#I like the twisted up straw paper a lot

[future-dregs]

Uh oh! Little Sammy's in love!

[Dean's]

[joecoolburrow]

Something Funnier Than 24

Summary: Reader and Joe fall in love over a lunch date and Spongebob references

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Oneshot! Words: 1076

a/n: I don't have a masterlist because this is my first time writing for Joe! Please let me know if you enjoy it and want more. <3

It was going well. Your first two dates with Joe were romantic and you felt yourself falling. But, it was still so new you found yourself unable to relax around him, and you could tell Joe felt the same. So you felt like a bundle of nerves when Joe knocked on your door this afternoon.

It's just a casual matinee and lunch you told yourself to calm down.

"Hey." You greeted him with a shy smile.

Joe smiled brightly. Even in a t-shirt and jean he looked like a dream.

"Hey, you look great." He said as he admired you in your sundress. "Ready to go?"

"Hell yeah."

Joe laughed. Your eagerness was earnest but maybe not the most tactful. You felt a twinge of embarrassment, hoping Joe wasn't put off. He took your hand as you walked to the car.

Riding in a Porsche still felt foreign to you, but you tried not to let it show.

An awkward silence fell as the two of you drove off. Internally cursing your social skills (or lack-thereof), you hoped the movie and lunch would bring you closer together. You'd chosen some generic comedy that probably wouldn't be that good, but would likely give you a few laughs.

"Do you like Will Ferrell movies?" You asked.

"He's ok." Joe shrugged and didn't take his eyes off the rode. "My family watches Elf every Christmas."

"Mine too! It's a classic."

Joe smiled.

"I think comedy and action are my favorite movie genres. What about you?"

"Uh," Joe twisted his lips. "I like everything except horror movies."

"Really?" You said with surprise. "I love scary movies!"

"Not my thing."

Another awkward silence. Shit, you thought to yourself. Joe was such an amazing guy. You felt the spark. You dreamed of what loving him would be like. But moments like this made you worry you weren't compatible.

Joe reached for the radio and turned the volume up. "I love this song. Do you know it?"

You really wished you could say yes. But you had no idea what song was playing or who the artist was, so you shook your head.

The rest of the ride you and Joe made small talk. The movie was fine, nothing special, but you loved seeing Joe laugh. There were a few times you'd both burst out laughing and turn to look at each other. It felt like fireworks.

After the movie, you went to a local diner. It had an old school vibe. Joe helped you into the red booth in the back and picked up a menu.

"This is the perfect place for a cheeseburger." You said.

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "I started craving one when we were still in the parking lot."

"They have 30 different milkshakes to choose from." Joe said

"Mmm, I'm gonna have a hard time deciding." You said, even though you knew you'd probably go for strawberry like usual.

"Pick a good one, I'll split it with you."

Why did that suddenly feel like a lot of pressure? You carefully studied the list and weighed your options.

A waiter in a paper hat came up to your table and smiled, "What can I get the cute couple?"

Joe looked at you.

"Umm, could we please get the strawberry banana milkshake? Two straw please." You told the waiter. "And two cheeseburgers."

He winked. "A number 24, coming right up."

As the waiter walked away you smiled to yourself. 24. Joe looked at you curiously.

"24." You said, unsure if he would get it. "I thought of something funnier than 24...

"25!!!" Joe and you said at the same time. You erupted in laughter with him.

"I always think of that whenever I hear the numbers 24 or 25." You told him as you regained your composure. "I was hoping you would get that. A lot of people think I'm insane when I say it."

"I think of Spongebob quotes all the time." Joe said enthusiastically.

He moved his hands in a rainbow motion, "Imagination!"

You couldn't hold back your giggles.

You picked up one of the mayo packets on the table and quoted, "Is mayonnaise an instrument?"

Joe's whole face turned red from laughing. When he caught he breath, he said, "What about: The pioneers used to ride these babies for miles!"

"The Krusty Krab pizza is the pizza for you and me-he" You sang.

Your eyes met Joe's and something just clicked. There it was. The ease, the comfort, the friendship. You felt like you could be your true, quirky self with him and he would embrace it.

"I've never dated anyone who liked Spongebob as much as me." Joe admitted.

"Me either."

The milkshake came and you felt giddy as you and Joe both plopped your straws in. You leaned in for a sip, but Joe held up a finger signaling to wait. He suddenly grabbed his phone. You were a little confused, but a moment later, your phone dinged.

It was a text from Joe: "Is this the Krusty Krab?"

You tried to keep a straight face as you replied, "No, this is Patrick." but the laughter got the best of you.

You spent the rest of lunch talking about all your favorite Spongebob episodes, which lead to talking about your childhoods, which lead to talking about your favorite memories, which lead to more laughter. You felt like you knew Joe so much better than you had just a few hours ago.

On the ride home, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. You felt comfortable and at peace. When Joe pulled in to your driveway, he looked at you with a pout.

"This may be lame, but that was the most fun I've had on a date in....." Joe trailed off. "in forever."

"Me too."

He stroked your shoulder. You both leaned in for a kiss as if magnetized. His lips were so soft and sweet.

When you looked into each other's eyes again, you saw Joe's adoring eyes and wished the moment would last forever.

"Are you busy the rest of the day? Because I'd really like it if you wanted to come in." You asked, internally begging the gods of fate he would say yes, but unsure if he had other plans today.

"I can. But-" Joe smirked mischieviously. "Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else."

You kissed him again. He responded enthusiastically, but you broke it off to whisper in his ear.

"Not until four."

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (epilogue)

In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

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“How was it?” Maddie asks y/n, sitting in the driver’s seat of her beat up red Toyota Corolla. The engine is running as y/n climbs into the passengers side, carelessly throwing her backpack in the backseat and buckling herself up. 

“I don’t want to think about integrals ever again,” y/n responds. She’s just gotten out of her calc midterm, and she feels horrible and miserable and exhausted. Although she’d promised herself to go to sleep early last night so that she’d be alert and prepared for her exam… she actually hadn’t fallen asleep until 4 AM. She’d been twisting and turning in her bed, flipping her pillows and trying to lull herself to sleep all night, unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully the class wasn’t until noon, so she was still able to get at least five-ish hours of sleep. But she still woke up feeling like shit. Her heart had been pounding nervously all morning, and she hadn’t been able to get any food down except for three sips of some coffee she made for herself in the morning. She didn’t put any makeup on as she left for campus, only a pair of sweats and a burgundy sweatshirt… Harry’s burgundy sweatshirt. The one he’d given to her in the car when he’d driven her home. 

Now, she has a reason for wearing it! You see… it still smelled like him. And y/n somehow convinced herself that by wearing Harry’s sweatshirt (the sweatshirt that smelled like him!) she might be able to…  absorb some of his math skills? And do better on her midterm? 

She’s pulling at straws here. She still feels like she failed it. 

“Listen…” Maddie says, pulling out of the parking lot. “I need to go over to Blake’s, I left my makeup bag in his bathroom and then we’re gonna go out for lunch.”

“Okay,” y/n mumbles, not caring. She closes her eyes to try and soothe the pounding in her head. She’s gonna nap as soon as she gets into her bed. 

“Do you want me to drop you off at home first? Or… did you want to come and see Harry?” 

Y/n’s eyes flutter open. Harry. 

Maddie looks over at y/n knowingly. Y/n turns bashful. “Yeah, I’ll come and see Harry.”

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Harry looks like he’s just woken up when he opens his bedroom door for y/n.

His eyes are puffy and his curls are flat and messy. A smile immediately spreads on his face when he sees it’s y/n.

“Hey.” His voice is deep and raspy, and it’s probably the first word he’s said all day. 

“Hi,” she says, twisting her hands in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. No– his sweatshirt. 

Oh. Oops.

Harry smiles down at the burgundy sweatshirt that’s swallowed y/n’s body. 

“I– I wore it so that I could return it,” she stammers. A lie! Harry sees right through it, and finds his smirk growing even wider. 

“I like it on you,” he grins. She grows shy under his gaze, heart bubbling with that familiar feeling. The feeling of a crush. “How was the midterm?” he asks, closing the door behind himself and y/n.

He lays back down in his bed, the way he’d previously been before y/n came knocking on his door, and y/n sits down next to him. “I dunno,” she shrugs. Her eyes are downcast and dull, lacking the happy sparkle he usually searches for whenever he’s in her presence.

“I’m sure you did okay,” he says, resting a reassuring hand on her knee. “At least it’s over now!”

She nods. A certain weight had been lifted from her chest as she walked out of that lecture hall. No more studying integrals and derivatives for hours straight…

“There was this one problem,” y/n can’t help but say. “It was like… ln(x) to the power of two…”

“Do you want to write it out?” Harry asks. He knows that y/n probably won’t be able to let this midterm go until she gets all of her questions out of the way. 

With a pen and paper in hand, she messily writes the problem out, the paper tearing a little bit when she presses down too hard. “It was ln(x)^2… and i split it into ln(x)*ln(x). That’s allowed right?”

Harry nods, “Mhm. That’s what I would’ve done too. What next?”

“Um… I did a U-sub. I don’t know if that’s right though… I was running out of time and just did something so that I could get at least partial credit.” 

“A u-sub is right,” he grins.

“Really?” She blinks with wide eyes as he nods. “So… wait– tell me if I did the rest of it right.” She messily writes down what she remembers putting down on the test, then gives the paper to Harry. 

“S’good,” his dimple pops out as he smiles up at her, “It’s all right. And you didn’t forget the +C, good job!” 

“No way!” she exclaims, disbelievingly. Her hands land on Harry’s chest as she giggles triumphantly, “No freaking way I did it right! I thought I was just making math up! Oh my gosh!”

“Told you,” he laughs along with her, holding the hand that she rested on his chest. “Stop stressing out, sunshine. You studied, and now you’re done!”

There’s that name again, the one that makes her entire body tingle with happy chills. >sunshine. The sparkle in her eye is back, and Harry feels pride for being the reason she laughed. The entire world feels brighter now that she’s happy again. 

Y/n’s giggles die down slowly, and she looks down at Harry, eyes flickering between his. Her stare is intent as she chews on her lip, the remnants of her cheery smile still present in the apples of her cheeks.

Something thuds on the floor behind Harry. They both peer over the side of the bed to see what fell from his bedside table. It’s just a book… but when y/n looks closer…

“Wuthering Heights?” 

His cheeks turn pink. “Yeah…” he coughs dryly. “I um… I remember you reading it. Thought it might be nice if I picked it up, and that… we might be able to talk about it or something.” 

Her heart swells in her chest. “You’re reading Wuthering Heights?” 

“Well– trying to,” he chuckles at himself lamely. “I’m like 10 pages in.”

She wants to kiss him. She really really does. Like… he’s perfect and beautiful and kind and sweet and amazing. But… god would it be weird? After last time?

Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. He can feel the tension too. But when he inches closer to her, her eyes flicker with doubt and she looks away. 

“No,” he pleads, cupping her jaw. “Please… please don’t let it be different.” She meets his gaze again. 

“I like you,” he swallows thickly, “and I want… something with you. Whatever you want.” 

He inches upward, and this time she doesn’t pull away. Her heart races in her chest and she lets the magnetic force between them take over. 

“We’ll take it slow, at your pace…” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut. “No rush. Just trust me, please.”

She nods. She trusts him.

Their lips connect, a spark flying through y/n’s body the second she makes contact with him. It’s wonderful, better than last time, even, and she realizes the reason kissing Harry is so great is because it’s >Harry. Because she can feel how much he cares for her when he kisses her. He speaks poems with his lips when he kisses her and writes sonnets on her skin every time he touches her. He tastes like minty toothpaste, freshly washed, and his lips are so soft and sweet and gentle. 

