deboracostaatelier

[grouchymillennial]

“this is a party, isn’t it?”

*back to my regularly scheduled simping*

[recuira]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three

chapter four | suede. stalking. silly.

his pov;

"Your wanted poster."

Those three words settled in my mind as I stared at the distraught girl in front of me, watching as she fumbled with her hands, a nervous exterior brushing over her. She seemed to be so horrified with the fact that I was once a pirate sought after by thousands- wanted dead or alive, though much preferred dead. Many still wanted me dead but due to my brilliant idea of hiding out here, the chance of anyone getting my bounty was thin. I, however, didn't see it being as much of a big deal as she deemed it so. The real issue I found was tucked away in one of the books within the nightstand which I was so fucking thankful she didn't find. I'd rather her not have been looking around but if she were to find one of the two? I was glad she found the poster.

I tossed another slice of apple into my mouth then set the knife down on the cutting board. I approached Y/N but instantly halted when I noticed how nervous and uneasy she was. "What's wrong?"

"H-How many people did you kill?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Does that really matter?" I asked, waving my hands up in the air to hopefully exaggerate my point. "It was almost a year ago."

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened!"

"I know, I know." Despite her discomfort, I took a seat next to her anyway. She tightened her arms around herself, almost to make sure there was as much distance between us without her actually moving. Clenching my jaw, I patted my hands upon my thighs. "I know it's a terrible thing, and there's nothing I can do to change that. It's in the past and if I could go back and alter things, I would. Being a pirate was all I knew. My old friend was one, too. Then we separated onto different things and-"

"Did he kill people?"

"Lots of pirates kill people. It's part of the hype, ya know? It's very unlikely to raid another ship without there being any casualties. But I stopped because I got tired of it. I wanted something more."

"It's a pretty big bounty. I mean- come on, fifteen million berries?"

"Don't think about turning me in now," I chuckled, wanting to add a bit of lightheartedness to this unfortunate predicament.

"I'm not like that. I know I'm in need of money but-"

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N, come on. Give me some slack."

"Well, why exactly did you stop? Did you lose the thrill of stealing from others? O-Or did you get bored of killing innocent people?"

I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "We've all done some shit we're ashamed of. We're humans. I did a lot of fucked up shit," I said as I pointed at myself. "But I changed that. I moved and let all that go. I left my crew, made someone else the captain, and abandoned ship. I left all of that shit behind and came here."

"But why?"

"If I say this, I'll probably make things worse but I don't want to lie anymore," I said as I laid back, folding my hands over my chest. I stared up at the ceiling. "You've obviously heard of the One Piece, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, I was one of those pirates absolutely obsessed with finding it. Fuck, I even dreamt about it. It was the only thing I truly desired in life. It was the only thing I thought about. Not riches, women, alcohol- just the One Piece. I was making somewhat decent progress but then I heard that a group of Straw Hats-" I grimaced at the thought. "-made off with the map which they stole from one of the Marine bases. I happened to track them down and I managed to steal the map from some kid named Monkey D. Luffy. But all good things must come to an end and I lost it. I was back to square one. And then I discovered his bounty was thirty million berries." I frowned then sat up, turning to face Y/N. "Can you believe that? Some newby pirate-wannabe received a bounty double my own! Seeing that brought me back to reality. So I dropped everything then came here."

"All because of him?"

I nodded my head. Just the thought of that kid irked me. There was no one, other than Shanks, who I despised more than my own self.

"So, yeah, I know what I did was fucked up. But there's a reason I'm here now. There's a reason I've given you so much. It's because I want to be a better person, maybe redeem myself for what I've done. And I can do that by helping you, by making your life a little less miserable."

"Do you pity me?" The girl asked, finally meeting my gaze.

"What?" I laughed, almost obnoxiously. "Of course not. If anything, I envy you."

"Me?" Y/N pointed at herself. "You envy me?"

"You have no bad conscience. You've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to make up for. You have a clean slate."

She shrugged, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "Thank you."

"So, uh, do you hate me now?" I asked, forcing a frown to mimic a pouting child. She giggled at this and shook her head. I sighed in relief, wiping 'sweat' from my forehead. "Thank god. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you hated me."

"I knew you were a pirate but it's still shocking to learn about your past. It'll take me a bit to get used to it but I don't hate you."

"So, we're good?" I extended my hand.

"We're good." She shook it.

I felt as if a huge relief was lifted off my shoulders. And as long as she stayed out of the nightstand, there would be no more issues. But if I hid the book, then I would be even more safe. I pondered the possibilities before I watched as she rose from the confines of the bed and approached the counter. My eyes trailed down. The backs of her thighs were exposed and the shorts clung to her ass so divinely. I bit my lip and crossed my leg over my lap.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me," She mumbled as she started to chew on an apple, then began to cut into an orange. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Go ahead, shoot." As soon as she turned around, my eyes met hers and I smiled.

"Are devil fruits real? Or is that just an old tale? I've never seen one up close and I heard they cost a fortune, even for just one alone."

"They're real," I said with a small laugh. "I would know, I've eaten one."

Y/N nearly jumped before she darted over toward me, her hands grabbing at my shoulders. She still had a slice of half-chewed apple in her mouth which made her struggle to properly speak. "WHAT? You- NO! You didn't?!" She let go of my arms and instead planted her hands on my chest, shoving me back. I collapsed back against the bed, laughing. "You ate one?!"

"Years ago, when I was fifteen."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not. It was a mistake actually."

"What happened?"

I chuckled and pushed myself back up. "Give me an orange and I'll tell you."

If my reflexes weren't so quick, the fruit would've hit me in the face with how quick she threw it. But I caught it and began to pick apart the peel. "Easy, next time," I smirked and took a bite from it. "Well, when I was younger and was a pirate-in-training, the crew I was in raided this ginormous ship and hit the motherload. Not only gold and jewels and anything you could think of, but there was also a devil fruit. I found out how much they were worth and tried to steal it but I was caught in a predicament and I tried to hide it in my mouth."

"And?"

"I swallowed it whole."

She gasped, "And you're alive?"

"It doesn't kill you. It just takes your ability to swim when you're in the ocean, in salt water. It's like the sea turned its back on you."

"Did you get a power from it?"

I shrugged and winked at her, taking another bite. I licked the juices from my hand. "Guess."

"You can fly?"

"Ha! Nope."

"Read minds?"

"It's body-altering."

"Wait," The lovely maiden smirked, taking a seat on the bed. "Did it give you that red nose?" She snickered.

"Guess again," I said flatly, my expression turning cold as I stared at her. She gulped, clenching her jaw. I laughed and looked down at my lap, now using one hand to hold the orange. I continued to chew on it. But while she was distracted with her numerous attempts to guess what kind of body-altering power I had, I detached my left hand at the wrist. It floated behind the both of us and tapped on her right shoulder. Y/N jumped up, her head shooting to look at her side. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed together before she spotted my floating hand waving at her. She gasped and slapped it away. I broke out into a fit of laughter, my hand reconnecting to my wrist. "Impressive, huh?"

"You- what?" She was still flabbergasted.

"I ate the chop-chop fruit. It allows me to pretty much chop any part of my body. Like I can-" To avoid grossing her out, I chopped my left leg from my thigh instead of my head from my neck. She watched in amazement. I smiled at this. "I can disconnect anything from my body from my toes to my ears to my-"

"Even... ya know?"

I winked. "Oh, yeah. That, too."

"That's so cool. How come you haven't done it before around me?"

"I don't know. I just never found a reason to." Shrugging my shoulders, I allowed my leg to snap back. I continued to chew on the orange before finishing it and tossing the peel into a small bin to the left of the bedside table. Y/N finished hers as well. She wiped her hands down on her shirt.

"So, uh," I chewed on my bottom lip. "Do you think you and your mother will be okay?"

"Yeah. We fight all the time. Her drinking doesn't help."

I cringed. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's one of the reasons I hate it so much."

I pursed my lips and nodded my head. I knew I needed to cut back on it but it was something I've done for well over more than half my life. Though, I was destined to do it. Not only for myself, but for her, too. I'd do anything for Y/N. "So," I began, "what do you want to do today?"

"I need to go make up with my mother. That's a big to-do. I can't stand her ever being upset with me." The girl said as she stood up, slipping her shoes back onto her feet. "We can have dinner tonight if you want. Maybe you could meet her."

"Meet your mom?"

"Yeah, why not? She was wondering where all that money came from. She thought I stole it."

"Hell, I don't know. I'm not good with meeting new people."

"Will you, at least, consider it?"

"Sure," I smirked.

"Thank you." Y/N reached for the doorknob, giving it a strong and firm tug before it yanked open. A gush of cold wind washed over her, almost knocking her back. I tossed her my coat to which she whispered another 'thank you' then slipped it on. "I'll see you, Buggy."

"Bye," I murmured with a smile.

As soon as the door shut, I jumped down from the bed and pulled the drawer out from the nightstand, dropping it on the stone floor. I sorted through the numerous books and grabbed the novel I was so fucking thankful she didn't look through. As I opened the cover, the hollowed book had contents that almost spilled out. Papers among papers, among sketches fell out, wafting along the floor. Several notes about Y/N puddled on the floor. One, which was my favorite, was a letter I wrote to her- well, I refused to send it. If I sent it, any last fiber of my confidence would be crushed like a scrambled egg. My fingers lined the rigid edges as I unfolded it.

Messy paragraphs lined both the front and back of the page.

I smiled. How long ago did I write this? I haven't looked at it in so long. I usually added a sentence to it each time I saw Y/N, which is why it was so long. But I stopped pouring my thoughts and desires into it when I actually had the pleasure of speaking to her.

If she saw this, I would kill myself.

I'd purposely jump into the ocean with two anchors attached to my feet.

I looked over the first paragraph,

'I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat.'

I grimaced, cringing at what I was reading. Thank god, she didn't see this. I didn't even want to see this.

I tucked the papers back into the hollowed-out book, closing it. I slipped the other novels into the drawer then slid it into the nightstand. With the book of secrets, I needed to hide it somewhere she could never find it- where even I struggled to find it. I didn't want to throw it out for I would be completely discarding all of those moments we had together, although she couldn't reconcile them with me because at that time, I was nonexistent to her.

Maybe I could follow my own idea and form my own message in a bottle. I never mentioned her name, nor my own. To an outsider's perspective, it was anonymous.

I shook my head and slipped the book back into the bedside table. She wouldn't be back anytime soon so I had enough time to properly execute a fool-proof plan.

But right now?

I needed to go get another coat.

-=-

her pov;

My mother and I resolved things, just like always. And when she caught wind of a pirate suddenly becoming very fond of me, she begged me to invite him over for dinner. I didn’t think that was the best of ideas. Going out to dinner? Sure! But to have him over? At our house? I cringed at the idea.

She fell ill months ago. Nothing too major, but ever since she’s gotten better, she despises leaving the house and even made me bring her bed downstairs so she could sleep next to the kitchen just in case she had a hankering for something to eat. It was ridiculous, I knew that. But I couldn’t just tell her no. She was my own mother. While I was old enough, I definitely wasn't going to willingly disobey her.

She persisted that I go and grab Buggy so we could have him over for dinner, while I insisted we all go out to eat. She hated the idea and told me that it was her house, her rules.

I grimaced at the thought.

Now, I was just outside Buggy's home, knocking on the stone door. I hoped he was home, though there was no possibility of me being able to ask him prior to my arrival. I knew he was busy. He was a very busy man. I was surprised he made time for me.

With another knock, another silence fell. I groaned and backed up.

My eyes trailing down, I stared at the doorknob and chewed on my bottom lip. He wouldn't care if I waited inside, right? We trusted each other. He knew where I lived and I knew where he lived. As far as I knew, he never crossed any of my boundaries and I definitely didn't cross any of his- well, except for maybe 'snooping' through his nightstand.

Without thinking too much more about it, I grabbed the rusted doorknob, gave it a firm twist, then shoved it open. I almost fell through the doorway.

I caught my balance and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Without the lantern being lit, it was rather dark, but the bright blue sky helped to illuminate the small room. He must've not been home since I left.

I looked around, admiring everything.

As I took a seat on the edge of the bed, I noticed a piece of paper laying on the floor. It wasn't there before.

I raised an eyebrow and reached to grab it but before I could, the door flung open, a certain blue-haired pirate standing in the entrance. When he noticed me, he smirked. I gulped.

"So, we're breaking and entering, are we?" The man grinned as he took a few paces forward.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, scratching the back of my neck. "I came over to ask you about dinner but you weren't here so I figured I would wait."

"No worries, I'm only teasing."

"So?" I folded my arms, leaning forwards.

"So what?" Buggy questioned as he slipped his coat off. Since when did he get a new coat? And why? I was only borrowing the one he lent me. I didn't plan on keeping it. But I guess now it was okay if I did.

"Dinner? Are you available?"

