#That being a loyal Warlord

[thatonetargaryen]

Pretty in Pink

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Part One of: Pretty in Pink

Synopsis: Your father’s kingdom had been at war with Noxus for no more than a month or two—and yet his people were already suffering. With the loss of countless soldiers and citizens, he decided to form a peace treaty with the formidable warlord—Ambessa Medarda. In exchange for peace between the two nations, he would give up his one and only daughter. You.

cw; afab!reader; angst; mentions of death, war, and possible rape; alcohol consumption; not proofread; you’re being given away; men and minors dni

Special thanks to @hell0-ki55y for the prompt. Hope you enjoy 🎀

Taglist: @fruitfulfashion

…….

Blood. Death. Sorrow. Poverty.

That’s all you’d been hearing about for the past month or so. The war between Noxus put a major dent in your father’s kingdom, and now we were on the brink of a depression. It drained us of soldiers, riches, and innocent citizens— who didn’t even know there was a war until the warriors were knocking on their front door.

Your kingdom was fairly small. There was just a few hundred citizens and a small army to protect yourselves with. You all didn’t bother anyone. Didn’t engage in conflicts overseas. Barely even traded with nearby kingdoms. The few allies you did have were strained and undocumented.

It was the perfect target for Noxus.

They didn’t waste much time taking action. They sent a flurry of soldiers by surprise, and with the pressure from his council—your father was forced to declare war. Big mistake.

You were now kept coddled up in your room with a ridiculous amount of guards stationed outside your door. Your late night escapades into town were no more as you longingly gazed out the window for hours on end.

Sometimes your ladies in waiting—Amara, Evelyn, and Felicity—would visit you for tea. The once bubbly conversations about relationships and the latest fashion were no more. Now all you ever discussed was the war. There was never any good news.

The three of them had been sent from nearby kingdoms even smaller than yours when you were much younger. Ever since then, you’d been attached at the hip. You practically shared everything with them—and vice versa.

You smiled at the thought of your friends. They’d been one of the few joys you had ever since your mother died.

You were snapped from your thoughts at your chambers doors were open. One of your guards—Henry—greeted you, but you could tell his usual hard facade was shaken.

“You are requested in the throne room, Princess.”

You looked at him in confusion. “The throne room? Me? Why?”.

He kept his frigid body still, “I will escort you down, Princess.”

You cautiously rose from your seat and approached the guard with hesitant steps. Before you would fully step out of the room, he spoke in a faint voice, “I know this is not my place, but I suggest you bring a small bag of belongings with you. Anything that you’ll want to keep.”

Your confusion turned into slight anger, but you didn’t question his word. He had been loyal to you since the day you were born and crowned princess. You looked down to find him holding a small brown satchel. You took it from his shaky hands.

“Hurry, princess. She won’t wait long.”

You continued to pack the few things you could—wondering who exactly she was.

……

The two of you finally made it to the throne room with haste. However, as you walked—well, jogged—the castle was….eerily silent. The usual hustle and bustle of the court was no where to be seen. Servants that once greeted you as you passed now looked down at their feet at they practically ran past you.

Something was wrong. And everyone knew expect you. You had a feeling that wouldn’t last long, though.

The two of you finally entered the court room, and one of the guards announced your entrance. “Princess Y/N Y/LN. Princess of Castile and daughter of King Arthur.”

As soon as you entered, you could feel the tense energy throughout your being. You noticed the council standing off to the left of the throne with indifferent gazes towards you. Your father sat perched on his throne with a grim expression as he slumped in his seat. His right leg was shaking—a clear sign of his nervousness.

What surprised you the most, however, was what stood to the right of the throne.

There stood a tall, burly woman. She was adorned in crimson, gold, and silver armor as her sword sat on her waist. Her free grey coils complemented her rich brown skin—which was heavy with scars. Her physique rivaled even your father’s as sun stood at an impressive height. There was a handful of guards accompanying her—all wearing the symbol of Noxus. Your nervousness grew tenfold.

The silence in the room did nothing to lessen the tension as everyone turned to look at you. You shrunk under their gazes—all possessing mixed emotions.

The scarred woman was the first to speak, “It’s about time you came down, princess. I thought we would be waiting here all day.”

Your father visibly tensed at her taunt, but ultimately said nothing.

“Perhaps your father could tell us why you’re here.”

His jaw clenched as looked down at his feet. He hesitantly straightened up in his seat as he took a shaky breath. Fear was evident in his voice as he spoke, “For the past month or so, Castile has been at war with Noxus. It has cost us the lives of many, and our supplies have lowered to practically none. As a result of this, the council and I have come to the conclusion to stand down to protect our people and resources. In exchange for peace between us…”

His breath hitched as he paused. He looked up at the woman, then you, “I will give my daughter, Princess Y/N, to General Ambessa Medarda.”

Your heart dropped at his words, and you nearly fell to your knees. The councilmen shook their head as they continued to look at you in pity. Your father merely avoided your gaze as his fists clenched. Tears clouded your vision as your nails dug into your palms.

The woman, who you now knew as Ambessa, waves toward her guards, “Escort her to the ship. Be gentle with her, will you?”

You froze up as her guards strode towards you. The cold steel that covered their hands met your arms and they started to pull you towards the door. Almost as if a light switched in you, you started to kick and scream, trying to get the guards off you. You struggled in their hold, and they hesitantly looked towards Ambessa—seemingly asking for help.

You continued to struggle as they tightened their grip, and your father winced at your cries. You turned towards your sworn protecter, “Henry, help me! Get them off of me! Listen to me!”

He simply continued to stare straight forward, ignoring your pleas. He closed his eyes as he turned away and his stoic expression faltered.

The guards lifted you up as they carried you out the throne room—yet you struggled even harder. You caught a glimpse of Ambessa, who looked seemingly amused at the whole exchange.

The sound of your struggles faded into the distance. Your father, the councilmen, and Ambessa were now left alone in the throne room.

Ambessa turned to your father in one, smooth motion, “Don’t worry too much, I’ll take very good care of her.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and follows you out the throne room.

……..

You looked longingly out the small window into the vast ocean. The ship was bigger than any one you had ever seen. Though, you didn’t get much time to admire it as the guards thrusted you onto it and locked you in a small room.

You had been on water for days, and you knew you didn’t have long before you arrived in Noxus. The pink dress you wore made you look pretty—yet you felt anything but.

There was a small bed with white linens and wooden furniture attached to the ground so it wouldn’t move. You didn’t mind it though. How could you?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched your small brown satchel tighter. You cried for what had seemed like the hundredth time that day.

Everything you had ever known—gone at the snap of a woman’s fingers. You couldn’t think of a worse situation than now. A princess who once had a life of tranquility and peace—was now being shipped off to the enemy in exchange for the lives of your people.

The fear of the unknown weight heavy in your mind. This woman—Ambessa—could do anything with you. She could make you a servant in her estate—condemned to scrubbing stains out and mopping floors for the rest of your life. She could make you work in the fields—bending over until your back ached as you cooked alive in the relentless heat and picked crops from the ground. She could make you a pleasure woman for her soldiers—giving you to them when they were done with their duties, waving absently as she said ‘Have a go at her’.

The prospect of being a servant didn’t seem so bad compared to the other ones—especially the last one.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you heard the lock on your door being undone. You jumped from your seat and backed away from the door—knowing none of the servants should be here at this time.

You stayed as silent as a mouse—as if whoever was outside didn’t already know you were in there.

Your breath hitched as the door creaked open. In walked in your ladies in waiting—Amara, Emily, and Felicity.

The initial surprise you felt was forgotten as relief crossed your features. The ladies ran over to you as they gave you a big hug. It brought you warmth and joy like no other.

While you were happy, you couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing here?”

Amara was the first to speak up, “We were escorted onto the ship by soldiers. They told us we were to accompany you to Noxus. We didn’t even hesitate.”

Felicity spoke, “They didn’t even give us time to pack. They said ‘everything we needed would be in Noxus.’”

Emily held up your bag, “This is all they let you take?”

You shrugged, “Henry told me I might want to pack a small bag of things I wanted to keep before I was taken to the throne room. It’s all I have left.”

Emily shook her head. “Oh, Henry….”.

You sighed at the mention of the man who was once your sworn protector. He’d probably be dead the next time you see him, given his old age. Before you could dwell on the thought long enough to cry, Amara started to pull something from behind her back.

You motioned towards it in curiosity, “What’s that?”

Amara smiled mischievously, “It’s liquor. Noxian liquor. We snagged it from the top deck, went right under their noses.”

You stared at the bottle in disbelief as you studied it, “Liquor?! What if we get caught with it? We’re dead women walking.”

Felicity shrugged as she pulled out her own bottle, and Emily followed soon after. “They’ll never notice. They had enough bottles to get an army drunk.”

Your disbelief grew tenfold as you stared at the women. They stole not one—but three bottle of Noxian liquor.

You couldn’t wrap your head around why they would possibly do that. “Why’d you get this? I mean…I’m not turning it down but, this doesn’t seem like the best time to get drunk off of your ass.”

Felicity looked at you as she held her bottle. “Y/N, we’re celebrating. After we get off this ship, our lives will change—if it already hasn’t. We don’t now for sure what’s gonna happen. This could be our last night together, and I’d be damned if I spent it without you all by my side.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of the situation came to you. She was right. How could you know if you were going to see each other again? You couldn’t. The thought of you losing your sisters—all you really had left—was too much to bear. The ladies share your tears as the revelation was made. Soft sniffles filled the room as they leaned on each other.

You grabbed the chilled bottle from Felicity’s hands as you spoke. “You’re right. Things will change when we get off this ship. But I have known you ladies for as long as I can remember, and I’d be damned if some Noxian scum tried to tear us apart.”

The ladies were visibly surprised at the determination in your voice as they looked up at you. You popped open the liquor and help up the bottle.

“A toast, to us. We are sisters, and nothing will change that.”

Emily and Amara held up their own bottles, while Felicity simply held up a fist to the sky. “Cheers!”

You held back your head and opened your mouth as you took a generous shot. The burning sensation punched you in the back of the throat—but the feeling was quickly replaced by warmth and relaxation.

The bottle was passed around and finished quickly, and the three of you sat in a comfortable silence—enjoying each other’s presence while already feeling tipsy.

You leaned on Emily’s shoulder as you silently prayed. For your sisters. For your people. For your father. For yourself. And for the Noxian woman to have mercy on you. Lots of it.

The sound of a second bottle being opened broke the silence, and you hoped your prayers would be answered.

Little did you know—they would be.

…….

Part 2 on the way…..

Reply for Taglist 🎀

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

[mahtariel-of-himring]

Silm Headcanon:

Battle braids were common amongst the Noldor when they first arrived in Beleriand. The tradition of braids had transitioned from Valinorian family, friendship or marriage braids into ones for battle. New styles were invented and quickly spread across the Noldorian community.

The length, placement, thickness and beads that were added or not added told stories of survival and hardship throughout time.

The most common ones were the following:

First battle braids, a simple three strand braid with a black bead marking that an elf had spilled their first black blood.

Partaker braids, for different big battles that simply marked a soldier as having been apart of said fight.

Fealty braids, openly showing who one’s loyalty lies with.

