy put a stop to what was supposedly an intimate and enjoyable afternoon. But here he is with the other idiot of the crew, in a scuffle that will flatten this town in a matter of seconds. Summoning Zeus, she unleashed a powerful lightning blast enough to fry everyone in the vicinity into oblivion.

Then she dragged the two by their ears just as the townspeople, who weren’t caught in the crossfire, started amassing with clubs, wooden sticks and pitchforks (much to her surprise); eager to beat up the pirates who nearly destroyed their town.  

The navigator let out an exasperated sigh and announced a bit wearily. “I’m going to take a bath,” she turned towards the blond chef. “Sanji-kun, you can go ahead and serve dinner.”

The cook nodded. “As you wish Nami-san but how about you?

“I’ll eat later.”

Sanji frowned slightly at that. “You know that I don’t like starting dinner if my lovely angel is not going to eat.”

“Uhm,” Usopp choose to intrude this moment or all the boys will starve. “Robin’s probably hungry. She did a lot of book shopping earlier.”

That swayed the cook into action. “Ah my Robin-chwan! Of course!” He cried out. “Go ahead Nami-swan. Take a relaxing bath first! Do you want me to prepare it for you?”

“It’s ok Sanji-kun. I can manage.” Nami said with a dismissive wave of her hand as she proceeded towards the ladder leading to the upper deck.

“I’ll prepare a special meal for you later my love!” Sanji called out after her. “Just take your time and wash away all the stress and worries these two dumbasses,” he glared at Zoro and Luffy. “Gave you!”

Zoro scowled darkly at him.

Luffy automatically pushed himself into a sitting position when he heard the word dinner. Glancing at Nami with a sulky pout he complained, “Nami! Why aren’t you also mad at Zoro?”

The green-haired man stiffened as Nami stopped in her tracks. Zoro glared at his captain for deliberately throwing him straight into the witch’s wrath. He was not in the mood to start a row with her… that is why he kept mum all throughout her rant.

“Luffy, I attacked to save her.” He reminded his captain flatly. “Not because I wanted to start a fight with them.”

“But you also attacked again to fight them.”

Zoro opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by Nami clonking Luffy on the head. “It’s because I’ve exhausted myself too much on you! I will get to him later once I have enough energy again!”

As Luffy whined and nursed the bump on his head; Zoro grumbled curses under his breath, muttering that he should’ve let the enemy pirates flattened Nami to the ground.

She turned towards him and smiled sweetly. Too sweetly it was actually bordering to scary. “I heard that Zoro,” she said through gritted teeth. “Hold your horses. I will make your fucking ears bleed later.”

“That couldn’t be good,” Usopp mumbled from across the table. A re-energized Nami would definitely wage a verbal war with the swordsman no matter what time of the day it is.

Zoro stood up and met Nami’s gaze directly. “How about some gratitude for saving your ass onna?”

Nami scoffed. “Thank you for saving me Zoro! It should have ended with THAT instead of you two engaging in a fight! Argh!” She shrieked at the green-haired man. “I swear you and Luffy are absolute headaches! I’m not even halfway finished with my shopping…”

“How is that my fault woman?!” Zoro seethed. “You had all day today to—”

“Just shut up Zoro. I’ll deal with you later.” The navigator said exasperatedly. “Just know that your debt and Luffy’s went way past the roof today! Kami, I need a really warm bath to relieve all this stress!”

“You witch!” The tall lad finally snapped at her.

Usopp gulped. Zoro seemed to have reached the end of his rope. From the way the two were now glowering at each other, they’re gonna start quarreling in a matter of seconds. No thanks to their stupid captain and his big, rubber mouth.

He stood up suddenly and before he knew it his hands slammed down the table, louder than he intended. That got their attention. Though he balked a little when Nami and Zoro shifted their gazes to him.

“G-gu-guys! Please,” he stuttered. “Can we just eat? I’m already starving. Aren’t you all?” He swallowed the lump formed in his throat.

Luffy seconded his grievance. “Yeah! Sanji! Meshi! Meshi!”

Nami did not answer. Instead, with one final, furious look directed at Zoro then at Luffy; she turned her heel and headed towards the ladder again without another word.

Usopp exhaled in relief. That was close!

The door of galley opened and the other Mugiwaras started to pile in, probably aware that it’s already safe to venture inside.

A smiling Robin tilted her head slightly when she entered. “Ara… I’m glad we don’t have any fatalities tonight.” She giggled behind her mouth as her blue eyes settled on Luffy and Zoro. “I was afraid Nami will choke the life out of you two from the mêlée you’ve caused in town earlier.”

“Robin… you and your morbid thoughts.” Usopp grumbled.

“Well, disappointingly she didn’t, Robin-chwan.” Sanji said as he stepped out of the kitchen, balancing a tray filled with steaming dishes in one hand. He held out the other to take the archeologist’s own and guided her to her chair. “Anyway, dinner is served!”

-------------------------

“Nami?”

“Usopp?”

The sniper and the navigator ran at each other on the lawn deck a few hours after dinner. Or to be more specific, Usopp was on his way to the galley to sneak some midnight snacks for his watch duty later when he ran into Nami, who looked like she just got down from crow’s nest.

Usopp’s eyes shifted towards the nest then back at her. “Did you seriously climb up there to give Zoro a dressing-down?”

“So what Usopp?” Nami folded her arms across her chest. “You got a problem with it?”

He shook his head. “None actually. I’m just surprised that it didn’t end up in a spat.” He scratched his head. “Kami knows how you two can go all night yapping at each other…”

“I have my ways.” Nami muttered grumpily. “I told him if he piss me off anymore tonight, I’m gonna stab him with his swords while he’s sleeping.”

Usopp looked horrified and scared all at the same time. Nami can be really freaking scary.

“That’s horrible!” He gasped and stepped away from her. “Why are you so mad at them anyway? Are you still not used to them starting trouble everywhere we go?”

The navigator’s face scrunched up into a frown. “That’s not it Usopp! I’m just furious at them for ruining my afternoon!”

“Uhh ok…” Usopp scratched his cheek. “They ruined your shopping or something?”

“You can say that.”

Usopp nodded in understanding. He knows how Nami hates going back to the ship empty-handed whenever there is a chance to shop. “Uh, speaking of shopping… I haven’t seen you in the island earlier. Where were you?”

“Me?” Nami raised an eyebrow at him. “I was exploring the island. They have lots of shops and stalls after all.” She looked at him curiously. “Why are you looking for me?”

“It’s just that I haven’t ran into you. Not once!” Usopp explained. “I saw Robin twice and even she had not seen you!”

“I think I may have wandered a little off the beaten path to survey the island’s layout.”

This time it was Usopp’s turn to lift an eyebrow at her. “With no tools?”

Nami pursed her lips. “Why? Can’t I do an ocular first?”

“Well you can. Did you go alone?” His eyes were wide when he asked her that question. He doubts if she can fair pretty well exploring on her own knowing how much of a coward she is.

“What’s with the hundred questions Usopp?”

“Nothing! I just find it weird that I didn’t come across you earlier,” Usopp explained with a shrug. “I met everyone twice, even thrice, while looking around.”

“Why are you looking for me anyway? Do you need something?”

“Not really. I’m just wondering why no one has seen you on the island. It’s like you disappeared!”

Nami huffed. “Like I said, I was surveying and shopping. Our paths just didn’t cross. It’s no big deal.”

“Well I was worried something happened to you!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen Usopp. But thanks anyway,” The navigator smiled at him slightly. “I’ll just turn in early tonight. I’m tired from all that.”

Usopp nodded. “Alright. Good night Nami.”

“Good night Usopp.” She gave him a small wave as she started to walk away from him. “Oh and by the way, I’m charging you three hundred belis for every question you’ve asked!”

“Oi! You money fiend!” Usopp shouted. “Take that back!”

But his retorts fell on deaf ears as Nami bounded up the stairs and disappeared inside the girls’ room.

-------------------------

It was two islands later that Usopp confirmed something.

Nami was acting really odd whenever they dock.

Just like before, he didn’t run into her the whole time they were prancing around the island.

He didn’t see her anywhere. Literally anywhere.

The only time he laid eyes on her was when she got back to the Sunny a bit later than usual.

And when he asked her about it again, he received the same answer as before.

She was surveying the island and shopping and stated in a rather condescending tone that the island was big that it is possible not bump into each other.

It was rather strange because when he saw her return, she was not lugging any shopping bags nor did he saw her spend some time in the library to sketch a rough draft of the island they’ve been… something that she normally did whenever she does any visual map outs.  

Besides, when did Nami window shop ever?

It was driving him nuts. What the hell is she doing? Why is she disappearing in every island they dock?

And more importantly, why is she not telling the truth?

He had been making lies all his life. The liar of course knows when someone is lying.

He made up his mind to find out.

-------------------------

The slight movement of the waves made the Thousand Sunny bobbed lightly above the water.

Up in the crow’s nest, Usopp can feel the lazy movement of the ship. Usually it lulls him to sleep even when he’s on watch.

But not tonight.

Tonight, a dozen questions were running inside his head. Questions that needed answers, it’s not giving him a moment’s rest. Questions that surfaced because of what he had discovered earlier.

“Usopp?”

The sniper jolted out of his daze at the voice. Zoro had just climbed the nest to relieve him of his shift.

“Oh hey Zoro.”

The swordsman dipped his head in response. He strode languidly towards the bench and placed his swords there. He was grasping a bottle of sake in one hand which he obviously filched from the Sunny’s stock.  

“I’ll take it from here Usopp,” he said while removing his green robe. He threw it beside his precious katanas.

Usopp absent-mindedly nodded but did not move from his position.

“Usopp?”

Zoro tapped him on the shoulder and his head snapped up to look at him.