He pulls away from her lips with a soft click, then stares up at her with hearts floating in his eyes. 

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Y/n is out of breath, huffing and puffing in front of Harry’s door and knocking like a madwoman. She ran here from her own apartment, too excited to wait and ask Maddie for a ride. She needed to see him >immediately. 

Harry opens the door with concerned eyes and furrowed eyebrows, a little bit scared. He still has his headphones on with his controller in his hands, staring down at y/n as though he just had a heart attack, “What? What is it?” 

A huge grin is plastered on her face. “Harry!” she beams. “I passed!”

“What?” he’s still confused. What did she pass? Why is she at his door?

“I got a 77% on the midterm!” she squeals, jumping up and down in her place. 

His eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. “Yes!” he cheers. He pulls the headphones off of his ears and hangs them around his neck, just in time for when y/n wraps her arms around him. He’s taken aback, stumbling a few steps backwards from how hard she pummeled into him, but easily steadies himself and wraps his arms around her back. He hugs her so tight that her feet leave the ground, and she’s laughing in his ear sweetly.

“I can’t believe it!!!” she says, her hands on his shoulders as he puts her back down on the ground. Her eyes glimmer with the shine that he adores so much, and it makes him grin even harder. His dimple pops out, a rare sighting for anyone else except for y/n these days. 

He kisses her without a second thought.

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The scene is all too familiar. Harry, sitting at a party with his eyebrows furrowed grumpily. His friends are sitting around him, laughing and chattering, but Harry says nothing. He takes a bored sip from the jungle juice in his hand. Three girls have approached him tonight, batting their eyes up at him and biting their lips teasingly, but he’s brushed them off without so much of a glance. He’s not interested in the slightest.

He looks around himself, eyes searching for a certain someone, and he sighs to himself. She’s still not here. His pout grows more prominent, and he whips out his phone. He does not care for anyone at this party, and though his friends are fun and all… they’re having a weird conversation about Elon Musk that he doesn’t want to even listen to.

He huffs. He stares at the last text he received, 19 minutes ago.

sunshine: omw!! be there in 15 :)

She’s 4 minutes late, he pouts. It’s probably Maddie’s fault.

A firm poke is pressed to his forehead. “Hey grumpy.” His heart jumps as he recognizes the sweet sunshine angel voice speaking to him. 

“Sunshine,” he coos, the furrow his brow immediately melting into a soft smile. He holds a hand out for her, which she immediately takes. She has a soft smile on her face, her eyes kind and warm and gentle, the LED party lights haloing around her head and making her look like a fairy. “Missed you.”

He pulls her down into his lap, her butt comfortably sat on his thighs, and nuzzles his face into her neck, trying to get as close to her as possible. A content hum rumbles through his chest now that he’s surrounded by her scent, his pretty girlfriend in his lap, drowning out all the other people at the party. She giggles cutely when his curls tickle her chin, simultaneously trying to escape the kisses he’s pressing to her sensitive throat while also wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“Watcha drinking?” she asks. 

He offers her his drink, “dunno.” She grimaces as she takes a sip, and he imitates her grossed out face. “Yucky, isn’t it?”

She gets the drink as far away as possible from herself. “Gross.” 

He chuckles. She’s so beyond cute, her cheeks so soft and biteable as she scrunches her nose. One of his hands is on her back, holding her upright, while the other one rests on her thigh comfortably. His fingers on her back find the ends of her hair and start twisting them, playing with the soft strands and curling them around his fingers, while his fingers on her thigh trace up and down and up and down. Goosebumps rise along the path of his fingers, and it makes him smile. She’s so reactive to every single one of his touches… he wants to have his hands on her 24/7.

If she wasn’t so shy and sweet and innocent, he’d start kissing her pretty, glossed up lips right here and now, even with all of their friends sitting around them. He’s obsessed with her! Obsessed with kissing her all the time and teaching her all the secrets of intimacy. But he knows she’d probably get bashful and embarrassed with that much PDA (even getting her to sit in his lap took a bit of coaxing at the beginning), so he settles for pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so cute,” he murmurs to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Is it too early for them to leave this party and to his room? He’d love to be snuggled up in bed with her… have her read to him a little bit while he plays with her hair… yeah that sounds nice.

“M’gonna go get a juice box from the fridge,” she whispers (his fridge is stocked with juice just for her). He whine when she pulls away, looking up at her with big pleading puppy dog eyes, begging her not to leave him when he’s just gotten her, but she pecks his cheek with a dismissive kiss. “Do you want one too?”

“No,” he pouts. “I’ll just have some of yours, if that’s okay?”

She squints her eyes at him, “you get two sips, and that’s it.” 

He shrugs with a teasing smile. “M’kay.” He resists the urge to pat her ass as she walks away (that’s for when they’re alone in his room).

He’s stuck in a lovey dovey lavender haze as he watches her get swept away by a group of her girlfriends, smiling to himself fondly as they all giggle and look towards Harry mischievously. He knows she’s probably getting grilled about how little miss sunshine finally got a boyfriend! 

A shove from Blake jostles him out of his daydream. “Who are you?” Blake snickers. All of his friends are staring at him too. Nobody has ever, ever seen grumpy Harry be so soft with anyone. Kissing her cheek and cuddling into her neck and whining like a love-struck puppy… it’s funny. 

Harry rolls his eyes and tells his friends to fuck off, trying to furrow his brows and look all serious again. But his heart flutters happily in his chest, and those pretty dimples dent his cheek. 

He can’t be very grumpy when his sunshine girl is skipping back to him, juice box in hand as she settles back down on his lap. 

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perfect ending for my fav story:( TELL ME WHAT BLURBS U WANNA SEE!!!! MANY MANY BLURBS TO COME BC I LOVE THIS STORY:(

sunshine masterlist

[licorice-tea]

And There You Are, An Ocean Away

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader (and a little Nami x Vivi if you squint)

Content: friends to lovers, fluff, anxious/hopeful crush feelings, confessions, long distance relationships, reader is a Straw Hat Pirate, and Law is a little awkward <3

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this is one of the first fics i’ve finished and i’m not the best at grammar rules so there are probably a few mistakes! also i might have made Law a little ooc lol, but besides that im just trying to write more to improve! thanks for reading :)

Edited 1/17/23

be-beep. be-bee-

“Hello?” Law cuts off the ringing of his transponder snail. He can’t help but smile to himself upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line.

“Law? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He leans back in his desk chair, twisting the cord of the transponder snail around finger “E” while holding the phone in the other hand.

“Sooo,” you drawl, “have you guys started opening presents yet?”

Law can practically hear you smiling, which makes him exhale in amusement before responding. “Yeah, the crew exchanged gifts and opened them earlier this morning. How about you?”

“Mhm, we were up as soon as the sun rose- Chopper and Luffy woke up the whole crew.” You pause, and he can imagine you biting back a laugh while shaking your head as you often do. “Anyway… Did you get everything you wanted?” You sound expectant, almost knowing.

In his usual deadpan tone, he answers simply. “Bepo got me a new coffee blend.”

“That’s nice of him… he’s always so considerate.”Based on your tone it’s not quite the answer you were looking for, but you provide commentary anyway.

“Ohh yeah,” He continues on the other end of the line, feigning the recollection of something important, “and there was this massive box on deck…”

“Oh good!” You exclaim as Law chuckles. “You scared me, I thought you hadn’t gotten it. Did everyone like their gifts?”

You’re referring, of course, to the comically large box that the Straw Hats had shipped to the Heart Pirates. It was packed to the brim with gifts for every crew member. After all, what was the point of having tons of berries from “stolen” treasure if not to use it on your friends? Or at least, that’s the reasoning you used to convince Nami to rearrange some funds for gifts to the Heart Pirates and other allies of the Straw Hats. Though, maybe it was just because you had mentioned sending a gift to Vivi back in Alabasta as well…

“They all really liked it, a lot. Was it your idea?”

“No,” you explain with a playful cadence, “it was a group effort.”

“Sure thing, but the bows and wrapping paper has you written all over it. And the handwritten card…”

“I have the best handwriting on our ship! Besides, we all signed it so, its from all of us.”

The only part that 100% was not from all of the Straw Hat Crew, was a box with Law’s name on it at the bottom of the much larger box. Inside the present addressed to the “Captain of the <3 Pirates” was a neat little coin display with places for 25 coins, as well as a card tucked in beside the display.

“Well, it was nice of all of you then.” He concedes with a snark in his voice. “And, uh… I like what you got for me, y/n.” Law’s voice comes out a little quieter, and maybe even a little deeper towards the end. He sounds hopeful, not 100% sure if it was you that had chosen his gift, yet knowing that only you could have selected something so sentimental and- ugh, perfect. His tone makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad.” Your voice, now a bit softer, replies. “I was worried you might have already had-“

“I-I didn’t. I’ve just been storing my collection in boxes...” He trails off, now tracing the edges of the coin display you’d gotten him. It was nothing exceedingly special or expensive, but it meant a lot knowing you had thought of him- just him- and went out of your way to send him a gift. The thought that you cared about him as much as he did you had his heart beating faster already.

You only knew Law was a coin collector because he chose to tell you. Thats how it usually was with him- he only shared the parts of himself he wanted to share. (Though you did also have a knack for “catching his vibe” as you liked to say.) Anyhow, you also knew his office was painfully tidy and there was little to no decoration, despite having ample bookshelf space. And so, a display for his not-so-secret hobby seemed like a perfect gift!

But, that wasn’t the only thing you’d added to his present. There was also a card, in which you’d written something along the lines of “I’m so glad I met you…. You deserve so many great things, but hopefully this coin display will suffice for now… I have feelings for you…. Merry Christmas! xxx, y/n” You had sort of just slipped in the confession between other clauses.

“And did you read the card…?” Your face suddenly feels a little warmer. Not that there was anything scandalous in the card, just some very honest words about your feelings for Law. Words you hadn’t ever been bold enough to say out loud and in person, and still hadn’t been brave enough to write without lots of other thoughts and well wishes surrounding them.

“Card?…” You hear some shuffling on his end, “I’ll read it now.”

“Mkay.” Your short response is a telltale sign of your own nerves, which makes him curious to find out what you could’ve written.

There’s a prolonged silence as he reads, and Law’s heart skips a beat as he nears the end. His eyes go back over and over 5 specific words: “…I have feelings for you.” He feels nearly giddy with excitement, but it comes out as pure anxious energy. He never thought this would actually happen; a scenario where you reciprocated his affections had only ever happened in his imagination up until now. Usually in these scenarios, he’d have worked up the courage and audacity to tell you how he felt in person, and not only would you accept his confession; you’d also return his feelings. But now that it was actually happening? He found himself at a loss for words, heart beating in his ears and probably blushing like some lovesick idiot.

Law wants to say something perfect for you, something charming and witty, but all he can think of in the moment is, “… I read it.”

His throat feels dry, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Law likes you too of course- how could he not? Ever since you’d met back in Saobody Archipelago, though the interaction had been brief, he’d thought you were beautiful, strong, and somehow a little different from the other Straw Hat Pirates. Then he’d gotten to know you; really know you, beyond your fighting capabilities and the information on your bounty poster. You were kind, witty, selfless, hardworking, and so much more. And alas, absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

Sure, you’d started off as allies, but that quickly became friendship, and a close friendship at that. He liked you because of your acceptance for nearly anyone, so long as they seemed a good person. Even more so, your ability to understand his emotions despite his usually reserved nature (he secretly thinks it’s some sort of sign, but in reality you’re just emotionally intelligent.) And you like Law because of his obvious (though he tries to hide it) love and passion for so many things: his crew, his work, etc. This, along with his witty, albeit odd sense of humor, made you enjoy his company quite a lot. The two of you took most every chance you had to be in each others company, since they were few and far between. Sometimes you’d chat, with you doing most of the talking and Law being content to listen and only add comments where he thought them necessary. Other times you’d follow each other into battle to provide support for the other, though neither of you had ever really needed help in those situations.

