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peachesofteal · 15 hours ago

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Simple Math / Part Nineteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader AO3 - 3.2k words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. Pregnancy and things that come with it. PTSD, anxiety, despair, depression. A lot of internal monologue.

“I need to borrow your car.” Marshall’s eyebrows shoot straight up into his hairline.

“Excuse me?”

“Your car.” You spit, barely containing the tremble in your voice. Your throat is tight, hundreds of thousands of pounds sitting on top of your chest, crushing you, your heart. “Marshall-“

“I’m confused why you think I’d let you borrow my car.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, the thin shred of patience you’ve been holding onto finally ripping apart.

“I have put up with you for years. I have dealt with your shit, your relentless pursuit of anything that walks, your lack of interest in your own patients. I have covered for you. I have babysat for you. You owe me.” He blinks, and then pats his pocket, scrutinizing your expression.

“Are you okay?” You glitch for a second. The orchestrated denial, evasion slips away as you grapple with his question. You’ll never be okay. Never.

It snaps back like a rubber band. Like a backhand across your face.

“I’m fine.” You’re not fine. You’re drowning. You’re at the bottom of a well, stone walls cracking and crumbling at your feet. “Keys.” He drops them into your outstretched palm with a sigh. “You can pick it up at the south station in a few hours, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes…” A plan is still rapidly taking shape, forming from bits and pieces of roads laid out before you. “My mother is sick, and not answering the phone. I’m worried, trying to get over there as soon as I can.” He nods, unphased by the glaringly obvious hole in your lie.

“Of course.”

You have no one to blame but yourself.

The girl in the mirror blinks back at you with judgement in the quiet of the bathroom. She regards you with disgust.

Foolish.

Hot water flows over your knuckles, your palms. It burns, too hot to be sensible, scorching your skin.

It’s pain you deserve.

This is the only time you’ll give yourself for now, the only time you’ll break until it’s safe again.

You shatter to pieces. You scream into your hands, sobs cracking your ribs, cleaving you apart.

It was all a lie.

And you’re the one who fell for it. You’re the one who believed it was real, that they were true. You believed you could walk in the sun, and you only have yourself to blame.

You try to burn their faces from your mind, incinerating your memories to ash. Johnny’s eyes, his easy smile, the lilt of his accent when he’d say your name. Simon’s low murmurs and comfort in the dark, the way they molded themselves around you, held you.

They tricked you, but they made it so real, so believable. So sweet as they wrapped you up in a web, dripped poisoned honey into your mouth from their own.

Lies. They’re full of lies.

Steam rises from the bowl of the sink, and you look yourself in the face again. You stare at the woman who allowed herself to be manipulated, who gave herself to two people who only sought to harm her.

But-

They gave you a gift, didn’t they? They gave you this chance.

Your palm hovers over your stomach, and you fill your lungs with oxygen.

Get it together. Get yourself together.

Your world crumbles beneath your feet, but you’ve done this before. You’ll do it again. Better, even, now with the stakes so high, higher than you could ever imagine.

You can do this.

Deep breath.

The foundation of your resolve cracks when you step through the front door and Penny comes padding down the hall with her arms up.

You meet her in a crouch, letting her cuddle you, small fingers twisted in your scrub top. “Hey Penny girl. How’s your day, huh?” She signs something and then points to the living room before smiling.

“Bocks.”

You retreat into yourself, burying the lump in your throat, swallowing your tears. “I love you; you know that?” You lick your thumb and wipe the corner of her mouth. “So much.” Lou clears her throat from the hallway, watching with a strange expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just tired, and forgot my work backpack.” You had forgotten how easy it is, to lie. How easy the mask slides on. It’s almost nonchalant, a practiced art.

You retreat upstairs before she can question you further.

In a sewn in pocket of a backpack shoved under the guest bed, is a cellphone. It’s a flip phone, old and clunky, always charged, but almost always off, except when it’s needed. Programmed with a single contact, a pre written text already in the drafts.

I’m moving again. I’ll keep you posted.

The response is always the same. Be safe.

There are too many items in your life now. Too many objects, too many things, and too little time to pick through them.

You stick to your rules. Pack light and easy. You can replace anything left behind once you’re somewhere safe. Nothing frivolous, self-indulgent, or even sentimental.

It’s tempting to take a permanent marker and scribble fuck you across their bathroom mirror, tempting to take a knife to the mattress and slice it to shreds. It’s tempting to rip their clothes to pieces, to soak their life in lighter fluid and strike a match. The anger pulses in your veins like poison, knowing you could never.

Even now, the idea of them hurting makes you feel sick.

Fool, you’re a fool. A silly, stupid girl who got caught up in a fairytale with no sense to save herself.

You take one last long look at the bed. The bed where you thought you were safe, the place where your nightmares eventually turned to dreams.

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and it takes everything you have to stay upright.

Phillip terrorized you, beat you black and blue, stole your future, your life-

but it never hurt as bad as this.

Marshall’s car is, of course, is expensive. Something out of a fancy television commercial. It’s comfortable, fast, and drives smoother than butter.

It reminds you of Phillip. Of all the luxury and riches surrounding him, the mile high leg up he had since the day he was born. His entire existence carefully crafted and honed into something out of a nightmare, the mask of a monster slipping on and off as easily as yours.

You used to wonder if money really did buy happiness before you met him, and then you learned. Some people crave more. Some people crave violence. Destruction.

There’s no happiness for those who are rotten to the core, their souls as dark as night, their desires putrid and inhumane.

You never saw it with them, in them. You never felt it, the way you felt it in Phillip. They fooled the wariest heart.

Will your child be like them? Deceitful? Evil?

Will it be nature versus nurture?

The first piece of the puzzle is figuring out where to go, how far to run. You need a city or a town big enough to hide in, a hospital that’s in desperate need of nurses, and a flat that’s available immediately. No smaller islands in case you need a quick escape, no countries where you may struggle with the assimilation. Accessible by train. Primarily English speakers.