“Huh?”

“I said I’ll take it from here,” Zoro repeated, the impatience clear in his tone. He regarded him curiously. “Is there something wrong?” He asked when he noticed the sniper was not responding.

Usopp inhaled deeply. He doesn’t know how to begin explaining it.

But the swordsman is a really keen observant. Maybe he already noticed something.

“Say Zoro?”

“What?”

Usopp looked up to him again. Zoro was chugging down almost half the content of the bottle. “Have you noticed anything different with Nami lately?”

Zoro stopped drinking and was silent for a moment. Then he raised an eyebrow at him. “Different?”

Usopp nodded.

“I haven’t noticed anything different with that wicked witch.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

“Nothing. It just kinda feels like she’s hiding something.”

The green-haired lad sat down beside him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that Nami’s acting a bit weird lately.”

Zoro scratched his head. “And?”

“She keeps disappearing whenever we dock in an island. When I questioned her about it, she said she was just out shopping and surveying.”

“What seems to be the problem with that?”

“She returns without any shopping bags Zoro! Nor is she drawing any maps as of late.” Usopp explained getting impatient himself.

“Maybe you just don’t see her doing it.”

Usopp stared at him as Zoro casually downed his drink. “Has she been pestering you to be her pack-mule-for-the-day lately?”

“No.”

“And don’t you find it strange?”

“Not really. Works for me.”

Usopp exhaled loudly. Figures. He had forgotten that Zoro have a soft spot for the navigator as big as an ant.

Silence hovered between them for a minute before Usopp choose to break it.

“I think Nami’s meeting with someone Zoro.”

That made Zoro pause with his sake bottle midway to his lips. “Meeting with someone?”

The black-haired lad nodded.

“That’s kinda, uh, vague?”

Usopp glared at him. “She’s meeting with someone. Meeting. Like she’s seeing someone.”

“Seeing someone?” Zoro repeated.

“Yes!”

Zoro let the information sink in before commenting. “First time I’ve heard of it,” he brought the bottle to his lips to drink again. “And what if she is? You jealous or something?”

“NO!” Usopp almost shouted. “No. I’m not!”

Zoro quirked an eyebrow at him.

“More of worried.”

“Worried?” The former pirate hunter looked like he was thinking. “Usopp, what’s it to us if she is seeing someone? It’s her life and her choice.”

“She’s keeping it a secret from us! She’d been lying about her whereabouts and what she’s doing!”

Zoro snorted. “And she can’t?”

“I’m worried Zoro!” This time Usopp pushed himself up and started pacing back and forth. “What if she’s seeing a bounty hunter in disguise or a marine undercover? She could be in danger and she and all of us are none the wiser!”

“Nami can handle herself well.” Zoro barely batted an eyelid as he said that. “You made sure of that when you made her that stick.”

Usopp frowned at him and the way he referred to his invention. “I know you two don’t usually meet eye to eye and that you couldn’t care less if something happens to her…”

“Oi,” Zoro said in a warning tone cutting him off.

Usopp back-pedaled. “Ok, maybe you care a little. She’s our friend after all. But Zoro, what if she can’t handle it like you’re saying? She’s not as strong as you or Sanji or Luffy!”

“Wait Usopp calm down. And stop pacing damn it!” Zoro rubbed a hand across his face.  “How do you even know of this?”

That halted Usopp’s nervous outburst. “Uhm… I might’ve followed her?”

“Might have?”

“Alright! I followed her earlier! I’m worried!”

Zoro let out a ‘tch’. “And? Is there a reason to be?”

Usopp wiped his forehead with his hand frustratingly. “I don’t know! I’m not sure. That’s why I’m telling you! Maybe you can… help me?”

“Help you? How?”

“You know… that haki thing?

“Haki thing? But you also have it.”

“I don’t know how to use it!” Usopp confessed. “Unlike you, my haki’s not that developed. I can barely sense who she’s with inside the room.”

The swordsman held up one hand to stop him. “Who she’s with? Inside the room?”

Usopp bobbed his head up and down and started to explain.

“Like I’ve said, I saw her in town earlier and followed her. I saw her head towards an inn in the discreet part of the town.”

Zoro was now staring at him seriously.

“She went inside and I did too. I saw her head upstairs and knock on the door of one of the rented rooms. When it opened, she just went inside and that’s that.”

“So you didn’t see who was there in the room?”

“I didn’t.” Usopp shook his head.

The swordsman huffed. “You know, Nami’s business is her business,” he gulped down the remaining sake in the bottle. “If she wants to spend the day shacking up with someone, then she can without us meddling.”

Usopp blushed at that and Zoro shrugged at his reaction.

“You’re worrying too much Usopp.”

“And you’re worrying too little.”

Zoro look irritated at that. “I just don’t like prying in other people’s business. You know that. If you are really worried why don’t you just ask Nami about it?”

“Are you kidding? Usopp gasped. “I don’t want her to sic Zeus on me!” He grabbed Zoro’s arm.

“Have you tried asking Robin? That woman knows everything.” Zoro suggested. “Nami might have told her something.”

“Like she’d tell me if she does.”

“Ok. Point taken,” Zoro said, scratching his chin. “Though she might have an idea if Nami is seeing someone we should be wary of.”

Usopp pouted. “True. But I want to know myself.”

“Now you’re just being nosy.”

“I call that being protective!” The sniper retorted. “Zoro are we going to just wait for the day when she comes back here injured or she doesn’t come back at all?” Usopp argued. “I want to make sure that whoever the hell is that, he is not gonna cause her any harm!”

The former pirate hunter was quiet. As much as Nami always rubs him the wrong way, there’s no way in hell he would sit back and do nothing once she gets hurt.

“Usopp,” Zoro muttered his name with an edge on his tone. “Let me ask you again. You’re really sure she met with someone?”

“Uhm… yeah. I heard her talking to somebody while inside the room.”

“You heard?”

“I kinda tried to eavesdrop.”

“What did you hear?”

“It’s muffled. And they are talking in hushed tones I can barely make out what they’re saying.” His face colored suddenly. “Then I heard her giggle and there was a sound of the bed creaking or something…”

The expression on Zoro’s face was unreadable and they stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. “Uh,” Zoro rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “What did you do then?”

“I waited up for her in the bar downstairs. Until she came out of the room and went back here.”

“You didn’t think to wait up on who will come out of that room after her?”

Usopp cringed. Well he didn’t think of that. “It kinda slipped my mind,” he confessed sheepishly.

A snort came from the Supernova.

“That’s why I’m asking for your help!”

“Usopp…”

“We are crew mates! I just don’t want her getting involve with someone who might be dangerous!”

Zoro pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll talk to Nami.” He suddenly announced and Usopp panicked.

“No! She’ll have my hide if she finds out I’m suspicious of her and stalking her and her… I don’t know what to call it… lover?”

The Mugiwara first mate grimaced at the word. “Then what do you want to do Usopp?!”

Usopp grabbed both of his arms. “Just come with me and figure out who she’s seeing and if that man is dangerous or not! That way we can protect her if need be!”

The swordsman sighed. Nami will have their asses for this. “You know talking to her is still the best way Usopp.”

“Come on please! It will help me sleep at night! Besides I’m scared of her.” Usopp proclaimed firmly.

Zoro rubbed a hand on his face. “You’re a good friend Usopp. Even if you’re poking your long nose where it’s unwanted,” he then smirked. “Alright. I’ll help you.”

“Really Zoro?”

The green-haired man nodded. “Who else knows about this?”

Usopp looked startled at his question. “Uhm, just me. I don’t want anyone else to know,” he answered. “This is not the kind of thing you tell Luffy or heaven’s forbid, Sanji.”

“Keep it that way,” Zoro advised. “The next time we dock, we’ll see what this is all about.”

The sniper had tears in his eyes. He cannot help but wrap his arms around the tall lad. “Thanks Zoro! You’re the best!”

“HEY! GET OFF ME USOPP!”

-------------------------

“So?”

He was immediately at the receiving end of a sharp glare.

“I can’t sense anyone with her Usopp.” Zoro replied.

“Are you sure?” Usopp whispered.

Zoro’s good eye narrowed dangerously at him. “I’m pretty sure.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

They Straw Hats had just anchored in another island and Usopp all but drag Zoro to follow their navigator as she made her way into town. Honestly, he didn’t know if it was a really good idea to lug the tall swordsman who always gets himself lost after three steps but he needed help.

Just in case it ends in a confrontation and Nami’s lover is someone Usopp cannot defeat. He can just let Zoro do the honors.

And he gotta hand it to the green-haired man, even if he did managed to turn them around wrong corners and streets and almost lost the mapmaker they were tailing. Zoro was still able to find they place where Nami is.

Thank Kami for haki. Maybe Zoro should use it more often and avoid getting lost anywhere they go.

Usopp fidgeted nervously. They were in the inn where they saw Nami disappeared into. They headed straight upstairs, thankful that the innkeeper was preoccupied with a fight that broke out in the first floor bar.

“Maybe the guy she’s seeing found out we’re trailing her!” The sharpshooter remarked fretfully. “And since he doesn’t want to reveal himself, he just stood her up! Oh Kami! She’ll be in a pissed off mood later!”

“Well…” Zoro clicked his tongue. “If you suck at tailing someone then yeah that is possible.”

“I hate you!”

“Look Usopp,” Zoro ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. “Maybe he’s just late or something. We better not be here in case he finally shows up.”

“But…”

“Tell you what. I’ll do the stake out here until Nami gets back to the ship.” Zoro suggested much to Usopp’s shock.

“You would?” Usopp breathed out.

“Yeah,” Zoro nodded. “But in return you buy me booze.” He pointed towards the bar with his thumb.