And at last survivors braids, these were worn by those who survived any type of imprisonment by dark creatures, there was also a more complicated version of this braid for former thralls of Angband.

There were also very rare braids which brought the wearer great respect and honor if an elven warrior wore said braid in their hair.

One of the rarest and most admired was the braid marking the survival of an encounter with Sauron, which on its own was feat enough.

It was a complicated four too five thread braid with multiple smaller or larger beads depending on the length or severity of the meeting.

Another was the one worn by Balrog slayers. This braid however only really surfaced after the first age when Glorfindel returned from Valinor since there were no surviving Balrog slayers to wear it.

One of the few braids that stayed the same from Valinor to Beleriand was the braid of the High King. Having only ever been worn by Finwë, Fëanor, Maedhros, Fingolfin, Fingon and Turgon.

Gil-Galad did not continue this tradition due to his decent from the house of Finarfin who‘s braiding traditions, just as many other elven houses, had faded over the years.

But since braids were mainly worn by the first to arrive in Beleriand after the flight of the Noldor, therefore fëanorians and their loyalists over time battle braids became a symbol of their house which quickly resulted and a fast decline of elven battle braids being seen on daily basis.

After the second and third kinslaying they had nearly completely disappeared in all but those still loyal to the remaining two son‘s of Fëanor and the son‘s themselves.

There were also unique braid, only ever worn by one person.

One of those was Maedhros‘ side braid.

A simple but elegant side braid on his left with no beads or pearls or any decorations whatsoever.

He wore it always after his rescue from the cliffs of Thangorodrim.

This braid was neatly kept, closly against his skull and tightly braided.

The braid of Maedhros became a symbol for the Lord of Himring and only ever associated with him and his qualities.

His formidable talent as a warlord, his unchallenged title as the greatest and fiercest swordsman of Beleriand, his fëanorian heritage and his standing as leader of the followers of house Fëanor.

The orcs, goblins, werewolves and evil men began to fear the braid of the red haired elf and his name became even more devastating to them than it already was.

After Maedhros died none dared ever wear his braid, for it stood for a fury no one dared claim as their own.

The centuries went by and braids got fewer and fewer. The second age was nearly at its end and the war against Sauron in full go.

But then came the day on which Sauron’s forces marched with Celebrimbor‘s dead body used as a flag.

And the infamous fury of the Lord of Himring was set ablaze in another, one who deemed himself close to the deceased elf to this day.

Elrond.

When he saw his beloved cousin’s body, defaced and dishonored that fire his foster father had carried was lit within him, and something snapped.

The next day the entire army was in shock and disbelief as their King‘s herald walked onto the battlefield wearing said infamous side braid, paired with a set of armor made by Celebrimbor, and an ear cuff also known for having once belonged to Maedhros.

That day the orcs of Sauron learned to fear the fury of the half elf, for they had already forgotten what true Noldorian spirit was. Elrond cut them down one by one, killing hundreds of orcs by himself and struck terror into the hearts of his enemies as they watched their companions fall to his blade.

Elrond didn’t stop until nearly all orcs were either dead or had fled from his wrath.

Then he went to find his cousins body. He freed him from the wooden pole he had been bound to and carried him away. Far off into nature, away from Lindon and Eregion, far away from all they once knew and laid him to rest in a peaceful spot where many flowers grew and old trees surrounded them.

To this day Lord Elrond visits his cousin often, for his final resting place is no far from Imladris, and to this day he wears the braid once associated with Maedhros, and he would do so until his arrival in Valinor.

[whereserpentswalk]

Like to give your creature a pat on the head. Reblog to get them to come to you. Tag your friends to increase their power. Look under the cut to see what it's like to meet your creature.

The vampire: She first comes to you as a shadow entering your room but takes fleshy form as she comes to the seat of your bed, wearing men's clothes from centuries ago. Though she is not of this world anymore you can tell that she once was human, even if such humanity is long forgotten. Her mouth shifts, from something massive and monstrous, with many fangs and moving parts, to something more humanoid, though still with sharp steel fangs in place of teeth. She sings to you and old forgotten song, of gods only spoken about by humans in taboo whispers, and fleshes you look of her ever-young bright red eyes. You begin to harmonize, your voices meeting as equals, as she begins to rest on your lap, and let herself be pet like a cat. You feel the shape of her body, it's so cold. She begs for your blood in song, and you give it to her as you pet her head, her mouth opens up to its monstrous size again, but she's so loyal and submissive as she drinks from your hand, like a bird eating right out of your palm.

The ghost: The room fills with red, as red and a blood moon, and red as a fresh beating heart. Spirits rise and you see something ancient lash towards you, hir hands like a mantis's claws, hir face like a skull yet featureless save for two dark eyes, hir red body covered in bug like limbs and tentacles and shimming egg cases. Sie turns hir head to look at you and sie rushes at you like a deadly predator but passes through you, eldritch ghostly wires wrapping around hir like chains to pull hir back to you as sie bows, defeated, begging with only a look not to be banished. You're not sure if sie is terrifying, pathetic, or honorable, but as you put your hand out sie seems somewhat honored to be allowed to stand up. You wonder what sie's thinking but you don't think to ask, it's only barely dawned on you that such an inhuman creature has a mind like yours, that sie is sentient, that hir race was much like yours when they were still alive. You just look at each other for a good amount of time, not sure who is more powerful.

The angel: They first come to you in an empty subway station, the ruins on the ground barely keeping you safe from them. Yet they look forlorn, like they would not have the energy to hurt you. Their form is pale and ghostly, white and colorless, the only mark of brightness being the blood that stains their hands, and wings. Chains weight down their slender body, as a veil hides their face. For a small moment they spread their six great wings, showing you their true size and power even in their cursed state. Eye sockets open for you for a brief moment, all over their body, all of them empty. Terrifying as they are none would deny that they are in great pain. You reach your hand out and gently whisper "it's ok" as they slow down and look at you as if they have not seen such sympathy from a creature in a long time. They extend a hand for you to hold, and you grab it, pet it for a slight moment, and you can feel a long dead fire seep through your veins. "It's ok." "It's ok."

The faceless woman: Deep beyond the city limits, where no light shines save for the stars, you see her, spiderwebs and shadows her friends, and faeries and dead gods her masters. She looks like a human at first, tall and long haired, in a ragged suit that covers her flesh. But then you see her head, and where her face could have been there is only a black pick, a hole that no normal human could survive to have. It looks at first like the void is of pure darkness, but inside it you have catch a glimpse of countless teeth like a lamprey's. She seems to laugh though she has no mouth, amused that a human would think to approach her, but you approach her even more, wondering what she even is. She suddenly gets excited as she sees something in your eyes, sees that you won't back down. You offer her some raw meat, a sign of good will, as you put it in her hands, she consumes it by causing it to melt into dust in her hands. She looks at you, as an ally, an accomplice, if she could, she would have smiled.

Paladin: She stands before you, bowing strangely, so submissively, though she's so obviously strong enough to rip you apart. It's strange to think this creature is actually in your room, that she's actually yours, that she was once a human like you. You can see where the plate and chain is fused to her neck, her hands eternally attached to her sword and flintlock, her eyes looking up at you wish a strange sadness. There's blood on her face and hair that will never wash out. As you come closer she seems afraid of you, like you could ruin her in ways that she could never hope to ruin you, despite her power and prowess. You ask if you can pet her head and she nods, you aren't sure yet if she could speak to you if she wanted. When you so gently pet and stroke her face and hair, she seems so happy, so happy to have someone treat her in such a way. You tell her that she's doing well, that she did a good job, it seems like she needed to hear that.

Autumn faerie: He looks down at you from the tome that he walked out of the world around them blackened until he's all that you're able to see. A smiling mask rests on his face, and far more cover his body, the only clothing on his strange body, almost human, almost extremely not human, bright wings sprouting from the flesh of his back. He looks at you, studying you, like he already knows so much about you but now he finally gets to see you. Is he impressed? He at the very least seems as if he's satisfied. He hands you a mask, you don't know how, but it looks like you, not literally, it looks more like an animal then a human, but it looks like your true face, like just as you summoned and bound him with his true name, he gets this from you in his return. You put on the mask, the deal is signed at it rings with pleasure, you'll never be the same again.

Harpy: You first see zir on a fire escape, the lights of the buildings around zir shining like stars against the starless night sky. You can only see zir eyes at first, shining gold against the darkness of zir body. But you call zir into your apartment with a forgotten tongue and watch a ze lands near you, so very alien but so very close. Zir body is marked by feathered wings, and zir form are like a bird's from the waist down, blue and white and gold as if they were painted, you can tell zir body was crafted directly by the gods themselves. You call upon zir with a song long forgotten and wondered what the look in zir eyes means. Though ze is beautiful ze has taken lives, and though ze is humanlike in some regards to zir shape, zir movements are so alien. You let zir carry you, and it feels strangely good to be held, and let zir fly with you, above the city streets, looking down at things most will never see, at birds and clouds flying past you, and at the world below, so many people, and somehow you feel safe with the wind rushing past your hair.

Incubus: You see him, sitting in an empty office building. His humanoid form is slender and short and more pretty than he is handsome, the only reason you think of him as male being his flat chest. You can he's now human from the raven's wings and scorpion's tail on his back, the branching horns and snakes for hair on his head, his sharp teeth and the stars shaped pupils. The clothing he wears is loose and comfortable, as if it was chosen in a state of depression. You expected more confidence when you summoned him. He backs away from you afraid, afraid of what you'll do to him. It looks like monster hunters got to him before you had a chance to, he's lucky to even be alive. You set out some rat's souls for him to eat so he'll trust you more, and you assure him that it's ok, that he's safe. He starts crying a bit as he looks at you, and after he finishes eating you offer to hug him. He lets you and you feel his body be surrounded by your arms. He's afraid but enjoying the affection so much as you assure him again that you won't hurt him.

Golem: They sit by you in abandoned mall, displaying so much power as they move steel pipes to the side to get closer to you. Their strength mired by the way even the smallest rip seems to be something them need to avoid. You look at them, their body so perfectly created, like human sized origami, the letter of life on their head being the only thing that marks their pure white paper body. You ask them to follow you, but they won't follow, a single puddle blocks their path, no obstacle for you, but even a being of their power has weaknesses. You slowly clear it, putting objects you can find over the puddle until finally they can follow you out into the light, still afraid of the sky you hand them an umbrella, just in case...

Undead: You first see him in a dark alleyway that the sun cannot meet him in. You wonder how many dimensions he's been to, how many dimensions he's been from, before he got here. He looks at you with three eyes of different colors. Skin stitched together across him, of different colors and textures and levels of rot, clothing resting on him from several different lives. He chatters, first in one voice asking where he is, where he could be. Then another voice questions you, wondering who you are, why you'd want to see him. Another voice looks at his own face in a piece of shattered glass and screams in terror. For a moment you think he'd attack, you're not sure if the spell would protect you. But he doesn't, he just looks at you for a while, confused perhaps. You ask him if he wants to follow you, and he seems to. Within his storm of countless voices, he decides to ask you, almost with all at once, "who am I." After thinking for a while you decide to answer, "You're you."