You swallow the lump in your own throat and continue, “You don’t have to have an answer or anything right now, I just want you to know how I feel.” Law doesn’t say anything, and so you continue while trying not to sound disappointed. “Merry Christmas, Law.”

“…”

“Law?”

“I like you too.” his words come out sort in a rush, like he had been holding his breath.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Well, uh, I have to go now, but… Can I call you tonight?” He asks hesitantly, even though you’ve already confessed that you feel the same way he does.

“Yes, that’s fine! I… I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way for a second.” You laugh, light and airy.

He scoffs, but you know it’s not meant to sound mean when it comes from him. If anything, it’s endearing. “Of course I do.”

You giggle again, “Bye, Law.”

“Bye, y/n.”

As soon as you hang up, his nervous frown turns into a small smile, and it grows and spreads across his face until he’s grinning like a fool and hiding his face under the brim of his hat.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Heyy how are you Hope you're doing well and have some food and drink water you need it🫶

So about the request i was wondering if you would be able to make a modern au i am not really sure if you write modern au but if you don't want to make it modern au it's totally fine

It's a scenario with marco adopting a girl (maybe 10-11) who's tomboyish and making her his daughter and basically the whitebeard pirates being whitebeard company (if you write modern au) with pops as the ceo of course and them being a huge family. (I swear they are really family i want what they have💞)

i can imagine izo telling everyone you people can't handle a girl there need's to be a bit of feminine only for the girl to run away cause she found him intimidating but at the end they bond.

Also please can you include the ASL trio as if they are a part of the whitebeard family

I personally had this idea for so long and thought a lot about it that's why i want to see it come to life thank you so much for this chance🥹

Love ya

Hello my dear! So yes, I do write modern AUs, lol. Sorry I didn't get this out sooner, life has been... a pain. BUT! it's out! I hope it's alright, I had a hard time wrapping up the ending. In any case, enjoy!

Warnings: Platonic WBP x Reader, platonic ASL x reader, female!Reader

Word Count: 1450

     Looking down at the little girl in front of him, Marco could feel his heart aching. He couldn’t imagine she was more than 10, 11 tops, but here she was, huddling under what little shelter she could find, trying to stay out of the rain. Walking in over to her, he held his umbrella out a little, covering her as well as he kneeled down. Looking up at him, e/c eyes looked up at him in curiosity and… was it… fear? 

     “What are you doing out here, little one? Surely you have somewhere you can go to escape the rain.” he asked softly, reaching out and placing his hand on her head. The little girl simply shook her head, looking down at the ground sadly. Marco’s expression twisted into a troubled one as he stared at her for a moment, “Come with me. I’ll get you out of this rain and get you something to eat, you look hungry.” Marco offered, holding his hand out for the little girl. She timidly looked down at his hand before looking up at him. He looked like a kind man, nothing like those who sought to kidnap her or hurt her. Tentatively, she took his hand, allowing him to lead her away.

     That had been 4 months ago. After taking her to the office with him, she’d immediately stolen the hearts of all the divisions, though it was a toss up as to if HR loved her more or R&D. No, no, neither of those were correct. The ones who loved her most were Marco and the company’s owner, Edward ‘Whitebeard’ Newgate. It hadn’t taken a lot to adopt the girl, once she’d finally been willing enough to give them a name and her previous orphanage. None of them had known much about her, but it was clear that she was a little cautious, something that none of them had much cared for. She was far too young to be this distrustful of people.

     Sitting in his office, Marco smiled as he watched his new daughter play in the, now renovated, room next door. The very instant the adoption papers had been signed, Pops had begun renovating what had once been an office next to Marco’s, turning it into a playroom of sorts for her so that when she wasn’t at school, the entire building could come and fawn over her instead of leaving her with a daycare, something they had all been vehemently against. Crawling into one of the human sized hamster tunnels, she was immediately off once more, ruffling the new dress Izo had gotten her. The man would sigh, but leave it be. So long as she was happy, it seemed that the rest of the office was as well.

     Hearing his office door slam open, Marco couldn’t help but jump, looking up to see a familiar straw hat and smile.

     “Is Y/n in here? Ace said she was in here!” Luffy asked excitedly, running towards the door to the playroom before Marco could answer. Even though the boy was a good 7 years older than her, he seemed to be her closest friend, the two of them often getting lost in the tunnels together as they ‘adventured’ across the building, the human hamster tunnels winding through almost all of the offices of the upper two floors.

     “Luffy! Get back here! You made a promise to Ace and I! Homework first then Y/n!” Sabo shouted, running into Marco’s office soon after and joining Luffy in the tunnels. The older blond could only laugh as Sabo chased after Luffy and Luffy chased after Y/n. Pops had taken Ace in after the death of the boy’s parents, being Ace’s godfather. Roger and Pops might have been rival companies, but contrary to what the press often said, had been surprisingly good friends. Sabo had been taken in after Ace, Pops filing for custody against Sabo’s parents after a fire left the boy with horrible burn scars. The one he wasn’t sure of, however, was Luffy. The boy had his own home, perhaps not the most attentive father, but a good man. His grandfather had found a… nanny to take care of him from time to time, yet the boy had still wound up with Ace and Sabo more often than not. Still, it seemed to be for the best since Luffy and Y/n got along, so he couldn’t be upset. 

     Another bang made Marco jump, seeing Ace and Izo in his doorway.

     “Marco! Did Luffy and Sabo come this way? Sabo called me saying that he was chasing Luffy and they were headed this way!” Ace asked, making the man smile.

     “In the tunnels, best of luck, don’t forget to take off your shoes.” Marco said, gesturing towards the tunnels, the black haired young man soon darting after his brothers.

     “She’s in the tunnels again?! But… but I just got her that dress!” Izo said with a sigh, looking down rather dejectedly, making Marco laugh.

     “And she loves it… when it isn’t hindering her ability to move.” Marco said, thinking to this morning when he had her put it on for school. He wasn’t lying, she’d been rather happy with the dress, finding that it wasn’t too restrictive, it was comfortable, and it was cute.

     “I haven’t even gotten to see her in it. By later today, it’ll probably be too covered in dirt and scuff marks. How is she supposed to learn to be feminine when she spends all her time around Ace, Sabo, and Luffy!” Izo grumbled, tucking a strand of loose hair back.

     “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Once she warms up to you more, you’ll no doubt be able to dress her up as much as you’d like.” Marco said with a comforting smile as the man in front of him sighed in defeat.

     “I don’t know why she doesn’t like me, Marco. I’ve tried being nice to her, but she always runs behind someone else.” Izo lamented, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway.

     “It’s because of your first meeting. You pushed everyone aside to meet her, carrying a dress. She figured that anyone that can push away that many people so easily while managing not to rip a dress was terrifying.” Marco said with a chuckle. Izo sighed and nodded, his shoulders sagging as he leaned against the doorframe.

     “I suppose you have a point. Everyone here is rather tall, aren’t they? Well… tell her there’s some mochi in the fridge for her. It’s a recipe I learned from Toki.” Izo said, turning to leave.

     “You… made me mochi?” a small voice called out, drawing Izo’s attention to the glass playroom doors. Izo smiled gently as he looked at her, nodding.

     “Yes. Your favorite, in fact. Marco told me what you like, so I thought you might enjoy some in the form of mochi.” Izo said softly, his heart melting at her smile.

     “Thank you, Mister Izo. I’m… I’m sorry about getting your dress dirty.” she said, moving to dust the front of her dress off as if that would help.

     “It’s alright, little one. How about you and I go shopping one of these days. I’ll buy you something we can both agree on.” Izo said, feeling himself becoming putty for the little girl. Much like the others, he’d already adored her, but Marco was pretty sure she could get Izo to kill for her with that little smile alone. 

     “Y/n, why don’t you go with Izo now to get that mochi. You can eat it while you finish up the other half of that homework.” Marco suggested, watching Izo smile at the idea of her going with him to get the mochi. Looking down at her dress, her brow furrowed as she once more attempted to wipe the scuff marks out of the knees.

     “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll get you something better when we go shopping.” Izo said softly, giving her a warm smile. Almost as if a switch flipped, Y/n was smiling at him and running over, happily taking his hand as he led her away. Marco smiled and sighed softly, watching his daughter walk towards the break room. Even as Luffy ran out of the play area, Sabo and Ace hot on his heels, he couldn’t help but find himself feeling content. The company had always been a family to him; chaotic, loud, and messy, but a family, and seeing his daughter warming up to Izo, playing with Ace, Sabo, and Luffy, and often seeing her with Pops, he couldn’t help but feel more and more like a real family. Even if the family was the entire company.

[shares-a-vest]

"One piping hot cocoa," Wayne announces, setting an Indy 500 mug in front of Eddie, "Extra cocoa."

The boy is sitting at the kitchen island, drawing and taking up what little space is left on the countertop with his tools. He's been sitting there for a good hour now, working on some of his fantasy drawings.

Wayne wants to tell him the dragon he is working on is getting pretty good - quite realistic compared to the wibbly line work he'd started with when he first came to live with him two years back. But he doesn't say anything, just stirring his coffee a moment longer than necessary.

Eddie places his free hand around the mug handle and Wayne stills, hoping the boy will at least stop to take a sip and save himself from a spillage.

"Thanks, Dad," Eddie mumbles, moving the mug a little too close to the paper's edge.

They both pause.

Eddie mid-pencil stroke, Wayne mid-sip.

The boy sets the pencil down and grumbles at the purple streak now painted clean across the dragon, ruining its brilliant sunset-like shades of red, orange and yellow. Wayne tilts his head. He thinks his nephew might have intended to colour the eyes purple.

He also suspects his heart might have just skipped a beat – even if he isn't too sure how he feels about the cause of the awkward silence they have fallen right into.

And their silence is never awkward. Just calm. Peaceful.

Wayne had always been that way anyway, but he'd made an effort when Eddie showed up two years ago, with a duffle bag of clothes, an armful of his favourite books and a beat-up old acoustic.

He wanted to give Eddie time, too. Let him be himself. Guide him without being too militant. Though, considering Eddie's boisterous age (the boy is now twelve – where in the world does the time go?), sometimes that's easier said than done.

But a purple streak ruining a sunset-coloured dragon seems a heck of a lot different.

"I... didn't..." Eddie stutters, scrunching the corner of his drawing in a fist, "I didn't mean that."

The kid scratches his head, brows wobbling and lip quivering as he runs his fingers over the hair, likely remembering he has no curls to twist worried fingers around just now.

Wayne braces a hand on the countertop, willing himself not to curse to the heavens over his own stupidity. A couple of months back, he'd made the downright asinine decision to allow his brother Al to take Eddie on a fishing trip. He was perfectly within his rights as the kid's father to do so.

Well, at least at the time, he was.

But Al rolling back into town with a suspiciously shiny car and Eddie sporting a buzzcut with disappointment in his eyes was the final straw.

He picks at the chipped Cubs logo on his own mug, mulling over the best place to start with this one. But Eddie slips off his stool and books it down the hall, firmly making the decision for him.