You briefly dream about something tropical and warm with a beach before you shake the thought loose in favor of the city that’s always been on your short list.

Edinburgh.

It’s painfully kismet, knowing you’ll bring your child to one of their father’s birthplaces, fitting in a sick, senseless way, but you have no choice. You vetted the city in the past, scoped out appropriate neighborhoods, chose a potential workplace. It’s been at the top of your list.

It’s the logical option.

The air is cold. It stings the tip of your nose, your ears, isolates your exhales and turns them into white puffs of fog. Your jacket is too light, too soft for this kind of weather, representative of all the clothing you have in your backpack, and your wallet weeps at the idea of a brand-new wardrobe.

Still, you don’t cry. The tears don’t come, they’re held back by an iron clad dam, an impenetrable fortress built around your heart. People move around where you’re stuck still on the platform, a round rock in the middle of a river, surfaced smoothed by the repeated flow of water.

That’s what you are.

A smooth surface, a still pond, a tranquil lake. Cohesion in its ultimate form, hydrogen bonds clinging to one another, casting a tightly knit net of water molecules over the whole of your being. Lies upon lies meshed to create perfection, an unblemished nurse, an agreeable personality, an overall uninteresting but more than perfunctory person. Forgettable.

Step off the platform, into the street. Slip beneath the surface, swim to the bottom, pack yourself away and assume your new life, new name, new existence, the glass surface hiding a turbulent sea.

Things fall into place. You get hired on the spot and find a great apartment almost immediately. Better than great, if you’re honest. It’s a generously sized two-bedroom, freshly painted, no landlord specials in sight.

“What do ye think?” You wince. The accent pulls a string, tugs on a chord buried deep.

“I’ll take it. I can give you three months’ rent up front,” you survey the locks, “if you can add a deadbolt.” The door only has a keypad lock, the fancy new kind touchscreen kind. You don’t trust them. The wires are too easy to manipulate. He cocks his head.

“Shouldnae be a problem.” He’s looking closely now, too closely, and you flash a smile.

“Thanks. I’m a bit paranoid, you know? New city, can’t be too careful.”

“O’ course.”

“So… how far along are ye?” You choke on the dry piece of scone in your throat.

“Sorry?”

“The bairn?” She points to your belly, and you shift the hospital issued zip up hoodie over your waist. Her face softens. “Don’t worry, I willnae tell.” You haven’t disclosed the pregnancy to your boss yet, trying to wait it out as long as possible to prevent getting fired, still holding onto hope that no one will notice. It’s common practice, something women around the world try to manage, tiptoe around until the last second. Sisterhood, you guess.

“Almost twenty weeks.”

“About halfway then.” Her name is Ally, you think, or with an ie, Allie maybe. She’s a float, the worst position in the hospital, and your envy is nowhere to be found. You’d rather work peds than be in her shoes.

“Yup.” The p pops on your lips apprehensively. Being noticed is a problem. You can’t lose this job, not after the all the energy and effort you’ve expended to make this place home. The apartment you’ve slowly furnished, the baby’s room you’ve now painted, all the broken pieces starting to fall into place.

“Boy or girl?”

“I don’t know.” You manage a weak smile. “I’m gonna wait, I think. Leave it as a surprise.” She claps her hands.

“That’s the best! I have two and did it the same way. It’s so fun.” The conversation wanes, her expression shifting into sympathy. “If ye ever need anything, I’m around. Okay?” Your jaw clenches.

It’s a reminder of how alone you really are. How you have no one to depend on, no one to go to, nothing holding you up. The extension of a helping hand almost brings you to tears, and you whisper with true gratitude.

“Thank you.”

You lose hold of the strings stitching you together as you stare at parts and pieces spread out around your knees, screwdriver abandoned, instructions crumpled up and tossed to the corner.

The ache in your heart is physically spreading. It’s crumbling your weary bones to dust, zapping your strength and resolve away until there’s only despair, desperation left in its wake. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to stem the loss of the control, the tears slipping down your cheeks. “I can’t do this.”

It’s the first time you’ve admitted defeat, and your arms fall limp before wrapping around your belly. “I can’t. I can’t do it.” The words are stifled by gut wrenching sobs, the wave of hopelessness washing over you like a wall of water intent on destruction.

How will you do this alone?

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, slowly stroking over the curve of your bump, rocking back and forth. “It’s just you and me little sunbeam, and I- I don’t know how to do this. I’m going to mess it up.” That’s the crux of it, the heaviness weighing on your shoulders. You’re going to fail. You don’t know how to be a mom, you never imagined doing all this alone.

You wish they were here, you want them here, against all better judgement, and as you lay down on the carpet in the baby’s room, you close your eyes and allow indulgence, a fantasy where you’re not alone. Where you’re curled up on the couch between them, safe and warm. They tell you they love you, assure you how good of a job you’re doing, how wonderful of a mom you’ll be. A dream where they would hold you, wipe your tears, hold their hands to your belly to feel the baby kick. You’d experience all the firsts together, watch Penny become a big sister together, go through all of the highs and lows together.

The fantasy falls away as the cold creep of dread drags you back to reality.

They don’t love you.

They never did.

Your dreams are just that, dreams. Made up nonsense that never existed in the first place.

Something is wrong.

His knees flex on the bench, attention fixated on the giant sliding doors at the entrance of the hospital.

He’s unsettled. It’s a rare feeling, but Phillip fucking Graves appearing in the hallway today like a nightmare that never goes away has thrown him off kilter.

“Have a man in surgery here. Flown in on a medivac this morning.”

He threw a barb at Johnny immediately after, a comment in jest, but there was something unusual about the glint in his eye.

It was a shine Simon recognized well. The ripple of a hunter, on a scent track of prey.

You’re ten minutes late now, but it’s not unheard of. You rarely, if ever, get out on time.

It never concerns him, except for today. A cloud lingers overhead, caliginous and heavy with rain, waiting for the right moment to change everyone’s day, to spoil it all.