Demon: You stand in a closed down amusement part, the sea beside you shining like in the moonlight as he rises out of the water. He's massive; larger than you expected. His body a pale white as he rises out of the newly boiling water, his three heads eat long and sharp toothed like an alligator's, his eyes as red freshly cut meat, seven tattered wings on his back expanding to nearly cover the sky. He laughs, you're not sure how sadistic or how genuine it is considering the unreadable expressions of his reptilian heads. He charges at you with his teeth gnashing and blood pouring out of each of his mouths. But the spell blocks him like a shield made out of the air. As he fails to attack you more, he becomes frustrated, then tired, and rests on a rollercoaster. He seems to respect you knowing you were able to bind him like that, and regardless of if he likes it or not, he's yours now.

Shapeshifter: She slowly walks towards you out from the tunnel, she experiments with forms to see how you react; a small white kitten, a robotic humanoid woman, a long-haired demoness, a woman made out of blue slime. You can tell she's seen a lot of creatures before, that you're not her first master, she's known vampires, and werewolves, and demons in her time. It doesn't seem like many of them have been kind to her. You call to her and bring her closer with your magic. Slowly you watch her, you just wait as she changes her form, getting more experimental with the bodies she's willing to take. You just look at her, letting her be herself, letting her show you her art. Eventually she settles on something that feels like herself, something that she can be comfortable following you home with.

[revelboo]

man dude u are an absolute GOD with how much writing you keep pumping out THANK YOU FOR FEEDING USSSSSSSSSSS

I’m just having fun

Everything Is Alright Pt 122

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Optics on the ceiling overhead, on anything but you and your two mates fussing over you, Megatron swallows a growl. That all too familiar feeling of alienation that he remembers from the mines lifting through him. Thought that he'd gotten past this. That it could no longer hurt him, but it's as bitter now as it was back then. Being right there and ignored. Not belonging. And he hates it with a passion. "You two realize this changes everything," he says to Soundwave and Starscream and the Seeker's optics immediately narrow.

• "What exactly does this change?" Starscream growls, hand cupping the back of your head when you finally lay your cheek on his chassis. “I can tend to my mate. I don’t need either of you.” And you stiffen against him. Because as much as he despises the pair of them, you’d chosen them. Wants so much to resent you for that. For forcing him into this mess. They’re not his trine. Not brothers. They’re enemies. Wings drooping slightly then flaring when Soundwave immediately tries to comfort you, he growls. “But my mate does. For some reason.”

• Fighting a smile because that’s probably as civil as Starscream can be given the circumstances, you reach back a hand and Soundwave laces his servos with your fingers. And you’re painfully aware of how messed up whatever this is between the four of you is. That none of them are exactly happy. “Can we just try to start over?” Know you’re asking a lot of them. That this is all your fault anyway. “But you’re so tired of the fighting and scheming.

• “I’m not going to suddenly forget how many times your traitorous little Seeker has stabbed me in the back,” Megatron growls, but he sounds more tired than truly angry. That alone helps Soundwave relax some. Wants to pull you away from Starscream, separate you from him so he can just focus on your emotions. Wanting to try and figure out why you’d fully bonded Megatron after shunning him. It’s what he’d been working towards, but it still hurts that you’d chosen the warlord over him. How many times had he put Megatron ahead of himself, though? Should be used to it. Doing the hard things for the greater good. Even if it hurts. Always loyal. Obedient. Not allowed to want anything for himself, but he does want you even if you don’t want him.

• “Because you’re running the cause into the ground,” Starscream snarls wings lifting and the warlord’s head turns to stare at him. And he’s never been free to speak his mind without fear of pain or retribution, but he can say whatever the pit he wants right now and he’s untouchable because they’re both fully bonded to you. It’s like a dam falling in his processor. All the frustration, hate, and anger pouring out. “Do you have any idea how many stupid decisions you make? How many actions are driven by your desire to kill Optimus, not actual strategy? But what the frag do you know about strategy anyway? A miner and a gladiator. You have so many advisors and you don’t listen to any of us, too busy acting out your little vendetta while the cause suffers. I believed in you.”

• “You only believe in power,” Megatron counters, rolling and propping himself up on an arm. And your skin prickles, not really liking being so small and between them while they argue. Feel Soundwave hook an arm around your middle and pull you to him and away from Starscream like he’s concerned too. “You lie and scheme and paint yourself as a worthy leader, but you’re a coward scrabbling for any power or control you can get your servos on.” Yeah, you don’t want to be anywhere near them if they’re about to brawl. Both tensed like they’re seconds from launching at each other and then slowly relaxing to make you realize you were holding your breath. And Megatron glances at you, vents noisily and resumes staring at the ceiling. “You’re brave with our little pet to protect you.”

Previous

Next

Slowly remembering how to do this/accidentally stabbing myself with the needle so many times. I’m much rustier at this than I thought, though 🫠 looks more like Wheeljack’s illegitimate love child than Starscream at this point. Just a few more pins to finish my bag now

[short-honey-badger]

Miss Twilight 2

Crocodile plans, and you put your own plans into action.

Part 1 -> HERE Part 3 -> HERE Part 4 -> HERE Finale -> HERE

Before the day is over, Crocodile has called in the members of the guild who used to be part of Baroque Works. Daz is the first to get there, followed by Galdino and Zala. It's a small group, but the three of them had proven themselves loyal to Crocodile more than once in the past, and he was sure that they would know who you were. Maybe even where you were.

Before the door can shut after Zala, a booted foot catches the door, and Mihawk comes sauntering in, a bored look on his face as he settles in the same seat as earlier. Crocodile glowers at the other man but just gets a shrug for a response, so he huffs and speaks.

“I'm under the assumption that the three of you remember Miss Twilight.”

Zala grins from where she leans comfortably in her chair, “How could I not remember my dearest drinking buddy? Have you found her, Sir?”

Crocodile frowns. He hadn't known that Doublefinger had been so close with you, and it annoys him that he'd never noticed. He shoves the feeling away however, and shakes his head, lounging back in his chair and plucking his cigar from between his teeth to ash it before inhaling a lung full of smoke and blowing it out toward the ceiling, “No. But I want her found and brought back into the fold. She would be invaluable to the Guild.”

He ignores the knowing look that Mihawk shoots him from under that ridiculous hat.

“She went dark after Alabasta, but she was loyal like the rest of you, so I'm inclined to believe that someone has happened for her not to be here already,” Crocodile continues and he watches Daz nod along.

“She wouldn't have been caught unless she wanted to be seen. Or she made a mistake,” Daz puts in, and Zala scoffs and crosses her arms.

“Our Twilight? Caught? Don't make me laugh.”

But the moment Zala said the words out loud, an unsettling silence fell over the room. While they knew that you were excellent at staying unnoticed and unobtrusive, they also knew that none of them were perfect, their evidence being everything that happened with the Strawhats and the events afterward.

“Well then, what are we going to do if she's been caught? How do we find her?” Galdino whines from where he sits leaned forward, leg jiggling with poorly concealed nerves, “The navy won't have anything to do with us now that you're no longer a Warlord.”

Before Crocodile can speak up, the other ex-warlord in the room makes himself known.

“Yes, but that does not mean we do not have any connections. I'm sure that I could pull a few strings. Several high-ranking members owe me a favor or three,” Mihawk drawls and crosses one leg over the other, fingers tapping an unknown rhythm on top of Crocodile's desk.

“I'm sure I could wriggle some information out of our resident marines, too. I might not be as good as our Twilight but I'm not too shabby,” Zala offers and when Crocodile inclines his head, she stands from her chair and flicks her fingers in a lazy salute before she leaves the room.

Crocodile had forgotten about the captured navy vessel that the pirates under Buggy had brought in yesterday. The guild always needed resources, and navy ships could always be repainted and refitted.

“Daz, go with her,” Crocodile orders, and his first mate dips his head and then follows his partner out the door. He rounds on Mr. 3, purple eyes narrowed before he flicks his hook toward the tent city, “Go find the clown and make sure he doesn't get himself killed or something.”

Galdino gladly skedaddled from the office. He knew that he wouldn't be much help in finding you, but he appreciated being in the loop, even if being boxed in by two ex-warlords made his teeth rattle.

Crocodile shook his head at Mr. 3's quick departure, hand raising up to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration. The more he'd thought about it, the more it became apparent to him that you must have slipped up somewhere and got yourself caught. Anyone else, Crocodile would have dropped you, claiming that you being so careless had cost you a spot within the guild, but he couldn't do that. Not to you. Not when he still ached for you and you didn't even know it yet.

Fuck. He sounded like a love struck idiot, but maybe that is what Crocodile was for you. He sighs and looks over his desk at Mihawk.

“And why are you so adamant about this?” He demands quietly. The hawk wasn't usually interested in anything unless it pertained to him, and it unnerved Crocodile a little to have the other man so fascinated.

Mihawk shrugs one shoulder, “Boredom, mostly. But we are partners, Crocodile, so I feel obligated to assist you in your endeavor. And I wouldn't mind meeting the woman who's captured your attention.”

Crocodile rolls his eyes and puffs harshly at his cigar. He shouldn't have been surprised by Mihawk’s answer, “She is useful and a fine operative. I value people who can prove themselves worthwhile, Mihawk. It would be a shame to leave someone like her in the hands of the Navy. If they have her.”

Mihawk hums quietly and then pushes himself up from his chair, boots clicking against the hardwood as he makes his way to the door, “Of course you do, Crocodile. I'll keep you informed if I have something for you.”

Now alone in his office, Crocodile allows himself to slump back in his chair, a tired look drawn across his face as he sighs deeply. He would find you, and he would destroy any who got in his way of achieving that.

----

You wake to the sound of loud whispering. You don’t dare move a muscle, not wanting whoever it was to know that you were awake and listening. You keep your breathing deep and steady, not changing it from your sleeping pattern.

“Did you hear? The Cross Guild took another one of our ships hostage.”

There is a scoff, and then another, deeper voice.

“Sorry bastards can’t even afford to build themselves a ship. It won’t be long before one of our Admirals have enough and go track them down and haul them back to Impel Down.”

You jolt when the bars of your cell are suddenly stuck, eyes flying open to see the two marines staring down at you. You glare right back and sit up, making a show of stretching out your loose limbs, arms arching above your head before you plop your hands back down on your lap.

“Can I help you?”

The marine with the baton sneers down at you, and it’s then you notice the plate of straight gruel that the other man holds, “Breakfast, pirate scum, so don’t you dare try anything.”

You raise your hands in surrender, but your eyes never lose sight of the keys that the second marine produces. You watch him unlock the door and then shove them back in his right front pocket. A dangerous plan forms in your mind, but it’s one that could prove you a way out of here.

You wait for them to enter your cell, eyes tracking their every move, and when the one with the baton turns away, you leap forward, slamming your hand into the bottom of the plate of gruel and sending it flying into the marine’s face. He shouts when the hot food covers him, hands covering his face to try and wipe what he can away. His partner spins around, and you aim a kick for his middle, sending the marine flying back into the cell bars with a grunt. With them both preoccupied, you slip your hand into that front pocket and snag the keys, tossing them behind you and under the cot, hidden from sight.

“You bitch!” The marine with food all over his face snarls at you. He lunges forward and you let him, taking the hit to the stomach with grace as you fall to your knees, teeth grit in pain. The marine with the baton is suddenly there, weapon raised high before he brings it down across your face.