"Hmm, it depends. What time?"

"I don't know, sometime tonight? Only for two hours or so. My mother wanted to meet you. I told her about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"That you've been a friend of mine for a few weeks now and you've been fortunate enough to treat me and help me out," I said with a smile. "She thought you were my boyfriend." I chuckled.

"Heh, that's rich," Buggy said as he turned around to close the door.

"So? Can you?"

"I guess so. Just don't leave me alone with her. I really don't want to be bombarded with questions." The man said as he folded the jacket over his arm then slung it on the countertop. "Did you tell her about my nose?"

I laughed, confused. "No? Why would I?"

"It's my defining feature. It's hard not to notice it when you see me."

"I didn't tell her. I didn't think it was important. I even forget it's there."

The clown burst out in laughter, his eyes closing as he clutched his stomach and nearly fell back with his fit of giggles. I pursed my lips. "What's so funny?" I asked as I crossed my arms.

"It's cute how you're trying to be nice to me. With a nose like mine, how can you forget it's there?" He replied while wiping a tear from his eye.

I felt flustered with the first part of his monologue but I ignored it and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I just do. It's not all I see whenever I look at you, ya know. It's not my main focus point when we speak. I look at your eyes, not your nose."

"And yet again, you prove to me that you're different than others."

I smiled. "Hope that's a good thing."

Buggy smirked, winking his left eye. "Of course it is."

The pirated approached me before he knelt down and picked up the piece of paper. He examined it for a moment then laughed to himself. "Grocery list," He explained as he shoved the paper into his pocket.

I paid no attention to the paper. It wasn't any of my business. "Speaking of groceries, want to go help me get food for dinner?"

"What's on the menu?"

"No idea, but let's just grab something so she won't be bitching later."

"Guess I'll be needing this again," The blue-haired man said as he reached to grab his jacket. He slipped his arms through and adjusted the collar. "We match now."

"Mine's more vintage than yours." I winked.

"Oh, so it's yours now?"

"No?" I gulped.

Buggy giggled. "It is. I got my own now so no worries about giving it back. Unless you'd like to trade from time to time."

"No, I like this one."

The man looked at me, an eyebrow cocked upward.

I paid his look no attention and instead looked down at the tattered suede coat I wore. I inhaled softly. It smelled like him.

A soft odor mixed with whiskey, coconut, and cinnamon. And while I hated the stench of alcohol, it worked for him.

I couldn't imagine him without it.

[higgsboshark]

I used to date one of those wannabe-Vulcan “logic is everything” tech bros and it’s just now occurred to me that I spent our entire relationship smoothsharking the shit out of him

I’d drop a comment like “Did you know narwhals love wearing porkpie hats but they hate fedoras?”

And he, unable to recognize whimsy despite years of heavy exposure, would be like “What the fuck are you talking about, no they don’t”

And I’d say “Have YOU ever seen a narwhal in a fedora?”

“No,” he’d say, condescension thick in the air, “no one has, because narwhals don’t wear fedoras.”

“Exactly!” At this point I’d give him a brilliant, pleased smile. “Because they like porkpie hats.”

He’d take a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “You,” he’d grit, “have never seen a narwhal wearing a porkpie hat. Because that. Doesn’t. Happen.”

“Well no,” I’d say, “because porkpies are made out of straw, so they float. The narwhals can never keep them on. It’s terribly sad.”

Then I’d keep giving him that same huge smile until the veins on his forehead popped out and he stalked off to play a round of golf or eat an unseasoned chicken breast or something.

... anyway I know quite a few facts about narwhals and I’m gay now

[kana-daydreams]

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝐔𝐬𝐨𝐩𝐩

main masterlist | op masterlist

summary: you— a princess. a delicate and fragile flower aka 'the damsel in distress’ give the Great Usopp a 'great' surprise. genre: gen cw: minor spoilers. ice hunter arc wc: 0.7k

“Princess, this is the day your eyes get the blessing of witnessing the Great Usopp vanquish his enemies.”

Atop the edge of an ice outcropping inside a glacier cave, you stand behind Usopp, gaze riveted on him in absolute awe as he aims his slingshot down at the overbearing husband and wife couple displaying too much PDA for everyone’s comfort— especially Sanji’s.

“I am blessed.” A dreamy sigh falls from your lips as you swoon over Usopp’s macho pretense—and him.

You were a princess distances away from home, fortunately rescued by the straw hats after they'd found you lost at sea.

And a princess who'd undeniably found herself smitten with a pirate. Heart captured by both his bravado and amusing fabricated tales he’d regale you with whenever you felt homesick.

You cheer Usopp on watching in anticipation as he takes aim down at the couple.

“You’ve incurred the wrath of the almighty Usopp-sama!” His voice bellows with confidence before releasing the projectile that zips down in the direction of the woman, and explodes upon impact, erupting a burst of flames in her face.

“Oh, Usopp! That was amazing!” You gush and Usopp smiles in pride from your praise. But you immediately notice his boastful smile replaced with a taut line and his brown eyes drawn wide as he looks down in the direction he’d sent his attack, all the blood drained from his face.

You follow his gaze to see the husband of the woman— a man with blonde hair, cowboy-inspired attire paired with ice-skates and tacky blue eyeshadow— who'd been knocked unconscious by Usopp, speeding towards you both, his features laced with piercing anger.

Scared out of his wits, Usopp grabs your hand in his, pulling you along with him as he whisks off, steering you both in the opposite direction.

Momentarily, coupled screams of fear and anger echo off the cave's ice walls as the man's chase of you and Usopp in particular persists, Sanji joining the party seemingly out of nowhere. 

However, the chef's chase abruptly comes to an end—Usopp his former target—when he remembers the man’s partner he’d unsurprisingly fallen head over heels for, lying injured and alone in the cold from Usopp’s attack.

“How dare you hurt my honey, Arbell.” The wannabe cowboy's voice rains contempt as he aims a kick in your direction. 

Usopp releases his grip on your hand and shoves you aside the same time the man's leg connects with his side, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. And as he does, a dreadful scream parts from your lips. “Usopp!”

The man stalks towards Usopp’s injured form that slowly keels over from the impact, plummeting to the ground with a heavy thud.

“This is what you get for hurting my honey!” The man moves to land another one of his brutal kicks on Usopp’s vunerable form, but before he can land a strike, your hand seizes his leg with a tight, blood-clotting grip.

“You fuck!” 

The piece of shit that attacked Usopp peers down at you, horror filling his face when he sees your angered expression accompanied by the suffocating feeling of your unadulterated rage.

Like a fish on dry land, his body thrases in your hold in an attempt to release his leg from your iron grip.

“W-What are you doing?!” He quivers out when your other hand wraps around his free leg. His question is soon answered when you twirl your body around at lighting speed, release him from your grip and send him flying off and into the distance.

A loud boom resonates around you and the ground vibrates in an almost violent quake, but you pay it no mind, rushing to attend to a half-conscious Usopp.

You gather his limp form onto your lap clothed by your thick winter attire. “Usopp my beloved, are you okay?” You inspect him thoroughly for any injuries, pulling a handkerchief from your coat pocket and wiping away the small patch of blood you notice smeared on the left corner of his lips.

It takes a minute for Usopp to gather himself before he answers. “I’ve had worse.” He heaves a cough, then another. “By the way princess"—his voice is rapsy as he speaks and eyes half-lidded as he stares at you, both curious and amazed—"you handed it to that guy pretty good. Why didn't you tell me and the others you had devil fruit powers?”

You smile a bright smile down at him, face warming from his praise. 

“Because, I don’t.”

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[mist-touchedxiv]

Chapter 1

A warm wind blew across the plain, a welcome touch in the desert of Thanalan. However, it didn't provide any relief to the Hyur man who was being harassed by a group of bandits.

A solid kick to his stomach caused him to gasp as the wind was driven from his lungs.

"Ye gotta lotta nerve taking a drink from OUR well, scum," purred the cruel Mi'qote woman perched on the stone lip of the well in question. The rag tag group of intimidating men and women growled in agreement. A couple of bandits roughly picked up the man by each arm, one forcefully raised his chin so he could look the leader in the eyes.

"P-please..." the man wheezed weakly as the hot dry air began to fill his lungs again. "Th-this... well is the closest.... water source.... f-for my village... We don't have much-"

One of the bandits started to dramatically boo-hoo, a poor mummer's farce of the man's dilemma.

"Oy! I keep telling ye, ye need to do comedy," squawked another bandits delightedly, the others roared with laughter in agreement.

The bandit leader lazily stretched and crossed her legs on her perch. "Just consider us members of the community who are guarding the well. We have to make our vittles too. How about... 10,000 gil a moon? We'll also take other goods and sundries if you can't afford the coin."

"Th-that's impossible," sputtered the Hyur man. "We're only a small mining town! W-we can't meet that deman-" Stars exploded across the man's vision as the Mi'qote leader slapped him across the face.

As the pain and stars receded, the Hyur numbly noticed something strange behind the bandits. The sound of a loud slurp startled the leader who hopped with incredible alacrity off the well wall with a hiss. Somehow a tall man dressed in blue Doman clothing in a large straw hat had managed to approach the group unseen in the open wasteland. The assembled group couldn't help but stare nonplussed as the stranger took another deep slurp of the cool water from the well. Next to him, a thin long package wrapped in canvas rested against the well.

For a moment, a stunned silence filled the air, punctuated only by the breeze and the squeaking of the windmill that drew the life-giving water in the well. And the stranger's noisy drinking.

"O-oy! Who the hells is this git," barked the wannabe mummer, breaking the silence after a long beat. The gang's attention was now on the newcomer and they were feeling very tense.

The stranger wiped ran his thumb along his stubbly beard as he let out a satisfied sigh. He nudged up the hat and considered them with bright blue eyes. "Just thirsty," came the reply, his voice pleasant with an accent unfamiliar in Eorzea.

"You gotta pay a toll to use OUR well," growled a scarred Elezen. "Ye would do well not to end up like this unfortunate scum." He lashed out with his foot at the man they'd been bullying but found naught but air as he had crawled away during the silence.

The stranger in blue paid them no heed as he filled up a water skin calmly. A particularly rough looking Hrothgar stomped over to him. "Ye got dust in your ears," he roared as he reached a huge hand over to grab the stranger's hat. "I'll fi-" There was a sharp crack as the stranger suddenly lashed out with inhuman speed and drove the end of the wrapped package into the throat of the Hrothgar who let out a coughing mew as he fell over, his hand taking the hat with him to reveal a mane of black hair with azure streaks and two long leoprine ears. The wrapping fell from the package to reveal what appeared to be a Garlean gunblade sheathed, but the blade was slightly shorter and appeared to be missing the barrel.

"Hells... it's a Viera male..." breathed the gang leader as the rarity of such a pretty creature registered with her. He had to be worth something. A lot of somethings. Possibly more than their water scheme. To their credit, the rest of the gang seemed to have already come to the same realization and drew their weapons and began to surround the blue stranger.

The Viera put his hand on the hilt of his blade, readying himself. "Trust me... it's not worth it," he said quietly, sensing their intentions. "Walk away." The leader let out a harsh cackle as she nocked an arrow on her bow.

"Got ye dead to rights, now be a good pretty bunny and come with us," she purred, aiming to pin his foot. Didn't want to damage the goods too much.

The wind blew.

The wind mill creaked.

The villains brandished their weapons with unspoken threats of violence.

Crystalline blue eyes regarded their surroundings.

Suddenly, the wind died and the Mi'qote let the arrow loose.

Her aim was true, but the target was gone. In a flash of steel, the man had seemed to dance his way through the ring of bandits with the grace and power of a surging river. The Mi'qote blinked surprised, suddenly spinning around to find the Viera behind her.

She snarled "I got ye no-" She suddenly realized that her bow was no longer stringed, having been cut during the mad dance of the swordsman. With a definitive click as he fully sheathed his blade again, the ground shook slightly as the whole gang crumpled to the dirt. They were still breathing but were not having a good time.

Time seemed to standstill for eternity. Then the wind blew again and brought them back to the present.