He sighs and slides the drawing closer. Turns out Eddie was working on adding details to the dragon's scales with the purple pencil.

Wayne gives it a full few minutes before he heads down to Eddie's room.

He opens the door to find his nephew lying flat on his back with his hood over his face and the drawstring pulled so tight that it only leaves room for a small breathing hole.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he moves to sit by the edge of the bed. Eddie pointedly folds his arms.

"What's going on in that noggin, kid?" he asks, leaning towards the hooded form, "If it hasn't been swallowed up into a fabric void, that is..."

Eddie stills for a moment before puffing out a laboured breath.

"I didn't mean it," he says after a long silence, "Freudian Slip."

"Eddie, you know I haven’t the foggiest what that one means."

Even though Eddie reads a lot of books, Wayne still doesn't know how his nephew comes up with half the stuff he says. Eddie groans and paws away at the tight drawstring. He starts to really struggle with it so Wayne reaches over to help.

"There you are," he says, smiling once he gets the thing untangled and open.

"It doesn't matter," Eddie gripes, waving a dismissive hand before letting it fall back against his chest.

Wayne looks around. Eddie must have tidied his room yesterday judging by the empty laundry basket – even if he didn't place the thing back in the hallway.

He's a good kid.

Wayne pinches his nose, hoping that the prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes will go. He looks down and instead focuses on his striped socks, a pair Eddie gifted him last Christmas that he saves for Sunday afternoons.

"You can call me 'dad' if you want," he finally offers.

"I don't," Eddie bites back.

The first feeling out in the kitchen might have been a hearty thud of his rusty old heartstrings, but this one stings. Wayne nods a little more curtly than he'd hoped.

Eddie huffs and scrubs a hand over his face.

"I don't mean... gah!" he babbles incoherently for a moment like he does when he is frustrated beyond words and trying to mind his manners, "All I mean is, the guy I call 'dad' – or I'm supposed to – sucks. So – to me – the word doesn't mean all that much. And you aren't like him at all. Which is why I didn't mean it."

"I understand," Wayne nods.

He looks up to find his nephew teary-eyed. Eddie used to wail away as a toddler, running around with all his big feelings. But over the last few years, with everything that happened with his parents and now living here, Eddie has struggled to express himself beyond frustration and acid-tongued anger.

Though, as he wipes his eyes, that might be changing. Just a little.

"Any plans for this afternoon?" he wonders aloud, patting Eddie's knee and catching on a dang tear in his jeans.

Eddie shrugs, "Might go practice with the band."

"Ah yes," he smiles, "The talent show."

"We are going into battle," Eddie clarifies, enunciating every syllable with the faintest smile.

"And I expect an invitation to come see your performance, regardless of what that flyer over there calls the thing."

He points to the school's Talent Show flyer Eddie has had pinned to his bedroom wall since the start of the school year.

"Sure thing, Old Man," Eddie says.

"Hey now," Wayne chuckles, "I'm going to draw the line with some other choice terms of endearment, y'know?"

Eddie scrambles to the edge of the bed, a cheeky grin stretching across his face.

"Maybe we should discuss this further over some cold cocoa."

[leiflitter]

Hi I'm doing a research paper on antiheroes and I'm using Oliver as one example. Could you maybe tell me why he appeals to you as a character despite the murdering and the scheming etc

You come into my askbox while I sleep and make me think? First thing in the morning? BUT I SHALL ANSWER

won't make any sense probably but HEY!

I think the main reason I love Oliver is because I can see a lot of myself in him.

Cut bc this will be long af

Granted, my perspective on the character is... I spend a lot of time thinking about that idiot, so this is fully based on my interpretation of him buttttt

Okay, so the murders and scheming are firstly... Ambiguous. Elspeth is the only one we see as it happens- not in a flashback, big-twist, oh it was my evil plan all along #classwarfare #girlboss #theyhatetoseeabadbitchwinning way- and she's so far gone she's on a ventilator and just dies without it. How did she get so sick? It isn't mentioned. Honestly, as someone with long covid, she's wandering around London without a mask. LADY. YOUR LUNGS.

Everything else? The spiked bottle. The razorblades. They're shown to us at the end, this big gotcha moment... From someone who has clearly spent every moment since Felix Catton died trying desperately to gather some small piece of him.

His home is decorated like Saltburn. He's immediately trying to get back in. The moth battering itself against the window.

Whether or not Oliver Quick is an evil, scheming murderer is entirely down to your interpretation of that reveal montage. Mad props to Emerald for that.

My interpretation of it is... Not to say he's innocent, but that he's a sad, sad man grasping at straws to give himself more agency. He's spent years dwelling on and analysing the worst time of his life, and as a good Eng Lit student (dude was doing essays on Browning) he's turned it into a narrative.

If we stop suspending disbelief, then we have:

Felix

Oliver put some cocaine in a bottle (as evidenced by Oliver having the same sort of vial Farleigh has in the main hall). Oliver drank some. Felix drank some. He threw up, Felix died.

I have probably said this before, but Felix's death cannot be directly attributed to Oliver's actions.

Felix was in the bathroom, and although we don't see him doing lines, he's not just hanging out there for funzies. He's going hard, probably mixing drugs and booze. He's so off his tits that he doesn't notice how bad/bitter the booze Oliver gives him tastes. Plus there's a reason people snort cocaine; it's efficacy is highly reduced when eaten, and it takes far longer to reach the brain. How long would Felix have just stood in the maze? Waiting there like a sim with no activities queued until he keeled over?

It's likely that Felix overdosed, but it's really unlikely that Oliver was the sole cause, if he was the cause at all.

Venetia

He left razorblades near her. That's literally all we see. From Oliver as a character, I don't think he has the guts to actually, directly kill- and it wouldn't make sense to. He'd be found out immediately if he did- any sign of violence and the Cattons would have private investigators and all sorts at their disposal. He was in the next room. It'd be open and shut. I do think, from the blood on the floor, that she tried to go to his room for help and he ignored her- but!

Leaving something sharp near someone in distress is another shitty scheme. What was he going to do if she didn't notice them? What if she knocked them off the side of the tub accidentally? Was he going to leave her a post-it note like HI V PLS KYS LUV OLLIE to make sure she noticed them?

Another thing that often is kinda... Glossed over... Is that Oliver is a fuckin teenager, and he isn't as smart as he portrays himself.

Olls. Why would you fool about with Felix's sister in plain view of the house? Ollie. What exactly did you expect one email to do? Erase Farleigh from existence? Oliver. Mate. You left your phone in the bathroom? Where Felix "no boundaries" Catton could find it? Why? Did you need to play Snake in the bath THAT BADLY? Oliver. Why would you lie about something so easily disprovable? Oliver Quick, you started digging a hole and it became Felix's fucking grave.

Older Oliver has turned what happened into a narrative where He Has Agency. He did it, and he did it on purpose, because HE WASN'T IN LOVE WITH FELIX (he was in love with Felix). He had a plan, you see, it wasn’t him being desperate and trying anything, everything he could to stay close to Felix.

He wasn’t a weird, awkward teenager who went away from home, fell in love with someone entirely unobtainable- due to socioeconomic bracket, gender, the year, all of that- and was so desperate to be near Felix that he built an unsustainable web of lies that fell apart. I think the maze scene is Oliver at his most honest, because he doesn't understand why his performance is any different, other than the amount of effort he's put in.

No, he was evil. A bad guy. A wolf in sheep's clothing, Felix his innocent victim. He's a genius... Because what is the alternative for Oliver Quick?

Admit that he was little more than a child, lashing out, unable to accept his own feelings- as he's unable to accept them as an adult- and now...

The immutable fact is that Felix died, and Oliver will never be over it.

What's the safer option?

I was a mess and I might be responsible for this and I was lashing out and I might have killed the thing I loved most because I fucked it all up.

or

I did it all on purpose.

And... To bring this back to the question.

I have been Oliver Quick in the bit before the bike scene. I've watched people I'd like to be friends with, living a life I was too shy or scared to go after. I can remember desperately wanting to be cool, to have a backstory, to be compelling...

I just never got desperate enough to lie. And I'm doing pretty good now, but I fucking get it. To want that connection so badly, to yearn for the life you see other people living, to want to be someone other than yourself.

So y'know

That's why I love him.

[dreamersbcll]

“I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule”

- whumptober, prompt no. 24

(goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)

—————————————————————————

Dear Mom,

I’ve started this letter so many times that I’m sure permanently smeared ink will be embedded in my skin.

There was an outline, a plan even for this letter. I’ve structured it over and over to get it right. But I suppose there is no right way to say goodbye, is there?

Well, I’ve spoiled it. This is a goodbye letter of sorts. I’m not really sure who I’m saying goodbye to anymore. Which mother will be reading this piece of paper?

Will it be the mother you were before I turned nine? I miss her, you know. You were so sweet in the beginning. I still hold myself at night to remember your presence. I know Sam loves to touch, but you were big on touch, Mom. You taught us how to be gentle and leave gentle markings.

Do you remember the night you first read “Mi Burro enfermo” to us? I remember it—every single second. I remember you holding me tight, letting my chubby fingers touch the crinkled pages. Sam was pressed into my side, and you held us both, kissing our heads as Sam read to me. You would correct her ever so gently and praise her every time she got a word right. I think I was three. Even that young, I remember it all.

What happened there? When did you stop reading to us? Where did the mother with the kind hands and the sweet smile go? Why did you stop making our lunches and taking us to the bus stop?

Why did you start drinking?

I mean, we were not enough anymore? Mom, I was six. Six years old and helping Sam drag you inside so you didn’t freeze out on the front lawn. I remember learning how to make you throw up, just in case you stopped responding. Sam had to teach me to call 911 and check for your pulse. I was six, Mom. Six!

Did you ever think of us, what this would do to us? God, I know having a child born from a serial killer is terrible, but isn’t child neglect worse? I don’t know why you did this to us. I wonder every single day if I deserved that. You were my mami. I love you. Why couldn’t you love us?

Why couldn’t you love me

I know I cried a lot. I know I was noisy. I know I was too much. But I was a child—a baby. I didn’t know better. I just wanted my mami to love me again.

But your jealousy, god, I can still see it now. You always talked down to me as if I would always be around and be your little pawn. All I wanted was to love you. I wanted to love you and be loved back. But you pushed my love away like it was a loaded gun- and pushed me down time and time again. All you did was hold me underwater, breaking my resolve until I was a shell of myself.

Dad leaving was tough. I know. I saw. But I lived that too- I was there. I was eight years old, mom eight! I know he left, and I know he hurt you, even if you didn’t love him like you loved Billy. But why couldn’t you ever think about us?

First, you left me, then Dad, then Sam. You had to know that Sam going was the final straw. You had to hear me cry and scream, and break things. I know you saw me, red-eyes and shaking, begging for someone to stay. I remember those nights when I begged you to love me again. I was thirteen. God, was I stupid.

It really was no surprise that I would run. I’m just surprised that it took me so long. I mean, it's clear that I’m a masochist, constantly begging for love from empty people. I just can’t believe it took me this long to buck up.

But it was because of Sam. Never you. Don’t ever get that twisted. I never would’ve left if it wasn’t for her coming back. I was invested, Mom; I was going to stay in that stupid little town and take care of your sorry ass. God. I’m so glad I’m writing this now to tell you goodbye.

That’s right. Yeah. I’m leaving with Sam. We’re going to be far away from this hellhole of a town. I will never step foot in this town again, and I will never walk back into this house.

I don’t care what you think. If I wrote this a year ago, maybe I would feel guilty. But all I have left for you is rage. I can’t give you my sorrow or hurt anymore. It’s just red-hot rage.