You hiss when your lips burst, bright blood spilling forth and sliding down your chin to stain the rags you’d been given to wear. It hurts, but with the two of them so pissed off, neither of them notice the lack of keys when they march off in a huff, cursing you to oblivion and back again. You can’t help but grin, however, you have the keys to the entire brig now. The pain had definitely been worth it.

That grin turns into a cackle of delight when you try the door. They hadn’t even locked it back with the other guard’s keys! This has been too easy, but you aren’t complaining. The marines had always lacked intelligence after all.

A new, bigger, more devious plan plants itself in your mind. If Crocodile was looking for ships, well, the least you could do was bring him one yourself.

[namism]

Request: Hi, I was wondering if you could write about Mihawk x civillian reader and about how their relationship would work with him being the world's strongest swordsman and the reader being an ordinary civillian with no fighting skills, no haki and no devil fruit? Thank you for taking the time for reading my message. 🙃

not a hero, lover | dracule mihawk

➳ categories: canonverse, gender neutral civilian reader, failed kidnapping scenario

➳ word count: 1.5k

➳ summary: Running into the face of danger is a price you pay for dating the world's strongest swordsman and Warlord of the Sea, Dracule Mihawk.

➳ notes: i wasn't too sure about this so i might write headcanons next time. thank you for requesting! 🍷

➳ cross-posted on ao3

Years after Mihawk was globally recognized as the "Strongest Swordsman in the World," he found himself getting bored.

There was no competition, no enemy who wanted to challenge him because everyone feared him (pirates, Marines, and civilians alike) beyond the perilous waters of the Grand Line. Even as he searched far and wide for an opponent worthy of fighting, no one ever came close.

So he took the peace that came with it, the solitude that came with being feared by all and many, as well as the privileges of a Warlord who was untouchable by the Marines and wandered out and about. He was vacationing in islands in the East Blue, sometimes the North, and regularly the Grand Line to find something that interested him. That was when he met you.

As a vineyard owner, you were popular among the locals of your town for cultivating a special cultivar of the common grapevine. You had hectares of land, and you sold the best wine. Mihawk was interested the moment he stumbled upon your stand at the bay market, and knowing himself, he couldn't resist purchasing a bottle.

Although one bottle became two, and two bottles became four. There was something about the wine you sold that made him come back for more, sailing off to your town on days when he needed to restock, until you decided one day that he was a loyal customer.

On his eighth visit, he realized he had a problem.

Or rather, problems. He had a drinking problem and a crush problem.

He was disgusted. Not by you, but with himself.

Mihawk had no business calling anyone a crush at his age. He was in his 40s and it revolted him every time he thought of having a "crush"—but unlike his drinking problem, it was an issue that could be resolved with a simple meeting, a simple question.

Mihawk took the liberty of visiting once more on a random evening. As you were closing down, he waited at the corner street until you were ready to settle for the night.

When you emerged, Mihawk caught you by surprise and introduced himself for the first time. He expected you to run amok and start a panic among the civilians, but you giggled to yourself and invited him over. The next thing he knew, he was looking into the horizon, admiring the stretch of land that housed rows and rows of the cultivar he loved. He was silent as he admired the sight, but he didn't tell you that.

Instead, he told you how good your wine tasted, that it tasted complex on his palate after he swallowed and waited for the aftertaste. Then he dropped the question.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" he asked.

You were surprised.

But you accepted.

It still feels like yesterday, even though a lot has changed. It has only been five months or so, yet Mihawk visits every week whenever he can, sometimes more when he's bored. He stays at your place on nights when you can't sleep alone, and you spend it on the hill overlooking your vineyard with some late-night wine. Mihawk has to be more careful now that he's committed to you, as he would be attracting criminals left and right. While his Warlord status keeps the Marines and weaker pirates at bay, he's positive that trouble will come regardless. If they aren't after him, they would be after you.

You suppose it's a price you pay for dating him. Although you hope to steer clear of danger, you wouldn't give up your lover for anything.

"I should teach you," Mihawk suggests one day as you walk across the vineyard, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"Teach me what?" you ask.

"How to hold a sword," he says. "How to fight. You live too close to the town that pirates roam often. You must learn how to protect yourself."

"Hmm. I'll think about it."

Born an ordinary human, you have not once faced danger in your life. Nothing ever called for the need for combat, swordsmanship, or the arcane power of the Haki unlike the pirates who sail the seas. You come from a place of privilege, but it soothes your nerves that your life is peaceful.

Mihawk warned you several times that he was going to bring trouble before dating you, yet it didn't bother you one bit despite your lacking abilities. You knew he was strong and you trusted him. He can protect you on his own just fine even if you aren't skilled at fighting.

Well, not quite.

Tonight is one of those nights when you can't sleep a wink, so you invited Mihawk over who didn't need much convincing to come. As you arrive at the hill where you spend most nights together in secret, you notice something strange.

A gust of wind blows west. The smell of fire wafts in the air, followed by the scent of burnt grass. You hold your lantern out in the dark. You're close to the hill's peak where no one rarely goes, yet something feels bizarre.

You sniff the air. The scent is awfully close. When you trudge up the hill and reach the very top, your eyes land on the remains of a campfire under a mahogany tree. Two cups of steel lay on the ground empty like someone was just here with another, the other cup knocked over like someone had just scampered away.

You shudder.

You and Mihawk never made a fire. No one else should even have access to this place besides you.

Suddenly, a man pounces on you from behind.

"Ahhh! Let go of me!" you wail as you struggle against his grip. A big man who can overpower you, he binds your hands together with a rope and throws you over his shoulder. "Ugh! Please—"

A second shadow emerges from your peripheral vision. Holding a rope, he binds your feet together and poorly stuffs a cloth in your mouth. Squirming, you spit out the cloth. He forces a hand on your face to still you, but you bite down on him, causing him to pull away.

"Why, you little—"

"Help!" you scream at the top of your lungs. The other man tries to suppress you, but you wrestle out of his clutch. "Mihawk! Someone, please— ew, don't touch me!"

"Just shut up already!" He slaps you across the face, and you quiet down. His accomplice snatches the cloth and ties it around your mouth.

"Shit at fighting, but amazing at biting." He grimaces as he looks down at his bleeding hand. "Stupid one! Couldn't get your man to teach you how to fight, so you bite people?!"

You thrash around and howl suppressed cries. He points downhill with a weak finger.

"Pack it up. We'll leave before anyone hears."

As they trek down the hill, you start to accept your fate. They're burglars. You've seen them in the newspaper a long time ago when they made it to the local news. They primarily targeted property owners and emporiums, but you were out of their radar because your vineyard was two blocks down the constabulary. Now that you're associated with Mihawk (and news of his frequent visits has spread among the island felons), they suppose they can get him by taking you hostage, even if it meant waking the constables in the middle of the night.

"Sorry, but hear what, exactly?"

In just a split second, the man holding you falls to his knees and lets you go. You stumble backward helplessly as he screams in agony. Blood seeps through his vest, a pool of liquid collecting on the grass under which he lays. Suddenly, a gust zips past you, and the man's accomplice gets down. Mihawk cuts across his chest and fluidly swings his sword to pierce through him.

Your eyes close in fear. You inch away from the man below you and fiddle with the knot that fastens your hands.

A few feet away, Mihawk scoffs.

"'Before anyone hears?' Anyone would have figured it out by now. You fools run around like mice."

"Mihawk!" you exclaim. He quickly runs over to you and helps you out of your plight. As your limbs break free, you untie the cloth around your mouth and lean into your lover. "Good god, I was so scared! I thought you wouldn't come, I—"

"I'm sorry," he says exasperatedly. He strokes your cheek softly with his fingers, eyes casting downward. "Were you hurt?"

You shake your head. "No. Just horrified."

He sighs.

"I'm afraid we can't stay here. If they find these two gone, they will look for you," he says. "Did you lock up the yard?"

"Yes," you say. "Why?"

"Come to Kuraigana with me."

"Like, where you live? I-I'll leave with you?"

He pats your head gently. "Just for tonight, my dear. We'll be back in the morning when it's safer."

You breathe out. Mihawk expects an answer.

"Fine. Take me with you."

Mihawk offers a hand and hoists you from the ground. At that moment, you lean into him for a hug as you look away from the lifeless bodies below your feet. A shudder runs through your back once again.

"Thank you for saving me, hero," you tease. Mihawk almost chokes on his spit as he cringes, but he keeps you close to his chest.

"Not a hero. Just your lover," he corrects. "Anyway, about that training I was telling you a month ago..."

"I'm in. Please, go and lead the way."

[vellazx]

Luffy x Reader (Gender not specified) — Angst / Fluff — Can be taken as platonic or romantic. Small and optional romantic Ace x Reader if you squint.

When all of you got separated at Sabaody Archipelago, Kuma sent you to one of the many places you didn’t desire to be held in.

He asked you right before sending you away, “If you could go someplace for vacation, where would you go?”

You were hesitant to respond.

“Anywhere my friends are.”

Impel Down. He sent you to Impel Down — that wasn’t the slightest bit a vacation. It was pure torture, for all the time you were stuck in a cell.

The World Government considered you dangerous enough to holster you on level 5, considered to be the floor of Impel Down that holds the most world-threatening criminals. You heard of a possible ‘level 6’, but that wasn’t your concern.

You expected to be alone throughout your suffering in that cell.

But there was one factor making it just the slightest bit easier for you.

Luffy’s older brother; Portgas D. Ace.

He sat chained up in the cell right next to yours, alongside an infamous Fishman Warlord who somehow ended up on the Government’s bad side.

When he saw you, he recognized you almost immediately. All the way back from when he met you in Alabasta.

“It’s… you? You’re Luffy’s friend. Why are you here…?”

If only you knew the answer to that question.

Ace grew fond of you rather quickly. Despite your situation, you tried your best to remain somewhat calm and have faith that you’d escape from the hellhole that called itself ‘Impel Down’. He wouldn’t prefer anyone else be in the cell next to his own. You felt the same about him, too.

The two of you sorted your trope out as ‘comfort buddies’, if that even made sense at all. When you were upset, he would try to cheer you up from across his own cell, despite his weak and raspy voice.

You did the same. Constantly telling him that you’d find a way to get him out.

Not just for his sake — but for Luffy’s sake. You cared deeply for your captain, and you didn’t need much convincing to know that he and Ace were the closest of the closest.

Ace saw it in your eyes, whenever you talked about your life-changing (stinky) captain, the glint of adoration you held for him. Therefore he swore to find a way to get you out of Impel Down, as well.

He didn’t lie when he said those words to you.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out, too.”

But what about what you said?

Luffy, the boy whom you would die for, held his brother’s cold body in his arms. He found a way to sneak into Marineford, vowing to help you rescue Ace.

You said you’d get him out.

Though his freedom only lasted for a moment.

Akainu prevailed, bringing about the death of a friend you had little time to spend with.

Ace was more than the brother of the one you were deeply loyal towards. He was one of your closest friends, there for you during your breakdowns in that cell — as you were for him.

You were there. You didn’t have time to react as the magma empowered Admiral punched a hole right through his ribs.

You didn’t even do so much as budge.

No lies were to be spread. You blamed yourself for allowing Ace to get killed so easily. You could’ve helped. Saved him.

You entirely believed it was your fault for not doing anything.