".... Go," ordered the Viera and the gang complied, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

[dragonshoardofworks]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danny Phantom, One Piece (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Danny Fenton & Monkey D. Luffy, Danny Fenton & Going Merry Characters: Danny Fenton, Going Merry, Monkey D. Luffy, Nami (One Piece), Roronoa Zoro, Usopp (One Piece) Additional Tags: Isekai and Transmigration, Post-Danny Fenton's Portal Accident, Fenton Ghost Portal (Danny Phantom), when instead of being spit back on Earth Danny gets yote in the GZ, and a Natural Portal gets the jump on our boi, but don't worry; this is better in his behalf, Neglectful Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Post-Nasty Burger Explosion (Danny Phantom), DP Crossover Angst Week 2024, Empath Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Danny Fenton Gets a Hug, Klabautermann, Dead Sam Manson, Dead Tucker Foley, Dead Jazz Fenton, Do I have to tag the MC death if it's pre-fic?, who knows ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌, Going Merry is Danny's Emotional Support Spirit, Emotional Ghost Hunger, (would you look at that? This tag is back in one of my works!), Touch-Starved Danny Fenton, Mugiwara no Ichimi | Straw Hat Pirates, Mugiwara no Ichimi | Straw Hat Pirates As Family, Luffy saw Danny unattended and asked, "Is anyone gonna claim this kid?", and then not wait for an answer, Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Danny becomes a Mugiwara no Ichimi | Staw Hat Pirate, No Beta we die like Danny (and Sam+Tucker+Jazz), Panic Attacks Summary:

Lost in every sense of the term, a boy accidentally ends as a stowaway on a caravel, while unconscious and feverish. How did he even manage that? And why is he now surrounded by Pittsburgh Pirates player-wannabes?? Or: Danny gets Isekai-ed in the East Blue, rescued by the only spirit that could and adopted by its crew along the way.

At long last! The continuation/actuation of this crossover has come to life!

Taking advantage of me having gotten back my spoons after the long shifts at work and the anniversary of "Reign Storm", I present you the first chapter of this baby!

I'm still undecided if I'll make it a series with singular events or if I'll narrate it fully, we'll see how it goes... 🤔

That being said, hope y'all enjoy it!

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[sirdindjarin]

Above Snakes

(Cooper Howard | The Ghoul/Lucy MacLean)

Lucy, the Ghoul, and Dogmeat have just passed the Hollywood sign when the Ghoul's Golden Rule rears its head. (Or, The Ghoul Saves Lucy.) Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit.

To be "above snakes" is to be still alive, still kickin'.

WARNINGS: Swearing, canon-typical violence.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort sorta, mostly unresolved sexual tension.

AO3 LINK

Sand pelted Lucy’s face as she stripped the corpse of its hat and thrust it onto her own head. She grimaced at the gritty touch of the floppy straw hat, but the Ghoul’s brow raised appreciatively. Naive little Vaultie was learning.

Her entire past, future, and worldview had been ripped from her - made hollow and false. Lucy had suffered a series of horrible truths. Even the Ghoul had been surprised by the gruesome fate of her mother, but he had not been surprised by Lucy’s choice. The most ghoulish parts of him felt grim satisfaction watching her perfect, privileged world get nuked like everyone else's had been.

The parts of him that were still Cooper Howard held her deeply in empathetic respect. Lucy’s mind splintered, her heart pumping harder under the crushing weight of betrayal. For two hundred years, he had labored under those same conditions. Cooper had struggled under the weight so long that it had warped him into the cold, utilitarian survivor he was now. Gazing at Lucy, still so full of life, he felt something akin to regret.

“C'mon, darlin'. Dog's already over the next rise,” the Ghoul turned, his spurs kicking up sand, and trudged up the hill.

Lucy kept pace; her eyes were downcast, but on the rare occasion that the Ghoul checked over his shoulder, he could see the flurry of emotion storming across her features. She was desperately trying to overlay the image of the father she knew over the one she’d nearly shot. Loving someone, trusting them completely, only for them to be the cause of all your suffering and the death of all that was good - that shared grief narrowed the gap between the Ghoul's heart and Lucy's.

A day's walk from the Hollywood sign with its revoltingly capitalist addition, the Ghoul finally stopped. He whistled for the dog and unslung his saddlebag from his shoulder. “Think this as good a place as any,” he muttered as he slumped against a withered tree.

Night had stolen Lucy's sight apart from shadowy outlines, but the Ghoul's vision was less affected. He saw well-enough when Dogmeat came running, wagging her tail furiously, with a severed human hand clamped between her jaws.

“Here, Dogmeat. Bring it.”

The obedient canine dropped the limb at the Ghoul’s feet with a short whine. He lurched forward to grab it, grunting with the effort. He heard Lucy step toward him; the right side of his body grew warmer with her close proximity.

“You're not going to eat that, are you?”

The Ghoul looked up from where he sat in the dirt, and a lopsided grin lit up his hollowed face. The girl was finally talking, and she was feeling judgmental. A good sign. Lucy stood over him with a considerably less amused expression.

“Where’s my manners - you want some?” He held the gray, bloodless limb up, and tsk d with disappointment at her disgusted frown. He examined it as carefully as he could in the darkness, nodded, and announced, “Yep. Fiends.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I’d rather not deal with them tonight,” she held up her hands as though she was surrendering to them already. “We should find somewhere else to rest.”

“Aw. Vaultie’s scared of a bunch of no-brained cannibals? They couldn’t fight a fly off a turd.”

“I’ve met them before. With Maximus. I tried to let them walk on by, but they tried to kill us,” she shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t believe they eat people… ”

The Ghoul felt inexplicably irritated at the wannabe knight’s name. That fool was even more annoying than the Vault-Dweller. Cooper’s voice whipped out, low and bitter, “Well, you ain’t with Maximus.”

“So?”

She could barely see the Ghoul, but the way his body shifted, she could tell he had hoped she’d ask that question. He paused for a beat, then drawled, “So. You're with me, sweetheart, and they don't much care for my company.”

After a beat, she replied, “If they eat me in the middle of the night, I’m going to be really mad at you.”

“The only thing doin’ any biting ‘round here’s been you, Vaultie,” the Ghoul wiggled his gloved forefinger at her. Squinting in the darkness, she barely had time to register that he’d somehow grown a new finger before he began scratching Dogmeat’s ear. To himself, he added, “Well, and the dog, I s’pose.”

“Okay, sir, well, do you really think we’ll be safe here tonight?” Lucy sputtered.

“‘Sir’?”

“Yes!” She huffed, losing patience, “You haven’t told me your name. I was raised with manners and names, and you have neither.” She slumped down into the sparse grass across from him, leaning against a boulder.

The Ghoul sensed the true reason for her outburst. The girl was a scared emotional time bomb. He tilted his head at the odd young woman. The Ghoul inhaled, trying to take her in.

He replied evenly, “We’ll be just fine tonight. That hand’s colder than a witch’s tit and chewed on by all types of creatures. Fiends left it behind days ago - prob’ly ‘cause it ain’t got no meat on it.”

Lucy chewed on her fingernail. A disgusting fact, but well-reasoned. Her immediate concern allayed, she switched to the man she had been following all day and night - this was her first real opportunity to ask him questions. Their earlier meetings had been less than civil, and she’d been locked in her own mind for hours. Plus, she needed a distraction.

The Ghoul sat casually across from her, his arm resting on one bent knee, his hat in his hand. She couldn’t see much, but she could admire his imposing shape; out here in the Wilds, he was her safety. The scariest living thing for miles was on her side, and he was smirking at her. Lucy, to her surprise, blushed.

“You sizin’ me up for a coffin, sugar? I just got outta one. Don't much feel like returning to one anytime soon.”

Lucy cleared her throat, “No. No, I was hoping, since we're on the same side now, you might answer some… some questions. Like your gosh damn name. I’m sorry - a coffin?”

The Ghoul’s grim laugh rumbled in his chest, “We’ve both been stuck underground, Vaultie. But while you were playing house, I had the damn good fortune of bein’ dug up, hacked up, and put away wet every few months for a decade, Vaultie.”

“Oh,” Lucy breathed. It finally occurred to the history teacher that the Ghoul had lived through sheer hell, and it was a glowing miracle that he was even breathing clean (well, comparatively) air. She took a mantle of guilt upon herself. “That’s so awful. I- I’m so sorry.” Her hand raised as though she’d comfort him somehow, but it fell.

The Ghoul was silent. He didn’t need the Vaultie’s pity, though he had to admit it went down like a smooth whiskey. He bit back a smile when she asked the question he’d known she would.

“So… please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s purely a scientific question. You seem fully… intact. Am I correct in assuming your body regenerates?”

The slip of leather was the only sound between them, and Lucy assumed he was taking off his gloves, which seemed like a good sign - he was getting comfortable. The night had truly fallen, leaving Lucy unable to see anything except his lithe outline: the Ghoul seemed to be admiring his right hand.

But he did not reply.

After a few moments, she spoke again. Her voice was quiet, contrite. “I’m sorry. You were right. I don’t know what it’s like to live up on the surface. Even after… all of my experiences up here so far, it’s rather impossible to imagine the horrifying things you’ve been through. Being in the dark… alone.” Lucy shivered.

He snorted, and his voice edged, “Vaultie, that coffin business ain't even in the top three.”

Lucy swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Everything she’d been through, and this was the thing that was going to send her over the cliff? A strong surge of sympathy for the man who’d cut off her finger? She cleared her throat of the tightness that had gathered there, but the Ghoul watched her scrub at her eyes.

“Aw, cryin’ for me?” He teased, though his voice had no bite to it. “Darlin’, you got what’s left of the world kickin’ your ass. We kindred in that way. It’s gonna toughen you up some.”

“I am not crying,” her voice cracked. “I’m absolutely fine.” Her shoulders began to shake, and Lucy felt the swell of sorrow rise in her throat and cave in her chest. Her face crumpled as she finally broke.

The Ghoul had been waiting for it. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t decided how he was going to handle it (if he was going to handle it) when she did.

“Tch-tch,” the Ghoul clicked his tongue at Dogmeat. He tipped his head toward Lucy, and the ever-intelligent dog hopped up, trotted to the crying woman’s side, and whimpered as she laid her head in Lucy’s lap. The girl nuzzled her face into the dog’s coat, though her muffled, wracking sobs were awful to hear.

“It's Cooper,” he said. “You can quit with the askin’ now.”

Lucy, still crying, still hidden by dog fur, nodded gratefully.

As the moon rose over the jagged horizon, smooth leather pushed a silken lock of hair away from Lucy's face. When her eyes fluttered, the glove retreated. But it was only part of the nightmare Cooper sought to soothe her from. Lucy had curled up with Dogmeat and fallen asleep, her grief leaking into the dirt.

It made no goddamn sense. This innocent girl, whom he’d sold for parts not but a week earlier, trusted him. She was unconscious, for fuck’s sake. The Ghoul could do anything he wanted to her. And as his dark eyes memorized her, he found that he did want.

He didn’t know how her cutting off Wilzig’s head fit into her whole Golden Rule bullshit, but he knew enough now that she’d probably had good reason. She had saved his and several other ghouls’ asses despite the danger to herself. The girl was a flashing, neon billboard for decency. Sure, she needed to toughen up a bit, like he’d said. Stop giving him so much grief about survival methods, maybe, but the Ghoul felt uncomfortably responsible for her. Cooper had offered her a chance at justice, and she trusted him to help her get it. That devotion to her beliefs, that strength of character reflected his own image back to him, albeit one from two hundred years earlier. The image of her as he was now - a withered shell: bitter and vengeful - forced its way into Cooper's mind. His jaw clenched.

And damn it all, the Ghoul, stupid as he was, ached for a break in the sheer agony that was being alive. Lucy lay before him, trusting, gentle, and broken. Tempted for just one drink of her, the time-worn cowboy’s eyes roved her curled form.

But he wouldn’t touch her. The Vault-Dweller did not want his irradiated ass and, ruthless as he was, that was a line he never had and never would cross.

Instead, Cooper reclined against his dead tree, which creaked worryingly behind his weight, and eventually found sleep.

***

Sleep fought him. The revolving mirage of his young daughter, smiling, then crying out for him, faded in and out of his mind's eye. More than ever before, he was close to finding her. Finding Janey, his sweet little cowpoke. Janey vanished, replaced by a woman begging the Ghoul on her knees - for what, he couldn’t be certain. The woman's big brown eyes were spilling with tears, and Cooper bolted awake when the woman moaned his name.

He sat there, eyes wide and mouth agape, as the Vault-Dweller slept soundly in front of him. Dogmeat had wiggled out from under Lucy's arm and was keeping watch at the edge of their encampment. Cooper had slept his fill for the night, so he hefted to his feet with a grunt and walked toward the dog. As he neared the low ridge, he estimated the horizon. The sun was still at least an hour away from rising. The Ghoul looked out upon the dim, scrubby landscape.

In the distance, down the short hill where they were encamped and on the west side of the valley, a flag was waving. It was less than a mile away, so he could tell that it was once a dark color, but had faded. It must’ve been sitting in the desert sun for decades. He looked down at Dogmeat on his right. Wordlessly, the two set off.

***

At first, Lucy found peace in her dreams. Norm, her brother, kneeled beside her, picking sunflowers in the facsimile of a field in the center of Vault 33. The unreality of the dream crept in, allowing her to watch bees and hummingbirds flit across the field. Someone called her name. Lucy looked back at her brother, but the Ghoul - Cooper, he'd told her - had taken his place. And they were no longer inside the vault.