It’s a bad sign, and he doesn’t know why.

When the clock hits twenty minutes past, he texts you.

No response.

He texts again.

No response, again.

When he calls, the phone doesn’t ring. He tries a second time, and then a third, before shoving it into his pocket and stalking inside to the information desk, conveniently placed right in front of the double doors.

“I need a visitor pass.” He towers over the poor girl behind the counter, and she blanches. “For the ICU. I have a family member up there.”

“O-okay.”

There’s only one person at the nurses’ station, a man, a doctor, who is regarding him with cold curiosity as Simon comes striding over, your name on his lips.

“Wait… you’re one of the boyfriends, right?” His tags reads ‘MD’ with his first initial and last name. J. Marshall. He holds his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know where she is. She ran out of here hours ago.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Asked to borrow my car and everything, said she…” He’s still talking, but nothing is registering. There’s a high-pitched frequency ringing in the back of Simon's head, a whine turning to a roar, a tinny sound making the backs of his eyes hurt.

He leans into Marshall’s face, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Where did she say you could pick it up?”

“S-south station. Get the fuck off me-“ Simon shoves him backward, sending him flying on the rolling chair he was lounging in. “I’m calling security!”

“Don’t bother.” Simon doesn’t look back. By the time the call connects, he’s already on the first floor and almost out the door.

“She came home in the middle of the day.” Johnny’s pacing, hands in his hair, ignoring Simon’s pleas to sit down, calm down. “Lou said she seemed off.”

“Something must have spooked her.” He accedes, staring at a spot on the wall, trying to put it all together. You wouldn’t have run without a reason. After everything, after all this time spent together, building trust, building love, a relationship, it’s the one thing he knows for certain. You’re in danger, he can feel it.

Johnny stumbles, careening to the side, and Simon darts forward, tugging him into his chest, nose in his hair. His breath catches, once, twice, before it breaks into a wet cough, a cracked cry caught in his throat, crestfallen and agonized, and Simon tries to soothe him. “We’ll find her.” They have to, there’s no other option, no other paths that don’t lead to you.

“She’s out there alone,” Johnny shakes his head, “she’s in danger, she must be.” He knows it just as Simon does, knows you like he knows each line in Simon’s palm.

“We’ll find her love, we will.” The rest of it hovers in the air between them, the painful acknowledgment that maybe they’re not so different from your abuser, maybe they’re no better than the man who brutalized you. They’d chase you across oceans, across the globe to bring you home. They’d use all their resources, manipulate systems, act with violence, to see you again. To hold you.

“What if she doesnae want us to find her? What if…”

“That’s not why she left.” Simon’s resolute in his denial of the possibility. You haven’t run away from them. You ran from something, someone, hunting you. “We’ll fix it.”

It’s been six weeks since they’ve seen you.

Six weeks since they’ve seen your smile, the thing they worked so hard to earn, the curve of your lips that you graciously gifted them along with your trust. Six weeks, since they’ve heard your laugh, held your hand, rolled over and felt the heat of your body between them in bed.

The hallway is full of doors, but none of them lead to you.

Their smart girl, so clever, a fox in the woods, a master of camouflage, of stealth. Or, as Kate said-

your girl is ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse?

In these moments, the quiet dark ones where Johnny stares at the ceiling in bed, he wonders if you’re more. If you held out on them, this whole time, if there’s something else.

It’s ridiculous, he knows that, but the ache in his heart demands answers, explanations, things he can’t provide.

“Close your eyes sweet boy.” Simon kisses his neck, thumb stroking circles into his collarbone.

“She’s out there somewhere, Si, on her own.” His voice cracks, Simon’s arms tighten.

“I know.” A phone buzzes on the nightstand, and Johnny jolts, heart leaping in his chest.

It’s a text from Kate.

>Finally got the footage.

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish cod #ghost x reader

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edenesth · 2 days ago

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By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

"N-No, please! Spare me! I was wrong! I swear I'll never do it again!" The man's voice cracked as he grovelled on the damp ground, tears carving paths through the grime on his face. His trembling hands offered up the tiny diamond he'd been foolish enough to steal—his last-ditch effort to appease the eight figures towering over him like shadows of death.

He'd heard the whispers, the warnings: Never cross the Black Pirates. Never touch what belongs to them. Never even think of betrayal. Yet greed had blinded him. Now, staring into their cold, merciless eyes, he knew his regret was far too late.

The leader of the gang stepped forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head, studying the pitiful man like a cat sizing up a doomed mouse. "Didn't I ask you to screen these rats better?" he drawled, casting a sideways glance at the eldest among them before shifting his focus back to their prey. "No time to waste. Finish him."

A low chuckle echoed through the tension-filled night as the gang's usual executioner, a broad-shouldered figure clad in his signature fur coat, stepped forward, his grin as sharp as the blade in his hand.

"Sorry, buddy," he mused, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This will be the night you take your final breath—by order of the Black fuckin' Pirates."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Watching the harrowing scene from a distance stood a figure with crossed arms, his voice low as he muttered to his right-hand, "Every man has a weakness. Find the Black Pirates', and we'll knock them off their high horses."

"And if they have none, sir?"

The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then we'll make sure they do."

Pairing(s): gang members!ateez x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Summary: One by one, the Black Pirates uncover their greatest weakness. But when the cracks begin to show, will they stand firm or let their vulnerabilities bring their empire to its knees?

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, murder, language, contains dark themes in general

A/N: Credits to the wonderful @sundaybossanova for giving me the idea of something Peaky Blinders inspired. Thank you so much and ily💖

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong

‣ The Captain [Coming soon]

The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Seonghwa

‣ The Gentleman [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' poised diplomat, celebrated for his refined demeanour, sharp wit, and unmatched negotiation skills, is always in control. But his composure falters when he encounters an unwilling captive trapped in the Red Room—a ruthless training ground for spies. Driven by an unexpected urge to save her, he finds his carefully maintained boundaries beginning to unravel.