The questions I have for you won’t get answered. I know that you were never keen on tying up loose ends. But don’t worry, your questions will never be answered either. I’m done with you.

Fuck you, Mom. Fuck you for all you’ve done to me.

Yet, I still love you. You’re my mom. I have a big sister who means more to me than you’ll ever know- but you’re still my mom. You’ll still be a part of me.

But you will never touch me again. Ever. Sam will make sure of that.

Goodbye, mom. Good luck.

Don’t forget to stick your fingers down your throat.

Love

From, Tara.

Putting the pencil down, Tara sighed deeply, her eyes closing. She roughly rubbed her face, trying to push the worry out of her skin. There was no reason to carry it around anymore.

Down the hall, she could hear Sam shuffling about, collecting the last of Tara’s bags.

“Are you ready to go, baby?” Sam called, lightly knocking on the door.

Flashing a smile at her big sister, Tara nodded.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Tara calls back, hastily shoving the letter into an envelope.

Staring at the blank envelope, she pondered what to write. Christina felt too formal, but mom didn’t feel right. Taking the pen out, she scribbled a quick word on it and stuck the pen behind her ear.

Mami

As she left the room, she stared at the propped up envelope, wondering if it would ever be read.

Maybe. Maybe not. She wouldn't worry about it anymore. It was time to move forward.

[cherryrainn]

━━ ✧ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 {𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

.11 - 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚.

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; s3lf harm, depression, bulimia, mental health issues, self hatred, stuff like that, and just like my other stories... lots of angst!

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

─ ✩ 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ; here

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

the room's silence hung heavy in the air as you lay on the worn-out mattress, replaying the unexpected kiss in your mind. the door creaked open, breaking the solitude, and in walked striker. his presence filled the room, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and confusion.

he glanced at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his yellow eyes. the atmosphere shifted, and for a moment, it seemed like the room held the weight of unspoken words. without acknowledging the recent intimate moment, striker cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

he sauntered over to the chair, his usual demeanor returning. "got a job. big one. and you're gonna be a part of it."

your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "me? i don't even know how to properly use a gun."

striker chuckled, the straw of wheat dancing between his lips. "don't you worry, sweetheart. i'll teach you, and i'll teach you fast. we don't have time for a slow learning curve on this one."

a surge of anxiety twisted in your gut. this wasn't just some spontaneous sparring session; this was striker's actual job, and apparently, you were about to be a part of it for whatever reason. the weight of the responsibility sank in, and you couldn't shake the feeling that this was a significant turning point.

you hesitated, your mind racing. "why though? can't you just... do it yourself?"

striker smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "you've got potential, sweetheart. besides, i like working with someone who's got a bit of fire in them. adds some excitement to the job."

his nonchalant attitude did little to ease your nerves. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "alright, fine. teach me. but i'm not making any promises about being a natural at this."

striker's grin widened. "that's the spirit. you'll catch on quicker than you think. we'll get what we need when we see the man. no need for papers just yet."

you nodded, a mixture of determination and anxiety coursing through you. "alright, but i'm tired. we just got to this motel."

striker rolled his eyes, the southern drawl returning with a hint of annoyance. "we're not going now. we'll hit the sack and head out in the morning. can't pull off a job like this with no rest."

relief washed over you at the prospect of getting some rest, but the weight of the upcoming task lingered in the back of your mind. you followed striker's lead as he made his way towards the bed, flopping down with the same nonchalant attitude he seemed to carry everywhere.

as you settled onto the mattress, the worn-out springs groaning beneath your weight, striker cast you a sidelong glance. "get some sleep, darlin'. we've got a busy day ahead of us."

you nodded, feeling the exhaustion settling in. the events of the day, from the chaotic streets of wrath to the impromptu sparring session, had left you physically and mentally drained. despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, sleep claimed you swiftly, pulling you into the realm of dreams haunted by the demons of your own mind.

morning light seeped through the cracks in the motel's curtains, rousing you from your restless slumber. striker, ever the early riser, was already up and about, his silhouette visible against the faint glow of the rising sun.

"rise and shine, darlin'," he called out, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "can't i catch a break and sleep in once in a while?"

striker chuckled, the sound echoing through the dimly lit room. "not in this line of work. we're on a schedule."

you begrudgingly got up, the fatigue clinging to you like a heavy cloak. the reality of the day ahead hit you, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervous energy.

"so, what's the plan?" you asked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

striker tossed you a firearm, its cold metal weight unfamiliar in your hands. "first, we'll get you acquainted with this beauty. then, we'll pay our friend a visit and make sure he's properly motivated to cooperate."

the gravity of striker's words sank in, and you couldn't deny the apprehension that settled in your gut. this wasn't a game; it was the dangerous dance of demons, and you were about to take your first steps.

the two of you stepped out into the chaotic streets of wrath, the city already alive with activity. bombproof stood patiently, its eyes fixed on you two as if knowing the role he played in the upcoming venture.

striker motioned for you to hop onto bombproof, his usual swagger evident even in the early hours of the day. "time to ride. we've got business to attend to."

you climbed onto the demonic steed, the sensation of its unnatural warmth beneath you sending a shiver down your spine. striker mounted behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

"let's get outta here for a bit," striker suggested, guiding bombproof away from the bustling streets of wrath.

you held onto bombproof as the cityscape gradually transformed into a desolate expanse on the outskirts of the district. the chaotic rhythm of hell's heart faded into the distance, replaced by the eerie stillness of the abandoned training ground.

striker brought bombproof to a halt in the empty arena, the dusty ground beneath the horse's hooves. he dismounted with his usual nonchalant manner and turned to you, a glint of mischief in his yellow eyes.

"alright, sweetheart. time for your first lesson. we'll use this place to avoid any unwanted attention."

you raised an eyebrow, the charged atmosphere making your pulse quicken. striker reached into a hidden compartment on bombproof, pulling out a pair of handguns. he offered one to you, his tall figure towering behind you as his hands guided yours, helping you find the right grip.

"first, familiarize yourself with the weapon. get comfortable with its weight and feel. it's an extension of yourself," he explained, his tone surprisingly sultry.

his height allowed him to lean over you, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered encouragement. you couldn't deny the thrill that shot through you, the shared proximity creating an intimate connection that transcended the mundane.

"now, let's see what you've got. aim for that rock over there," striker instructed, his voice a low murmur.

with striker's tall frame behind you, he guided your stance, his hands lingering on your waist. his proximity, combined with the dangerous allure of the guns, heightened the intensity of the moment. the shot rang out, the echo lingering in the desolate space.

striker grinned, leaning down. "not bad for a beginner. now, let's work on accuracy. adjust your stance, find your rhythm, and squeeze the trigger smoothly."

the impromptu shooting lesson continued, striker's tall presence a dominating force behind you. he corrected your form with a touch that spoke of expertise and desire, turning the barren landscape into a backdrop for a dance of shadows and sin.

as the sun cast long shadows across the desolate training ground, striker called for a break. you sat on a weathered rock, the adrenaline of the lesson still coursing through your veins. striker joined you, the air thick with a palpable tension.

"not bad at all, sugar." striker purred. "but, let's head back. we've got business to attend to, and i've got more to teach you," striker said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

as you and striker made your way back to bombproof, the lingering heat of the shooting lesson still hung in the air. striker helped you onto the demonic steed with a casual ease that spoke of familiarity. the imp's strong arms encircled your waist once again, creating a sense of intimacy that seemed to have taken root.

"we're headed to the pride ring. our man's waiting," striker informed.

bombproof carried you through the chaotic streets of wrath, the rhythmic clattering of hooves a steady cadence to the sinuous dance of the city. the neon glow of demonic establishments illuminated the way, casting surreal shadows on the dusty streets.

upon reaching the pride ring, striker guided bombproof through the bustling crowd, the imp's figure cutting through the chaos. you dismounted, and striker's hand reached out, a silent invitation for you to stand by his side.

the man who had hired striker awaited in the dimly lit corner of a shadowy bar. he was a demon with a polished demeanor, dressed in a tailored suit that spoke of both wealth and authority. his eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room as if he could see through the very fabric of hell.

"striker, right on time!" the man acknowledged, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. his gaze then shifted to you, and a sly grin crept onto his face. "and who's this lovely creature?"

striker's drawl added a touch of mockery to the formality of the conversation. "this is y/n, my partner. they've got the skills we need for the job." he said, not exactly telling the truth.

the man's eyes lingered on you, an appraising glint in his gaze. "well, striker, you've outdone yourself this time. a partner with both beauty and skill. impressive."

striker's protective instinct flared, his form subtly positioning itself between you and the man. "we're here for business, sir. let's get to it."

the man, whose name was damien chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit bar. "business it is, then. the job details are in the dossier. i trust you'll handle it with your usual flair."

the atmosphere in the dimly lit bar grew thick with tension as damien delved into the details of the mission. you listened intently, the weight of the impending task settling on your shoulders.

"our target is lucius infernum," damien began, his voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. "he's a demon with fingers in every sinful pie you can imagine. lust, greed, you name it. but what sets him apart is his ownership of the infamous nightclub, obsidian temptation, right here in the pride ring."

the mention of the nightclub brought a spark of recognition. obsidian temptation was notorious even among the denizens of hell. a haven for the debauchery of the prideful, its neon-lit facade hid secrets that extended beyond the dance floor.

"he's been a thorn in the side of many. it's time someone plucked it out," damien continued, his eyes flickering with a mix of contempt and desire. "lucius is a slippery one, but we've got a lead. he frequents a private section in the club, a den of indulgence reserved for the most esteemed clients."

striker's eyes narrowed, his mind already formulating a plan. "and what's our approach? walk in and take the shot?"

damien's grin widened. "not quite. lucius is surrounded by loyal bodyguards. we need subtlety. blend in with the crowd, get close, and strike when the moment is right."

as the details unfolded, a sense of urgency permeated the air. the nightclub, a pulsating heart of decadence, awaited your infiltration. damien handed you a dossier, its pages filled with information about lucius—his habits, weaknesses, and the layout of obsidian temptation.

"he's a creature of desire, easily swayed by temptation. use that to your advantage," damien advised, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that hinted at more than just professional interest.

striker's jaw tightened, a protective instinct flaring. "we'll get the job done. no need for extra complications."

the man chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "complications make things interesting, striker. your little friend here can handle themselves, i'm sure. lucius might find them quite... intriguing."

you tilted your head, considering damien's words. "that's a pretty good idea. if it helps us get closer to this guy, i'm in."

striker's eyes met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. "yeah, might add a layer of distraction. we play his game, and then we finish it on our terms."

damien's grin widened, clearly satisfied with the response. "glad you see the potential. now, remember, subtlety is key. get close to lucius, earn his trust. the less attention you draw, the better."

as you and striker left the dimly lit bar, the neon glow of the pride ring intensified. the city's heartbeat echoed in the distance, a rhythm that synced with the impending mission.

striker spoke, his voice low and measured. "this could work to our advantage. just follow my lead, and we'll navigate this dance."

the decision was made: to infiltrate lucius's world, you needed to blend in seamlessly with the vibrant tapestry of the pride ring. that meant acquiring clothes that oozed charm and sophistication. with striker in tow, you ventured into a stylish boutique that promised an array of ensembles.

the store was a riot of colors and fabrics, each garment vying for attention. striker, looking thoroughly unimpressed, slouched onto a plush couch in a corner, a clear declaration of his disinterest in the world of fashion.

undeterred, you dove into the racks, selecting outfits that caught your eye. the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the soft rustle of fabric. as you sifted through hangers, striker's nonchalant expression betrayed a hint of boredom.

after a series of deliberations, you settled on a sleek ensemble that struck the perfect balance between sophistication and allure. as you headed to the changing room, you shot a glance at striker, who had reclined on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, hat pulled low to shield his eyes.

slipping into the changing room, you marveled at how the outfit hugged your form in all the right places. the mirror reflected a version of yourself that seemed tailor-made for the clandestine dance you were about to embark on.

a mischievous idea sparked in your mind. striker appeared to be on the verge of succumbing to boredom-induced slumber. it was time to inject a little excitement into his world.

stepping out of the changing room with a deliberate sway in your hips, you announced, "what do you think, striker? am i ready to charm the socks off lucius?"

the effect was immediate. striker, roused from his near-nap, blinked in surprise. his eyes, usually sharp and focused, widened as they traced the contours of the outfit. a noticeable flush crept up his cheeks, a reaction you hadn't expected.