So why did he forgive you? No. He didn’t forgive you, because he didn’t see you as a problem to begin with. He had no need to accept your apology, because he deemed it unnecessary.

Your captain. The one who was there during Ace’s death. The one who suffered the most.

He didn’t blame you.

Rather, he showed you sympathy. He knew you had gotten close to his brother while being held hostage in the underwater prison.

As tears fell from your eyes, Luffy wrapped his arms around you, caressing the back of your head with his calloused hand, still bruised from all the fighting he indulged in.

“Stop blaming yourself. I don’t like it. And stop crying! I’d prefer not to see you cry, ‘cause I don’t like it. Not one bit!”

You thought for sure he would’ve been somewhat upset with you for not being able to prevent Ace’s death. But no. Instead, he was upset with you for blaming yourself.

“…But I thought—”

“Urgh. Then— stop thinking!”

He was never mad at you.

Your overflowing tears soaked his bandaged shoulder, damp spots littered all over it.

You weren’t exaggerating when you said you would’ve lost your sanity without him in multiple scenarios. This one easily being crowned the worst.

He held you close until he had to leave for his training.

Even after two years passed, he still didn’t blame you.

“Lu. You see those stars up there, right?”

“Shishishi! Of course I do! What about them?”

“One of them is Ace. He’s watching over us. I just know it!”

“I already knew that! Of course he’s watching us! Why would he not be? C’mon, tell me something more creative!”

“Ugh, you’re ruining the moment!”

[fanaticsnail]

Cross-Guild Masterlist

Navigation Masterlist Here

Art link

Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom BuggyBratty BuggyCross-Guild InterrogationThe Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship.Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it.Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship.A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (9/10 Series)

Upon receiving an invitation from the lord of Kuraigana to train his wards, you never expected your career as a governess to lead you here. As your tour of the keep was conducted, a ring was slipped onto your finger: invoking an ancient curse you truly did not understand. Setting three conditions for marriage, your newly betrothed immediately made haste to complete them with you blissfully ignorant that his life hung in the balance should be fail his task.

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Pretty Bird (series)

Mihawk is an injured avarial trapped in his raven form while healing. You nurse him back to health, and he becomes smitten with you.

Obsession (one-shot)

Many believe Mihawk keeps the knowledge of his spouse a secret because he is a private man. Truth of it is, he is simply obsessed with you and doesn't believe any other pair of eyes is worthy of meeting their gaze with your majesty.

Happy Trail (mini fic)

Sir Crocodile:

Mihawk is not as well groomed as he usually keeps himself. You notice, and you can't help yourself.

My offer will stand (One-Shot)

After being reprimanded by your boss for another mismanaged and hierarchical transgression transfer, you found an unlikely hand offering you comfort in the hallway behind your superior officer's door.

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Warmth (One-Shot)

Sir Crocodile is out for a walk in Arabasta with his pug, and he is stopped by a curious child who desires to pet them. As you, their guardian, approaches, Sir Crocodile is intrigued by your candor.

Intimacy (NSFW One-Shot)

Sir Crocodile is patient while you take him for the first time.

Misc Multiples:

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?Buggy, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Shanks, Benn Beckman

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader

Dreaming of You (One-Shot) NSFW

They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

[hannahbarberra162]

The Crocodile's Gambit (Croc x Reader)

on Ao3

The Crocodile’s Gambit  (1/2)

Croc x F!Reader

Fluff in this chapter, angst and fluff in the next.

WC: 3.3k

Summary: Crocodile needs a chess partner before he impales Buggy out of frustration. Again. He finds one in a most unlikely place. Set after the abolition of the Warlord system, right before Cross Guild is formed.

~~~

There were a few things that Crocodile missed about Nico Robin. The first being, she was incredibly competent. When Crocodile hired someone, he assumed they could do their job without being told how to do it. He didn’t want to have to micromanage anyone, especially grown adults. He loathed having to check in and make sure every step of a process was done correctly. He’d never had to do that with Robin, she was smart and capable. Anything he assigned her, she executed flawlessly.

But what he missed more than her competence was her chess playing ability. She was the only opponent within Baroque Works who had ever won against him. Her success rate was about 15%, which was significantly higher than anyone else Crocodile had played in years. Crocodile enjoyed winning chess matches but even more than that, he enjoyed losing them. He loved the challenge, the strategy, the simplicity, the complexity, everything about chess. And he especially loved it when he found someone who could best him.

Which made his stay with the complete idiot Buggy all the more intolerable. He and Mihawk were meeting with the Clown to determine whether a joint venture would be viable. After the absolution of the Warlord system, Crocodile had approached Mihawk for a business proposal. Crocodile had connections, money, and business acumen but didn’t like the spotlight. Mihawk had power and the reputation of the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Together, they could become unstoppable. Then, the question of the Clown arose. Buggy owed Crocodile a lot of money, Crocodile was ready to kill the Clown and be done with his foolishness completely. However, something the Clown had that neither of them did was a large loyal following. For whatever reason, the Clown’s crew were loyal to the death for their Captain. Any time the Clown docked his garish ship, he was greeted with fanfare and celebrations. There were waiting lists with hundreds of applicants, all waiting for a chance to be on Buggy’s crew. Crocodile didn’t understand why, but people were charmed by the Clown’s charisma.

Crocodile and Mihawk had been in negotiations with the Clown for a few days. It was slow going - each iteration of an alliance between the three of them had many stipulations and conditions that had to be discussed. Crocodile was fairly certain the venture would fail and he’d kill the Clown, but he kept his options open. After all, a dead Clown made no money at all. 

Crocodile was in desperate need of a good chess opponent, he felt his stress rising by the minute. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn’t going to find someone within the Clown’s ridiculous crew of idiots and low-lifes. Mihawk was a decent chess opponent, but the swordsman was rarely in the mood to play. Business dealings with the Clown left both of them irritated, and Mihawk’s outlet wasn’t chess. Each of them had their own room and office on Buggy’s ship, and Crocodile had his chess set sitting out at all times in his office, just like at home. He tried reviewing games he’d played against other opponents and playing against himself, but none of it was as entertaining as playing against another person. One morning before his meetings began, he moved a white pawn to an opening position on the board. He left for the meeting and forgot about chess for a few hours as he dealt with the Clown’s buffoonery and Mihawk’s recalcitrance. 

Returning to his office for an after lunch break, he was about to read the newspaper when he noticed someone had moved black, opposing his white pawn at e5. It had to be someone on the ship, but who? Mihawk had been with him in the meeting. Daz wasn’t a good player, he hadn’t played with Croc in years. No one from Buggy’s crew was smart enough, and Crocodile hadn’t brought anyone but Daz. Crocodile wasn’t concerned about someone infiltrating his office, but he was concerned about his growing boredom and irritation. If he didn’t find a good opponent soon, he’d probably kill the Clown before it was advisable. He decided to play the opening to the King’s Gambit, moving his pawn to f4, next to the first. Once it was time to leave for the next meeting, he knew whoever had moved the black pawn wouldn’t last more than 5 moves against him.

He was wrong. It was Crocodile who was now outclassed, outplayed, and outmaneuvered. Crocodile played delayed games against the mystery person as his meetings continued and hadn’t won a single match. Crocodile hadn’t lost this many games in decades, and he couldn’t have been happier. Crocodile returned back to his office after every meeting, eager to see his opponent’s next move. His opponent was ruthless, seeing through his plays, gambits, and traps with ease. He skewered Crocodile time and time again, to Crocodile’s delight. Every time he lost, Crocodile placed a gold coin under the black King, which was taken and the board reset the next time Crocodile returned. Crocodile wanted to know who he was playing with, but he was never able to catch the man in action, his office always empty when he returned.

Even though the negotiations were not going well, Crocodile was now having a wonderful time. He didn’t want the venture to end, he wanted to continue playing chess against his opponent. The Clown had noticed the uptick in Crocodile’s mood, asking for more ridiculous clauses in their contracts. It hadn’t helped the negotiations, but Crocodile hadn’t killed the Clown outright yet, which was saying something. Unfortunately, the time for reconciliation was coming to a close. Crocodile wanted to find out who the mystery opponent was and soon. He wanted to shake the hand of the man who had bested Crocodile so thoroughly and offer him a spot on his crew.

So Crocodile waited outside his office before his morning meeting. He wasn’t hiding, that would be childish. He was simply waiting in a concealed location to resolve an issue he was having. True, he could have waited in his office to see who the man was, but that would ruin the fun. And Crocodile hadn’t had fun in years. He would be late for the meeting, but it wasn’t going to be productive anyway, negotiations had stalled. The morning crew was coming in to clean his office - Buggy had a lot of useless staff (and a lot of overhead expenses) but Crocodile appreciated coming back to a clean office daily. He hadn’t really noticed them before, they were all part of the background for Crocodile. They were dressed like all of the other pirates who worked for the Clown - in ugly, lurid circus clothing. The various cleaners split off to their areas, with you entering his office to clean. You wiped down various surfaces, until you got to the board with Crocodile’s most recent move. You studied it for a brief moment, then picked up a black knight.

“What the fuck are you doing woman?” Crocodile recognized Daz’s voice. He must have been passing by, looking for Crocodile.

“Cleaning,” you replied, irritated by the interruption. You put the piece back down where it was previously, to Crocodile’s disappointment.

“Didn’t look like cleaning to me. Leave the Boss’s chess set alone unless you want trouble.” The maid was unconcerned by the threat, rolling her eyes at Daz’s words. 

“Game’s over anyway, doesn’t matter,” you muttered. Crocodile’s interest was piqued, was this slip of a woman his opponent? He watched you flip off Daz behind his back as he walked away. You bustled around the office, cleaning once more. As he watched, thinking you may be his opponent, he appreciated your form. You were graceful in your movements and meticulous in your work, and he found you beautiful in an unconventional way. The more Crocodile watched you, the more he realized how attractive you were. The hideous circus clothes you wore didn’t help, you had a huge orange scarf wrapped around your neck. But he saw your immense potential if you wore something less…flashy.  It didn’t take you long to finish cleaning, and before you left the room, you moved the black knight, putting Crocodile in checkmate. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair, smiling wickedly.

~~~

After his next meeting, Crocodile cleared his schedule for the rest of the day. He didn’t really care about anything the Clown had to say right now. He was far too interested in his little chess opponent to bother with anything else. He sat in a plush armchair, smoking a cigar, waiting for the time the cleaning crew came in. Around lunch time, you carried your cleaning supplies into the room. You immediately noticed Crocodile sitting in his chair and you started to back out of the room.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll come back -” 

“You’ll sit down,” Crocodile intoned, blowing billowing smoke clouds into the room. He gestured to the board in front of him. “Do you know how to play chess?” he asked. He knew you did, he was just curious what you’d say. You were a confident, aggressive chess player, and he wanted to see if that crossed over into your regular personality.

“I do, but I have to -”

“You’re dismissed from your duties for now. Sit. I won’t ask again.” You were a little nervous, but set down your cleaning supplies and sat across from him on another comfortable armchair. You perched on the end of the chair, like you were getting ready to run at a moment’s notice, fiddling with your scarf. Crocodile switched the board, you were now white.