The Ghoul held out his hand, and Lucy took it without hesitation - more dream-logic, she reasoned. Away from the massive vault door, they walked hand-in-hand in the blinding sun, speaking as though they were underwater. She shaded her eyes with the hand not holding Cooper's. He was a few steps ahead of Lucy, guiding her.

Suddenly, she was falling, falling, falling. The Ghoul stood on the precipice of the hole, taunting a wave as she vanished from sight.

The dream shifted again, and this time, she was standing on a dais in a cavernous vault. She was naked. Men shouted out offerings and values; her father stood just off-stage, making deals to sell his daughter’s future. Horrified, Lucy swiveled her head, looking for anything to use to escape. On the other side of the dais, to her left, a dark shadow stood. The silhouette of the Ghoul was unmistakable.

He took a step into the light, the murderous expression on his face sparking gasps and shouts of horror from the crowd. Lucy ran. She threw her arms around him, and he lifted her with one arm, whisking her back into the blinding light of the surface in the way that dreams often blur physics.

As the sun peeked above the horizon, Lucy awoke with a sweet sigh. Slowly, her mind returned from her dream, and she wondered why she’d been so eager to run to the Ghoul after he watched her fall. Lucy yawned. The sound was aborted by the sight of several ragged, dirty, grinning Fiends stalking out from the surrounding scrub brush.

***

Dogmeat had found some interesting shit, but that was Dogmeat’s opinion. The Ghoul frowned as he suspected this had been a huge waste of his time. The flag had been dyed by the NCR or a former citizen some years earlier; the shallow cave it marked was full of useless junk. Articles of threadbare clothing, empty cans of corn and beans, and a smattering of random parts lined the cave floor.

Cooper wondered why the occupant had announced his presence by staking a flag outside, but then why did anyone do anything anymore? Nothing made sense, and safety was not guaranteed no matter how diligent you were - if you want a flag, have a damn flag.

Dogmeat bounced an empty can off the wall of the cave trying to stick her nose inside. It rang out and Cooper cringed.

“Dog, you’re gonna wake up the Vaultie with the racket you’re making.”

Dogmeat perked up, staring a hole through the Ghoul. He tilted his head at her, then stepped to the side. The alert canine didn’t follow him. He peered behind him, to the ridge where Lucy was asleep, then back at Dogmeat. Her ears swiveled like satellite dishes.

“You hear somethin’?” He asked. “Wh-”

Dust kicked up, and Cooper leaped back a step as Dogmeat rocketed past him. He watched for a moment as the dog became a blur across the valley floor. It was then that he heard the girl's scream.

When he made it up to the low ridge some twenty minutes later, neither of his female companions were in sight. He scoured the silty dirt, cataloging paws and the scuffle of human feet. Whatever happened, Lucy was gone, and Dogmeat wasn’t far behind. The Ghoul growled open-mouthed.

“Fuck! Fuck.”

The cry echoed off the rocks behind him, and he took in a deep breath. Cooper lowered himself once more, seeking Dogmeat’s tracks. Hers would be easiest to follow. He could assume that Lucy had been taken by a group, and any number of people could confuse tracks, but Dogmeat would’ve been following behind Lucy’s captors - her pawprints would be the most reliable.

The Ghoul went hunting.

***

Hours later, Lucy stopped struggling. The rope burns weren’t worth it - the woman who’d bound her had done so with practiced, vicious glee. She stumbled along, leashed by a rope very much like she had with the Ghoul.

She had pleaded with them at first. Lucy assumed they were the Fiends Cooper mentioned, but just in case they were reasonable, she tried her luck at persuasion. Of course, her rationale hinged upon them viewing her as an equal, not food.

“Please! I’m on a very serious mission! I’m trying to get justice for… well, everyone. Not just vault-dwellers but you here on the surface, too. You see this gosh damn Wasteland?” Lucy began to grow shrill, desperate, “I know whose fault it is. You have to let me go.”

The same woman who’d tied her wrists - a stocky, hard-sort of older woman - sneered with rotted teeth, and backhanded Lucy across the mouth. Lucy gaped, stunned by the sudden violence.

“Please,” she croaked, “why are you doing this?”

Rancid breath filled Lucy’s nostrils as her captor got in her face. “Unspoiled vault-dwellers go for lots of caps. You’ll fetch a good price once you learn to shut up.” The woman backhanded Lucy again, splitting her lip.

Sadistic, quiet laughter bubbled around the rest of the group. So these were not Fiends. Lucy's shoulders slumped as she wondered incredulously just how many bad people were there?

Furthest along the rocky valley, the man who seemed to be their leader (given his demeanor and ridiculous snakeskin suit) held up his fist. The company stopped and Lucy nearly ran into her friend Bad Breath’s back.

“Hear that?” The man asked. “Someone’s behind us.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. The leader was on chems. Whatever chem it was, it heightened his senses - she had heard Cooper mention it before, but it hadn’t seemed like an important enough name to remember.

“I hear it too, Liege,” the other woman in the group squeaked. Her pupils were hidden behind tinted glasses, but Lucy assumed they were as dilated as the leaders’. “Metal-sounding. Is that,” the woman’s incredulity was prominent across her entire face, “ spurs?”

Hope sparked through Lucy.

The leader thinned his lips. “We only have until sun-up. There’s no time to get more. We got one there,” He motioned at Lucy. “One will have to do.”

As they continued their march, Lucy’s mind raced. Why would the Ghoul come after her? He had no need of her. He was a better tracker, better fighter, and better survivor. Lucy was not important to his search for answers. She could trust Cooper not to kill her himself, but he had no reason to come to her rescue. In all likelihood, he was halfway to New Vegas by now, Lucy knew that.

But the part that made the least sense to her? She believed he would. She checked off all of the actions that the Ghoul had taken, and yes, there were atrocities. Shooting off Wilzig’s foot was one. But he’d had moments of small mercies, too. He’d killed his feral-turning friend while a happy memory distracted him. He’d revived the dog and kept her after her usefulness played out. He offered to give her the truth about her entire existence.

Lucy further reasoned that the severity of some of his crimes could be lessened by the sheer, blunt fact that they were done in self-preservation. Selling her had been awful, obviously. But if he hadn’t, he would’ve become like his friend Roger, like some of those people she'd freed in that creepy grocery store, and she would've been tied to a feral ghoul. Cooper's choice was ugly, but it made sense. Lucy had taught him a lesson there, anyway.

So yes, the Ghoul had some kind of moral compass. And, ever the optimist, she believed that long-buried, secretly decent nature would send him after her now.

***

The Ghoul’s morality had little to do with it, actually. It was more a sense of Not theirs to take. Sure, there was a whiff of obligation since she had saved his life, but it didn’t truly register on the list of reasons he’d gone after her.

Cooper's attitude toward the vault-dweller, toward Lucy, had changed as drastically as his had toward Barb - just in opposite directions. Looking up at Lucy from where he’d lain in the dirt, painfully turning feral, as she gently placed those beautiful golden vials in front of him had been the beginning of the end for The Ghoul. She’d proven him wrong - damnably wrong. Lucy’s mercy had sown seeds among the desolate soil of the Ghoul’s heart. He started to feel again. The least confusing emotion he felt from Lucy's seeds was sorrow. Sorrow for who he’d once been, and sorrow for who she’d likely become after they found her father. If she lived that long.

The most confusing one? Fuckin’ hope. Cooper admitted it to himself, but only just. Lucy gave him hope. While he marveled over his new direction, he hopped up onto a boulder, surveying the valley. He didn’t see the dog, but he had seen the group of slavers. Six grubby people dragged Lucy along like one of those pull-along toy horses he'd gifted Janey for Christmas.

Too far from them still to get a good look at Lucy, the Ghoul had not seen her harmed, so Cooper had decided to bide his time. The slavers were in a hurry - he hoped they might be running low on supplies and heading back to a well-stocked campsite or a cache. He and Dogmeat had the slavers flanked, so the Ghoul worried not about them escaping.

He squatted to slide off the boulder, but he hesitated. Cooper's focused eyes lingered on Lucy's form as he swore he'd have her safe before moonrise.

***

The band of kidnappers broke free of the rocky valley and came out onto an expansive grassy field. It stretched so far that it rolled over several small hills, and on the western edge was a forest. It was deadly silent in the field, reminding Lucy of the sound of Filly after the Ghoul and Maximus had dueled. Lucy was forced to walk, sweating in the sun without shade nor water, until the shadows grew long and the air cooled. By early evening, they had all but crossed the field when they decided to set up camp.

Their leader called for a fire, which sent the other woman and two men toward the trees. As they passed Lucy, one of the men muttered to the other about "ghosts" in the woods. Lucy squinted at them as she tried to hone her hearing on their conversation, but she was interrupted when the woman holding Lucy’s rope shoved her down in the grass. The front-tooth-missing old woman turned her grimy rifle on the girl. Without taking her eyes off Lucy, she shouted, “Liege. What should I do with this?”

The tall, long-haired man strutted over to the two women and tilted his head at Lucy. The movement reminded her of the Ghoul, except his had been one of impressed curiosity, not cold evaluation. The leader sighed. “It makes me nervous. I don’t want her ruined before we even sell her, but she’ll have to get tied there.” He frowned at the tree line.

“What’s in those woods?” Lucy couldn’t help but ask.

The leader reached down and snatched Lucy’s ankle. Without much effort, but roughly, he dragged her as she twisted and fought. She yelled out, covering her head, as the other members of the group kicked at her.

“Never you mind what’s supposed to be in those woods, girlie. You might find out 'fore we do, anyway. You’re gonna be our canary tonight.” He taunted her, grabbing her roughly by the upper arms and forcing her to stumble the last fifty feet to the tree line. A few meters away, those he'd sent out for firewood broke branches and gathered fallen sticks.

“If I’m damaged goods, what’s the point?” Lucy screamed. “What’s the point in any of this?”

His cracked, snakeskin jacket scratched her as he twisted her to face him. His face was as long as the rest of him, and his eyes, alert, darted about the darkening woods behind her. He shoved her against the closest tree. The bark dug into her scalp, pulling hair from her ponytail. It was a younger tree, thin enough for him to easily cinch her to it, and close enough to the safety of the camp that he felt her survival had decent odds.

“The point is: maybe we make some caps off you tomorrow. But if you die, we'll hear it, survive, and be no worse off financially than we were this morning.”

“At least tell me what you're all so afraid of. Ghosts?” She demanded.

The man drove his fist into Lucy's side. Her cry was strangled through the loss of breath. Painfully, her chest hitched, trying to inflate her lungs.

A tan-colored object tackled the man, snarling and bloodthirsty. The man screamed and swatted at the violent, loyal beast as Lucy stared, her jaw slack. The black and brown blurry beast had arrived from the direction of the field, not the woods, and Lucy laughed, short and disbelieving. Dogmeat was ripping into the forearm of her captor. The rend of human flesh was disgusting, and the howl of pain from the slaver was terrible, but then Dogmeat was gone. Lucy raised one eyebrow, watching as the Malinois abruptly stopped her assault and ran into the woods as if called.

The man was on his feet before Lucy could say a word. He held his bleeding hand and sprinted back to his camp, yelling about the dangers of the woods. His fellow slavers heeded him, running with kindling and logs clutched to their chests.

***

The campfire rose as the sun set.

Tied as she was, she could see both the dark concealment of the forest and the orange glow of the camp. The slavers were quiet, clearly fearful of whatever lived beyond the tree line. The sun sank, and just as the blue hour reached its peak, Lucy heard a sound from the trees.

Crunching and a faint clinking sound drew closer and closer. Goosebumps broke out across Lucy’s body, and she strained her eyes, looking for movement in the dim light. Eventually, the sound was so loud that Lucy knew whatever was making it could see her. Desperately, she tried to shimmy around the far side of the tree toward the slavers’ camp, but all she was rewarded with was another tear in her vault suit and a skinned shoulder.

The crunching stopped. Lucy held her breath.

“Breathe, darlin’. I ain’t walking all this way only to have your dumbass kill yourself.”

Bone-wilting relief weakened Lucy’s legs. Held up only by the rope digging into her, tears welled in her eyes. The Ghoul stepped fully from the shadows, the distant fire bright enough to illuminate most of his features, and Lucy smiled as though she’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“Thank you,” she sighed, her voice hoarse.

If he still had the ability to blush, he would’ve. It irritated him, “Aw, you happy to see me, sweetheart?” To Lucy's great joy, Dogmeat trotted behind him. He looked down at his companion and scratched behind her ears, explaining, “Ran off after you. Damn dog left my ass in the dust."

The Ghoul was within arm’s reach of Lucy, and he cocked his head. His level gaze traveled from the woman's feet to her face. Black clouds rolled over Cooper’s attitude. Gone was his flippant smile. Lucy was covered in dirt and grass stains. The cant at which she stood told him some of her ribs were broken. Her cheeks had several purple bruises. Her fuckin’ lip was split. Cooper took her chin in his gloved hand and gently thumbed away the blood from her bottom lip. Lucy shakily inhaled. Their eyes met, each asking the same dangerous question. After a moment, Cooper dropped his fingers.