Usopp stared at him.

“Favor for a favor.”

The long nosed sniper sighed. He can’t very well stay. If the man Nami is meeting already discovered she’s being followed, then he might not show up in the inn.

Maybe leaving it to Zoro is a much better idea. The man has razor sharp senses and he can sit tight in one bar drinking the whole stock empty but still be aware of everything and everyone around him.

This would definitely burn holes in his pockets. But he made it his mission. So he has to see it until the end.

Besides, if Nami sees him, it would only look like Zoro just randomly ended up in this establishment after getting lost in his wanderings.

“Alright,” Usopp agreed. “But you have to tell me everything you’ll find out.

Zoro bobbed his head slightly. “Sure.”

“And don’t go picking fights with anyone.”

Zoro growled at him. “I’m not Luffy.”

“We have to find out who that man is ok?” Usopp gripped him on both shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night Usopp.”

-------------------------

The door of the room opened and Nami immediately swiveled around with a huff and marched towards the man who just entered the room.

“So?” She asked, raising one delicate eyebrow.

Zoro locked the door behind him and met her impatient gaze with an amused one.

“What happened?” The orange-haired woman placed both hands on her hips as she waited for him to tell her the details of his afternoon with Usopp.

“Told him I’d do the stake out and spy on you, the swordsman answered. “Then send him off his merry way.”

Nami pouted. Zoro told her that Usopp was getting suspicious of her and her activities and that he followed her on the last island and actually saw her go inside an inn. “I swear his long nose isn’t just for show!”

Zoro laughed as he removed his swords, resting them against the small bedside table. He approached Nami and wrapped his arms around her.

“Usopp’s just looking out for you,” he kissed her forehead. “Even I couldn’t get annoyed with him being nosy with that kind of reason.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “He’s a good friend that much I can say.”

“I know,” Nami mumbled. “And I appreciate his meddlesome self just this once.” She rubbed her hands on his shoulders tenderly. “He didn’t need to go this far though.”

“He just wants to know if you are seeing someone dangerous or a threat to your safety.”

Nami arched an eyebrow at that. Then a cheeky smile spread across her lips. “I am seeing someone dangerous.” She patted him on the chest.

“You are?”

She nodded and she pushed him towards the one arm chair available inside the room. He ungracefully plopped down on it and smirked when she sat herself on his lap.

“Yes,” she murmured as she brought her lips closer to his. “Former bounty hunter?” She kissed him light and fleeting. “Supernova?” She kissed him again, deeply this time. “More than 300 million bounty on his head?” She grinned. “Dangerous.”

His hands roamed across her body freely, liking the way her silk robe was clinging tightly against her body and how it feels against his calloused palms. “Guess he really have a reason to worry.” He said in a gruff tone before capturing her lips with his.

She pressed her body closer to his. Zoro’s one hand settled itself on the curve of her hips while the other grabbed at her nape so he can kiss her deeper.

Nami opened her mouth for him, coaxing him to slip his tongue inside and play with hers as her hands busied themselves undoing the sash that held his green robe.

She moaned in frustration when he pulled away to gaze at her. Her hands slid inside his clothing, pushing it down his broad shoulders as he started kissing her neck, his warm lips sending shivers all throughout her already heated body.

“Maybe he deserves a thank you something for this after all,” Nami whispered, raking her hands through Zoro’s green hair. As much as it was irksome, she can’t help but feel lucky that she have friends who looks out for her and has her back.

“Maybe he does,” Zoro agreed as he stopped showering her neck with kisses and instead moved to that ticklish spot behind her ear.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and whimpered. That spot always drives her crazy.

Zoro suddenly pulled her closer to him, their nose almost touching as he stared at her with raw desire behind his gray eye. “Enough about Usopp, we’ll deal with him later,” his voice was rough that it almost came out as a growl. His hand was caressing her backside. “Are you naked underneath that?”

A Cheshire cat-like grin appeared on Nami’s face at his question. She playfully removed herself from his embrace and stepped away from him.

“Why don’t you find out?” She mischievously walked backwards to the bed as he continued to sit on the arm chair, watching her intensely.

“You take the fun out of undressing you.”

“Well maybe if you are here sooner you would’ve been able to take all my clothes off.”

Zoro just chuckled.

“Don’t fret,” Nami smirked at him, pulling at the knot of her robe. “I saved one for you.”

She turn around, letting the garment drop down the floor and climbed on the bed, giving Zoro a full view of her irresistible bottom in lacy red thong.

She heard his breath hitched and the sound ignited every single part of her body.

The navigator swiveled her head to look back at him, teasingly and sexily, as her wild orange locks fell on one shoulder. Zoro was now on the edge of the seat, his one eye trained on her as he took in the sensuous sight. He was almost devouring her with his gaze as he ran a tongue on his lower lip, looking almost predatory.

Oh she knows how he loves seeing her on all fours, just as much as he loves seeing her spread out deliciously in front of him.

“Come on Zoro,” she called out seductively. “Are you just gonna sit there and stare?”

-------------------------

Usopp grumbled as he trudged glumly towards his factory. The day had been an utter waste. And he was nowhere near getting any answers to his Nami-related questions.

He went back at the inn earlier to check on Zoro and the idiot swordsman disappeared on him.

How can one get lost while just sitting on the bar drinking? Gosh this is a whole new level of Zoro’s getting-lost-talent!

Strangely when he asked the barkeeper if he had seen a green-haired man drinking within the vicinity, he said he did not have any customer like that.

The idiot swordsman tricked him into paying for his drinks and probably went into another bar!

So much for helping him out!

But when he saw Zoro in the Sunny before dinner, the swordsman gave him back his money pouch.

“I wasn’t able to use it,” Zoro said, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks anyway Usopp.”

“Why aren’t you in the bar earlier?” Usopp hissed at him. “I went back and you’re not there!”

“Well, no one showed up,” the green-haired lad explained with a shrug. “No use staying there waiting for nothing.”

“Oh,” Usopp mouthed. “Oh my god! Nami’s gonna be furious!” He grabbed Zoro by the arm. “Where is she? Is she back here already in the Sunny?”

“I don’t know,” Zoro grumbled.

Their conversation was interrupted by Sanji yelling ‘dinner’.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Usopp muttered and Zoro just yawned in response.

“If I’m sleeping don’t wake me.” The tall lad reminded him as he headed towards the galley.

“But…”

“Don’t worry. We’ll talk Usopp. I just have nothing to tell you about earlier that will be helpful.” Zoro grunted before leaving him on the deck.

Usopp sighed. Now he’s back into square one.

He pushed the door to his factory open and stopped short.

There was rectangular-shaped box, gift-wrapped with an orange bow, resting quietly on his work table with a note attached to it.

He warily approached the gift and studied it. It was kinda heavy. He shook it a little, hoping to get an idea on what was inside. He glanced at the note and was surprised to see what was on it.

It said ‘thanks’ in a very familiar handwriting. And as if to make sure he’s not going to be mistaken as to who it was from, a mikan was drawn on the bottom right part of the paper.

What the hell?

A cold, clammy feeling suddenly enveloped him. And he started to sweat profusely.

Nami had found out! She must’ve caught Zoro earlier. Damn it!

-------------------------

Usopp made his way up the rope ladder to the crow’s nest. He doesn’t care if Zoro’s asleep or not. He had some explaining to do.

He heaved himself up the metal rung and when he reached the top, he called out. “Zo—”

“Hello Usopp.”

The sniper’s eyes widened when he saw who was in front of him and he froze. What is Nami doing here? From the way she was standing near the hatch, Nami seems to be aware that he was on his way up.

His gaze shifted towards green-haired lad sitting casually on the bench, looking at him a bit smugly. Zoro must’ve sensed him and told the navigator.

Usopp all but stammered. “I-I-I’ll just return later.”

Nami suddenly grabbed him by the nose and pulled him inside.

“Hey ouch!” He cried out, slapping her hand away. “Let go!”

The mapmaker relented and placed her hands on her hips, smiling wickedly at him. “So did you like my thank you gift?”

Usopp gulped from his sitting position on the metal floor while rubbing his nose. “I haven’t opened it yet.” Actually, he did not have the courage to open it. He just stared at it as seconds turned to minutes before coming to a decision to head to the crow’s nest and talk to Zoro.

Nami pouted. “Why? You’ll like it. I promise!”

That sentence scared him even more than Nami who was right in front of him.

Zoro was watching them from his spot, the amused expression clearly visible on his face.

“Zoro!” Usopp suddenly yelped. “I can’t believe you told on me!”

The swordsman laughed at his accusation. “I had too.”

“You didn’t have too!” Usopp growled at him. “Did she caught you earlier and threatened you into confessing?”

Zoro scowled at that. “She didn’t.”

“That’s right. I didn’t. He went and told me on his own volition.” Nami suddenly leaned towards him so they were face to face. “So you were following me around recently?”

“Uhm…”

“Because you want to know what I’m doing and who I’m seeing huh Usopp?”

Usopp refused to answer. After all when this is over, they would probably be fishing his dead remains on the sea… that is, if the sea kings didn’t get to it first. He glared daggers at Zoro who was looking so calm for someone who was also involved with snooping on Nami’s afternoon tryst.

Then it struck him. Zoro must’ve sold him out! He cannot believe it! He cannot believe he is capable of that. Wasn’t he a man of honor?

Nami peered at his face when he did not utter any word. “Are you still in there Usopp?”

“I think I’m already dead.”

Zoro snorted at his response.

The navigator laughed. “You’re exaggerating.” She grinned cattily at him. “You really want to know who I’m seeing Usopp? From what Zoro told me, you already know what I’m doing…”

The sniper blinked at her, startled by her offer. Then he blushed at her statement.