Yunho

‣ The Enforcer [Coming soon]

The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadly—his easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a mission—someone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.

Yeosang

‣ The Phantom [Coming soon]

Mysterious and elusive, the Black Pirates' intelligence expert is known for his sharp instincts and unparalleled skill in espionage and reconnaissance. But when he crosses paths with a woman who surpasses him in both skill and wit for the first time, his confidence begins to waver. As she outsmarts him at every turn, he finds himself unexpectedly drawn to her, eagerly anticipating each challenge—because the thrill of being near her is something he never expected to crave.

San

‣ The Tempest [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' most unpredictable force is a whirlwind of fiery passion and unbridled energy—always the first to leap into action when chaos erupts. But his world tilts when he stumbles upon a woman who, unlike his victims who always begged to live, is on the brink of ending her own life. Upon discovering she's terminally ill, he finds himself gripped by an unfamiliar and urgent desire to save her, igniting a battle within himself unlike anything he's ever faced.

Mingi

‣ The Firestarter [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' wild card is notorious for his fiery temper and even more explosive schemes—a dangerous yet irresistibly charming presence. But his confidence takes a hit when one of his near-disastrous plans is salvaged by an unlikely passerby: a composed and resourceful former aristocrat, exiled and stripped of her wealth, now navigating the world's harsh realities. Her icy demeanour and unshakable poise captivate him, leaving the ever-impulsive man unexpectedly drawn to her.

Wooyoung

‣ The Charmer [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' negotiator and master of distractions is renowned for his confidence and flirtatious charm, which can sway almost anyone. But his ego is severely wounded when he encounters the loyal bodyguard of a high-profile target, someone completely immune to his usual tricks, during a high-stakes mission. Frustrated by his failure yet captivated by her unwavering resolve, he finds himself unable to stay away, drawn to the challenge—and to her—in ways he never expected.

Jongho

‣ The Anchor [Coming soon]

The steadfast foundation of the Black Pirates is renowned for his unfaltering strength and calm under pressure. As the gang's moral compass and protector, he's always put duty above all else. But when a rival gang's attack threatens the life of their kind-hearted hired doctor, he begins to realise that his priorities extend beyond just his brothers. Torn between his loyalty to the gang and his growing feelings for her, he faces an agonising choice: protect his family or save her.

Voila, my loves! As promised, I finally managed to come up with a little something for this comeback teehee. I hope you're as excited about this as I am! Truthfully, I just returned from a 10-day trip in Shanghai and am back to work on Monday already - which means I might not be able to write much until the following weekend but I will do my best to get the parts out ASAP!

Super excited to hear your thoughts on the concept! Do let me know which member's summary enticed you the most!✨ and of course, just leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged for when the parts are released!

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @bethelighthalazia @tsunchani

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 1 day ago

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BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 1

Summary: When your very curious robot boyfriend finds all of your old sex toys. Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: Smut but that goes without saying for this fic p.s. I put out a mini drabble as well right before this in case you didn't catch it hehe p.p.s I have another temperature play drabble request so keep an eye out for that one in the future 🤭 Requested by an anon 💜

"What are these?" Jungkook asks when he walks into the living room where I'm sat down watching Hidden Love for the fifth time, holding up my little black box that I had hidden away and had completely forgotten about.

"NOTHING!" I say hurriedly, scrambling to get off the couch and tripping over the blanket I was using in the process. I regain my footing, run up to him and reach for the box but he holds it over my head, completely out of my reach.

"Are you cheating on me?" he teases, the objects in the box being ones I used before I got him. "You seriously think I would use those anymore? Now give it here!" I jump but once my fingers just barely touch it he grabs onto my hips to keep me from trying again.

I glare, waiting for him to give them back and when all I'm given is a stupid smug smile I resort to threats. "Give that to me or I will turn you off and make you charge on the floor instead of in bed with me" his eyes widen, not expecting that and deciding to do as I say, handing me the box of various sex toys that could never truly satisfy me.

"Why do you have so many?" he asks, picking up one very elaborate and confusing looking one that I snatch out of his hand immediately and put back in the box, shoving it in the back of my closet.

"Because none of them did everything I wanted them to" I sigh and close the door in hopes to help change the subject. When I try to walk past him though he stops me by wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me back to stand in front of him.

"I don't know why I asked since I know how needy my baby is" he says, his voice dropping a bit while he places kisses on my neck, knowing that'll help take the edge off.

"Why do you always have to go through my t-things?" I stutter, my resolve of trying to stay upset with him faltering. "Because I wanna know everything about you baby, and that includes all of your dirty little secrets" he says directly into my ear before sucking on the sensitive skin right below.

I shudder at the thought of letting him in that much and I know I will eventually but his want to figure out as many ways as he can to please me on his own is way too fun to experience, no matter how embarrassing it might seem.

"You like that huh? The thought of me knowing everything about you, all your deepest darkest desires that you haven't even dared to say out loud. My baby likes to hide that away huh? Too afraid to even tell me what she wants sometimes. That's pretty selfish don't you think?" he says, his grip on my waist tightening when he pulls me closer, his sensors picking up on my arousal and in turn hardening his length for me to use as I see fit.

"Why don't you let me use some of those on you tonight hm? Or better yet, let me watch you use them to get yourself off. I bet you'd look adorable, so frustrated and begging for release but never quite getting exactly what you wanted" he says but I shake my head.

"Too cold, want you" his presence tonight being one that drove me into submission so easily. I can't help but become putty in his hands sometimes. He was made for me and knows exactly what I like so why not give into what his programing is telling him to do to me.

"Aw, too cold for you? Needed me to warm you up?" he says, his condescending way of talking to me one of the easiest ways to tip me into that submissive headspace, only with him though. With him things are different. With him I know I'm safe.

I nod my head and my lip juts out the slightest bit leaving him running his thumb along it before I decide to open my mouth and run my tongue across it. His robotic pupils dilate as if they were human and the next second I'm on my back on my bed, him hovering over me with that sexy smug look on his face.