“Don’t want a repeat of our first honest exchange,” he murmured, trying to throw a wet blanket on whatever just ignited.

Lucy peered up at him, wondering why his proximity felt so good. Wondering why his eyes looked hungry. Wondering why he hadn’t yet untied her.

“Can... you please cut the rope?” She whispered.

The Ghoul glanced at the camp, then smirked, “You tell me somethin’ first, Vaultie. Which one of them you like the least?”

[snippychicke]

Your Kuro work is awesome! I've been on a Kuro kick lately and was wondering if you could write a prompt about a reader with the straw hat gang figuring out Kuro's identity like immediately and just messes with him by not revealing his secrets cuz she's a low morals gal as well

Maybe a little spicy 🫣

I am so sorry about the delay. Things have been harsh, but I really loved this idea. It has a bittersweet ending, but open to interpretation.

You had broken out of the marine prison at Shells Town the same time that Luffy and his crew-not-a-crew had stolen the Grand Line map from Ax-hand Morgan. And, well, one thing led to another and you were roped into the not-a-crew just like Nami and Zoro.

Unlike them, however, you were an actual seasoned pirate, and was amused by the antics of your Captain. That bright optimism and empathy seemed at odds with his dream of being Pirate King, and you wanted to see what would become of him. Especially after the events of Orange Town and the fight with Buggy the Clown.

And then you ended up in Syrup Village.

You remembered three years ago; the whisper of the Captain of the Black Cat pirates dying at Ax-hand Morgan’s blade. You hadn’t wanted to believe it then, considering you had seen Captain Kuro fight more than once through the years. It seemed like a cosmic joke that many of the pirate crews you had joined in your younger years had run-ins with the Black Cats.

It was either that or Kuro himself was hunting you down, just for those small heated moments as he toyed with the decision of allowing you to live like a cat playing with a mouse.

And seeing Klahadore? You didn’t fall for it for a second and knew that the ‘butler’ knew as soon as your gaze met his across the garden. His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could almost hear the silent command. ‘Silence.’

Oh, you’d be silent for now. But maybe it was your turn to play with him.

---

Zoro had complained about you wearing black, but you simply rolled your eyes. As soon as you saw the black dress with gold details, complete with a simple black velvet choker, a plan had formed instantly in your mind. You were going to taunt and tease the former pirate as payback.

And by gods the look on his face when he saw you, eyes widening just a fraction with a hard swallow making his adam’s apple shift. It boosted your confidence as he followed Merry and Kaya down the stairs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Cat got your tongue?” you teased quietly, assuring no one else would overhear.

“Silence.” he hissed, eyes narrowing as he stood by your side, his posture still as stiff and rigid as always. “What are you doing here?”

“Funny, was going to ask you the same thing,” you teased as you sipped the cocktail you had been given. “The rest of the world thinks you're dead.” There was a bit of unintended bite to your words, but you hoped he wouldn't notice.

Who were you kidding, of course he noticed. You saw that familiar head tilt and raised eyebrow of intrigue, but thankfully he stayed silent.

And you tried. Really, you did. “...just tagging along with these wannabes,” you found yourself saying after a heartbeat. “They're… something else. Amusing, mainly, but oddly competent. Somehow.”

“Hmm.”

“Not like you, of course.”

You downed the rest of your drink and pretended not to notice Kuro (Klahadore?) look at you… and then cover a smile by coughing into his white butler-type gloves (so different from the black furred and bladed gloves that he used to wield. You still remembered what it was like to have one of those blades resting beneath your chin, the others carefully arranged as not to hurt you but could with the slightest twitch.)

“I see you haven't changed,” he finally stated. “You still can't control your mouth at all.”

“It's why I try to keep it occupied with other things,” you sighed before realizing how that may have sounded. (Or maybe that was your own thoughts dirtying the meaning and it probably sounded benign to everyone else.) “Wait, that's not--I mean--”

Thankfully you were saved as your conversation with the stoic butler didn’t go unnoticed by Kaya. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” the young woman lightly spoke as you floundered for words. “But… Do you two know each other?”

Kuro stiffened slightly, erasing any signs that he had actually relaxed in your presence. “We’re acquaintances,” he answered simply--or was that sharply?

Either way, you couldn’t help but scoff, “Is that what you’d call it?” You literally could not recall how many times you had been entangled with the Black Cat pirates, your life spared by the captain because of some odd whim every time. Each time feeling an undercurrent of something when he spoke to you.

Both Kaya and Kuro looked at you-- the former with surprise, the latter like he was about ready to murder you right then and there. You blushed as you rubbed your neck self consciously. “It’s uh, complicated.”

Thankfully, the young lady of the house smiled without asking any more questions. “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad you were able to reunite, Klahadore rarely ever talks about his past.”

You felt the itch to say something. Your drink was empty. You had no little plate of horse-dours or whatever they were called. You could feel the intimidating aura radiate from the fake-butler next to you, threatening you not to speak. “There’s nothing to speak of, miss Kaya,” he spoke with such soft kindness that seemed unnatural from the man you knew.

“Yep, nothing interesting. At all. We’d just run into each other. A lot. Either the universe decided it was a funny joke or he was stalking me, one or the other. Though I always did think of him as an oversized cat, ya know?”

Kuro just had to say your name and you shut your mouth quickly, sealing your lips to prevent anything else from escaping. Kaya was doing a poor job of hiding her smile behind her hand. There was a decided humored light in her eyes as she looked up at her ‘butler’. “I never thought about it, but I think you’re right. No offense, Klahadore,” she tacked on quickly at his dour look.

The expression shifted into something akin to endearing patience in a simple blink of an eye. “None taken, my lady. I’ve… heard the sentiment before.”

“I’m sure you have,” you coughed. “I’m gonna go get myself another drink, do either of you want anything?”

Kuro fixed you with that sharp glare of his. “I think it might be best if we move onto the dining room. Your lips hardly need any further loosening.”

If he had been worried about you ruining the birthday dinner, you were sure Kuro was sufficiently surprised when it was your ‘captain’ that handled that with a grin on his face to boot. You (unwisely) lingered around while everyone else retreated to the guest rooms, deciding to admire the eccentric decorations of porcelain plates adorning the walls and ceiling. (your favorite was the little tuxedo kitten with a blue bow around his neck, attacking a ball of yarn. No reason, of course.)

“Miss, do you need help to your room?” the maid asked (Sham? They looked like them at least).

“Uh, no I’m good,” you said with a faint smile, wondering if they remembered you but decided it was unlikely. “I was just, uh, admiring the decorations.”

Sham narrowed their eyes, clearly unhappy with your response but excused themself with a small ‘hmm’ and began to clean the dining room, making you feel very unwelcomed. You took the hint and meandered towards the hallway leading to the guest rooms. The place was sprawling and a monument to the family’s wealth, but you were blessed with an intuitive sense of direction and had already more or less mapped out everywhere you had been, noting servant’s passages behind the walls just by the sight of small seams in the walls.

The wealth and splendor of the house was something that itched at you as a seasoned pirate and thief. If it wasn’t for the fact you knew Kuro himself was likely watching you like a jaguar protecting its territory (or maybe hunting its prey) you would have pocketed as much as you dared. The truly-silver dining utensils. Bits and bobbles that could fetch a pretty berry on the black market.

So caught up in ‘admiring’ the display of a knife made of seastone and a hilt encrusted in gems (that could be sold for tens of millions of berries, if it was seastone. An ‘accident’ with Luffy could prove it too…) you failed to noticed the faint reflection in the glass.

A cotton-gloved hand wrapped around your throat, the other quickly grabbing your wrist from reaching for the dagger that rested in a holster attached to your upper thigh.

“I think not,” Kuro purred quietly in your ear, causing the knot of fear in your stomach to tangle with the flutter of butterflies that suddenly bloomed as you caught sight of his reflection. “I’ve been biding my time for three long painful years. As fond as I am of you, I won’t be merciful if you ruin this.”

Despite the underlying threat as he tightened his grip, you couldn’t help but smile. There was the Kuro you were more familiar with. It hadn’t made any sense for him to give up being a pirate captain for this. “Have I ever went against you, Kur-”

His hand tightened enough to choke you for a split moment as he pressed closer to hiss in your ear. “Do not say that name.” The pressure eased up, allowing to gasp for air, though his hand remained. “...but no. You’ve always been… obedient.”

You cursed both him and your own body for the way you trembled at the way he said the last word, how it stoked a fire deep in your belly. “If it hadn’t been for that mouth of yours, I would have had you join my crew.”

“Loose lips sink ships, and I might’ve done that once or twice,” you admitted. “But I kept the little secrets of yours I gathered through the years here,” you said, touching your chest with your free hand. “And this one will be no different.”

He hummed in thought, lips brushing the exposed part of your neck while his gaze met yours through the reflection. “We have two hours to kill before the last step of my plan comes into play. Why don’t we find a way to keep your mouth occupied until then?”

--------

“How did you sleep through all of that?!” Usopp exclaimed after everything, making you rub your neck (hoping that no one noticed the marks you tried to cover with the high collar of your shirt.)

“...I’m a very heavy sleeper.” That and Kuro had made sure you were well worn out by the time midnight struck. You were still amazed he was able to move, let alone act like it had been nothing as he kissed your brow and told you ‘Be a good kitten and stay here until I return.’

Which you were fully going to obey, considering you knew how vicious and uncontrolled he became when in the thick of it. Except daylight came, the metal shudders protecting the window retreated back into the wall… and he never returned.

Learning why had you twisted up inside for reasons you didn’t want to examine. You frankly didn’t care that it had been his plan to kill Kaya-- she was nothing to you, after all, and you had seen death so many times you were numb to it. Granted, to you the plan seemed a bit obtuse and over-the-top, but who were you, the woman with no plans, to argue with Kuro of the thousand plans.

But there was the fact that while Sham and Bucchi were now in marine custody, Kuro hadn’t been found. He had escaped (apparently after Luffy headbutted him through a window.) You were relieved. Delighted. Worried. Anxious.

To find him after three years of thinking he was dead, a few hours filled with admittingly some of the best orgasms of your life, and now this. Knowing he was on the run with no one watching his back, while you continued to tag along with a misfit bunch of pirates that were still not quite a crew.

Young, hopeful pirates that would likely soon realize that the world wasn’t as nice as they thought. The world was either kill or be killed; Plunder or be plundered.

Luffy called your name, a rare frown on his face as you shook yourself out of your thoughts. “Come on, Kaya said that she has a ship.”

You smiled tightly at the teen. “Thanks, but I think we should part ways here. I don’t think the path to my dream is with you, sorry.”

You expected him to protest, but instead there was a faint smile that seemed far to knowing and wise for his years. “Gotcha. Go chase your dream.”

[chillin-at-partys-bar]

@fellapart from {here}

Benn was silent as he let his tall stature and practiced piercing eyes bore into the other man. A fire had been lit inside the deep pit of his stomach, one born of the audacity of the blue-haired wannabe emperor. He'd say that standards seemed to be lowered these days, but then again he wouldn't dare insult Luffy and his crew like that. He'd deserve the edge of Shanks' sword and barrel of Yasopp's gun if he questioned the Straw Hats.

"Shanks is blinded by his own heart in the matter." And he'd told Shanks just as much. But of course, Shanks just laughed it off and went about his business. "He's convinced you value him as much as he values you."

Benn didn't want there to be any mistake that he bought any of Buggy's acts. Either Buggy was far more sinister than he believed, or far more stupid, and there was a part of Benn that believed him to be a little of both.

And it was his job as First Mate to protect his captain at all costs. Shanks trusted him to do what was necessary to protect him, and Benn Beckman remembered exactly what kind of broken man he had picked up from Loguetown all those years ago. This man here had been a cause of that. "What is your goal? Are you here to destroy him? Did your little pirate club decide to move in on Shanks and his territories? Don't lie to me. I'll be nicer if you confess you're a traitorous piece of shit."

[as-i-watch]

So apparently part 6 of the Strawhat Grand Fleet got eaten so it is here again

The Stories of the Self-Proclaimed Straw Hat Grand Fleet

Part 6: The New Giant Warrior Pirates

"To Buggy the Clown,

We quit.

-Signed Hajrudin, Captain of the New Giant Warrior Pirates."

Buggy: get those badtards back!! They're my top money makers!!

Mohji: and who are they exactly??

Buggy: the new giant warrior pirates. A small crew consisting of only 5 members

Buggy: The Captain, Hajdruin

Mohji: where are his pants??

Buggy: not important. Next we have Stansen, their Shipwright. Apparently Uncle Rayleigh broke him out of slavery when he met the strawhats.

Mohji: okay. Now who's this emo boy band looking wannabe?

Buggy: That's Road. The aptly named navigator of the crew

Mohji:I also expect that he's also a master swordsman

Buggy: Probably. Next is the Cook, Goldberg.