“I will introduce you to him,” Nami offered. “So you don’t have to follow me around or exert too much effort spying on what I do. Kami knows what you might see.”

Zoro coughed at that as Usopp turned a darker shade of red.

Then his dark eyes shifted from Zoro then to Nami. And he realized something.

If Nami knows what he was doing because Zoro told her straight away…

…Zoro must’ve known what she’s been up to all along!

“I can’t believe you Zoro,” Usopp unexpectedly cried out, that Zoro was taken aback. “You should’ve just told me that you knew what Nami’s been up to!”

Zoro folded his arms across his chest, leaning back into the bench. “Why would I do that? Do you think I want her pissed with me?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?”

The swordsman’s face scrunched into a frown at his accusation.

“Of course Zoro’s loyal,” Nami interrupted, huffing. With a roll of her brown eyes, she grabbed Usopp by the straps of his suspenders, dragging him towards where Zoro was sitting. “He’s loyal to me.”

“Huh?” Usopp was dumbfounded. When did Zoro gave precedence to Nami over him?

Nami’s grin was too mischievous for his liking.

“Say hello to the man I’m seeing Usopp.”

Usopp’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped off its hinges.

Zoro barely smirk and shook his head at their antics. He and Nami agreed that maybe it would be better to let Usopp in on the secret rather than watch him spiral down into anxiety.

The sniper spent the whole five minutes gawking at them. “But… but…” he managed to stutter after a long while. “You don’t even like each other! You always fight and never agree to anything! You actually cannot stand each other! How did this happen?!”

Zoro and Nami shared a glance.

“Well…”

“I’m so confused right now.” Usopp declared with a shake of his head. He studied his two nakama who never in his wildest dream would eventually get together.

“Sorry Usopp,” Zoro chuckled as he leaned forward. “But Nami and I agreed to keep this a secret. Though I really appreciate that you’re looking out for her.”

“And I hope this helps you sleep at night,” Nami winked at him before settling down beside the swordsman.

Usopp closed his eyes. It feels like someone’s playing a joke on him. Nami and Zoro? Of all the strangest things to ever happen in this side of the New World…

… THIS tops it all.

“And now that you know our secret,” Nami wagged a finger at him as she tucked her legs under her. “You are going to help us keep it that way!”

Usopp’s eyes widened. For heaven’s sake! How was he going to keep this a secret? It nearly drove him crazy when he was keeping his mouth shut about Nami’s strange behavior. And he actually went to Zoro to talk about it.

Because he cannot fucking keep it to himself!

Now THIS?

This is a nightmare!

And Nami seems to be aware of his dilemma because the grin on her face when she rested her head against Zoro’s shoulder was purely too evil.

This is what he got for poking his long nose into her business—their business—regardless of the reasons.

He’s now in on their secret.

And this secret…

He realized with a sinking feeling.

… Is gonna be hell to keep.

[ceruleanmusings]

between the lines - 1

pairings: Sweet Pea & OC (note the ampersand), maybe Toni/OC? who knows? It’s up in the air at this point

warnings: None for the intro

summary: She’s a certified geek. He’s a gang member. She wants to pad her college applications. He just wants to piss Reggie off. What was supposed to be simple tutoring sessions teaches Wynn and Sweet Pea more about themselves and each other than they ever could have imagined.

chapter summary: Introducing Wynn Tate, granddaughter of Pop Tate, and her outside, jade-tinted, rascally views within the Town with Pep.

note: So I’ve had this sitting on my computer for a while. It is an expansion off this Sweet Pea/Wynn idea I randomly got. I figured I may as well post it somewhere to see what people think while I ruminate on whether or not to continue. This starts right when the Southside Serpents get transferred to Riverdale High but after that it doesn’t follow the show plot, the rest of this is my own creation. So it’s a bit of a season 2 AU. If you want to know more about my OC, Wynn Tate, you can find out here. Please let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged in any possible future additions.

Wynn Tate heard the door to the break room creak open and her body stiffened, the cookie in her hand halfway to her mouth. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be back there, not at a time when the front of the house was so busy, but she couldn’t help it. She could hear her stomach growling over the din of the diners chatting away. What kind of customer service was that? Not the good kind, she’d reasoned to herself, so she slipped away for a second. She hadn’t expected anyone else to come in so soon. And yet here she was—

“Busted!” At the singsong-y trill, Wynn’s shoulders fell, and she stood from her hunched over position, defiantly taking a bite of the forbidden treat. “Now now, even you know we can’t eat on the job, Tate.”

“Oh, stuff it, Sabrina,” Wynn mumbled around the treat, “it’s not my fault you chose to bring these things in when I’m working a double.” She waved the chocolate chip cookie around, bringing attention to it. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed as the treat practically melted into her mouth.

Sabrina grinned. “I had to make my last day special.”

“This is more like rubbing salt in the wound. First you leave me—thanks for that, by the way—and then you do it by bringing your cookies.” Wynn shook her head as she took another bite. “Damn, what’re in these things?”

“Magic,” Sabrina said with a simple shrug.

When Wynn threw a look her way she laughed and waved her off. “Special recipe, that’s all! I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”

“You know, I can get Pop to buy this recipe. Put the cookies on the menu and give you a cut of course.”

“That’s not going to get me to stay here, you know.” Sabrina walked over to the mirror by the back door and leaned towards it, checking her makeup Wynn supposed. Sabrina had the enigmatic way of always looking put together despite working a double shift. But Wynn wouldn’t complain; Sabrina was one of their best servers by far. “School’s starting up again and it’s a bit of a drive from here to Greendale.”

“Don’t remind me.” Wynn popped the last bit of cookie into her mouth and rubbed excess crumbs off onto her apron. She chewed as she thought to the upcoming semester. The back half of Sophomore year was just around the corner and, after everything that had gone on the previous semester, she had been looking forward to it. They could all now move on and start the new year fresh. But, still, the spark of excitement she once felt had barely covered the niggle of uncertainty that grew in the pit of her stomach. After all, after everything that happened, how could they just go back to being normal? Could they even be normal? “Whatever happened to the days where the world was at our fingertips and we could have whatever we wanted?”

“It dried up when the prospect of getting jobs bloomed on the horizon,” Sabrina replied.

Wynn stuck her tongue out at Sabrina’s reflection which was followed by a teasing smile. “How poetic.”

“Easy for you to say. You just walked into this job. Being the owner’s granddaughter has it’s perks.” Sabrina met Wynn’s eyes in the mirror. She lifted one of her eyebrows, speaking volumes with the one gesture alone.

Wynn brushed a hand against her nose and cleared her throat. No one may say it aloud to her face, but she knew of the undercurrent of disdain that was pointed towards her. She couldn’t help being Pop’s granddaughter as much as she couldn’t help being left handed or topping off at an annoying 5’3”. Perhaps it was a tiny bit easier for her to get a serving position at the diner, but she’d basically grown up within it’s neon embrace, it only made sense for her to work there. Her family built Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe and aided in it thriving for over eighty years. She knew the ins and outs of the diner, better than anyone, and felt pride working within its walls and carrying on the Tate name. That didn’t mean she didn’t work as hard as they did; in fact, it made her work harder. To prove that she could handle the business when it finally was passed down to her. As much as she had built up a wall towards the hearsay, sometimes it found its way through the cracks.

Sabrina clicked her tongue and turned away from the mirror, flashing a smile over at Wynn. Wynn managed a small smile of her own. “I’m just teasing, Wynn. We all know Pop is a fair man.” She sighed, clasping her hands together. “In fact, he’s been more than fair. I’m going to miss working here. Truly.”

“You can always come back on long breaks or the weekends. If you need the extra money, I mean. Pop will have you back on in a heartbeat,” Wynn said.

“I know. But I need to get something in Greendale; commuting all the time is beginning to be a drag. A local soda shop is hiring, I think.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp, Wynn slapped a hand to her chest. “You traitor!”

Sabrina winked. “Keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

“Everything’s interesting when you’re around, Spellman.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Sabrina blew a kiss Wynn’s way and flounced out of the room.

Wynn chuckled, shaking her head, and took up Sabrina’s previous position at the mirror. She fixed her ponytail, smoothed a few of the wrinkles out of her uniform, dotted with a few bits of food and spilled drinks, and snuck a glance at her phone. She swiped aside a few notifications from Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, checked her podcast statistics, and then went through her texts. She made mental notes to text her mother, Midge, and Valerie back later and, right when she was about to turn off her phone, it buzzed in her hand indicating a new message.

Her lips pressed together into a line and her heart thudded painfully in her chest when she read the contact. She stared down at the name, Reggie Mantle, her thumb hovering over the unopened text. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and pushed out a shaky breath. It was just another in a list of texts she hadn’t bothered to reply to but this one came after a few weeks of radio silence. She was certain he’d gotten the point by now, understood the firm reasoning behind her silence, but then again this was Reggie. He was aggressive in all aspects of her life. She hummed. She used to like that about him.

The back door burst open again and she hastily shoved her phone back into her pocket as she spotted Grant, the busser, rushing by on his way to the kitchen. He wore a haggard expression on his face that seemed to match the urgency of his footsteps. “There you are! Get back out there, people are waiting!”

“Right, right, sorry. Was just…taking a breather.” Wynn rubbed a hand across her face and hurried out of the backroom, uttering a quick, “Thank you” to Grant as she passed. Not that he knew she was thankful for his appearance or else she would have done something she would regret. Like replying to Reggie’s text. That would’ve been a disaster.

Putting her customer service face back on, Wynn pushed through the employee door and headed straight into the heart of the diner, letting the hustle and bustle and lively atmosphere of the front of house to wash over her. A few people danced to the swing music pouring out of the jukebox, people sitting on the bar stools laughed whilst simultaneously raising glasses in the air, and the booths were packed with her Riverdale High peers, celebrating their last day of freedom with milkshakes as far as the eye can see. Wynn took in the sight for a moment, took in the jubilation and the excitement of one last night of debauchery and tucked it away for later.