"Does my pretty baby want something?" he asks, caressing my cheek with a featherlight touch, and I blink up at him, still reeling from his sudden actions. He hums as a way to get my attention on him again, wanting me to answer his question.

"Want you" I say, hoping he'll accept my simple answer but I know he won't settle for that. "You've gotta be a little more specific love" he teases making me huff. "Oh come on, be a good girl for me and tell me what you want hm?" he mumbles and peppers kisses all along my neck and collarbone, having worn just a tank top and shorts today.

His hands heat up and run along my skin, warming me up just like he said he would but suddenly his hands turn ice cold, making me push him away but as always he doesn't budge at all.

"What the matter love?" he taunts, his hands quickly going back to a normal temperature. "Don't do that" I scowl, not liking the sudden change. "Lemme play around a bit yeah? Wanna try something" he says, clearly ignoring my scolding.

I squint my eyes at him when he looks down at me, a stupidly tempting look on his face. "Just trust me" he says, leaning down to mumble it against my lips, just barely kissing me before pulling back and looking at me again for confirmation.

After thinking for a couple more seconds I nod my head and he tongues his cheek, a habit that he picked up from who knows where but something that's become so sexy to me and he knows it.

He helps me strip out of my clothes and lets out a groan in approval, running his fingers through my folds.

"Baby is so wet for me already and I've barely done anything. How adorable. Been waiting all day for me to touch you huh?" he says, watching as my mouth falls open when he applies pressure on my clit just how I like it, tracing circles around it and alternating with just barely dipping a finger into my entrance, never giving me what I really want, playing with me just like he said he would.

When his fingers start to touch me with more precision, one finger pumping inside of me while his thumb circles my clit I feel that same chill run though my body and I realize his hands have gone cold inside me making me yelp and back away from him but he growls and uses his other hand to grip my hip pinning me down on the bed to keep me from moving.

"Stay still for me love, promise it'll feel good" he says and I decide to trust him. He knows what my body wants and what it can handle, the signs to look out for to know what's going on in my head.

"So good for me" he says, kissing me and starting to pump his fingers in and out of me again, adding a second one right away but switching the temperature back to a warmer one to help with the stretch.

Once he starts to feel that I've gotten used to the intrusion he changes the temperature just cold enough so I can feel it, my back arching as the only way I can move about since he's still got my hips pinned against the mattress.

"Shh I know I know. You can take it though, it's just a little cold love" he coaches, his cold fingers dragging along my warm walls making me wince. "This is w-why I stopped using them, t-too cold" I admit although I already had before, hoping that in some way that would make him stop but he doesn't.

"You know I'll take care of you though" he says, the temperature of his fingers changing back to normal now, giving me a bit of a breather but soon he's pulling them out of me making me wince for another reason.

"Where are you going?" I whine but he only laughs and gets off the bed to take off his clothes before crawling back on top of me. "My baby is so impatient, aren't you?" he chuckles, settling between my legs and dragging his tip along my folds, his brows furrowed in concentration while collecting my slick and rubbing it all over his cock.

"Just put it in already, please" I basically cry out, the temperature play leaving me incredible sensitive and he knows it, not letting up with this sick form of torture. He places his tip against my entrance, not pushing in and just teasing my hole and when I open my mouth to protest he shoves himself into me, knocking the wind out of me, his response a hum, clearly satisfied with the results of his actions.

"Couldn't even wait for me to fuck you like I wanted to, needed my cock in you so bad that you couldn't even shut up and wait. Thought you wanted to be good for me tonight" he grunts, slamming into me at a relentless pace, his robotic strength being unparalleled in bed. I sob, the intensity and the need to catch my breath overwhelming me in the best way possible but when he chances the temperature of his dick I'm screaming for him to change it back.

"Stop running" he growls, grabbing my hips and sitting back on his heels so he can fuck me onto him, pushing and pulling my hips so fast making my breasts bounce up and down. "Fuck play with your tits. Wanna ruin you but my baby can lend me a hand or two can't she?" he says, talking down to me like I'm fucking stupid when I clearly am, cock drunk and barely able to see straight.

I slowly bring my hands up my torso, ghosting my fingers along my breasts, "S-shit" he stutters, his programing really playing the part and making me moan at his reaction. "Play with your nipples baby, get them nice and hard for me" he says, his hands dragging my hips back and forth making his length disappear inside of me over and over, never ceasing making my cock drunk mind go blurry, my reaction speed severely diminished.

He decides to give me a breather, stopping his movements and putting his fingers in my mouth, my lips closing around them right away. "Make a mess baby" he say, encouraging me to get them as wet as possible, my tongue swirling around them, a pool of saliva now gathered and making a complete mess, exactly how he wanted.

He takes them out of my mouth and my brows furrow, not wanting to stop since the approving gaze he gave me while I did it being something I didn't want to give up just yet. He chuckles and rubs his fingers together, making sure his thumb, pointer and middle finger are covered before using them to play with my nipple making me whine at the harsh pressure.

"Shh it's okay, I got you" he coaches, the cold temperature making my nipples harden painfully, goosebumps now present all over my body.

"My baby gets so cold so easily. Want me to warm you up again?" he taunts and I nod my head, the rate of his thrusts though making it difficult to decipher but he knows and so he switches to a warmer temperature making me sigh in delight. It quickly goes from too cold to way too warm making me moan in delight, the scorching temperature being painfully pleasurable.

"Don't worry baby, it's not gonna leave a mark, I wouldn't hurt my pretty girl. Unless she wanted me to" he says, the offer enticing enough to make me think twice but I shake my head 'no' and he take it. "Baby doesn't wanna be branded? That's okay, I'll take good care of you" he coos and that he does.

Over and over and over.

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prentissmultiverse · 2 days ago

Text

Behind Fogged Windows

On a rainy night, you (fem!reader) and Emily Prentiss find yourselves tangled in the charged space of a parked car, where unspoken tensions finally come to a head. tw: smut, power dynamics, mention of death

(words: 4895)

The hum of the SUV engine filled the tense silence, a low, steady drone that matched the rain tapping against the windshield. Emily’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles taut and pale in the glow of the dashboard lights. Her eyes were locked on the road ahead, jaw set in a way that made your chest ache and your stomach twist.