“Go ahead. Start,” he drawled at you, blowing smoke. Your eyes flicked from the board to Crocodile, wary of the situation. Things weren’t completely genial between Crocodile and your Captain, surely you felt the tension on the ship. But you played, moving your pawn to f4. Crocodile parried, moving his pawn to e5, countering your opening. You played your turn, and by the time 15 minutes were up, Crocodile was in checkmate again. 

“Checkmate,” you said, leaning forward to stand up. Maybe you wanted to get back to work or maybe you wanted to get away from Crocodile, but neither was going to happen.

“You’re not dismissed,” Crocodile growled, steepling his hand against his hook, pleased with the match. “So, it’s you. You’re my opponent. You’re quite skilled at chess,” Crocodile observed.

“Yeah, it’s me. Do you want your coins back or something?” you replied. You were a little rough around the edges, Crocodile thought, but he could fix that. When you joined his crew, he’d work on your social skills outside of the chess board.

“No, you may keep them, you won them. I would like to make a proposition. I want to play chess with you tonight in the evening. Three games. If you win two out of three, you get 100,000 Beri.” Ideally, you’d play chess with him all day every day, but he would take things one step at a time. 

You narrowed your eyes, fiddling with your scarf. “What if I lose?” 

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. He spread his hands magnanimously, like he was granting you a favor. “If you lose, you have to join my crew and leave the Clown.”

You pursed your lips, thinking over his deal. “200,000 Beri,” you bartered. Crocodile smiled, enjoying your evident self confidence. 