“Order up, Wynn,” Pop said from the window. As Wynn approached he lowered his voice and added, “Did you save one for me?”

Panic flashed across Wynn’s face for a second and then she kicked herself. Even so, she did her best to rearrange her facial features as she asked, “Er…save what?” She reached for the serving tray that he held and he backed it away from her reach.

“You know chocolate chip is my favorite,” he continued, winking at her, “and that I have a Cookie Monster for a granddaughter.”

Wynn held up her hands. “Hey, blame Nona for that one. If she didn’t bake so much I might actually have a healthy diet right now. She’s an enabler.”

“Yeah. She was a real spark plug, wasn’t she?” At the wistful sigh that came whistling out of Pop, Wynn’s mouth twisted to the side. This was a forbidden topic, they both knew. It was best to change it now before they both regretted it.

“Don’t worry, I left you the biggest one. I’m sure Sabrina had that one for you in mind,” Wynn said, taking the tray, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. As she turned with the tray she caught Sabrina’s eye as she walked by with a table’s check. Wynn’s smile immediately faded. She probably should have been reprimanded for disappearing off the floor; everyone else would have.

Hefting the tray and balancing it on her palm, she expertly walked through the crowded diner and took it to the back where a few members of the Riverdale High wrestling team had gathered. Judging by the assortment of food she was delivering to them they were taking their pre-season carb load up seriously. In fact, if she remembered correctly, they had a shot at state this year.

“Here ya go, guys. I got an Adam and Eve on a raft, a Bloodhound in the hay, a blue plate special, two cheeseburgers with onions, two chicken breasts high and dry, eggs benedict, a smoked pastrami sandwich annnnddd…a side of extra fries,” Wynn rattled off the top of her head as she set each plate down on any space the table could offer. “Would that be all for you?”

“I mean, we got our fries, now all we’re just missing is the shake,” one of the wrestlers said, throwing a smirk her way.

“Mmm.” Wynn allowed a tight smile to appear as she propped the serving tray against her hip. “You wouldn’t want me shaking anything on you, Chuck.”

“I dunno. I got a joystick that wouldn’t mind getting your hands on it,” Chuck replied, his words slightly jostled from the elbows he received form his snickering goons.

“Enticing but, considering it no doubt a lot of personal wear and tear, I’m not sure that I want to handle something that can’t…perform up to standards.” At the chorus of ooohs that cycled around the table at Chuck Clayton’s sour face, Wynn stood up straight and all but chirped, “Enjoy your heart attacks.”

Their boyish ribbing blended into the background as she went through the rounds, picking up dirty dishes, serving tables, greeting new diners, and delivering checks. She greeted customers with a wide smile and kept a pep in her step, even when a little kid puked on her shoes because his eyes were bigger than his stomach and the mega sundae was his siren call. Another long, fabulous night at Pop’s.

Her feet ached and she was sure she was beginning to smell like old grease and stale coffee but she pushed through. Every extra dollar she made was a dollar towards helping the A.V. Club get better equipment. Riverdale High’s vintage aesthetic was pleasing to the eye but their gear could use a little upgrade. Unsurprisingly the school’s treasury didn’t find her club to be high on their list of priorities, amongst others, and so she found sometimes that doing things herself was the best way to make change. She wasn’t keen on relying on others for help. Her grandfather and mother didn’t raise her that way.

The bell above the door jingled, snapping Wynn out of her autopilot tread of pouring coffee into a mug. The steam curled up and brushed against her face, giving her the extra shot of energy she needed. She glanced towards the door, already mentally planning a place to put the customers, when she stilled and a cold chill ran down her spine.

Moose Mason and Midge Klump walked in through the door, hand in hand, big smiles on their faces as they spoke about something. She couldn’t quite hear over the hard thumps of her beating heart. Her eyes darted between them and the doorway, waiting for it to open once more, waiting for them to be joined by the last addition to their trio. Her hand trembled in anticipation. A steam of hot coffee flowed over the mug’s rim and onto the man’s thumb. The customer jerked his hand back.

Shit! Her first spill in months and it all had to do with someone that wasn’t even there. Someone who still had an annoyingly strong hold on her. Way to go, Wynn. That’s coming right out of your tip. “I’m sorry, I’ll go get you a towel,” she stammered, heat flooding her face. She rushed away, grabbed a stack of napkins, and came back, apologizing profusely as she glanced at the door every now and then. Just to be safe. Just to be sure…

“He’s not here.” Moose calling over the interspersed conversations made her head whip up.

Wynn shot a quick “please let me know if you need anything else” to the man before hurrying over to the table. A burst of excitement shot through her when she got close to the table and she dropped into the seat next to Midge, throwing her arms around the girl. “Hey Smidge!” She greeted her friend with a big hug.

“Hey Schwynn!” Midge’s smile faltered slightly as she leaned forward and sniffed the air around her.

“Oh, I know, I smell like the grease trap. It’s been a long day,” Wynn said with a little sigh. She turned her eyes over to Moose and asked as nonchalantly as she could, “What’d you say?”

“I said he’s not here,” Moose replied. “Reggie. That’s who you were trying to clock at the door, right? He’s not here.”

“Oh.” Wynn leaned back in the seat, her shoulders dropping from her ears as relief washed through her. Good. She didn’t want to deal with him anyway. But then she grunted and the relief switched over to annoyance. Moose and Reggie were attached at the hip, the only way Reggie wasn’t with them was because he was with someone else. Because of course he was, she reasoned. Reggie Mantle always had someone to fall back on when he. She scoffed. “What’s that matter to me?”

“You tell me.” Moose raised his eyebrows.

“It doesn’t.”

“Okay then.”

“It doesn’t.”

Moose laughed. “Someone’s high strung.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice and said, “I got a little bit of the jangle left over if you want to, uh, smooth things out.”

Wynn turned a cutting stare his way. “Really?”

“Moose!” The thud underneath the table following Midge’s admonishing utterance signaled to Wynn that he had been reprimanded. Judging by the way he winced and leaned down beneath the table, he had been reprimanded hard. Wynn smiled. Even after everything that went down that turned their squad into a trio, Midge still had her back.

“What was that—ohh. Right. Sorry, Wynn, I forgot.” Moose’s sheepish smile did little to curb’s Wynn’s disdain.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky,” she stated. Because she could never forget the way that Reggie betrayed her, lied to her, hurt her. And in her family’s business, of all places! “Anyway, what brings you guys out here.”

“I have your present!” Midge singsonged, pulling a small wrapped gift out of a bag. “It’s from me and Moose. We saw it and I immediately thought of you.” She clapped her hands together in excitement and kicked her legs beneath the table. Moose looked at her with a fond smile.

“Aww, girl, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Wynn said, applying modest tones to her words despite frantically tearing the wrapping paper to shreds in her haste to open the square-shaped box. She lifted the lid and beamed at the silver ring that stared back at her, a bumblebee and yellow honeycomb hexagons spanned the top and glittered beneath the neon lights. “Thanks, guys, I love it!” She slipped the ring onto her finger and admired it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you guys anything yet. Money’s been kinda tight lately.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tate,” Moose said with a wave of his hand. “We know you’re good for it. You can always pay us back in milkshakes. Or some of Pop’s blackberry pie if there’s any left.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his stomach.

“You’re in luck. There are some slices with your names on them,” Wynn said as she got back to her feet. She groaned beneath her breath at the ache in her feet and back and let out a slow breath. “You plan on staying long?”

“Schwynn.” Midge put her hand to Wynn’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. Wynn licked her lips and waited. Midge slipped her hand down and grasped Wynn’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. It’s just us. We promise. We told Reggie not to come.”

Wynn nodded and squeezed Midge’s hand back. “Thank you.”

“But, um…” Midge stole a glance at Moose who made himself busy reading a package of sweetener. A little too closely considering there was a grand total of about seven words on its bright pink wrapping. “Maybe when school starts back up we can have lunch together. All of us. Just like old times?”

Wynn hummed. Old times. Back when she lived from football game to football game, basketball game to basketball game, when she was up at all hours gabbing away on the phone, being the dutiful girlfriend of a member of the jock squad, dropping everything and running to Reggie’s beck and call. Back when she put all her faith and trust into someone only to have it all come crashing down and left her scrambling to remember who she was.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I might have to tutor again,” Wynn said. By which she meant she would definitely pick up another tutoring student.

“Tutor who? I don’t need your help anymore,” Moose pointed out.

“Someone else, then. It’ll be good for college applications anyway. They like consistency.”

“I think you’re the only one worried about college right now.”

That’s because I’m the only one who has to worry about college right now. But Wynn didn’t dare speak those words aloud. Because they didn’t get it, they wouldn’t get it, and they couldn’t get it. She kept a tight-lipped smile and said she’d get their pie right away, turning to head to the back, her hand slipping out of Midge’s grasp.

She twisted the ring on her finger as she headed to the back and shout out the order. The thought was appreciated but she knew who was really behind the gift. Midge and Moose may have known the ins and outs of her relationship with Reggie, but they didn’t know about honeybees.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, swiped it open, and opened up her text messages. The indicator next to Reggie’s name still lit up as an unread message. Her thumb hovered over the button. Should she open it? She’d been going strong with being unresponsive for a while now. Well, it couldn’t hurt to at least see what he had to say… Making up her mind, she tapped the message and waited for it to open up. One word stared back at her.

Hey

Her shoulders shook once with a brief, restrained laugh. Pushing a sigh out of her nose, she let her thumbs compose a reply before she could change her mind. Or think things through. Or stop herself, like she would have done before Midge and Moose came in.