Mohji: the fuck is wrong with his shield?

Buggy: many things. And lastly is their Docotor, Gerd.

Mohji:Awoo-gah!!!

Buggy: Restrain yourself you filthy animal. She will destroy you.

Mohji: I know she's a giant.

Buggy: not like that you buffoon. She's a childhood friend of Big Mom.

Mohji: what?

Buggy: apparently she was their when Big Mom went on her rampage there when she was a kid. Goddammit I just lost ny best money makers.

Mohji: there's also a P.S.

Buggy: what is it?

Mohji: "we're taking 500 Million berries also"

Buggy: GODAMMIT.

Uncle Rayleigh

Also Buggy being like 'get a hold of yourself you pervert'. I cant wait for them to meet the straw hats again

[ratsoh-writes]

Sea has been going to the farm more, lately, she sometimes uses the boot leather boot that Yosemite got her, and the straw hat. That one 23-year-old wannabe-punk petal monster that she always passes by when going to Rosemary's house got weirded out when Sae said good afternoon... like... the guy was freaked out...

It seems that she is getting better with her therapist

With the new toddler in the house, Yosemite and Rosemary don’t have as much time for sea these days but she’s always welcome to visit the farm bros.

And good for her!!

[skytroops]

champions aren't known for their fashion sens

Figured that Ash’s plain white shirt/jeans combo was too simple of a design when he’s not wearing his denim jacket so decided that he’d wear several shirts that he rotates through.

Gotta give the champion (and world monarch??) a bigger wardrobe to work with, yanno? he doesn’t haven’t shoes tho cuz i still can’t design those things for the life of me lol assume he's trying the shirt on for the first time while @ home

Looked up shirts that went well with high-waist jeans and stumbled upon a dark sunflower shirt like the one above and thought it’d be cute! Too bad that–as I‌ was colouring–realized that the shirt is very similar to one Luffy from fuckin’ One Piece wears at some point in its 1000+ chapters and it pissed me off!!! I don’t like OP!!!!! I‌ was already worried about Skye’s straw hat and I somehow made it worse gahh!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyhow���Skye is having a crisis over his husband looking good in literally anything. His man looks like a wannabe drug dealer and yet??????? He wants to kiss the life out of him??????????

[diary-of-my-devil]

October 3rd, 2015

I was a few weeks shy of 14 and I’d had a hell of a year. My aunt’s death had been a wave of ice cold water on my system and my feelings were still frozen when I got the news that my grandpa had died. I didn’t cry when my dad came into my room to tell me the news. I just said “oh, okay” and continued on with whatever I was doing. 

I think it was a Sunday night when it happened. If it was, it was on the 20th of September. I always mix the date up, though. My reason for believing it was that day, specifically a Sunday, was because I remember going to school and telling my friends “yeah, we have Friday off of school, but I’ll be spending it at a funeral”. I was in that ICU waiting room eating Burger King onion rings hours before.

I think my mom was thinking heavily about going to a grief camp after my aunt, who you should know was not technically my aunt, but a close family friend, had died. My sisters were at the Detroit Zoo with my grandma when that had happened, my mom calling her to tell her the news and beg her to not tell them. My grandma is a bit of a loud mouth, in all honesty.

My grandpa’s death was sort of the defining factor for it, the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. After he had passed, after the funeral and the absolutely awful experience of that, she had brought up to me and my sisters that she wanted to help us, and that the zoo in my city was holding one for all ages and that she would like for us all to go.

I didn’t want to go. I really didn’t want to go. I was dealing with crippling anxiety that was not yet diagnosed, let alone treated, and insurmountable grief. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about it with a ton of strangers. I don’t know how I would’ve spent the time if I hadn’t gone, but I would’ve had more fun with that.

Mom threw out information about this grief camp for days leading up to it. How we would probably get free things (god, I’m a sucker for free shit), how they would provide food, how it would only be for a few hours. I didn’t agree to go until that morning. Ultimately, I wanted to make my mom happy.

It did make her happy, by the way.

By the way, I regret going.

It was October 3rd in the middle of Michigan. Apparently kids and parents from around the state had all come along to attend this event. It was held outside, under tents and while it was windy I think they had space heaters in the tents with us. We were split into age categories. I was allowed in the 14-17 group despite still being 13, because I was close enough. I was basically already 14, it just wasn’t official for another couple weeks, you know?

That’s when and where I met him.

There was nothing remarkable about him and his appearance. He looked like any other teenage boy in Michigan during that time. He had dirty blonde hair in what looked like a slightly grown out buzzcut, wore a hoodie and dark blue jeans with sneakers. He really wasn’t remarkable. I went to school with countless other guys that matched his style.

Apparently I was remarkable, though. To him at least.

It was weeks before I was able to cut all my hair off. I had to keep my long hair until after my aunt’s wedding, because it was long and beautiful and she had already hired someone to do our hair and had the consultation. I instead had it hidden in a bun underneath a beanie, grown out side bangs from my wannabe scene-kid haircut sticking out of the FBI hat I had gotten in DC months before.

I was wearing a leather jacket, I don’t recall what was underneath it though. For bottoms I was either wearing leggings or skinny jeans with slightly heeled boots. I don’t remember much about what I wore.

While he wasn’t remarkable, I knew something was going to happen. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I believe you know when someone is going to have a large impact on your life from the first look. Whether or not it’s going to be good or bad was revealed in time.

We stuck by each other for a majority of the time, along with another girl in our age group. When I saw my mom later in the day she had looked relieved, that I had made some friends. We had exchanged numbers at the end of the event and all went our separate ways, I went home while they had gone to the cities they had come from.

Hours later, while I was out shopping with my grandma, I had gotten a call from a number that wasn’t saved in my phone. At the time, I didn’t have experiences that brought me dread at a mysterious phone number, so I answered. It was him.

I’m not naming him yet, simply because I don’t know if I want to. If I want to put his name out there and be at risk of legal action if someone puts the pieces together and identifies him, or use the nickname I’d used for him online when I’ve talked about these experiences.

We had small talk, most of which I can’t remember. I remember my grandma wondering who I was talking to. I recall him boldly asking me out, over the phone when we had only met just hours before. I remember telling him I didn’t know who or what I was into. That I didn’t know if I liked boys or girls or both.

He said that made me sexier. 

Like I had said previously, I was a doormat. Still kind of am, to be honest. I didn’t know how to say no anymore, considering I had already had my first experience with saying no and it being completely ignored. So, I did what any normal confused, sad teenager would do, and I said yes.

He wasn’t my first boyfriend, and not my last, but fuck he’s one of the more memorable ones for all of the wrong reasons. But we’ll get to that later. 

My first boyfriend was a friend I had since preschool. His family owned a bowling alley in a nearby town and he was a bit spoiled, if not certainly more wealthy than I was. He had a trampoline AND a pool! It was an easy relationship, despite my mental struggles during that time.

I had later found out he only asked me out because he was too nervous to ask out my friend, but we lasted about a year. I don’t regret the relationship and the times I spent at his house, with his family and our friends playing video games or fucking around on Omegle. I cringe, yes, but it’s not something I regret.

There was a boy I dated for a couple weeks not long after my breakup from my first boyfriend. A friend of mine, although not nearly as long as I had been with the first. He’s the one that didn’t know what the word “no” meant, but this is not about him. Yes, I do regret it.

So I had some experience with dating before him. Not much, not as much as many of my peers did, but this wasn’t my first time dating someone. This was different, yes, but not entirely new. While my two previous boyfriends had each lived a walking distance away, he was in a completely different town.

We were two young high schoolers who couldn’t drive, so it was going to be a semi-long distance relationship. Did I have feelings for him? No, not really, we had met and become friends just hours ago, but why not give it a shot? It couldn’t hurt, right?

Right?

So October 3rd of 2015 was when this whole shitshow of a relationship began. I regret this day more than any other. I wish I had stayed home, rotting in my bed with the lights off. I wish I was comfortable with letting him down gently. I wish I had never met him.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 10

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,179

Warnings: nothing new

A/N: Hey it’s me, daddy! ...well apparently. I really gotta take a chill pill... these chapters are getting way too long. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it, my babies are soft and sensitive :’) Thank you for reading, I truly appreciate it!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

You looked around the bar while you sipped your drink, a 12 dollar grapefruit juice and club soda cocktail. There weren’t many people at one in the afternoon, mostly suits and wealthy tourists, though you half expected to find Natasha hiding in the back with a hat, a large pair of sunglasses and an unfolded newspaper.

From the rug to the chairs and armchairs, everything was either black or white. You ran your index finger over the intricate calligraphy on the back of your chair. It was a number: 5.

Turning back around, you glanced at the clock and mentally cursed yourself for always being so early. You hated being late, and arriving less than ten minutes early counted as late in your book. You were nervous to see Wanda after all this time.

You hadn’t been expecting her to stay at a hotel on the Upper East Side. You wondered how she could afford it, but decided it was none of your business.

“I had a feeling you’d be here already.” That familiar voice brought back fond childhood memories and other not so pleasant memories. “You’re always early.”

You didn’t move a muscle as Wanda took a seat next to you, number 6. She signalled the bartender and ordered a latte. Meanwhile you played with your straw, trying to subtly steal a glance at her.

“What did you do to your hair?” you asked with a grimace, turning your body toward her.

Without looking at you, she raised her brows in mild exasperation. “I dyed it.”

“It’s orange.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I get it. You’re angry with me.”

“Oh,” you drawled out. “I’m well past angry. I was angry four years ago, now I just don’t care anymore.”

“You don’t care about me anymore?”

“No, and it’s not like you cared about me, or Scott, or Okoye.” You paused. “Or mom.”

Wanda had a shocked look on her face as she finally met your eyes. “That’s low. You have no idea-”

“No, you have no idea what it was like to live in that house after you all left. You have absolutely no idea,” you said, enunciating each word between your teeth, “because you weren’t there, because you left us –you left me. Six years, Wanda.”

She looked away and you saw her bottom lip quiver. She clenched her jaw and took a small sip of her latte. You instantly felt bad for snapping at her. You didn’t like confrontation. Hated arguing. You internalized. It was difficult for you to acknowledge that you had a right to express your feelings.

“I, uh,” Wanda said, then cleared her throat. “I knew you weren’t going to welcome me with open arms, and I know what I did was wrong, but I’d like us to be a family again. If it’s not too late.”

“It’s not too late,” you said with a small sigh. “But I’m not going to instantly forgive you just because you’re back.”

“I know.”

“What made you come back?”

She fiddled with her fingers in her lap and you noticed the ring on her fourth finger. It was a beautiful vintage-inspired ring made of black rhodium with an ornate cadenza halo in the centre.

A terrible thought occurred to you, making your stomach twist painfully. You didn’t know her at all. Not anymore. You had missed so much of your sister’s life. Or more accurately; she had cut you out of her life, and it was painful.

“I went to London,” Wanda said, unaware of your inner turmoil. “I saw Uncle Michael. He asked me if I was here to see mom, and I said, ‘No, mom’s in New York.’ And then he told me-” she tilted her head to look at you “-he told me mom was sick, that you and Okoye put her in a nursing home not far from his apartment. I didn’t believe him, so he took me to mom and she-” She paused, staring straight ahead as if she was caught in the memory

“She looked at you like she didn’t know you,” you said, knowing exactly where the story was going because it had happened to you too.

“Yeah,” Wanda breathed out, tears in her eyes. “I never felt so alone. They told her I was her daughter, but she didn’t recognize me. She kept asking Uncle Michael who I was, then she got mad because she was adamant she never had children.”

“I know,” you said sympathetically.

“I wanted to see you and apologize for not being the sister you deserve. For not being here when you needed me most.”

“Where were you all this time?” you asked, practically begged for an answer.

Her shoulders tensed and she straightened up in her seat. “Just travelling.”

“I know, I got your postcards.” You nodded toward the engagement ring on her finger. “I guess I should say congratulations.”

“Mhh,” she said running the pad of her thumb over the diamond. “It’s funny I never thought I’d fall in love and get married. I don’t need a man in my life to make me feel whole. Mom raised us alone, we’re independent and strong.” A small smile graced her lips. “But I found someone sweet and charming, someone who makes me feel safe and calm.”

“Are you writing your vows?”

“Har har,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. You’d missed her, missed your banter. “You haven’t changed.”

“If you say so,” you said in a sombre voice. You looked at the clock above the bar. “Listen, I have to go but I’m happy you found someone. I’d like to meet him one day. I bet he doesn’t know about your Baby Spice phase.”

You jumped off the bar stool and picked up your jacket. Wanda turned in her seat, catching your wrist as you looped your purse over your shoulder.

“Can you stay a little longer?” she asked, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just a minute.”

“Okay.”