You turned your gaze back to the passenger side window, counting raindrops as they streaked across the glass, smearing the passing streetlights into watery streaks of gold and white. Anything to keep your mind off the weight of the silence between you. But it was impossible to ignore the occasional scoff that escaped Emily's lips or the way her fingers flexed against the wheel every now and then, betraying the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

You didn’t need her to say it. You already knew what she was thinking. You’d seen the anger flash in her dark eyes when your hand collided with the unsub’s face earlier, and the sharp edge of her voice when she pulled you aside afterward still echoed in your ears.

“You crossed the line, and you know it.”

And you did. But standing in that suffocating basement, staring at the lifeless bodies of three more women, three more victims who looked just like you, the rage had swallowed you whole. The unsub’s smug grin had been the match, and you, the kindling. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until the sting of the punch echoed against the concrete walls.

Now, Emily wouldn’t even look at you.

Another sigh from her side of the car. This one was heavier, laced with something you couldn’t quite place, frustration, maybe, or disappointment. It cut deeper than the silence, leaving you restless in your seat.

“Emily,” you finally said, your voice soft, testing the waters.

Nothing.

“Emily, I—”

“Not now,” she interrupted, her tone clipped and final. Her fingers tightened on the wheel as the SUV turned onto the long stretch of highway that led to Quantico. “Just… not now.”

Her words silenced you, but they didn’t ease the tension. If anything, the chasm between you seemed to widen, leaving you grasping for something—anything—that might bridge it.

You stole a glance at her out of the corner of your eye. The sharp angles of her face were cast in shadows, her focus unwavering as the windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm against the rain. She looked impossibly composed, but you knew better. You’d worked alongside her long enough to know when the cracks were there, even if she kept them well hidden.

“I couldn’t just stand there,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Her scoff was sharp this time, cutting through the low rumble of the engine. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” you pressed, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into your voice. “We’re supposed to just sit back and let him—?”

“The point,” she snapped, finally tearing her eyes from the road to glare at you, “is that you let your emotions take over. You compromised yourself, and you compromised the team.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, but you refused to back down. “He killed seven women, Emily. Seven. And they—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your seat. “They all looked like me.”

For a moment, her expression softened, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same steely resolve she always wore when she was trying to keep her own emotions in check. She looked away, focusing on the road again, and the silence returned, heavier than before.

You turned back to the window, blinking away the sting in your eyes as the rain blurred the world outside. Minutes stretched into miles, each one heavier than the last. The distance between you felt unbearable, but neither of you seemed willing to cross it.

Then, as the SUV passed under the dim glow of an overpass, you felt it—a brief, almost imperceptible brush of her hand against yours where it rested on the center console. It was fleeting, so light you might have imagined it, but it sent a jolt through you all the same.

You glanced at her, heart pounding, but her gaze was fixed on the road, her expression unreadable.

The faint touch lingered like a phantom, sparking something between you that you couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore. You thought about saying something—an apology, an explanation, anything to chip away at the wall between you—but the words caught in your throat. You settled for stealing another glance at her, hoping to find a clue in the sharp line of her jaw or the tight set of her lips.

Nothing.

“I get it, you know,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure she even heard you until her grip on the wheel faltered, the car veering just enough for her to correct it with a light pull.

Her scoff came next, brittle and full of disbelief. “Do you?”

“Yes,” you shot back, louder this time. “I get why you’re mad. I get why I shouldn’t have done it. But don’t stand there and act like you wouldn’t have felt the same way if it was you.”

Her laugh was humorless, a sharp exhale that cut through the cabin like a blade. “This isn’t about what I would feel. It’s about what I would do. And I wouldn’t risk everything we’ve worked for just to feel better for five seconds.”

Her words were cold, calculated, but there was something underneath them—something raw and unspoken that made your heart twist.

“That’s not fair,” you said finally, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Emily’s eyes snapped to you, sharp and full of fire. “Don’t you dare.”

For a moment, the tension between you was a living thing, crackling in the air like the storm outside. The rain had picked up, pounding against the roof and drowning out everything but the sound of your shallow breaths.

But then her gaze softened—just a fraction—and she turned back to the road, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “You can’t just lose control like that, not in this job. Not ever.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your lips. She was right, of course. You’d let your emotions take over, and it had put everything at risk—your career, your credibility, even her trust.

But beneath her anger, you could see something else now. Something deeper. Something she wasn’t saying.

The rain continued to beat against the windshield as the SUV approached a red light. Emily slowed to a stop, her hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing anchoring her. You turned to face her fully, the soft glow of the streetlights catching on her profile.

“I’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” she said, cutting you off. Her voice was softer now. She still wouldn’t look at you. As the light turned green, she hesitated, her foot hovering over the pedal. For a moment, you thought she might say something, but then she shook her head and pressed forward, the car lurching back into motion.

The hum of the engine returned, a quiet backdrop to the sound of the rain drumming hard against the roof. The occasional flash of lightning lit up the interior of the SUV, casting fleeting shadows over Emily’s sharp profile. Her silence wasn’t as sharp as before, but it was no less weighted. It pressed against you, the unspoken words between you vibrating like a taut string.

You shifted in your seat, the leather cool beneath you, and risked another glance at her. Her dark eyes locked with yours, and for the first time that night, she didn’t look angry. She looked… conflicted. The storm outside had nothing on the tempest swirling in her eyes.

“What?” she asked finally, her voice low, almost a growl. The word wasn’t as biting as you expected, but it carried enough heat to send a shiver down your spine.

“I—” You hesitated, searching her face for something—permission, maybe, or understanding. “I just… I’m not good at holding it in. Not like you.”