…hey

She put her phone back into the pocket of her apron and had only managed to make it behind the counter when it buzzed again. She whipped it out, tapping open Reggie’s newest message:

:)

She drummed her fingers against the back of her phone, tucked her curly hair behind her ear, and then put her phone away.

The steady ­­thump thump thump of her mother’s forearm crutches signaled Wynn that her mom was on the move. She mentally slapped herself for causing enough noise for her mother to be awake. She’d planned on slipping out the door before her mother could get up. Her mother needed her rest. The fatigue had been hitting her hard lately. Not that Pop or her mother would ever say so to her face, but Wynn knew. She could always tell.

“You’re up early,” Delilah Tate noted as she entered the kitchen.

“So are you,” Wynn noted and then licked a glob of mayonnaise off her thumb. She tossed the knife she was using into the sink, closed her sandwich, and shoved it into a waiting Ziploc bag. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Yes, well, it’s hard to stay asleep when your legs feel like pin cushions,” Delilah replied. She set her crutches against the round kitchen table and eased herself into a chair. Wynn noticed the way her mother’s face scrunched up in a wince and eased a second later, as if the pain didn’t exist. Wishful thinking.

“I want to head in early to catch Principal Weatherbee before school starts. Talk to him about the A.V. Club and see if we can get some better equipment.” Wynn threw an apple and granola bar into a brown paper bag and followed it up with her sandwich. “The audio for the pep rallies and variety shows barely make the cut and, sooner or later, I’m gonna have Jo-Jo on my ass about it. Girl has claws and I’m not in the mood to be on the end of them. Plus”—she wiped down the counter with a sponge, tossing the leftover crumbs into the nearby trashcan and then moved a plate of toast and eggs onto the table in front of her mother—“I want to see if I can use the extra time to finish recording the last part of my podcast. The episode should have been up yesterday, but I got delayed.”

“I told you you’ve been workin’ at the diner too much, baby,” Delilah said and took a bite of toast. Loose crumbs fell off the piece of toast due to Delilah’s trembling hand. Wynn and Delilah both ignored it.

Wynn sighed. “It’s my job, Momma.”

“Your job is to be a kid.”

Wynn bit her lip. Maybe she’d know how to be a kid if she didn’t have to be the parent. If she didn’t have to worry about if today would be the day their lights would turn off, if their water would be shut off, how much she needed to make in tips to add to her college fund while also having pocket money on the side, if her mother took her pills, if Pop was getting enough sleep between shifts. Worries plagued her, followed her around like a black cloud. Worries pushed her, drove her, fanned her flames and made her want to be the best Wynn she could be. Because she had to be the best; with “win” in her name, she couldn’t lose. She had too much at stake.

“Just eat, Momma.” Wynn went over to the phone and dialed a number that she knew by heart. It only took a few rings for the other line to be picked up.

“Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, Pop speaking.”

Just like beams of sunshine breaking through a wall of clouds, Pop’s voice put a smile on Wynn’s face and gave her back her pep. (She was not a morning person, especially when said morning came about four hours after a long shift). “Hey Poppy, I got your breakfast made. It’s in the fridge, eat it when you get in before you get some sleep this time. Momma’s up and I already prepared her breakfast and lunch. She said she was feeling pins and needles in her legs again”—as she spoke she reached up into a cabinet, pulled down a bottle of pills, and set it in front of Delilah—“I brought in the newspaper and I’m putting the bills in the mailbox on my way out. I just wanted to let you know I’m heading into school early to talk to Principal Weatherbee.”

“There’s that initiative. I don’t know where you got it from, certainly not me,” Pop said with his rumbling laugh.

“I got it from all the Pops before you,” Wynn stated, pride wrapped around her words. “And I got it from you too. And I got it from Momma. What can I say, you raised a badass family Poppy.”

“Hey now! I know I didn’t teach you that language!”

Wynn laughed. “You raised a rad or, dare I say groovy, family, then.” Softening her tone she added, “I’m proud of you, in case I don’t tell you often enough.”

“I’m proud of you too, Wynner. And you tell me enough to keep my spirits lifted.” He hummed. “God blessed me with a wonderful family. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“Well, I’m gonna let you get back to work, Mr. Lucky Man. Please get some sleep later, okay? The rush should be slower during the day. I’m sure Evan can hold down the fort.”

“Yes ma’am. I love you, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you too.”

Wynn hung up the phone and pushed her hands through her frustratingly unruly hair and quickly lifted it to a messy bun atop of her head. “Did you take one?” she addressed Delilah. Delilah side-eyed her as she downed a glass of water. Wynn’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it; she didn’t even notice her mother had gotten up. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t mother me like that. Last I checked, I was the one in labor with you for eighteen hours,” Delilah replied.

Wynn laughed. “That’s always your argument, isn’t it? Sorry I caused you so much pain!”

“Oh the pain was expected. It’s the gray hair that I’m having a problem with.” Delilah patted her hair to make a point.

“Silver foxes are in, donchaknow?”

“I’m not old enough to be a fox, let alone a cougar.” Delilah winked. “Vixen maybe.”

“Yeah, y’still got it Momma.” Wynn glanced at the cat clock on the wall, eyes shifting with every swish of its tail. “Okay, I really have to go. Text me if you need anything. I can come back on my free period or at lunch. I left my schedule on the fridge for school, for Pop’s, and my extracurriculars and—”

Delilah held up her hand, effectively stopping Wynn from talking. “I’m not going to fall apart when you’re not here. I love you, Wynn, but stop worrying about me. Let me worry about you.”

Wynn swallowed and nodded. “Right, yeah, right. Sorry. I just…” Her words trailed off and she clicked her tongue. She grabbed her lunch and her school bag off the counter. She brushed past the table, hesitated, and then went back, leaning over to kiss her mother’s cheek.

“Have a good day, baby,” Delilah said, gently caressing Wynn’s cheek.

Wynn rushed to the front door, pausing to stomp her feet into her trusty floral doc martens, and left the Tate home, slamming the door behind her. She bounded down the stairs, swinging her crossbody bag over her shoulder and picked up her pastel blue Schwinn bike that lay on its side, spokes pointing up to the sky.

She lifted it upwards, jumped on, and took off towards Riverdale High. The leftover bits of snow crunched beneath her tires and the crisp, cool wind whipped her face and stung her eyes but she didn’t mind. She lived for mornings like this, when everything was quiet, still, sleeping. When the day was new, before the anxieties and frustrations that came with being a teenager stained the clean slate.

It wasn’t long before she rolled onto the Riverdale High campus. She slid her bike into the rack, locked it, and brushed grease off her hands. Looking up, she spotted the back of Principal Weatherbee’s signature tweed jacket, elbow pads and all.

“Principal Weatherbee—wait!”

He wheeled around on his heel, door to the school halfway open. She saw him smile as she rushed up the front steps, eager to reach his side. “Ah, Wynona Tate—”

“Wynn, Principal Weatherbee, please.” She cleared her throat. “I prefer Wynn.”

“Yes, of course. In fact, Ms. Tate, you’re just the person I was hoping to see.”

“I was hoping to see you too, Principal Weatherbee.” She stepped into the school, getting hit by the distinct scent of rubber erasers and lemon Pine-sol. “It’s about clubs—”

“Don’t worry about the cubs, Ms. Tate. I know we’ll be a little overcrowded in the upcoming weeks but I’m sure the turnout will better than you can even imagine.”

Wait, what? Wynn stopped walking, nearly crashing into the door of the front offices that Principal Weatherbee had let start to close behind him. She sidestepped the door, slipping in, briefly saying hi to Ms. Phillips at the front desk and followed Principal Weatherbee into his office. He set his briefcase down in his chair and then went to the windows, sliding open the blinds.

“Overcrowded?” Wynn repeated.

“Yes.” Principal Weatherbee turned away from the window and looked at her, hands clasped. “I was going to make the announcement later but, the long and short of it is that Southside High is closing down. Effective immediately.”

“Whoa, what!?” Wynn cried out, eyes widening.

“Yes. We’re taking in some of the student body so, as I said, it will be a little overcrowded here until we get settled. Speaking of settled, that’s where you come in, Ms. Tate.”

Wynn blinked rapidly, waiting to process the information that was thrown at her. Her fingers twitched by her sides, the tips sparking like livewires with pins and needles. Her brain churned, and thoughts crashed around like raging waves. This was historic, she could slip it onto the end of her podcast episode. A Southside High and Riverdale High merger? Her listeners would go through the roof with that information alone. And then it clicked. Riverdale High and Southside High were merging. Was she the first to know about it? What a scoop! She moved to whip out her phone but stopped when Principal Weatherbee’s clearing of his throat stopped her.

“Erm…sorry, sir.” She sheepishly put her phone away and clasped her hands together. “What were you saying?”

“I expect you to give this your full and undivided attention, Ms. Tate, because this is of the utmost importance,” Principal Weatherbee stated. All traces of her smile left her face and she nodded. “I have spoken with the former principal at Southside High. It seems that a few of their students are falling a bit behind in their studies. I am aware that math is one of your best subjects”—he paused when Wynn grinned and made finger-guns in his direction—"I am seeking your expertise in aiding a few of the Southside High students that are coming in to raise their grades.”

“Yeah?” Wynn lifted her bag higher on her shoulder and then corrected herself when his eyes cut her. “I mean, are you sure? Cheryl’s held a 4.0 since she pranced out of the womb, surely she’s more qualified.”

“She may have a stellar GPA but you have a more…empathetic approach to people and their plights.”