"the socks? i think you're ready for more, sweetheart." a slight smirk had been spread on his face, as he watched you sway your hips which seemed to drive him crazy.

you chuckled at his flustered response, reveling in the rare sight of striker caught off guard. "well, if i'm going to play the seduction game, i need to look the part, right?"

striker cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "yeah, yeah, sure. let's just get this over with."

with a sly grin, you couldn't resist the opportunity to tease striker. closing the distance between you two, you playfully pinched his cheek. the moment your fingers made contact, he let out a hiss, his tail rattling in an instinctive response. he tried to remain calm but his body was betraying him, making him feel flustered.

"how cute," you remarked with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "no need to be mister tough guy all the time."

striker shot you a glare, his pride wounded by the unexpected cheek pinch. "cut that out. we've got a job to do, remember?"

you couldn't resist pushing striker's buttons a bit further. ignoring his warning glare, you continued your playful banter, teasing him with each step.

"aw, is the tough man feeling a little delicate?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "didn't know cheek pinches were kryptonite for assassins."

his tail rattled in annoyance, but you could see the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. "you're pushing your luck, sweetheart. focus on the job."

you chuckled, undeterred by his warning. "relax, cowboy. i can multitask. piece of cake."

striker let out an exasperated sigh, realizing that arguing with you was a futile endeavor. "just don't get us killed with your multitasking, okay?"

you grinned, enjoying the playful exchange. "no promises."

after selecting a set of alluring clothes, you and striker made your way to the counter to pay. the sweet lady behind the counter looked at the two of you with a warm smile, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

"are you a couple?" she asked, a playful twinkle in her eye.

the question caught you off guard, and you exchanged a glance with striker. both of you seemed momentarily flustered, a subtle blush coloring your cheeks.

"uh, no, we're not," you replied, your playful demeanorfrom before momentarily replaced by a hint of awkwardness.

the sweet lady chuckled knowingly, as if she had seen this scene play out countless times. "well, you make a cute couple. enjoy your evening, you two."

striker scoffed at the cashier's comment, a smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, real cute," he muttered under his breath.

you, on the other hand, decided to play along with the teasing atmosphere. as you left the store, you shot striker a sly grin. "well, who would've thought, striker? people mistaking us for a couple."

he rolled his eyes, a hint of irritation in his voice. "yeah, yeah, hilarious. let's just get this job done."

striker's dismissive tone stung, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt. the playful banter had seemed harmless, but now it appeared that striker wasn't as unaffected by it as he let on. you shook off the brief moment of vulnerability, reminding yourself that this mission was more important than any temporary discomfort.

"fine, let's focus on the job," you replied, your tone more serious now. "we've got a nightclub owner to deal with."

striker grunted in agreement, his demeanor shifting back to business. the streets of the pride ring stretched ahead, vibrant and chaotic. the neon lights reflected in puddles on the pavement as you both moved forward.

[moddedmoor]

✖ - a repressed memory

A lot of memories have been repressed, either from being naturally blacked out or purposely shoved down. Despite their openness to bitch about it, Geosenge is hazy and only vaguely remembered. But this one is buried further, dug in deeper. It is something that has been squashed down, kicked into the dust, and is painful to unbury.

A paper sits before Jaycé. A heavy lump in their throat and knot buried deep in their stomach. It hurts to look at, it hurts to acknowledge as real. The woman who slid it their way gives them a soft, weak, smile. She shouldn't be happy at this, there's nothing to smile about here. This is giving up hope, this is resigning to failure. They shake their head, unable to squeak out a word.

“Jaycé.” Her voice is gentle, but tired. Too tired. “Jaycé, I don't know if I can pull through. This is not the final straw, this is for when we don't pull through.” She grabs their hand, tightly wrapping both of hers around Jaycé’s. She rubs a thumb along the back of their hand. Tears sting in the corners of their eyes as they shake their head again.

“N-No. No, it's. It's admitting defeat! Y-You know something I don't. You're lying to me, a-and it's just like him-” Jaycé finally manages to speak out, voice straining to even fully articulate the words. The woman across from them gently shushes them, gripping their hand tighter.

“I'm sorry, Jaycé. I'm sorry you think I'd do that. But I know just as much as you do. I'm scared too, by Arc, I'm fucking terrified. I don't want to die, I don't want to leave you alone. But if I can't make it back to Kalos with you, then at least take my memory and use whatever I leave you to make it back safely. Jaycé, I love you, but we have to be prepared for the worst.” The woman's face twists from a reassuring smile to one full of uncertainty, fear, and worry. Jaycé doesn't even notice the tears the fall until she reaches up to wipe a few off their cheek, her other hand pulling their hand up to her lips and giving it a gentle kiss.

“Karlie, I can't accept this. I-I don't-” The woman gently shushes them again.

“You can. Please, Jaycé. I know you can. You've survived this long, surely you can survive for longer.” She smiles again, hope in her eyes faintly sparkling before she heaves a heavy sigh and drops Jaycé’s hand, leaning back in her seat. She presses her hands against her eyes and frowns. A panic overtakes Jaycé as they quickly stand. Her hand shoots up to stop them.

“I'll be fine, Jaycé. Just sign the will, in case it goes to shit. It'll be fine.”

[seaside-hysteria]

i would love to hear about the evil bad books

HI MURPH I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS

(Alos I deleted this on my first try by accident lmao)

So there’s two, both by the same author, and I haven’t finished either. Ones called “twisted love” if that’s any indication of the vibe

So the first one! It’s about divorce! I have fully forgotten the name, but the main characters were called Alessandra and Dominic. I’m gonna call them A and D for my own sake

So these two met in college, A’s a nepo baby and D’s in here with a scholarship, he was poor growing up (also he has a brother who I fully forgot was part of the plot the first time I wrote this). He has dyslexia, so he is having trouble passing one of his classes, so his only good professor gives him the info of another student who does tutoring. It’s A. The two of them do the tutoring thing (which is honestly kinda cute. Fig you had no context for what happens later). D passes his exams and eventually the two begin dating, and then get married. At 23. Bad idea but okay

In the story, the two have been married for 10 years. D is now this super rich capitalist guy with a big company. He’s also a terrible boss. A has been basically his trophy wife for the past decade and the relationship is deteriorating. He forgets everything, doesn’t listen to her and constantly assumes how she feels. She doesn’t ever communicate how she feels so the marriage is going bad. They tried doing marriage counseling once but he fully forgot and she had to sit in that office making excuses for him while the counselor just looked at her with pity. He came home from work and didn’t even apologize for not showing up.

The final straw for her is their 10th anniversary. The two planned a trip to where their honeymoon happened (I think) and she reminded him like 3 times before he went to work. Would you be shocked if it turned out he forgot. Would you

She waits for ages and calls him multiple times. He doesn’t answer. She gets so pissed that she gets the bag she packed for the trip, puts her wedding ring on a table and leaves. When D gets home he starts looking for her and sees the packed bags. Finally he remembers and starts being an asshole to the maid about where A went. She says that A left. He starts worrying, not cuz he realizes he was a duck but because he’s super rich and thinks someone might hurt her to hurt him or smth.

Meanwhile A’s doing fine, she’s just at a hotel. The next morning she calls him, tells him her location and then hangs up before he can say anything. He shows up and here we see he doesn’t think of anything he’s done as wrong. “I’ll just book a new trip” SHUT UP!!! Anyway at the end of this she says she wants a divorce. This is like. Chapter 4

A goes to move in with a friend. She also realizes that she gave up a lot of her life to this dude, that she only has 3 friends and no life. The friend helps her out, and also gives her an ornate knife that she can stab her (ex)husband with. It was wrapped like a present. She’s so cool. Also D’s refusing to sign the papers so she gets a divorce lawyer.

At some point, D goes out with his friends for a business thing (what’s new), 2 of which are married to two of A’s friends. So they know. They awkwardly bring it up and he says something like “oh A’s just upset, she won’t actually go through with it.” And the one of his friends calls him a piece of shit and that if he treated his own wife like that even once she’d leave him forever. A’s had to deal with his bullshit for 10 years. Finally D realizes he sucks (not when his wife tells him though. He had to have his friends tell him. He doesn’t respect his wife)

So this begins the saga of him harassing her to show that “he still loves her”. He sends flowers. He follows her to a club. He threatens to beat up some guy who was flirting with her. Also the first sex scene happens here (I was not expecting that I was trying to stop myself from laughing in the library lol). In a bathroom. In a club bathroom. That’s… unsanitary, right?

Later there’s a party or something I dunno and he sees his estranged older brother here. Someone also dies here! Some old rich guy I don’t care. A’s here with her friends and she’s in shock from seeing a dead guy so D takes her home. They do the sex thing again. In the morning, he sees her trying to leave while he was sleeping and has the AUDACITY to get mad. The two start arguing and A starts crying. D realizes he broke this completely and agrees to sign the divorce papers then and there. The two are officially divorced

So next A goes on vacation. Her brother is in um. I don’t remember but it was in South America I believe, so she joins him. She gets a one way ticket. D finds out AND HE GETS A FLIGHT THERE TOO. FUCKING WEIRDO!!! She tries to ignore him but she thinks “Wow. D never goes away from his business things… maybe he really does care about me” AND GIRL THAT IS THE DEVIL SPEAKING. THE DEVIL

Then her mother calls, telling her that she’s getting married (again) and it’s in two days. What the fuck is happening. A and her brother have no fucking clue how to get there in two days and D offers his private jet he has (have we mentioned he’s rich yet? He’s rich) to take them. So apparently A’s mom is a model/actress/I don’t remember and she’s had a ton of failed relationships so A does not think this’ll last. Anyway, at the wedding, she hears the vows and starts tearing up cuz it reminds her of her own wedding and how wrong everything went. D tries to talk to her after the wedding, but her brother stops him and essentially says “Hey man you’re a friend to me but she’s my sister. And you clearly fucked this up. Leave her alone.” Anyway he doesn’t do this and A FUCKING FORGIVES HIM IN A CONVERSATION. Well, not fully. She agrees to try starting again, but also that they’re not married anymore and that she’s allowed to date and do things like that without him bitching about it.

The friend who gave her the knife is devastated at this news when A gets back. She can see this going so so wrong. Also the whole time in the background A’s been trying to open a flower shop or something like that, and the dude who owns the property she wants to use is apparently super and super nice, so the two go on a date. This was before the mothers wedding and the whole trip, and D shows up at the restaurant. He was actually there for something else, so he wasn’t stalking her this time. Anyway the other dudes fine I don’t remember him much. He wears flannels.

So that’s where I left off. I swear I’ll finish that book someday

The other one I barely read but it was about this 22 year old girl. Her name was Ava, and her brothers going away for a school thing. He’s super worried about her cuz apparently something happened when she was younger so he’s protective of her or whatever.