Her jaw tensed, and she looked away again, but you caught the flicker of something in her expression before she turned. Something vulnerable. “That’s not an excuse,” she muttered, but there was less venom in her tone now.

“I’m not trying to excuse it,” you said quickly, leaning slightly toward her. The space between you felt unbearably wide, and the need to close it—to reach her—was almost overwhelming. “I’m trying to explain.”

She exhaled sharply, her grip on the wheel tightening again. “You don’t need to explain. I already know why you did it. I know what you were feeling.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if she meant to say them aloud, but the way her throat worked as she swallowed told you she hadn’t planned to.

The SUV slowed as she pulled into an empty rest stop, the rain shimmering under the flickering fluorescent lights. She threw the car into park and turned off the engine.

Finally, she turned to face you, and the look in her eyes stole the breath from your lungs. There was still anger there, but it was layered with something else now—something darker, more intimate. The way her gaze swept over your face, lingering on your lips for just a fraction of a second too long, made your skin tingle.

“You’re always so in control,” you said softly, breaking the quiet. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it when her jaw tightened.

Her laugh was low and bitter, barely more than a breath. “Is that what you think?” she asked. Her voice was calmer now, but there was an edge to it, like a wire pulled taut and ready to snap.

“Isn’t it true?” you pressed, unable to ignore the question burning in your chest. “You never let anything get to you. You’re always composed, always one step ahead. It’s like nothing fazes you.”

“You think I’m in control?” she repeated, her voice quieter now, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry under the weight of her gaze. “You make it seem effortless.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, her dark eyes unreadable. Then she exhaled sharply and leaned back in her seat, her hand moving to rake through her hair. The movement was uncharacteristically unguarded, almost vulnerable.

“I’m not in control,” she said finally, her voice low but steady. “Not when it comes to you.”

Her admission sent a jolt through your chest, your heart thudding painfully as her words hung in the air.

“Emily…” You said her name carefully, as if speaking it too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

“You don’t get it,” she continued, cutting you off. “Every time you’re close, every time you look at me like that—” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard, her eyes darting away. “I have to fight every instinct I have not to—”

She stopped abruptly, her teeth clenching as she turned back to face the windshield. Her fingers dug into the edge of the console now, and the sight of it made your chest tighten.

“Not to what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her jaw worked as she clenched it, the tension radiating off her like heat. “Not to touch you,” she said finally, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “Not to cross a line I can’t uncross.”

The raw honesty in her tone made your breath hitch. The woman who always seemed untouchable, unshakable, was unraveling right in front of you, and it made your pulse race in a way you couldn’t control. “I know what I want…”

Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but she stopped herself, looking away sharply. “You’re playing with fire,” she said finally, her tone measured, deliberate. “And I don’t think you’re ready for what happens if you get burned.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs as her words sank in. The warning in her voice should have scared you, should have made you pull back—but instead, it only drew you closer.

“Maybe I want to get burned,” you murmured, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold her gaze.

Her eyes darkened, and her grip on the console tightened. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“Don’t I?” you challenged, leaning closer, the space between you shrinking. “Maybe it’s okay to lose control sometimes. Maybe it’s okay to—” You hesitated, searching her face for a sign, for anything that might give you courage. “To cross that line.”

Her head snapped toward you, her eyes narrowing as her jaw tightened. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just about what you want. It’s about what I can’t have. What I shouldn’t…” she said, her voice sharp, almost acusatory.

“You shouldn’t want me, I shouldn't want you...,” you interrupted softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions churning inside you. “I know that. I know all the reasons why this is wrong – b-but I want you, too…” you said quickly, shaking your head.

The silence that followed was deafening. Her gaze bore into you, unrelenting and intense, and you could see the war she was waging with herself. The lines around her mouth softened, but the tension in her shoulders remained, like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and couldn’t decide whether to fall or pull herself back.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers flexing against the console. Her eyes darted to yours again, and this time, they were filled with something raw and unguarded.

Her jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as she fought for control. For a long moment, she didn’t move, didn’t speak, and the silence between you grew heavier with every passing second. Then, with a slow, deliberate exhale, she shifted in her seat, reaching down to adjust the lever at her side.

The click of the seat sliding back was deafening in the quiet car. She leaned back, her shoulders pressing against the seat as she settled into the new space, her dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that pinned you in place. She didn’t say a word, but the command was clear in the way her hands rested on her thighs, her fingers twitching like she was daring you to make the next move.

You swallowed hard, the weight of her gaze almost unbearable as you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted toward her. Her hands were on you the moment you were close enough. Her strength was intoxicating, her presence overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were straddling her lap, her hands settling on your waist like they’d been there a thousand times before. The leather seat creaked beneath you, the only sound aside from the rain and your shallow breaths.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice quiet but laced with steel.

You did, your gaze locking onto hers as her hands slid up your sides, her touch measured and deliberate, as though she was reminding you—reminding herself—that she was still the one in control here. Her eyes were dark, her pupils blown wide, but there was no hesitation in them, no sign of the internal war you’d seen earlier.

“Do you know why I don’t let myself lose control?” she asked, her voice low and deliberate, her hands tightening slightly on your waist.

You shook your head, unable to find the words, too caught up in the intensity of her gaze and the steady, deliberate way her thumbs brushed against your ribs.

“Because when I do,” she continued, her tone soft but carrying the weight of an unspoken promise, “I don’t stop. I don’t hold back.”

The meaning behind her words settled over you, sending a shiver down your spine. Her grip on you shifted, her hands sliding lower, her fingers splaying across your thighs as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your cheek.

“You think you’re ready for that?” she asked, her voice a quiet challenge, her lips so close to yours now that it was almost unbearable.

“I know I am,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

Her lips curved, her approval subtle but unmistakable as her hands slid up, tracing the curve of your waist with a possessive, measured touch. The warmth of her palms seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt, leaving your skin tingling in their wake. “We’ll see,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with a dangerous kind of promise that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

Her eyes locked onto yours, her gaze heavy with control and desire. The warmth of her hands seeped through your shirt as her fingers skimmed up your waist, deliberate in their exploration. “You’re so sure of yourself,” she murmured, her voice a low hum that vibrated in the space between you. “Let’s see if that holds.”