“You mean I’m less of a man-eater,” Wynn decoded. “I mean, I’d love to, but I already have soccer coming up and working at Pop’s and yearbook and my podcast. Oh, and the A.V. Club, which I wanted to speak to you about—”

“While I admire your propensity to keep yourself engaged in a plethora of activities—”

Wynn shrugged. “Yes, well, it looks good on college applications and you and I both know my sort needs an extra leg up to even get in the same door as my peers.”

Principal Weatherbee nodded. “Exactly. Some of the students from Southside High have an even lower chance of even seeing next-level education on the horizon. That is where you come in. If there is anyone who understands the upcoming struggle, it’s you.”

Wynn’s eyebrow twitched. She knew a low blow when she saw one but he was a smart man and he struck gold while barely lifting a finger. He was good. “You’re really speakin’ to my heart, Weatherbee.”

“In these times, it’s nice to know someone still has one.”

Her mouth twisted to the side and she gazed past him, out the window, out to the Riverdale High campus. Her bike stood out against the pale greens, browns, and grays that washed out their dreary landscape. Cars started to swing into the circle drive, parents dropping off students, as others milled in from down the street and parked their own.

Her breath hitched at the sight of a black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle and then stuttered outwards when Reggie stepped out of it, beaming as he gazed up at the school. His eyes rested on the office windows and Wynn immediately turned away, just in case he’d seen her. Her mind reeled back to the conversation she had with Moose and Midge at Pop’s just two days ago.

Maybe when school starts back up we can have lunch together. All of us. Just like old times?

Yeah, and maybe she’d have a lobotomy. Anything than having to subject herself to lunch with her ex-boyfriend.

“You know what? I’m in.” Wynn held Principal Weatherbee’s gaze and nodded once, letting him know she was serious. “I’ll tutor anyone you think needs help. Send them my way. I can give up some of my lunch periods.”

“I think you’ve made the right decision, Ms. Tate. I’ll pass your information onto any troubling students.” Principal Weatherbee reached out and somewhat awkwardly patted Wynn on the shoulder, as if he wasn’t sure he were allowed to. “It’s nice to know I can count on you.” He lowered his hand. “Now, you better get ready for class. And Ms. Tate? Don’t speak a word of this to anyone. I’ll be making an announcement accordingly.”

Wynn gave Principal Weatherbee a two-fingered salute and left the office, making a beeline for the woodshop behind the school stage. If she were lucky she’d have enough time to record the ending of her podcast. She had a lot to pick apart.

[turtle-paced]

Revisiting Chapters: Jon IV, ADWD

We all love a good chapter devoted to our PoV character attending meetings.

The story so far…

Jon has a lot of guests at the Wall. Some of them are staying, some of them are going to march on the Boltons. Now Jon has to work out how and whether to help them all.

Winter Is…Not Adequately Provisioned For

We start our chapter with a literal taking stock. 

Jon, Dolorous Edd, Bowen Marsh and Wick Whittlestick venture into Castle Black’s granaries and cold storage to work out what exactly they have and how long it might last. Sensibly for a castle located in the climate it’s located in, Castle Black has a lot of underground tunnels so that the Watch doesn’t get snowed in. With Jon, we tour Castle Black’s granaries, root cellars, smokehouses, at least four miscellaneous storerooms, a spice locker, and finally the freezer. That last is located inside the Wall itself - the room is as long as Winterfell’s great hall, according to Jon, but no wider than the tunnels that brought them there. Even in the most mundane use of the great working of magic that is the Wall, there’s something not exactly natural about the place.

He could feel his fingers sticking, and when he pulled them back he lost a bit of skin. His fingertips were numb. What did you expect? There’s a mountain of ice above your head, more tons than even Bowen Marsh could count. Even so, the room felt colder than it should. 

Like magic. Icy, icy magic.

It doesn’t take long to learn that Jon is very much a summer child.

“It is worse than I feared, my lord,” Marsh announced when he was done. He sounded gloomier than Dolorous Edd. 

Jon had just been thinking that all the meat in the world surrounded them. You know nothing, Jon Snow. “How so? This seems a deal of food to me.” 

Not only is Jon not old enough to have much experience with this sort of stocktaking in general, the only winter he’s lived through was a short one when he was still a very young boy. Short rations are not a thing he’s overly familiar with to start with; short rations for years is even more alien. This is why the you know nothing is there - Jon is reminding himself that his perspective is narrow and he’s speaking to someone who knows more than he does. You know nothing, Jon Snow, and certainly not how much people eat.

The food situation Bowen Marsh outlines is a dire one. With current and projected residents at Winterfell, all that food porn will only last them a year. After that, it’s turnips and pease porridge. After that, horse blood. Marsh had expected this to be enough to last the Watch three to four years of winter, never once anticipating the sudden influx of people.

So what to do? Marsh is the expert, and he has a range of measures Jon could use. First, the Watch’s herds need to be butchered save for a few breeding pairs; while that means they’re going to have scurvy at the Wall, but scurvy is better than starving. Second, they need to go on winter rations effective immediately. Third, they should consider buying food from the south. Fourth, and preferably, Jon kicks all the extra mouths out.

This is where the politics comes in. The Watch simply does not have enough food. They cannot kick Stannis out:

“We cannot leave King Stannis and his men to starve, even if we wished to,” Jon said. “If need be, he could simply take all this at sword-point. We do not have the men to stop them.”

Jon refuses to let the Free Folk starve, because he’s a humanitarian and not in the sense that Dolorous Edd jokes about. Buying food poses a problem.

We could, thought Jon, if we had the gold, and someone willing to sell us food. Both of those were lacking. Our best hope may be the Eyrie. The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. 

If only, Jon, if only. This from the guy who once wished for a dragon or three to help fight the Others.

Hunting to top up food storage is hypothetically possible.

“We can always hunt if need be,” Wick Whittlestick put in. “There’s still game in the woods.” 

“And wildlings, and darker things,” said Marsh. “I would not send out hunters, my lord. I would not.” 

No. You would close our gates forever and seal them up with stone and ice. 

And this is a massive split within the Watch itself. As Jon points out, it’s roughly fifty-fifty as to sealing the Wall off, and the individual orders within the Watch are factionalised. The builders and stewards are pro-sealing gates. The rangers are in favour of leaving the Wall relatively open, since the Watch doesn’t have the men to defend the whole Wall. This would seem to reflect the degree of knowledge the respective orders have of the Free Folk and conditions beyond the Wall; the rangers are familiar with the Free Folk, and are certain that if the gates are sealed off the Free Folk will either climb or go around, while the builders and stewards trust in the Wall itself, which they’ve spent years maintaining.

Jon, being Jon, noticed the professional split. His career has tended more towards the duties of a ranger and his sympathies are towards the rangers, despite being nominally a steward, and he too hews to the ranger/builder-steward split. His sympathy to the opposing position is minimal. Here we also see Jon refusing to adopt the winter rations measure that Marsh suggests, without giving his reasons for not doing so. The working relationship between Jon and Marsh is not in a good place, even now. It’s only going to get worse.

Ranging South

As soon as Jon’s done with that job, another appears in the form of Devan Seaworth, summoning Jon to a meeting with Stannis (requesting, that’s how Edd would put it, requesting). As the wrong-way rangers have reutrned, it’s time to make some more concrete plans. Politically, this is a busy chapter, as Jon tries to catch up on the internal machinations of Stannis’ camp, while simultaneously dealing with Stannis’ campaign and his own organisation’s problems. And Jon does not have Davos’ ACoK and ASoS chapters to help him out.

Let’s try and tackle this issue by issue.

First, Stannis’ camp. Jon has made himself familiar with them, and he’s taken note of their factionalism as well. The prominence and status of the queen’s men is obvious, given that they wear flaming hearts in addition to the Baratheon colours. Jon’s noted that there aren’t many king’s men around the king, something something back in ASoS.

Unfortunately, the queen’s men boast a few prominent, religiously bigoted, xenophobic assholes. 

Godry the Giantslayer guffawed. “I had forgotten that you northmen worship trees.” 

“What sort of god lets himself be pissed upon by dogs?” asked Farring’s crony Clayton Suggs. 

Ser Godry was amused by that as well. “What names these northmen have! Did this one bite the head off some whore?” 

Given that these guys are going to be stuck in a Northern setting for the foreseeable future…their intolerance and crude religious chauvinism already spell trouble. No you know nothing is getting through those skulls.

Second, there’s the situation Stannis is heading into. He’s trying to get the Northern lords on side and not doing spectacularly well. The first topic of conversation is Mors Umber, leader of half of House Umber, and the price Mors demands for his support of Stannis. While Jon argues with Godry, Stannis sits back and grinds his teeth, before unveiling his grand plan: while Ramsay’s turned away to open Moat Cailin, take the Dreadfort. 

It, uh, it’s a plan that needs some work. Concept’s good. It falls apart in practice. To take the Dreadfort, Stannis would have to cross potentially hostile Umber lands, where he knows nothing and the Umbers know just about everything. He won’t be able to make it to the Dreadfort before the castle’s warned in any case, thanks to ravens and beacon fires. That would turn the siege of the Dreadfort into a race, where if Stannis loses his retreat is cut off and he’s outnumbered five to one. Stannis is nevertheless resolved to this plan despite the risk, but not so resolved that he’s blind to its flaws. Nor is he unwilling to consider alternatives.

Finally, the issue of the Free Folk. We see that Stannis includes them in his meeting - not just “Rattleshirt,” but the Magnar of Thenn as well. Stannis quickly punts the issue of Rattleshirt to Jon (or so he perceives it), much to Jon’s irritation. Jon can make no use of Rattleshirt. He can neither keep him at Castle Black nor send him away.