Also the book opens with her being stranded in the rain. Her brothers going away party is soon and she hasn’t picked up the cake yet. So she calls him and he picks up and tells her one of his friends borrowed his car. He tells her he’ll send the friend to pick her up. I would love you to guess what he’s doing during the call. IF YOU GUESSED THAT HE WAS HAVING SEX BEFORE PICKING UP HER CALL AND HE DID NOT LEAVE THE ROOM AND SITUATION BEFORE TALKING TO HIS SISTER then you’d be right!

So the dude who picks her up is this totally cool and mysterious friend of her brothers and also he’s an asshole. They get to the party and the best character shows up, Ava’s super hot best friend. She hates Ava’s brother apparently. She’s so cool

So the brother asks his friend (whose name I don’t care to remember) to watch over Ava while hes gone. He interprets this as “be super weird and controlling despite the fact you barely know this girl”. Anyway Ava should be dating her friend she comforts her every time she wake up from a night terror, even though she’s busy with law school. Ava’s friend is the perfect woman

Anyway that’s all! Sorry for the super long and rambly post I just have a lot of opinions. If there’s spelling mistakes I’m sorry I don’t have the energy to fix them

[gumpistol]

a letter and a basket of smiley potatoes had been left in luffy's room on the thousand sunny. a big basket, i mean, reallyーrosinante had thought it would be too much for one person, but law insisted the captain could eat all of them in one sitting. impressive.

　luffy,

law tells me you’re a man of few words so i shouldn’t spend time “writing anything too long or embarrassing” but he also says that every time i want to get to know his friends more so i’m not sure how much i should believe him. i think he just doesn’t want me to tell you how grateful he was for all your help. i am, too. you and your friends not only saved his life, but you rescued an entire country (something you do a lot, from what i hear).

i didn’t meet you when you were young, but your grandpa and my guardian have been close friends for decades so when your dad left you with him, i saw plenty of pictures. i never in a million years would have expected that little baby to grow up into someone strong enough to take down my brother. 

you’re a big eater, right? i can’t guarantee my food is as tasty as your cook’s, but i do take care of a small farm and make most of what i eat from scratch. i took over the polar tang’s galley this morning and made some smiley fries for you. law thinks they’re childish, but you’re someone i think can appreciate the value of a smile, right? (law can, too—but keep that between you and me. he says your smile comforted him “in a weird way” but that’s just law-speak for he appreciated it. trust me, he’s a grouch to me, too.). 

if your crew is ever in the north blue in need of a place to come ashore for a few days or have a meal, my home is open for as long as you need. 

　　　　　　　　　　　　enjoy,

　　　　　　　　　　　　　 - “corao”

   (p.s. a grand fleet, wow! is law's crew part of that? he must be, right?)

it takes only moments for the captain’s sensitive nose to locate the gift left behind, and even less time for large eyes to become impossibly wider, gleaming with a warm excitement. food? for him? REALLY? FROM WHO??

❝ YUMMMYYYY!! ❞ if he wasn’t already watering at the mouth, an audible giggle would be heard over how entertained by the shapes of the potatoes the dark-haired man is. but he’s hungry, and the fries smell too good, so he doesn’t hesitate to wrap a rubbery arm around the woven container several times to lift the massive basket with ease. he wants to take the snack out on deck, to eat the fun smiles in the company of his friends, but he’ll grab a couple to shove in his mouth on the way—

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎what’s this? a piece of paper that he nearly just ate?

the straw hat saves the now somewhat soggy piece of paper ( thanks to traces of saliva ) from being entirely consumed, and the basket is set down momentarily as he attempts to smooth out the letter. it looks like somebody put effort into it, and it’s addressed to him, so he makes an attempt to read it. but the first sentence takes too long, and there's so much more to go. he scans the page, and dark eyebrows visibly furrow, twisting features into a displeased look — so many words he doesn’t know.

❝ eh, whatever! i got potatoes!! ❞ he’s quick to replace the unhappy appearance with one of simple joy again, before picking up his basket, and making his way to the sunny’s deck. once there, the young pirate pushes the slightly crumpled note into the chest of the nearest person caught in his peripheral. if it just so happens to be a certain surgeon of death, then oh well! maybe if someone is feeling generous, they’ll even be kind enough to read the letter to luffy. though, the straw hat captain is looking very preoccupied with stuffing his cheeks.

@code01746 / 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 💕

[sylvidoptera]

A sign or just a wild dream?

For some reason, Mark Ruffalo (as his character from Now You See Me) and Nathan Fillion (as his character from The Rookie - which I haven't seen anything of except shorts on YouTube) needed ME to come along on an undercover to help them bust a case wide open. Unfortunately, they didn't tell me what the case was. They just said "be yourself, be friendly, talk to everyone, and trust your gut".

So I packed up my stuff, my kiddo and his things, and my sister Adri so she could watch kiddo while I was doing my thing (who's going to suspect two guys and their "wives" and a child of being undercover?). The dream had a lot of interesting twists and turns and ended up with me uncovering an entire smuggling/antiques theft/underground auction ring for them. Just by being my friendly, nosy self. Interesting bits along the way: -getting kidnapped by a person and waking up tied up on a pool table in a cluttered storage room with loud music playing and being told I was going to pay for what everyone else did; finding out I was being held captive by a trans girl who was about to start on a serial killing spree because her ultra-religious family had driven her to the brink, then managing to turn it around by complimenting her outfit, taste in music, and talking about my trans friend Emily. We then became best buds and I turned her away from violence by inviting her over for dinner and then going out to the main body of the church (we'd been in the basement) and severely lambasting the entire congregation (and physically punching a few) - including her pastor father. -seeing a gray kitten somehow having had climbed up a lamppost and wanting to get it down, so found the base of the post and saw a van under it. The kitten luckily managed to slide down the pole on its own but I knocked on the van window to ask the lady in it if it was her kitten and she asked me if I wanted to "buy one" and I was like "Hell yeah I want to buy one!" and she started showing me guns. 😮 I told her that no, honestly, I was just wanting a kitten. And that I'd be right back cuz I wanted to get money to give her for the little gray one. -various places in the dream where I was trying to seduce (separately) both Mark and Nathan. Because c'mon, this is ME. … But yeah, eventually it was solved. By me finding out that the gun lady in the van and the crappy church were connected and we ended up finding a crapload of stuff, including a LOT of cash. I was so bummed about having to hand it all over for evidence cuz we could have used it SO MUCH for the house, but I was still proud I'd helped. However, as I was going back to the hotel room we'd been staying in (where Adri and kiddo were napping after a long day of playing in the pool), I noticed a thick notebook on paper package that had my name on it. Inside were sneaky pix Mark had taken of me while I was "working" and notes on how I'd be a great agent someday. There was also a personal note from Nathan that regretted we wouldn't get to "play", but he hoped the stuff would help. So I opened the package and it was full of modern cash, old bills from the 1800s, random little jewelry, and some old bonds. JUST the cash that was spendable added up to over $10k. And the stuff was sellable for a lot more. … Which is when I woke up breathing heavily and feeling a wild urge to cheer out loud. Now, I'm not sure if this is just a "we're grasping at straws for hope" dream or if it's a "don't worry, the money will find you somehow" dream… but damn, I will DEFINITELY take it after the nightmares of the last few months. -------------------------------- Speaking of the nightmare of the last 9 months... can we make the dream of getting my house a reality by maybe getting more orders in my store (https://www.etsy.com/shop/ChaoticDaydreams) or over at my GoFundMe (https://gofund.me/1e6f294c) to make my dream a reality? We still need so much more help. Thanks for getting this far! <3

[fatal-iistic]

Procidens

Part 1 of 3 of surge et ruina

Post-Part One of Ties That Bind

Summary: War is a bitch -- Blair Moore and John Mactavish are both acutely aware of this. Yet could war be why they forge an unlikely alliance?

Pairings: F!OC x John "Soap" Mactavish

Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: violence, explicit language, war

Tsari, Georgia

March 3rd, 2020

"Sergeant Mactavish."

Her voice is oddly warm, like a summer breeze through the lowlands back home. A tentative vibrato as he steps into the makeshift command center in what was the living space of a bottom floor apartment.

Blair Moore cradles a ceramic cup of steaming coffee in her hands. Straw blonde hair twisted back into a braid behind her shoulders as she studies piles of paper retracted from their former holding place in banker boxes on the floor. They were fishing for all the intel and objects of interest in the apartment building, where just over fourteen hours ago they'd rooted out soldiers of what they believed were the terror organization, al-Qatala.

In a few hours they'd have everything loaded and the journey back to Kutaisi would commence. There is a palpable air of uncertainty that drifts between them. Thick, like sea fog.

"We've got boxes of quality reading material here," she remarks with a sly smirk. "Surprised you weren't up at dawn to peruse."

Soap strides towards the table at the center of the room, reaching to procure a set of pages in his fingers. He glances down, squinting at the chicken scratch. The handwriting is hardly legible, on top of being in a different language.

"Can't say I can translate much," Soap confesses with a shake of his head.

Blair sets her coffee cup down. "Yer not missin' much. Most of it is details regarding the camp set up here. Which…we've effectively seized control of," she gestures at the walls around them. "I managed to pinpoint their ammo reserves just outside of town. But otherwise, there's notta whole lot at face value."

"I'm sure people back at HQ will pickitt apart," Soap concludes, setting the documents back into their haphazardly neat pile on the table.

"Better them than me," she replies surly, blue eyes flashing with a waift of mischief. Shoulders straighten. "I'll probably be departing almost immediately from Kusaisi. Watcher didn't give me full details but it's onto the next thing."

His face falls a bit at the notion. "Where to?" He prompts.

Lips twist in a sad-featured smile. Shoulders shrug nonchalantly. "Yer guess is as good as mine," she responds. "It's typical for me to find out on the way. I don't ask many questions."

"Aye," he sighs. It's a similar response Captain Price has given him. They're chess pieces, not the player. They go where directed. 

There is something complex about Blair Moore. What exactly that means perplexes Soap to the core, an awaiting revelation he struggles to perceive through the static she bleeds. She exists on a different frequency than Soap and the others. 

He'd heard the other soldiers make remarks about Lieutenant Moore the previous night. They'd called her unhinged. Troublesome. The lack of rules and regulations made her nothing better than a mercenary – and that they were expected to perform beneath her command was an insult. The conversation turned more derogatory before Soap had barked at them to cease and desist. The soldiers skulking back to their beds with tails tucked between their legs.

He thinks she knows. She can see how the Marines look at her. Words don't need to be vocalized to potentiate their opinions. The way their hackles are raised and guards established could be sighted from a mile away.

Soap thinks Blair prefers it.

And yet he finds her magnetic.

Maybe it's because she's Task Force 141. And despite their minimal experience as comrades, despite the fact she wears 13 stripes and 50 stars, and he the Union Jack, he owes her enough of his loyalty. 

Because Captain Price does. 

"I could use a walk," she stifles a yawn. Arms arch above her head, shoulders flexing as she stretches. 

Soap blinks, nodding an agreement. 

She leads the way from their makeshift outpost, weaving into the golden sunlight of late morning. Soap follows, curiously inspecting Blair disembarking from their spot without her rifle. He carries his own strapped over his shoulder and along his back. Her weapon would be supervised, no doubt, but he felt a bubble of anxiety. What if more enemy soldiers were lying in wait?

Blair doesn't seem to consider that notion. 

She's either ignorant or crazy. 

There's a flash of cobalt as she catches his stare, her eyebrows shooting up as a wily smile teases her lips.