“150,000 Beri per night, 50,000 Beri bonus if you win all three rounds,” he countered. You agreed, shaking his hook with your hand. You were either self assured in your ability to win, or didn’t mind leaving the Clown. Either way, you’d be coming with him when he left.

~~~

Crocodile was down 1,000,000 Beri and no closer to getting you on his crew. He knew you were good, but he hadn’t anticipated you were that good. Crocodile loathed losing money, but in this instance, he didn’t mind handing it over night after night. He thought that playing face to face would increase his chances of winning, but that wasn’t the case. You were even sharper when playing with him in person rather than delayed over the course of hours and days. You were a good sport about winning, and you didn’t gloat. You also took the time to explain your thinking when Crocodile asked you about your thought processes. You did, however, have a crass mouth that Crocodile didn’t care for. 

“Sucks to suck,” you replied after Crocodile complained you ended a game too swiftly for his liking.

“Do not speak to your superiors that way,” Crocodile snapped. He was peevish after having lost three games in under an hour.

“If you’re my superior, why do I keep collecting your Beri?” you said impishly. Crocodile nearly smiled at your antics.

“Speaking in such a coarse manner makes you seem less intelligent than you truly are,” Crocodile stated. He hated to see you present yourself like the common boors that made up the rest of the Clown’s crew. You gave him a bored look. 

“Give me my pieces and I’ll play you again,” you said. Crocodile was interested in playing a fourth round against you but knew you were trying to change the subject. He picked up your knight he had taken and held it out to you in his hand. You reached for the piece but he closed his hand before you could retrieve it.

“Hand me my pieces, please,” he said. 

“Hand me my pieces, please, Sir Crocodile.” You rolled your eyes, but dutifully repeated the phrase. Crocodile smiled at you, and opened his hand once more. You took the knight, your fingers brushing against his palm. It was the first time you’d made physical contact with each other. Crocodile wanted more. 

You didn’t let Crocodile win or handicap yourself when you faced off, you always played to win. So when Crocodile won his first game, he was over the moon. He was certain you were tired when he’d won, you almost nodded off once during the game. Crocodile was concerned for your wellbeing, and it tarnished his feeling of victory. He was…worried.

“Is the Clown working you too hard? Why are you so tired?” Crocodile queried as you yawned into your hand.

“Someone is making me play chess at night after work,” you replied.

“Please, you’ve been making more than you’d earn in a month in under an hour,” Crocodile scoffed. The games between you didn’t take that long, the Clown must be putting undue stress on you. He’d…fix that for you. You hummed, resetting the board for the third game. Crocodile had enjoyed winning, but didn’t want to play if you weren’t at your best. “Let’s end early tonight. Go rest.”

You looked up at him, unsure of what to do. “But it’s only been two games, and I lost one. If I lose the next one -”

“It is my idea to conclude early, therefore you will not be bound to the usual rules. Go to bed.” Crocodile waved his hand, dismissing you. 

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly, lingering by the door for a moment. It was the first time you’d thanked him without his prompting.

As the days went on, you seemed to enjoy Crocodile’s company a little bit, not bolting immediately after he paid you your Beri. You had a keen wit and were able to counter Crocodile’s acerbic remarks with ease. It was obvious to Crocodile early on in your conversations that you were not well read, something else Crocodile wanted to amend. Crocodile loaned you a book about ancient Wano battle theory, asking you to read it as it would improve your chess playing. You returned it the next day, saying you read the entire work. Crocodile questioned you about the contents of the book, trying to see if you had just skimmed it or were lying. But you were able to answer his questions and provide your own insight into the strategies listed.

“What did you think about the treatise on aggressive methods of battle?” Crocodile asked. He had found a lot of useful thought exercises in the book. Having read it in his youth, it had become a cornerstone for his own strategy in becoming a Warlord and businessman. 

“In chess? I don’t necessarily agree that aggression should be the foremost method of attack. Aggressive moves only work if it's balanced with knowledge of your opponent. If you don’t know who you’re dealing with, things may not work out the way you planned,” you said while moving your Queen to check Crocodile. Crocodile hummed in agreement. You were clearly intelligent, Crocodile just had to provide you with direction. He knew people were not given the same opportunities in life and was happy to supply you with some. 

To that end, Crocodile was now taking an interest in your formal education. He loaned you book after book, and you read them all, sharing your opinions and thoughts on the titles. You had interesting ideas, and Crocodile found himself sharing his own with you. You tended to like mysteries and fiction novels, but read anything Crocodile lent you. You picked up and assimilated new information easily and had unique ideas, things Crocodile would never have thought about on his own. Crocodile found himself sharing his favorite books with you, just to see what you would say.

He appreciated your personality outside of the chess board the more you spent time together. Crocodile tended to make people nervous, it was practically a pastime for him. However, after your initial encounter, you weren’t tense around him at all. You didn’t mince words, you said what was on your mind, even if you knew it would annoy him. You were honest, as far as he could tell, and generally well liked among your crew. He appreciated your looks, but that was secondary to your personality, a first for Crocodile. He even started to appreciate your circus outfits, always completed by a large scarf, no matter the weather. Even without your chess skill, he would have liked to bring you onto his crew. He was going to broach the subject tonight and ask you formally to leave the Clown. He knew you would agree. He was the better choice by a long shot. Crocodile had more money, more power, more influence than the Clown would ever have. He was smarter, stronger, and richer, there was no way you’d want to stay with a second-rate loser like the Clown. 

~

“Checkmate,” you said, moving a rook into place. You smiled at Crocodile, as he ran a hand through his hair. “By the way, that’s your tell.” Crocodile’s eyes snapped to yours. 

“What are you talking about? I have no tell,” Crocodile snarled. You smiled again. Anyone else would shortly have been drained of life, but Crocodile found you endearing. Cute, even. 

“It’s good to know your own tells,” you continued, undeterred by Crocodile’s outburst. “You run your hand through your hair when you are blindsided. If you can sense something is coming, you don’t. But if you are surprised, well, that’s your tell.” Crocodile paused, no one had shared that with him before. But perhaps no one had surprised him as frequently as you. 

“Speaking of surprises, I have something I’d like to ask you,” Crocodile drawled, lighting a new cigar. You were already preparing to leave after the completion of the third game. That was another thing, Crocodile found himself wanting to spend more time with you outside of your matches. Having you on his crew would help with that as well. You sat back down, watching Crocodile calmly, waiting for him to continue. “I’d like you to join my crew.”

“No.”

You declined instantly and decisively. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, scowling.

[charlesoberonn]

Avatar headcanon (or AU really since I'm pretty sure it contradicts the lore):

The Air Nomads used to be a lot more violent.

They ate meat too, raising sky bisons and other animals not just for transportation but for food as well. Basically they were more like real nomadic civilizations, except they could fly and (some but not all) were Airbenders.

They waged nomadic warfare as well, raiding settled communities and extorting tributes. And waging war against other tribes of Air Nomads for grazing and raiding territory as well as for revenge of apparent slights. They were extremely loyal to their tribe and kin, above all other loyalties.

Eventually a powerful Air Nomad leader managed to unite the different tribes into one Air nation and he waged a war of conquest across much of the world.

He ruled for many years but after his death his empire was splintered among his descendants and rival warlords. The Air Nomads began to wage war on one another, but this time with a lot more ferocity, with armored Air Bisons and ground armies made up of conquered peoples.

It's during this warring states period that the beginnings of what would become the Air Nomad way developed, as a solution to the never-ending cycle of violence.

The practitioners of the new way adopted pacifism and eventually also vegetarianism. They raised Sky Bison not as property or tools, but as partners and fellow living beings, a sentiment they later expanded to all animals.

The practitioners took in many war orphans as well as babies whose parents couldn't raise them. And when these orphans grew and had kids of their own they often gave them to the temples to be raised there as well. This reinvented the way Air Nomads raised their children, putting harmony and individual growth over ties of blood.

As more and more Air Nomads adopted the new way, eventually the warlords and self-style Air Kings did too. And in time they or their descendants gave up their titles and claims. The now centuries-old way became the way of all Air Nomads.

Though their numbers were smaller, due to their spiritual acuity and their system of mutual aid, the Air Nomad were all much healthier than the other nations and all of them were Airbenders.

[in1-nutshell]

How would the tfa bots and cons react to a bot who is starscream twin brother base on his shattering glass counterpart

Since there isn't too much information on TFA Starscream's personality I mixed it a bit with IDW's Shattered Glass Starscream. Buddy the loyal Decepticon and Starscream the backstabber, who would have thought them being twins?

Hope you enjoy!

Autobots and Decepticons reaction to Starscreams Twin brother with the same personality as SG! Starscream

SFW, familial, platonic, slight mention of injury but nothing graphic or detailed, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

TFA

No one knows how this happened. It is one of the greatest mysteries unknown to Cybertron. How can the most loyal member of the Decepticon ranks, almost at par with Lugnut levels of loyalty, be related (much less twin) to the most backstabbing and whiny Second in command of its army? How could this soldier of the greatest armies in the galaxy be so found of science and organics?

Optimus Prime

When they first met, Prime thought that Buddy might have been another Starscream clone right off the bat. But it isn’t until he sees some kibble differences and overall different aura, that he realizes that that mech is no clone.

“You’re not Starscream! Who are you?”--Optimus

“Wow! First, that axe is very strong. What type of alloy is it made of? Getting off topic, my name is Buddy. A proud Decepticon under Megatron’s alligence.”--Buddy

“Are you some sort of clone like the others?”--Optimus

“Nope. Completely original. I get that I look like Starscream a lot actually. But there’s so many differences!”--Buddy

“oh, well—”--Optimus

“Not to mention being his Spark twin can really work up your circuits you know?”--Buddy

“…What?”--Optimus

Prime literally stops fighting for a good couple of seconds after hearing this. Buddy takes this opportunity and flies away. Optimus remembers reading on some Decepticon files back at the academy and through his ‘history videos’.

Buddy lets the Prime go to go see off.

Prime is even more confused the next time he sees Buddy actively fighting alongside Megatron and making a good team?

He has never seen Starscream fight alongside him like that, and he is second in command. Optimus almost admires Buddy’s loyalty and admiration to Megatron whenever some bot talks ill of the Warlord.

When the Prime and Buddy have the next fight one-on-one He does give an effort to try and persuade Buddy to join the Autobots side.

“You know it’s a shame that you fight for the Decepticons, Buddy.”--Optimus

“Oh, is it little Prime?”--Buddy

“Yes, --WOW!— Which is why I’m offering you a spot with the Autobots!”--Optimus

“Well now this is weird then.”--Buddy

“Why is—Watch it!—Weird?”--Optimus

“Because I was going to offer you a spot in our ranks too!”--Buddy

“…Huh?”--Optimus

“Oh boy, Hey Autobots! I think I broke your leader!”--Buddy

Ratchet

Oh, they have met before.

It was a few missions before the Lockdown incident back in the final days of the war.

He had been helping a wounded bot when he was suddenly face to face with a blaster. It would have gone off if Buddy had not interfered.

“Die Autobot scum!”—Random Decepticon

“Hey!”--Buddy

“Commander Buddy?!”—Random Decepticon

“Do you see this mech? This is a medic! We do not shoot medics with the wounded!”--Buddy

“But sir he is an Auto—”—Random Decepticon

“I do not care which side he is on! No one shoots the medics! Do you understand me!”--Buddy

“Yes sir!”—Random Decepticon

“Good. I will deal with this. Get back to base for regroup.”--Buddy

“Yes Comander.”—Random Decepticon

“…”--Ratchet

“I know you don’t trust me. But trust this one thing. Run.”--Buddy

Ratchet hadn’t seen or heard of that Decepticon since that day. When they meet again it was almost as if history repeated itself. Lugnut was about to detonate his bomb when Buddy held his arm back.

“Buddy!?”--Lugnut

“Lugnut! Megatron needs—”--Buddy

Zooom!

“We have to stop meeting like this doctor.”--Buddy

“What made you stop him this time?”—Ratchet

Straight to the point I see.”--Buddy

“You could have killed me and the kid. Why didn’t you do it?”--Ratchet

“…The organic child you have… are they all right?”--Buddy

…Yes, she’s fine.”--Ratchet

“Good.”--Buddy

Ratchet has conflicted feelings now whenever he is on the battlefield with him. At least he knows now that Buddy has a soft spot for organic life forms.

Bumblebee

Oh, he does not care.

Like Optimus he first thinks that he is some Starscream clone.

Doesn’t really care that they aren’t.

He does stop when he is told that they are Starscreams twin brother.

But he quickly continues fighting.

If he is related to Starscream then he has to be just as bad as him, right?

“He is just some slimly Con like the rest of them! Maybe just as bad as Screamer.”--Bumblebee

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”--Ratchet

“What do you mean. If anything, you should be agreeing with me!”—Bumblebee

“He has saved my life before. Twice actually.”--Ratchet

“Excuse me what?”—Bumblebee

Bumblebee does feel a bit conflicted on hearing Ratchets stories on Buddy. He is a Decepticon… but they also saved Ratchets life twice!

He will still shoot at him but this time more for injury than anything else.

Sari

She has a mini vendetta against cons since they took her dad from her.

Jokes around with Bee calling them Lugnut 2.0.

But where are the conflicting feelings?

Here they are.

Takes time after Sari finds out she is a techno organic.

Sari had been caught in the crosshairs of Lugnuts servo and crashed on to the ground under a billboard. What she didn’t know was that the billboard had been damaged and was no falling. Her jetpack as damaged and she just froze in place.

“SARI!”—Optimus, Bumblebee, Bulkhead

“KID!”--Ratchet

“NO!”--Prowl

She could hear the shouts of her friends but the only thing she was focusing on was the falling billboard and debris that was coming closer and closer.

Buddy who had seen the damage shrieked and flew over to the girl and used his body to shield her from the billboard and debris effectively covering them both. Sari remembered hearing a shriek and a couple of servos pulling her to the bot’s chassis all she could do was close her eyes. When she opened them again, she was face to face with Buddy.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”--Buddy

“What? Yeah, I’m okay I think.”--Sari

“Oh, that’s a relief.”--Buddy

“Why did you do that?”--Sari

“You have no part in our war. I refuse to have anyone civilian deaths that are not necessary.”--Buddy

“But you’re a Decepticon?”--Sari

“Just because I’m a Decepticon does not mean I hate organic life like my twin or companions.”--Buddy

“Oh, yeah Starscream’s your twin, right?”--Sari

“Exactly young one.”--Buddy

“BUDDY!”--Starscream

“Oh, I think that our rescuers.”--Buddy

A dozen servos suddenly shout out pulling and yanking the debris from off Buddy. Sari was still in his grasp protectively shielding her from any harm. When Buddy came out, he was almost knocked down by Starscream’s hug.

“OH, THANK PRIMUS! BUDDY! HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A DUMB—OH PRIMUS YOU’RE HURT! LUGNUT GRAB HIM WE ARE GETTING OUT OF HERE!”—Starscream

“Screamy, hold on—”--Buddy

“FOR THE GREAT AND GLORIOUS LEADER MEGATRON!”--Lugnut

“Prime! Catch!”--Buddy

Buddy tossed Sari to Optimus as he was literally picked up and flown away for repairs. The team crowded around Sari trying to see if any damage was done. Not a single scratch was on her head.

Buddy was the one who took the damage.

She now thinks very differently of the Con.

Bulkhead

Bulkhead’s interaction with Buddy was under peculiar circumstances.

Bulkhead was battling it out with Scrapper, Mixmaster, and Dirt Boss when Buddy had arrived. Buddy looked like he was out for blood. Bulkhead thought it was for him and got ready to clobber the new Decepticons.

“Dirt Boss! Mix Master! Scrapper! Where are you?!”--Buddy

“Umm… hi?”--Bulkhead

“Oh, an Autobot. Don’t worry I’m not here for you.”--Buddy

To his surprise, Buddy went after the Constructicon’s instead.

As it turned out, Dirt Boss had Mix Master and Scrapper mess with Starscream’s wings because ‘he was too loud’.

“You, Autobot. What’s your designation?”--Buddy

“My name is Bulkhead.”--Bulkhead

“Good. Now Bulkhead, would you care to help me pound these dirty Con’s to the ground?”--Buddy