Melisandre spoke softly in a strange tongue. The ruby at her throat throbbed slowly, and Jon saw that the smaller stone on Rattleshirt’s wrist was brightening and darkening as well. “So long as he wears the gem he is bound to me, blood and soul,” the red priestess said. “This man will serve you faithfully. The flames do not lie, Lord Snow.” 

Perhaps not, Jon thought, but you do. 

Not even real magic - perhaps especially even real magic - can induce Jon to think of Rattleshirt as anything but a dangerous liability.

As for the other VIP, Val the “wildling princess,” Jon gets to look after her as well. Nobody but him in this meeting seems to really grok that the Free Folk don’t consider her a princess.

Stannis initially plans to take the Free Folk who’ve crossed the Wall as part of his own forces. The men, anyway. Jon quickly realises that this is going to get these people killed uselessly, and argues to keep them. Eventually, he ends up trading knowledge of the hill clans in order to keep the Free Folk out of Stannis’ forces. His reasons are both practical - he can use the men on the Wall; the Free Folk really will piss off the Northern lords - and humanitarian.

It’s also worth noting that we see some of the best of Stannis here, who really has come a long way since the start of ACoK and not just in the sense he’s a few hundred miles north of where he started. He hears out Jon’s criticism in full, and when Jon’s plan turns out to be better than his own, he adopts it, recognising Jon’s superior knowledge of the North. When Jon tells him to suck it up and ask nicely for the mountain clans’ support, Stannis sucks it up.

“For three thousand men, I suppose I can endure some pipes and porridge,” the king said, though his tone begrudged even that. 

I mean, not gracefully or anything, but he does.

Take No Part

Underpinning all the exposition and planning in the meeting is Jon’s internal conflict. He wants to help Stannis. He wants Winterfell liberated from Bolton control. He wants the Starks restored to their seat. Now, he’s in a position where he might, he just might, be able to meaningfully contribute to such a state of affairs.

And all that stops him are his vows.

Since vows and honour matter to Jon, he doesn’t just say “screw it” and start aiding Stannis. He bends his oath first.

The Night’s Watch takes no part, Jon thought, but another voice within him said, Words are not swords. 

The first step is giving Stannis intel. First is a bio of Mors Umber, then details of marriage alliances, and an application of his knowledge of Crowfood’s personality.

“The Ryswells and Dustins are tied to House Bolton by marriage,” Jon informed him. “These others have lost their lords in the fighting. I do not know who leads them now. Crowfood is no lapdog, though.”

We readers might consider this sort of thing fairly innocuous, but this isn’t a society where accurate biographical information is all that easy to come by. There aren’t many people on the scene who would have that sort of knowledge of Mors Umber. This sort of knowledge is very much a benefit of Jon being raised at Winterfell and enjoying a good chunk of Robb’s education. Knowledge of the people in power is an asset in this society. Here we see Jon use it.

But Jon does not stop there. Instead, he moves from giving background detail that Stannis might, just might, be able to get from elsewhere, and turns to giving advice. That, that is a positive contribution to Stannis’ campaign, from Jon.

“Your Grace should have him swear an oath before his heart tree.” 

“Your Grace would do well to accept his terms.” 

“If it comes to swords, see where Hother’s banner flies and put Mors on the other end of the line.” 

He also actively pursues additional information about the status of Stannis’ plans to retake Winterfell. It’s a purely academic interest, we’re sure.

In case there was much doubt that Jon is motivated at least in part by his Northern loyalties, he gets drawn into an argument with Godry.

“A fine plan if what you want is every hand in the north raised against you. Half is more than none. The Umbers have no love for the Boltons. If Whoresbane has joined the Bastard, it can only be because the Lannisters hold the Greatjon captive.” 

“The Greatjon has sons and daughters both. In the north the children of a man’s body still come before his uncles, ser.” 

Jon speaks as a Northman in this argument, deeply irritated by this arrogant shit of a southerner who’s come up here boasting about killing giants and now proposes to flat up destroy a major Northern house. He’s also still obviously bitter about the Karstark thing back in ASoS.

“A northman.” Better a Karstark than a Bolton or a Greyjoy, Jon told himself, but the thought gave him little solace. “The Karstarks abandoned my brother amongst his enemies.” 

This marks him as more than just a Northerner, but a Stark partisan. When Stannis starts talking about who he plans to install as Lord of Winterfell, obviously goading Jon, Jon has only this to say:

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.” 

He’s as adamant as any Northerner, any Stark, that Winterfell belongs to the Starks in general, and now Sansa in particular. His sister. Not half-sister, not trueborn sister. No qualifiers. Just his sister. He loves her, just as he loves Robb and Arya and Bran and Rickon. That’s part of his political problem and the bulk of his internal dilemma.

Jon gives even more specific advice and analysis, meant to give Stannis a better chance of success.

“The boy has shown me his throat. I mean to rip it out. Roose Bolton may regain the north, but when he does he will find that his castle, herds, and harvest all belong to me. If I take the Dreadfort unawares—” 

“You won’t,” Jon blurted. 

This is incredibly significant, as we discover later that the Boltons were doing their best to lure Stannis into marching on the Dreadfort and into a trap. Jon’s still not done. He reluctantly allows Stannis to take spears and helms from the Watch armoury:

He means to plunder our armory, Jon realized. Food and clothing, land and castles, now weapons. He draws me in deeper every day. Words might not be swords, but swords were swords. 

Then he tells Stannis where to find more men. It comes with advice on how to win the mountain clans over, plus guides. He justifies it like so:

The Night’s Watch takes no part, a voice said, but another replied, Stannis fights for the realm, the ironmen for thralls and plunder. 

This isn’t a bad argument. Stannis does intend to aid the Watch in a way that the Boltons and the Greyjoys aren’t going to. The Watch would be better served if Stannis took control of Winterfell. Jon never articulates this position to his subordinates. Perhaps for fear that it wouldn’t be very convincing, given his background, and the fact that good arguments aside, those personal reasons for wanting the Boltons out of Winterfell do motivate him as much or more than “for the realm.”

Here’s the point, though. Words are not swords, but Jon’s words in this meeting were more effective than swords. Jon’s words about the terrain and political geography of the North, his knowledge of the Dreadfort, it convinces Stannis to abandon the plan that would have ended with his defeat. How can this level of advice possibly count as “taking no part”?

For all this, there is one bright clear line that Jon draws. One line he won’t cross, or bend.

“You could bring the north to me. Your father’s bannermen would rally to the son of Eddard Stark. Even Lord Too-Fat-to-Sit-a-Horse. White Harbor would give me a ready source of supply and a secure base to which I could retreat at need. It is not too late to amend your folly, Snow. Take a knee and swear that bastard sword to me, and rise as Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” 

How many times will he make me say it? “My sword is sworn to the Night’s Watch.” 

Night’s Watch vows and love of his family coincide on this point. Jon won’t break his oath to the Watch, and especially not to take the castle and title he sees as belonging to his sister.

Chapter Function

In terms of plot, this chapter is largely dispositive, inching a whole bunch of plot points along rather than radically changing the game on the spot (except in providing that massive “what if,” but even that’s slid in at a meeting). We don’t have a PoV on Stannis; this chapter bridges the gap between him leaving the Wall and him showing up at Deepwood Motte. We know who’s going where and who isn’t - Melisandre, Val, and “Rattleshirt” are all staying at the Wall. Arnolf Karstark’s betrayal is seeded. The coming food shortage is seeded.

The more important part of this chapter is Jon’s character development, which is why we’re at the planning session for a campaign rather than following the campaign itself. Jon’s working relationships with Bowen Marsh and Stannis, especially the latter, are the real focus of this chapter. His interactions with them, the concessions he is and is not willing to make, is the real action here. In parallel to Dany, whichever way Jon turns, he must compromise.

Miscellany

In amongst all the food you’d expect to find in a cold climate (turnips, beets, etc), the Watch also has stores of certain spices, almonds, figs, and olives. Plus Marsh mentions at one point having limes in storage. Those are coming from further south than the Riverlands.

Mance Rayder loves his drama. In Rattleshirt’s guise, he can’t help but poke at Jon for killing ‘Mance,’ nor help drawing attention to the ruby that anchors the glamour Melisandre’s put on him.

“Your Grace will need to go to them yourself. Eat their bread and salt, drink their ale, listen to their pipers, praise the beauty of their daughters and the courage of their sons, and you’ll have their swords.”

Never have I wanted a Stannis PoV more. Or at least a PoV that could watch Stannis trying to do this.

Clothing Porn

The Magnar of Thenn wears a leather hauberk sewn with bronze scales, which by Free Folk standards is incredibly blinged out.

Food Porn

Let’s just blockquote the paragraph.

In the granaries were oats and wheat and barley, and barrels of coarse ground flour. In the root cellars strings of onions and garlic dangled from the rafters, and bags of carrots, parsnips, radishes, and white and yellow turnips filled the shelves. One storeroom held wheels of cheese so large it took two men to move them. In the next, casks of salt beef, salt pork, salt mutton, and salt cod were stacked ten feet high. Three hundred hams and three thousand long black sausages hung from ceiling beams below the smokehouse. In the spice locker they found peppercorns, cloves, and cinnamon, mustard seeds, coriander, sage and clary sage and parsley, blocks of salt. Elsewhere were casks of apples and pears, dried peas, dried figs, bags of walnuts, bags of chestnuts, bags of almonds, planks of dry smoked salmon, clay jars packed with olives in oil and sealed with wax. One storeroom offered potted hare, haunch of deer in honey, pickled cabbage, pickled beets, pickled onions, pickled eggs, and pickled herring. 

And that’s before we get to the meat storage, which is way less appetising in frozen form. It’s not quite food porn - more like pantry porn, I think.

Next Three Chapters

Cersei II, AFFC - Jaime II, ASoS - Prologue, ASoS