She let go of your wrist. “Scott’s been released last month. I talked to him on the phone and asked him to fly to New York. He should be here tomorrow. I also talked to Okoye, I asked her to come here. We have things to discuss. I know things will never be the same, not after Pietro, not after mom, but we can try. We’re still a family.”

“Great,” you replied. Your word came out with more force than you had intended, but you didn’t apologize. They were all coming back for Wanda but when your mother needed help, you were all alone.

“Yeah,” Wanda whispered, her eyes cast down. “I was thinking we could all meet up for dinner. Okoye’s bringing her boyfriend so if you... if you have a partner-”

“I’m single.”

“Oh, uh, you can bring Natasha if you want.”

“No, thanks.” You reached into your purse and pulled out one of your business cards. “Text me, okay? I really gotta go.”

She smiled as she read your card. “You’re an artist? Splotchy, I’m so proud of you!”

That damn nickname... “I still haven't found a gallery. Not many people want to represent an unknown artist but I’m not giving up.”

“You never give up,” Wanda said with a gentle smile. “That’s why I love you.”

You took a cab to Natasha’s apartment. It had been three weeks since Sam moved to D.C., and Nat was having a hard time finding a job in her field.

She didn’t want to find another sugar daddy. It seemed ridiculous since she was still carrying a massive torch for Sam. She had saved enough money to live on until she could find a job and a new place to live.

“I’m officially done,” she grumbled in lieu of a greeting. “Job hunting sucks. New York sucks. Life sucks.”

“Pretty bold statement.”

You entered the apartment and plopped down next to her on the sofa. With a groan, she wrestled out of her blouse and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a simple white spaghetti-strap shirt and a pair of black trousers.

“I hate wearing a suit.”

“You look good in them.”

“I know,” she cried out. “I hate wearing suits when it’s all for nothing. I’m not the boss, I’m no one. Just another doofus with a college degree standing here like-” she cupped her hands together, as if she was holding a bowl, and looked at you with a pout. “Please, sir, I want some more.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get the job,” you said, biting back a laugh. “I would hire you for that spot on Oliver Twist impression.”

She laughed. “I think I lost my fire. People used to be scared of me. Remember? I miss that.”

“You’re a psycho,” you snorted, using her shoulder as a pillow. “If it’s any consolation, Bucky’s terrified of you.”

“Good.”

“Hey!”

She pressed her cheek against the top of your head and sighed. You stayed in that position for a few more seconds before you told Natasha what had happened with Wanda. She offered to go with you to your family gathering but you insisted you wanted to go alone.

“I gotta go,” you said. “Bucky’s taking me to dinner.”

“Oh,” she cooed, “is he finally going to propose?”

“That’s very funny,” you deadpanned. “I was starting to feel cooped up in our apartment so we decided to go out. Have fun, y’know.”

“Our apartment,” Natasha repeated with a lopsided smirk before she burst into a fit of giggles.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, embarrassed.

“That’s cute.” She pinched your cheek and you batted her hand away. “You should talk to him.”

“Don’t start.”

“What? I’m just saying-”

“Natasha,” you cut her off. “Stop asking me to talk to him. It’s not going to happen, and it’s giving me so much anxiety. You couldn’t talk to Sam, what makes you think I can talk to Bucky?”

She looked at you for a long moment. “I know you love him.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, considering. You had never really been in love before but falling in love with Bucky had been so easy. And it was particularly scary because you had never been in a relationship, only flings.

“I do,” you admitted quietly. Saying it out loud was both freeing and terrifying.

“Don’t lose him.”

You knew Natasha missed Sam, she’d told you about it, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who let others see her pain. She confided in you and her friend, Clint, but other than that she rarely shared her problems with others.

Her bony shoulder was digging uncomfortably into your cheek so you shifted and let your head rest against her chest. She started playing with your hair. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Not since he left,” she replied, then glanced down at you. “Have you?”

She tried to sound casual so you played along and acted like you couldn’t hear her heart jackhammering in her chest. “He called the landline the other day. Bucky wasn’t home so I answered.”

“The landline?” Natasha repeated with a scoff. “Your husband is old.”

“He asked if you were okay,” you said, choosing to ignore her comment. “You should call him.”

She stayed quiet for so long, you began to worry. You tilted your head to look at her, she had a faraway look in her eyes. You didn’t want to break her trance but she was starting to scare you.

You booped her chin and almost immediately a soft smile touched her lips. She cleared her throat, then checked her watch.

“You should go, you’re going to be late.”

“It’s okay,” you said. You couldn’t leave, not when she looked so sad. You knew Bucky would understand. “We can order some pizza, binge watch something on Netflix and go out for ice cream later. Like we used to.”

She laughed softly. “That sounds amazing. I kinda want to be alone tonight though, and Bucky’s waiting for you. I’m fine, I promise.” She looked down at you with a kind smile. “Rain check?”    

“Absolutely.”

With a heavy heart, you left Natasha and started walking to the restaurant. The clouds above you were low and dark, masking the setting sun. You smiled, remembering the day you and Bucky went to the park.

You had wanted to go paint outside but you got caught in a rainstorm on the way home. As rain poured down on the both of you, you caught Bucky’s hand and tried to run to the nearest subway entrance but he didn’t budge.

He stayed in the middle of the street, still holding your hand, and grinned at you while people rushed around you. His hair was plastered to his head, little rivulets of water running down his nose. He smiled at you, bright and playful, and you almost melted on the spot.

What’s the rush, sweet angel?

When you got home, you both changed into dry clothes and sat in front of the fireplace with a bowl of soup. He looked adorable with his slightly damp hair, a few big curls flopping down onto his forehead. When you started sneezing, he adjusted the blanket around you.

The next day, you felt a little feverish and Bucky took care of you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, checking your temperature. Your mother used to do that too. You doubted the accuracy of that little test but you couldn’t care less. It felt incredibly comforting. They should teach it in med school.

Bucky was waiting for you in front of the restaurant. The weather was warmer now, and you were pleased to see that his maroon bomber jacket was back. It was a rerun of the night you had met him.

“Hey you,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek. “How did it go with Wanda?”

“Good, I guess. It could have been way worse.” You paused to look at him. “You okay? You look a little nervous. We don’t have to-”

“I’m okay,” he chuckled, smoothing his hand down his jacket, lightly patting his pocket. “Shall we?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Promise me you’re not over-exerting yourself again.”

He stood in front of you, smiling kindly. “I promise.”

It had been a while since he had a panic attack, but they were always impressive and you couldn’t stand the thought of him trapped in his own mind, battling his demons alone.

You must have been silent too long because Bucky cupped the side of your face and said, “Thank you for taking care of me, angel. But I promise you, I’m fine. So what do you say? Wanna have dinner with me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he flashed you a cocky grin.

The restaurant was a quaint little place in Midtown with curved black leather booths lining the walls and simple cutlery. There were books everywhere, arranged neatly on the shelves along the walls. The place was well-lit, yet still cosy and calm.

Despite the hour, the restaurant wasn’t crowded. There was a couple, probably in their sixties, enjoying their meals together. Several people were eating alone, a book opened next to their plate, and a few others were browsing the shelves looking for something to read.

While you ate, you filled Bucky in on your conversation with Wanda. He didn’t interrupt you, he listened to you ramble on about how much you didn’t want to go to her reunion dinner.

“You can invite them over for dinner,” he said. You almost choked on your food. “Call me crazy but I think you’d feel more at ease if you were in a familiar environment.”

He had a point. You had no idea what that night had in store for you, and you definitely didn’t want to cause a scene in a restaurant. You weren’t one for airing your dirty laundry in public.

“I know that our... um, friendship is a little unconventional but I’d like to meet them.”

“Really? Wait,” you said, spotting a bit of tomato sauce on his chin. “You have something on your chin.” You reached over and used your napkin to wipe it away. “You eat like a wolf.”

“Mhh thanks.” He swallowed his mouthful of pasta and washed it down with a gulp of water. “To be honest with you, I’m a sucker for family reunions. I love watching people’s faces when they see someone they haven’t seen in a very long time.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be a happy one.”

“Well, then you could probably use some moral support,” he said. “And I’m curious if they ever gave you a silly nickname. Or maybe they’ll share some funny anecdotes.”

You stopped mid-bite and swallowed quickly, your eyes widening in fear. You couldn’t let that happen, Scott and Okoye would jump at the chance to tease you. “Oh, no, no, no! You are never meeting them.”

He laughed. “I bet you were a cute kid. I imagine you in some paint-stained overalls, hula hooping through the 90s, listening to the Spice Girls and watching Saturday morning cartoons with a bowl of cereal or a plate of pancakes.”

“You’re not too far off.” You grinned.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” he said in a more serious tone. “But think about it, okay?”

Inviting your siblings and their partners over for dinner was a bad idea. You could already picture their faces upon seeing Bucky. It would turn into an interrogation, and it would be absolutely unbearable.

But then again, you didn’t think you could endure the reunion without him.

The waiter came over to collect your dirty plates and asked if there would be anything else. He recited the dessert specialties and you ordered something that sounded both extravagant and mouth-watering.

“I have something for you,” Bucky broke the silence between you.

You responded with a curious yet playful frown and a tilt of your head. He glanced down at the table for a second as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim jewellery box.

He placed it on the table next to his glass and let his fingertips linger on the lid, caressing it slowly as he hesitated. Then with a smooth flick of his wrist, he slid the box across the table. Your eyes flickered between the box and Bucky’s worried expression.

Inside the box, nestled in cream velvet, was a gold artist’s palette pendant with a delicate chain. The pendant had two paint brushes sticking out of the palette and four tiny stones representing the colours waiting to be mixed; ruby, sapphire, emerald and topaz.

It was incredibly tiny, about the length of two staples, but it made the details even more impressive. You could tell it was an old piece. There were light signs of wear and the design reminded you of the 1930s. It looked full of stories from previous owners. A testimony of love, passion and devotion.

“Oh,” you gasped as if all the air had been punched out of you. Bucky straightened up and jerked forward in his seat, his eyes round with anticipation. “Oh,” you repeated dumbly, at a loss for words.

“I saw it in the window of an antique shop on the way here,” he said.

That was a lie.

He had spent weeks searching for the perfect charm. He had a very specific idea of what he wanted to buy. Until one day, he found it. It reminded him of you; delicate, discreet, irreplaceable.

“Bucky,” you sighed, spellbound. “It’s... it’s beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you.” He met your eyes, smiled, and extended his hand in your direction. “Can I?”

Without hesitation you removed the necklace from its box and gave it to Bucky. After living with him for about six months, you knew there was nothing he couldn’t do. Even fasten your necklace with one hand.

He stood up and rounded the table, sitting next to you on the booth. You turned, giving him your back as he slipped the necklace around your neck. You held the pendant in the little dip between your collarbones at the base of your throat and let the ends of the chain dangle down your back.

“I noticed you haven’t been painting a lot since-” Bucky trailed off. Since you had a meltdown in your studio, since you realized your art was not good enough. Since you realized your dreams were too big to accomplish.

You looked over your shoulder and watched him fumble with the spring ring clasp. You couldn’t see what he was doing but he seemed entirely focused on the task at hand.

“Inspiration is a fickle thing, it comes and goes,” he continued. “I worry about you. You put too much pressure on yourself visiting galleries and trying to match their vision. I want you to remember who you are. You’re an artist. Never doubt yourself or your skills.”

He secured the chain around your neck and adjusted the necklace so that the little palette fell nicely above the neckline of your sweater. You stared at him wide eyed and amazed, and he smiled tenderly at you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “I’ll never take it off.”

“My pleasure, angel.”

“I really love it but it’s too much,” you said as he returned to his seat. “I don’t want you to think I’m after your money. I’m so grateful for your help, you do so much for me already.”

“I know you’re not after my money, but it’s mine and I’ll spend it as I please. I know you like gifts with meaning. And all I want is to make you happy.”

“You want to make me happy?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course, I do.”

It was a foreign concept to you, you could hardly comprehend it. He wasn’t your childhood best friend, he wasn’t your brother or your mother’s brother, and yet he wanted to be the one who put a smile on your face.

You weren’t used to random acts of kindness. You spent most of your life taking care of others, making sure they had everything they needed, you forgot what it was like to feel loved.

And it all became so much clearer.

You knew in your heart that your feelings for Bucky weren’t one sided. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when he touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

There was a mutual, yet silent, understanding between you. This is good. Let’s not make things complicated. Even though we both want to.  And you abided by that unspoken rule, not wanting to make things more complicated.

Your eyes were overflowing with tears. When a tear escaped, you felt it bounce on your cheekbone before it landed near your pendant. You rolled your eyes at yourself and smiled.

“Why am I always crying?” you said, laughing a little. “I’m not sad, I swear. These are happy tears.” Bucky’s smile was calm and sure. “Wait, I’m just gonna-” you trailed off, wiping the back of your hand under your nose with an embarrassed laugh.

“You’re beautiful.”