“But aren’t they on your same team?”--Bulkhead

“Oh, they were. But that changed the moment they decided to mess and hurt Starscream’s wings. So, you in or out?”—Buddy

“…”--Bulkhead

“We are just roughing them up a bit.”--Buddy

“I’m in!”—Bulkhead

Together the two of them punted the Con’s into Lake Erie.

“Wow. You really have the strength for this Bulkhead.”--Buddy

“Oh, thanks—”--Bulkhead

“I’m also sensing some untapped potential. That’s some potential that the Decepticons could use. What do you say Bulkhead?”--Buddy

“No thanks! I’m good being an Autobot.”--Bulkhead

“Well at least you’re polite. Until we meet again Bulkhead.”--Buddy

Buddy then transformed and flew into the night. Now Bulkhead really doesn’t want to hit him.

Prowl

Attacks Buddy straight on.

He is one of the smallest members on the team, besides Bumblebee. He sees something coming at him he is going to strike at it. Buddy actually had gotten a tip about Prowl over a conversation he heard from Swindle and Lockdown.

Buddy sees an opportunity. Having a bot with such incredible talents would certainly give the Decepticon’s an edge in this war.

“Hello there—Woah!”--Buddy

“That was a warning.”--Prowl

“I just came here to offer—”--Buddy

“The next one goes through your servo.”--Prowl

“Fine. I’ll come another day.”--Buddy

Prowl is dodging all these requests like the Draft.

Except this time, he is making sure he doesn’t get caught.

Megatron

Ah, yes, his favorite soldier.

“Megatron.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Megatron

“I have the equipment necessary for the next phase of the plan.”--Buddy

“Excellent. At least some bots here are doing their work. You are dismissed.”--Megatron

“Yes, sir.”—Buddy

Don’t tell Lugnut.

Not only does Buddy offer him just loyalty, but because he also treats him as a mech, not some deity. He tries not to hurt Starscream too much whenever he is around.

They don’t make loyal soldiers like they used to.

Is willing to overlook some of Buddy’s softer behaviors on the battlefield because he always brings in good results back.

Starscream

He loves his spark twin.

It might not seem like it at first. Afterall their personalities contradict themselves. But if you have been around them long enough you can see the undying loyalty between these two brothers.

“I hate you and your organic meddling. How can you even stand them?”--Starscream

“Love you too Screamy. And they are called humans. Only some of them are dirty, not all brother.”--Buddy

Starscream and Buddy are very protective of each other.

Which is one of the reasons why Starscreams punishments have gone down with Buddy being around. Buddy is just and fair, starscream is not. That’s why sometimes Buddy will not interfere with Megatrons punishements, because Starscream deserved it. But that doesn’t mean he is heartless.

He always patches up his brother after every punch shot or anything.

 

“You know, if you’d stop trying to over thrown our leader maybe then I wouldn’t have to pound out all the dents in your wings.”--Buddy

“You’ll be thanking me when I do become leader.”--Starscream

“Sure, Screamy keep telling yourself that.”--Buddy

Blitzwing

His personalities clash whenever he is around.

Icy prefers Buddy’s presence a lot more than Hothead. It’s one of the only other intelligent being he can talk to.

“Did you recalibrate you blasters yet?”--Icy

“Not yet. Which circuits did you use to hotwire Lugnuts?”--Buddy

“The red one.”—Icy

Hothead can’t stand him on some days claiming him to be going soft. Other times he will get mad at Buddy for getting hurt over meaningless things.

“If you hadn’t thought about going after that organic, I wouldn’t have to help haul you off to the Med bay!”--Hothead

“Is that right?”--Buddy

“I could be scouting outside right now. But no! You had to get hit by a billboard!”--Hothead

Random likes to play games with Buddy and make random sounds. He has a whole record on weird noises to play with Buddy.

Sesame Street theme song starts playing.

“IT’S BEEN 3 HOURS! TURN IT OFF!”--Starscream

Distant giggles

Buddy always vouches for him whenever someone makes a comment on his different personalities.

All three of them like that

Lugnut

If he is going anywhere were Blitzwing isn’t Buddy is his next pick.

He knows that buddy can be trusted with sensitive things concerning the all glorious leader Megatron.

“Buddy. I have an important message for Lord Megatron.”--Lugnut

“If it’s another poem about his greatness, I suggest you not take it to him today. He is having a bad day today.”--Buddy

“…Please?”--Lugnut

“… Give me the data pad.”--Buddy

He very much apprentice Buddy sticking up for him whenever someone’s comments make an unnecessary jab to his ‘obsession’.

Buddy has a lot of brownie points on Lugnut’s book.

Blackarchnia

Honestly one of her only friends in the ranks is Buddy.

Since she came to the Decepticon side later not many were found of her and her organic mold. Buddy was the first besides Megatron to greet her with open arms.

Not even Lugnut got there fast.

“Welcome Blackarchnia, to the Decepticons.”--Buddy

“…”--Blackarachnia

“I know it may be a lot to take in, so I will be here to help to make sure you understand the ropes around here.”--Buddy

“…Thank you…”--Blackarachnia

She does spill her secret about being Elita-One, one night in a secluded area. She thought that Buddy would shoot her right them and there. But Buddy instead held her as she started sobbing.

Now that doesn’t mean that Buddy is okay with how she is treating this whole situation with Sentinel and Optimus, Buddy being the scientist he is has tried to help Blackarchnia with her situation. But no matter how much he has tried to explain toher that this would kill her, he tries to be as supportive as he can about her organic half.

[onlyyvette]

Megatron's Tramp-stamp thoughts?

Megs with a tramp-stamp...🤤

In my honest opinion, Megatron is totally a MILF, so him having a tramp-stamp makes so much sense. Just imagine him being this terrifying, all-powerful warlord, hell-bent on getting his way, crushing everyone who dares to oppose him with a little help from his fusion cannon...

Now imagine that same Megatron, with a new frame update, making him stronger than he previously was, much sturdier... and much more appealing with a new decepticon tramp-stamp.

As he makes his grand entrance into the main deck of the Nemesis after his new frame change, Megs has a smirk on his face; he knows that every con in the room can feel a new air about him, can feel a newfound power thrumming through his powerlines. Little does he know, most of the decepticons are gawking, more focused on at the tramp-stamp decorating their leader's backside.

Everytime he moves, his wide hips make that damn tramp-stamp move back and forth, a near mesmerizing thing. It makes it much easier for mechs to pay attention to his repeated, tiresome speeches on how they'll take down the autobots. Well, more like they're laser-focused on how the tattoo moves so fluidly along with his back and forth pacing and how much longer they can stare without getting their helm blown off.

Megatron doesn't get the big deal about it anyway. It was just a little additive that he thought was nice, but he knew how easily things like this could get mechs riled up, especially how inconceivable it seemed on mechs like him. He uses it to his advantage too, knowing that having soldiers that were incredibly down bad for him would strengthen their loyalty and in turn, ensure that less defect to those disgusting autobots. Much more effective than putting them on The List. Though if it was so easy to make the decepticons stay loyal to him, maybe he could entice powerful autobots to abandon their cause...

Don't mind the fact that I'm posting again a month later😋

[inkrivelbr]

How shameless!

It's not news to Liu Qingge that when he goes on missions, he ends up listening to the famous "Resentment of Chunshan".

But now, it's stranger than usual to hear this obscene song, as he is being courted (even if secretly from the public) by the couple.

Liu Qingge tried his best to ignore the music as he ordered tea at the store.

— Dear listeners, the beloved song has been updated, I hope you like it.

The song continues but halfway through, the singer says.

Liu Qingge was surprised.

— I hope they didn't make it any more obscene.

The singer returned to singing and...

A hot-blooded but loyal man.

A man known for his battles.

Once an enemy, now a friend.

The couple managed to win the heart of the handsome warrior.

Liu Qingge the warlord.

He is certainly the only one with enough resistance and strength.

To handle Xin Mo and Xiu Ya at the same time.

Liu Qingge spits out all the tea, ignoring the indignant scream of the person in front of him.

The music continued but Liu Qingge couldn't help but pay attention to it.

W-what did he just hear??

How did you find out they were courting you??

Why the hell in the song is he portrayed as a blushing virgin maiden?!

Yes he was a virgin before sleeping with them, but that doesn't matter now!

And what is this about holding both at the same time?!

He never...

Binghe is already too big...

B-both...at the same time...

Is this humanly possible?

He can already handle Luo Binghe...what would be more-

Embarrassed by his own thoughts, Liu Qingge pays for the tea and leaves the store.

______

Liu Qingge was panting, with his legs spread as wide as possible so that Luo Binghe could go deeper inside him.

— Qingge is very needy today, you know that whatever you want, just ask.

Says Shen Qingqiu while stroking Liu Qingge's hair as he was lying on Shen Qingqiu's lap.

Liu Qingge blushes, it is very shameless what he wants.

— Shishu, we will not refuse.

Seeing both of them being so kind to him, Liu Qingge finally confesses.

— I-I want you both... at the same time

A silence passed through the room before the couple, with renewed desire, made Liu Qingge's wish.

Liu Qingge actually endured Xin Mo and Xiu Ya at the same time.

The entire night in the Palace was filled with the moans of the Demon Lord and Peak Lord Qing Jing future husband

The servants clapped for Liu Qingge's resistance.

As expected of Bai Zhan's God of War!

[revelboo]

I wasn't expecting that update to Everything is Alright, and I've been on the edge of the seat all day at work. I'm just chewing at my nails.

I hope Soundwave says something stupid and just like "I'm just fragging him... Stress relief."

Or maybe megs also noticed the fact sounds also smells the same as star when he went to megs. Just AAAA

Everything’s not alright at this point 🤣

Everything Is Alright Pt 73

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• So many little factors for him to keep track of. You inside his cassette compartment, far too fragile to get banged around if he has to fight. Starscream’s wings aggressively flared, unable to back down because he’s bonded even if it’s not a complete bond and his bond mate is in danger. The whine of Megatron’s cannon charging as his servos flex, not pointed at either of them. Not yet. His cassettes, not really knowing what’s going on, but he knows they’ll try to defend him if Megatron attacks and that they’ll end up hurt. So many ways this can go wrong. “My loyalty hasn’t changed,” he says slowly, needing Megatron to understand what he can’t say.

• Soundwave’s voice rumbles through you as you press your palms against him, trapped inside his cassette compartment. Worrying about him and Starscream, about them being hurt because of you and hating it. Wishing right then that he’d left you in the woods, not returned to you. Because then you wouldn’t have asked to go home with him, wouldn’t have started falling in love with the gruff, insecure mech. Wouldn’t have begun to fall for Soundwave as he worried over you, trying so hard to make you comfortable for no reason other than keeping you happy. Now they’re both going to be hurt for trying to keep you secret, to protect you. And you do love them, even if you can’t dare say the words out loud.

• Servos curling under into fists, Starscream wonders if he can pry open Soundwave’s chest compartment and grab you. Get away before Megatron can bring that cannon up. Just go. Throw away everything to keep you safe, to cling to the only spot of happiness he has. The only person who really needs him and believes he can be good. Because Soundwave is going to give you up. He can’t betray Megatron, so he’ll end up betraying you even though he must realize you won’t survive it. And it hurts worse because this is his fault, he’s put himself and you in danger by being selfish. Let himself become too weak to protect you without Soundwave’s help and had dared to trust the other mech with you.

• Lies or truth? It’s so hard to tell when Megatron’s gotten used to relying on Soundwave to be able to tell him. Even knowing how dangerous it is, part of him wants to believe Soundwave. Believe that there’s nothing sinister going on here, but the Seeker’s aggressive stance makes him doubt it. A private assignation, maybe? He can’t really see the two of them seeking each other out, though. He’d been almost positive that they hated each other. “What about you, Starscream? Are you loyal?” He growls, watching the Seeker tense. Watching Soundwave lay a hand on Starscream’s canopy to stop him from stepping forward. Where’s this sudden bravery coming from? This isn’t the same conniving Seeker and he’s just so tired of plots and intrigue. Rather face a threat head on.

• “You have no idea,” Starscream snarls, wings flicking. Unable to back down this time. He can’t. Let Megatron make of his words what he will, but his loyalty is to you, not him. Even if it kills him, he’ll fight for this. For you. Because the alternative is so lonely he can’t stand it. Meeting and holding the warlord’s optics, resigned that there’s no way out. Denta bared and desperate, he breaks away from Soundwave and lashes out at Megatron.

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[afghanbarbie]

The sex-based apartheid against women in Afghanistan cannot be reduced to, "Afghan men saw Afghan women enjoying freedom and got mad, so they established extremist religious governments to stop it." I am really tired of seeing this misconception and oversimplification spread around by leftists, liberals and feminists – it's racist, and simply not fucking true.

The majority of Afghans want a secular government and for the oppression of women to end. The Taliban represent a minority of Afghanistan's people. The deterioration of Afghan society – in particular, women's rights and freedoms – directly results from decades of foreign intervention, imperialism and occupation. Afghans did not destroy Afghanistan, the United States did, and the USSR paved the way for them to do so.

Had Afghanistan never been treated like a pawn in the games played by imperialistic powers, had we not been reduced to resources, strategic importance and a tool for weakening the enemy, extremism would have never come to power.

An overview of Afghanistan's recent history:

The USSR wanted to incorporate Afghanistan into Soviet Central Asia and did so by sabotaging indigenous Afghan communist movements and replacing our leaders with those loyal to the USSR. The United States began funding and training Islamic extremists – the Mujahideen – to fight against the Soviet influence and subsequent invasion, and to help the CIA suppress any indigenous Afghan leftist movements. Those Mujahideen won the war, and then spent the next decade fighting for absolute control over Afghanistan.

During that time period, known as the Afghan Civil War, the Mujahideen became warlords, each enforcing their own laws on the regions they controlled. Kabul was nearly destroyed, and the chaos, destruction and death was largely ignored by the United States despite being the ones who caused and empowered it. This civil war era created the perfect, unstable environment needed to give a fringe but strong group like the Taliban a chance to rise to power. And after two decades of war, a singular entity taking control and bringing 'peace' was enticing to all Afghans, even if their views were objectively more extreme than what we had been enduring up to that point.

When the United States invaded Afghanistan in 2001, they allied with the same warlords that had been destroying our country the decade prior and whom they had rallied against the Soviets – these are the people that made up the Northern Alliance. The 'good guys' that America gave us were rapists, pillagers, and violent extremists, no better than the Taliban. And that's not even mentioning the horrible atrocities and war crimes committed by American forces themselves.

So, no, Afghan men did not collectively wake up one day and decide that women had too much freedom and rush to establish an extremist government overnight. No, this is not to excuse the misogyny of men in our society – the extremists had to already exist for Americans to fund and arm them against the Soviets – but rather to redirect the bulk of this racist blame to the actual culprits. The religious extremism and sex-based apartheid would not be oppressing and murdering us today if they hadn't been funded and supported by the United States of America thirty years ago. And despite all the abuses and restrictions, many Afghan women prefer the Taliban's current government to another American occupation. I felt safer walking in Taliban-controlled Kabul than I did being 'randomly searched' (sexually assaulted) by American military police in my village as a child.

Imperialism is inextricably linked with patriarchal violence and women's oppression. You cannot talk about the deterioration of Afghanistan without talking about the true cause of said decline: The United States of America. Americans of all political views, including leftists and feminists, are guilty of reducing or outright ignoring Western responsibility for female oppression in the Global South, finding it much easier to place all blame on the foreign brown man or our supposedly backwards, savage cultures, when the most responsibility belongs with Western governments and their meddling games that forced the most violent misogynists among us into power.

(Most of this information comes from my own experience living as an Afghan Hazara woman in Afghanistan, but Bleeding Afghanistan: Washington, Warlords and the Propaganda of Silence covers this in much more detail. If you want more on the Soviet-Afghan war and Afghanistan's socialist history, Revolutionary Afghanistan is an English-language source from a more leftist perspective)