"I don't need a gun, sergeant," she hums, as if she'd telekinetically unraveled his mind. "Besides, you can protect me."

There's a wisp of coy that touches her tone. She winks in Soap's direction before turning her eyes to the road sprawling out before them.

It seems like another day. There might be a wind of caution that saturates the village, but they try to continue with their lives as before. Whether it was al-Qatala insurgents or NATO soldiers, they still had chores to do, jobs to attend and lives to live. 

"It almost seems….peaceful," Soap observes.

"It's both beautiful and off-setting, ain't it?" Blair affirms. He can see the way she studies the environment around them, her expression lax but her eyes icy with scrutiny. Despite her lightheartedness, there's a rigidity of alertness that beseeches her. A characteristic no soldier could extol from themselves 

"Aye,” Soap murmurs, his voice low. “I'll try to see it for what it's worth."

She blinks, nose scrunching as she nudges him with the bony part of her elbow, angling under his ribs. "Are you always so optimistic?" Blair teases.

Soap grins and gives a huff. "Jus' for the right company."

They pause at a street-side shop. Blair converses with the shopkeeper kindly, either trying to haggle prices or perhaps she's just joking aeound. Soap gazes down the street from the direction they came, scanning for danger. His shoulders feel taut with tension, a sensation he can't relinquish – he wishes he could be as calm and collected as Blair seems right now.

Out from behind the shop set up, a little figure dashes. It's a blur that nearly startles Soap from his boots. Instinctively his hands fold tighten against the metal of his rifle, eyes jarring to get a positive identification on the thing. Finally when his senses land, he realizes it's nothing more than a mere child.

A little girl, no more than six, stands defiantly at Blair's feet. She reaches, tugging at Blair's jacket until the woman ceases her conversation ans squats down to her level. Hands reach to clasp onto Blair's long braid of blonde hair, fingers tracing over the grooves of hair.

Blair speaks to the little girl in Georgian, suddenly a broad smile creasing along her lips. "You like my braid," she states in English, a waft of astonishment bleeding through her tone. "Let me braid your hair. Neba mometsit cholk’a sheni."

Rolling onto a seated position on a nearby stoop, the little girl sits down on the step below Blair. The woman reaches, grasping several strands of hair. She weaves them gently, with the same delicacy a curator would a fragile artifact.

Soap watches in awe, standing complacently while his comrade seems deftly absorbed with the Georgian girl. She, nor the little girl, pay heed to the suited and armed soldier just steps away. For a tender moment, the implications of war and terror were muted. Soap but an illusion in their periphery.  

"There," Blair proudly states. In a matter of a minute she had finished braiding the girl's hair, securing it with a black hair tie she has on reserve on her wrist. The little girl leaps to her feet, fingers running across the grooves of her braid with a delighted smile. She says something to Blair before bolting off.

Blair remains at her post, gazing down the road where the little girl eventually disappears. There's an ethereal glow of warmth that radiates from her frame.

"That was…sweet, Moore," Soap states.

A bit of pink washes along her cheekbones. She glances away momentarily, reaching up to scratch sheepishly at her neck. "I used to get harped at for bein' too friendly with the civilian kids when I was deployed out to Iraq and Afghanistan…but the way those kids look at ya, there wasn't a solid reason not to love on 'em," Blair explains. 

"Most of 'em are probably raised to fear strangers. It's natural to wanna change their minds."

There's a heartbeat in between statements. A sudden shift in the cheerfulness of her demeanor. "I just wish I coulda helped that little boy last night…" Blair wistfully admits.

"Blair…" Soap sighs. "That wasn't yer fault."

Her eyes cast to the dirt. "I know…but I'll carry the guilt all the same."

He reaches a hand, resting it upon her shoulder. He can see her eyebrows twitch, her façade remaining the same  despite his comforting gesture.

"Yer a good person, Lieutenant," Soap states. Lips maneuver into a smile.

Her blue eyes jump to his. A faltering smile spreads across her own mouth, eyes illuminating at his words. "Thank you, Soap."

There's a fleeting heartbeat where the woman believes it. And Soap sees that fantasy dissolve as she rises back to her feet. Stoicism's relentless resolve becoming on her again.

“We have work to return to.”

Soap never saw that woman again for the rest of their time in Georgia.

[luxmaeastra]

Audun moved through the cells, stopping before Amaya. She rose her head, he'd been hounding her nightmares for the last 11 years. 

She'd been his sole thought for the last 11 years. 

He slid eyes to the adjoining cell, where her cousins sat. They glared at him, one of them was mated, he could smell the putrid stink of it. 

Changeling Marked. 

He turned to her, his hands curling on the bars of the cell. 

"Will you deny me now?"

Amaya shut her eyes, tears falling down her face. 

"Will you let them go?"

"Both of them? What of the Unmated one. You sure she won't follow in your -"

Amaya stood, finally stepping toward him. His breath caught and his grip tightened on the cell bars. 

"She won't. Let them go Audun."

His fingers trailed over her cheek, she turned away. Her tears catching on his fingers. The fierce warrior, the Queen Dawn should have. The only female of the lot worthy of Firmament Throne. 

"I had so many ideas of how we'd meet, how I'd take you Amaya. You'd be on your knees, you'd beg. You'd come to me dressed in one of those pretty, impractical dresses I'd be able to rip off you like tissue paper."

He leaned toward her, she was trembling. So she was still a female where it counted, good.

"I thought I'd still do that tonight. But no, no I want to take what you're wearing now. I want to strip you of your armor and have you realize just what you're giving up for females don't matter."

She swallowed, finally looking to him. There was terror in those wide eyes. There were that thread of hopelessness. Both dissapered as that fire flared in her eyes. 

"Release them Audun. Please?"

There it was, the first break in her voice. 

Estelle and Peresephone glared at him. 

"We aren't leaving our sister so fuck off."

Audun sighed and grabbed their magic. Making them scream, or maybe it was Amaya. 

He Windwalked them away, dropping them close to their camp and dissapered.

Estelle and Peresephone didn't wait to catch their breath. They ran into the camp, most of the soldiers had gone to the front lines, they hadn't been told of them.

Rhysand frowned at them, dropping his glass into the dirt. He didn't like his father's side of the family, they all had good luck. They were all alive when his Helena was dead. 

"What happened to you two? Weren't you in the outpost in -"

"Amaya's been taken."

Estelle said, the hope made his heart twist. What did she think he could do? What did any of them think he could do?

Why should he care?

Sure Amaya was probably the cousin he was closest too. Sure, she was a fierce warrior and -

"Her Mate has her Rhysand. She - he's going to break her in."

Peresephone didn't cry easily, there were tears in her eyes now. Her hands trembled. 

He'd thought her mating to a changeling, to one of the Wolves would harden her further. But that seemed to have made her softer. 

She stepped toward him, there wasn't anger just a silent plea.

"Please? Please I know you don't like what we are doing. I know what you think of Hypaxia. But Amaya can be saved, Amaya is pure. Hypaxia? I get it, she's a whore who will leave Azriel the minute she finds someone better. But Amaya is good, and they're going to shatter her."

//during the war!!!!//

There were the words he never expected to hear from his cousin, to hear her utter such things in connection to Hypaxia. To hear her turn on her, to hear her utter the things he believed the moment any possible relationship was known.

Either she was desperate and grasping at straws, or...He looked at Estelle briefly. He could see the same hollow fear in her own eyes, the way she was trembling with both fear and rage. The two of them were a force, especially if the channeled their brother as well. For them run to him, to not handle this themselves.

"And why me Persephone?" Rhysand's attention snapped to her. "You could have ran to your pretty little wolf? Why me? Why do you think I care enough to want to help?" Hel help him, he was sure his father would chide him for such a comment, but he was old enough to make his own choices.

"Amaya has done nothing wrong," Estelle spoke up. "Rhysand, she doesn't deserve to be broken. If he breaks her, if we lose her because..."

Rhysand grunted, standing up. "I don't know what you expect me to do, its not like I can storm into their base and free her."

[medicus-mortem]

    “Fucking hell,” the doctor groans, hand rising to run it down his features. The frustration is real, so is the slight bewilderment. Disgust twists his features when Luffy calls him ‘good’. It makes his stomach turn because Law knows he isn’t. If Straw Hat picked up a news paper and read any number of articles about the infamous Surgeon of Death, he’d see a fragment of the atrocities he’s committed. Sure, most of those don’t give all the facts but the thing is, that’s still only a small part of what Law has done in his decade long pirate career. There is so much more the news, and the government don’t know about.

   Trafalgar Law is not a good person, not by any normal person’s definition. Then again, the world things Luffy is just as much of a bad person, which isn’t true. The kid actually helps people and genuinely wants to. A lot of his motivation for taking down governments is because of one person suffering. From what Law has learned Alabasta was because of one young woman. Luffy chose rebellion on Dressrosa over following Law’s plan because of a girl that fed him. Even Wano was spurned on mostly because of that Tama kid. Straw Hat Luffy helps people. The Surgeon of Death doesn’t.

   “I dunno where this perception of me comes from, Straw Hat-ya,” Law says, exhaustion entering his tone. This kid is just so fucking incorrigible. So damn energetic and determined to care, even when Law himself doesn’t want it. “But it’s wrong. I’m not good. I’m cruel and devious and after our alliance ends, I will not hesitate to end you if you get in my way.

   “The only thing you’re right ‘bout here is that we both have our own crews. You don’t need to make me a friend, you have your crew and family. You’re not alone, and neither am I. I have my crew. They’re all I need; all I’ll ever need.”

   And even then, having them is terrifying, because what if they are ripped away from him? Law isn’t like Luffy. Those words, that need to not be alone, he’s admitted that before. After his brother died. Law’s mindset hasn’t changed since then. He could live lonely, he could survive. What he can’t survive is watching the people he cares about die. Which is why it’s always better to have as few people to love as you can. To protect what is left of his heart.

Law is determined to act like he’s never made or had a friend in his life. Childish. Eyes don't dart to the forearm dyed in haki. There’s not a second where Luffy actually thinks the surgeon will hit him, even if they disagreed on their friendship status it would be a step too far to prove his point.

"Didn't have to!" No one needs to ask to be loved.

Stumbling back with the shove, Luffy's ready to close the gap again and steps forward. Why is he so determined to keep a wall between them?  “Tsk.” For someone so smart Law is being awfully dumb about this. Who doesn’t want others to care about them? Expression softens with confusion for a second, eyes flicking up then down trying to recall the lie in question. “You did!?” He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, yer good and do good things.” Helping the kids on punk hazard, Dressrosa, Zou, freeing Wano; Luffy wouldn’t use the ‘H’ word, he hated it after all but Law’s actions were in line with his own. He grumbled, boo’d and hissed but helped when he didn’t need to. 

Luffy can’t help the slight shake of his shoulders, frown loosening into a wobbly smile before barely suppressed laughter took over his features. “Shishishi, yer so weird sometimes.” Hand palms the back of his strawhat and straightens its tilt from the shove. “Being alone is way worse than getting hurt, yeah?” The question is pointed and he already knows the answer. “I got my crew ‘n you got yours with you now but—” Lips pucker to one side and he glances away to sigh. 

He’d had this conversation before and just like last time he was  hurt and bandaged, confronted by Ace demanding to know why he even cared, why even chase after him. “I know what it’s like ‘n I don’t want good people to feel like that.” A simple, honest truth delivered with a gentle smile and soft brown eyes. Sure, he can’t fix everyone’s problems with some nice words or a punch but people, really good people are worth caring about; especially when they don’t think they should be cared about.