You lay in bed that night, replaying those three words in your head until you fell asleep.

It took you a couple of days to come to term with the realization that your feelings weren’t one sided. A little voice in your head tried to protect your heart, it said: Don’t get your hopes up. Remember what happened last time.

But that voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

Against your better judgement, you agreed to invite your siblings over for dinner. All you had to do was call Wanda’s hotel and ask the hotel staff to pass along a message. Easy-peasy.

Well, in theory, because it turned out to be stressed depressed lemon zest.

There were things Bucky didn’t know about you and your family, things that you had intentionally kept from him. One of these things was your brother’s criminal record.

Bucky had asked you a few times what Scott did for a living and you always gave him the same rehearsed answer. “Scott has a master’s degree in electrical engineering but he’s between jobs at the moment.” It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

You finally decided to tell him everything.

Scott was a thief. Before Cassie was born, and thanks to his computer skills, he used to steal from criminals and give back to those they had stolen from. He promised his wife, Maggie, that he would stop after Cassie’s birth.

He took up a job at VistaCorp but noticed that the company was overcharging their customers. Thinking that it was a coding error, he fixed it before his boss, Geoff Zorick, ordered him to change it back. It made him realize that the company was intentionally overcharging their customers.

He was fired soon after. Maggie begged him not to get involved, she begged him to think of his family but Scott didn’t listen. He broke into the company’s headquarters, hacked their system and redistributed the stolen money. Then he broke into Zorick’s house, stole a bunch of stuff and drove Zorick’s car into the pool.

He got five years.

Bucky was a little shocked but he took these new revelations well.

“People make mistakes,” he said. “He paid for his mistake, and not seeing his little girl for five years is punishment enough.” He bumped his shoulder against yours and grinned. “He sounds like a chaotic Robin Hood. I can’t wait to meet him.”

You chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Nope.”

“So... you’re not going to hide your valuables in a closet somewhere?”

“I would but I’m not sure you’d like to be stuck in the closet all night.” You rolled your eyes and huffed, thinking he wasn’t taking you seriously. He laughed quietly. “The only valuable thing I own is the bookmark my niece made for me, everything else is meaningless. And I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“You sound like Natasha,” you chuckled lowly. “But I’m glad you think that way.”

“That being said, they have a lot of apologizing and making up to do. They left you all alone. It isn’t right.”

You squirmed in your seat. “Argh, I don’t know. It’s in the past now, I don’t want to dwell on it. We were all miserable back then, and I’m not exactly blameless here.”

Bucky gave you a puzzled look. “You took care of your mom when she was sick, you sold your childhood home. You found your mom a nursing home where she gets the best treatment possible. You put your dreams on hold to pay her hospital bills. You did everything you could.”

“No, that’s not true,” you replied, biting your bottom lip.

You tried to find the courage to say it out loud. It was something that ate away at your soul. Your biggest mistake.

“I should have known something was wrong with her,” you said, rushing the words out. “At first she started misplacing things like her car keys, her glasses or the remote. She always had a good excuse, like was tired or stressed, but I should have known.”

“I misplace my keys all the time, angel. Sometimes it doesn’t mean anything. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“She’s my mom, I’ve known her all my life. I should have noticed something was wrong. If I had, maybe she’d still be with us, living in our old house.”

“C’mere,” he said, extending his arm toward you. You didn’t hesitate, you abandoned your seat on the sofa and wrapped your arms around him, your face buried in his chest. “I understand why you feel that way,” he said, stroking your hair. “But you did everything you could. You didn’t fail her. Alzheimer is... well it’s a sneaky disease. There are a lot of things we don’t understand. It’s unfair to blame yourself for something completely out of your control.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his shirt. “But it still hurts.”

“I know,” he cooed, his fingernails grazing your scalp. “I know, my angel.”

You stayed like that for some time, your cheek pressed against his shirt. You focused on the calm rhythm of his breathing and tried to match it. He gently ran his fingers up and down your back, calming you almost instantly.

You were terrified to see your siblings again. Despite Bucky’s reassuring words, a part of you still believed that you could have done more to help your mom, and you were afraid your siblings would feel the same.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bucky said, seemingly reading your thoughts. “I won’t let them belittle your efforts.”

The next day, you called Wanda’s hotel and left a message with the receptionist. Wanda called you back a few hours later, saying that she would love to have dinner at your place instead of going out.

She sounded surprised, and you could tell she had a lot of questions, but she knew she wasn’t in your good graces yet so she simply told you that she couldn’t wait to see your apartment and spend the evening with you.

Meanwhile Bucky was having some sort of nervous breakdown.

A few days before the party, he started to obsessively clean his apartment. Every single room had that distinctive lemony scent, his homemade disinfectant, except your room. It was still a line he refused to cross no matter how strong the urge might be.

He often had those spells but they usually didn’t last more than a few hours. You could see the tears in his eyes and the disgust on his face; grimaces that had been triggered by the realization that he still couldn’t control his need to constantly clean and tidy. His OCD had been dormant, not gone.

You knew it was hard for him to meet new people. He had offered to invite your siblings because he knew it would make you feel more at ease. He didn’t care about his own needs. This man was willing to endure anything for you. How could you not fall in love with him?

You let him clean. You knew from past experience that it wasn’t something he could control and getting involved usually did more harm than good. You made sure he knew you were there and that you were not judging him in any way.

He felt so physically and emotionally drained afterwards that you simply held him in your arms until he fell asleep.

On the day of the party, you were chopping dried apricots in the kitchen while Bucky was making sure the chicken pieces weren’t sticking to the bottom of the pan.

You had wanted to order dinner from the restaurant down the street, and Bucky wanted to cook. You told him that cooking a meal for seven people was pretty stressful but he simply shrugged.

“I can do it, angel.”

“I know but you don’t have to do it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied with a sad smile.

You remembered him telling you that his ex-girlfriend often babied him in front of her friends and that it always made him feel weak and pathetic. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove that, even with only one arm, he was able to cook a meal for an entire family.

“Okay, fine,” you reluctantly agreed. “But you’re not doing this alone.” He opened his mouth to protest but you raised your hand and touched a finger to his lips. “You can’t change my mind. I’ll be your sous-chef, and that’s final.”

So you ended up cutting vegetables for him. He made two tagines, one with meat and one with vegetables, in case anyone had any allergies or dietary restrictions.

Once the kitchen was spotless, you both went to your rooms to get ready for the night. It didn’t take you long so you checked on the tagines and waited for Bucky. The smell of harissa and coriander wrapped around you like a comforting hug.

You stole a dinner roll and checked the time on your phone. Nearly seven. A wave of anxiety rolled through the pit of your stomach. You took a deep, calming breath and decided to go check on Bucky.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard a deep, frustrated groan followed by a whine. Stifling a giggle, you tiptoed down the hallway towards his bathroom.

“C’mon, stay put or I’ll cut you!”

“Do you often threaten your hair?” you asked, leaning against the door frame. He gasped and jerked away from the sink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is everything okay?”

“I can’t do anything with my hair,” he complained. “I’m this close to shave the whole damn thing.”

You pushed yourself off the door frame and moved toward him. “Mhh, why not. A buzz-cut would make you look super dangerous.”

“You think so?” he frowned.

“Yeah,” you replied enthusiastically as you perched yourself on the counter by the sink. “A buzz-cut and a beard. Now that’s a look.”

He ran his hand over the dark stubble on his cheeks. “I already have the beard.”

“You’re halfway there.” You watched him consider what you were offering. “You know what, never mind. Your hair is too pretty to cut.”

“I should cut it though. It’s getting too long, I can’t style it.”

“Oh, poor you with your thick, fluffy hair,” you teased.

“It’s a gift, and also a curse,” he sighed with a whimsical grimace.

You laughed. “Come here, I’ll help you tame the monster on your head.”

He chuckled as he stepped between your parted legs. You took the hair dryer and a comb from the counter and started working on his hair. Despite its messy appearance, the comb ran smoothly through the strands.

“I think we need a safe word tonight,” you said while you worked.

“A safe word?” he repeated, confused. “Why would we need one?”

“Just in case,” you replied with a shrug. “I love my siblings but they can be quite a handful. So if you’re tired or if you feel overwhelmed, you just say the word and I’ll politely ask them to leave.”

“All right. Same goes for you.” He made a face. “What’s the safe word?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your eyes focused on his hair. “Flamingo?” You pulled back to look at him. “I saw an amazing documentary about baby flamingos the other day. See? It works.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “Flamingo it is.”

You picked up his hair gel and applied some to his hair.

“There you go,” you said, smoothing the hair over his temples before sliding your fingers down the sculpted curve of his cheekbones. “Ready to break some hearts.”

It was a joke, but your voice came out breathy and small. Bucky didn’t say a word. He pressed himself closer to you, and you resisted the urge to wrap your legs around him.

He rested his hand on your thigh, then slid it from your thigh to your waist and lingered there for a few seconds. He gazed into your eyes for a moment; careful, cautious. You cupped his face between your hands, feeling the bristle on his cheeks against your palms. It was rough against your sensitive skin.

He slid his hand up your side, fingers passing over your ribs, and you let out a gasping sigh as he rested his hand over your heart.

“Did I break your heart, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low.

“Just cracked.”

He cupped the back of your neck and massaged lightly while he looked at you longingly. He continued to stare at you as you moved your hands to his chest, feeling the strong thud of his heart beneath your palm.

“I-uh,” he started, then licked his lips. “Angel, I-”

The intercom buzzed loudly, awakening the two of you from your trance. Bucky took a step back and closed his eyes. You were glad you were sitting, because your legs felt unusually weak.

“You ready?” he asked, breathless.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you nodded.

You followed Bucky to the kitchen and answered the intercom, giving Wanda the apartment number. Bucky busied himself setting the table, unable to look you in the eye. You didn’t know what to say.

Finally, he stopped moving around and faced you.

“Who am I tonight? Who do you want me to be?”

You had anticipated his question. After all it was a legitimate question to ask giving the nature of your relationship.

“Just you,” you told him. You were tired of lies and half-truths.

A knock at the door startled you.

You opened the door, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of Wanda, Okoye and Scott standing in front of you, each with a bottle of wine. There were two men behind them, both looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Hey Splotchy, long time no see, right?”

Part 11

[wildfandom]

straw hat pirates and station arcadia

is this another one of my niche crossover posts? perhaps, but it’s been sitting in my drafts so i might as well send it off. there's a shared general theme of revolutions, freedom and anti-government sentiments so it’s not like it’s out of nowhere.

bit of background for non-arcpod fans, each of the lands within Station Arcadia fits a certain punk aesthetic: Gannon Islands is Solarpunk, the Empire is Dieselpunk, Hardizan is Steampunk, and Talsoria is Cyberpunk. as for the characters, i'll try to give a lil description but you really just gotta listen to the podcast to really understand my choices.

anyways, here's what arcpod characters would best fit each of the straw hats plus which land they'd be from if they were in station arcadia.

Luffy

idk bro, rubber boy is too free to be assigned a character

Gannon Islands - i think garp would be a part of one the Empire's navies and he kicked luffy into the Gannon islands for his own safety

Zoro

Peaches - a stubborn and reckless mail courier, they’re the loyal right hand man of the Hardizan revolution

Talsoria - cyberpunk swordsman go brrrr (also that one figure lmao)

Nami

Bluebell - the femme fatale of the Clercourt (Empire) revolution, he’s not afraid to weaponize his looks to get his way

Talsoria - based off of vibes lol

Ussop

Memorie - a wannabe Talsorian revolutionary who’s great with faer hands and at hacking

Hardizan - the overalls and goggle combo makes it look like he's ready for the factories

Sanji

Teddy - a prickly and hardboiled private eye from Clercourt

the Empire - family names are really big there ;)

Chopper

Charlie - leader of the Hardizan revolution that he started to help others, no idea how he got there and doubts his (good) leadership and abilities

Hardizan - i think it's cause of the hat tbh

Robin

Kass - the mysterious radio host of Station Arcadia, they want to learn and share the stories of the world with anyone who could listen

the Empire - government suppression of knowledge babey, also has active revolutionary groups

Franky

Z - the suuuuper fun and cheery person in the Station

Talsoria - cybernetic body modification capital

Brook

Marvin - a storm chaser and war reporter

the Empire - they have some interesting ghost stories there with all the wars going on

Jinbei

Axel - a fisherman and budding politician who tried to fix the system from within

Gannon Islands - fishman island 🤝 gannon islands: dealing with the negative effects of foreign superpowers

[migila]

I’m sorry, you’re going to what now?

I mean, yeah, get on board, we already love you! It’s just that I had this symbolic picture of Yamato becoming Momonosuke’s first own retainer after this whole mess since the ones he has now are all Oden’s painted in my head but sure, Yamato of The Straw Hat Crew works too.

Our lil wannabe Oden’s got the blind fate in Luffy down to a T already, too!