Her lips met yours with a commanding force, the kiss deep and unyielding, stealing the breath from your lungs. Her fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, her touch firm and purposeful as she mapped the bare skin of your ribs. The heat of her palms lingered wherever she touched, drawing soft gasps from you as your hands clutched her shoulders for balance.

Her lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, the scrape of her teeth against your pulse making your breath stutter. A soft sound escaped you—a gasp you couldn’t hold back—and she paused just long enough for her lips to curve into a faint smirk against your skin.

“You like that,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction, the words rolling over you like silk. “Good.”

The creak of the leather seat beneath you was sharp against the muffled rhythm of the rain now falling in earnest. The windows around you had begun to fog, blurring the outside world into nothingness. Her lips pressed to the spot just below your ear, lingering there with unhurried confidence, while her hands moved with certainty. One hand slipped higher, her fingers brushing the curve of your breast, teasing without fully giving in.

Her other hand at your waist slipped lower, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. She paused, her gaze snapping back to yours, her dark eyes piercing through the haze between you.

“You’re going to let me, aren’t you?” The question wasn’t really a question, her voice carrying a weight that made refusal impossible.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling, the answer pulled from somewhere deep inside you.

Her gaze locked onto yours, dark and unrelenting, holding you captive in the charged space between you. The hand under your shirt slid even higher, the rough pad of her thumb finding your nipple through the lace of your bra. She pressed just enough to elicit a gasp from you, her touch precise as she began to circle, testing your sensitivity with each deliberate motion.

“Let’s get this out of the way,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding, her hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lifted your arms instinctively, allowing her to pull the fabric over your head in one fluid motion. She paused for a moment, her dark eyes roving over your exposed skin with an intensity that left your heart racing.

Her fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with practiced ease, she unhooked it, sliding the straps down your arms. The lace fell away, and the cool air of the car brushed against your heated skin, making you shiver under her gaze.

Her hand returned, cupping you fully now, her thumb brushing over your bare nipple in a slow, deliberate motion. The sensation sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach, your body arching slightly into her touch. Her other hand settled on your waist, holding you steady, grounding you as her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with an authority that made the compliment hit deeper. Her thumb rolled over your nipple again, firmer this time, coaxing a breathless sound from you that she caught with a satisfied hum.

The hand on your hip moved with purpose, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants and brushing against your damp underwear with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch. The heat of her palm burned into you, her touch igniting a fire in your core as her fingers traced the edge of the thin fabric, the only barrier between you and her touch.

Each pass was maddeningly light, the barest graze that left your hips shifting instinctively toward her, chasing the contact. The smirk tugging at her lips was both infuriating and intoxicating, her dominance evident, taking her time to watch every quiver of your body under her hands.

"You're already shaking," she murmured, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction, her thumb brushing a line that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. Her teasing was intentional, her restraint designed to unravel you inch by inch, as if she could sense the tension coiling tighter in your stomach.

Her lips found yours again, her kiss more commanding this time. She nipped at your bottom lip before deepening it, her tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched the way her fingers moved, stroking just enough to make your hips lift involuntarily toward her touch.

Emily leaned back slightly against the driver’s seat, her dark eyes fixed on you with a teasing intensity. “Impatient, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice low and edged with dark amusement. Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke, the faintest contact that left you chasing her for more. She let the question linger, savoring the way your breath hitched when her fingers finally slipped beneath the last barrier of fabric, brushing against the slick heat that betrayed how much you needed her.

Her movements were slow, maddeningly precise, her fingers exploring every sensitive spot as if committing a map to memory. Your breathing became shallow, uneven, and when her touch finally found the place that made your body arch instinctively, she paused, testing. Her smirk deepened at your stuttered moan as she circled her fingers, slowly, deliberately, before pushing two fingers inside you. The pressure of her thumb on your nub increased just enough to draw a gasp from you.

Emily’s eyes werr locked with yours, her fingers never faltering in their rhythm as her free hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until her breath ghosted over your ear. “Go on,” she murmured, her voice a velvet command, low and rough enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Ride my fingers. Show me how much you want this.”

Her grip on your hip tightened, guiding you as she pressed her hand more firmly against you. The angle changed just enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips, your body moving instinctively to meet her. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, seeking some anchor as the steady, insistent rhythm of her touch threatened to overwhelm you.

“That’s it,” Emily murmured, her voice dripping with encouragement as her eyes never left your face, dark and intent. “Take what you need.”

Her fingers moved in perfect synchronization with your movements, their pace matching the urgency you set. Each roll of your hips sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, your breath coming in ragged bursts. Emily’s low hum vibrated against your chest, her hand on your hip holding you steady as you lost yourself in the sensations.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispered, her words melting into a kiss against your jawline, her lips brushing against your skin in a way that made your movements falter for just a moment. She didn’t let up, didn’t waver, her fingers coaxing you, urging you to keep going. “Don’t stop now. I want to feel you come apart for me.”

The sound you made was swallowed by her lips, the kiss deep and consuming as her other hand skimmed over your bare skin. Her touch was unhurried, deliberate, her palm warm as it traced the curve of your side before finding your breast again. Her thumb and forefinger brushed over your nipple with a precision that drew a soft, involuntary cry from you, her movements synchronizing perfectly with the rhythm of her hand and your hips below.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with a reverence that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips brushed against your jaw as she spoke, the intimacy of her praise wrapping around you like a cocoon. The words were soft, almost a secret, meant only for you as she continued to unravel you piece by piece.

Her fingers below shifted as your movements became more urgent, her touch becoming more insistent, her pace quickening just enough to coax another moan from your lips. You clinged to her as your body arched into her touch, unable to resist the tension building with each precise movement. She tilted her head slightly, her breath warm against your skin as her lips traveled lower, leaving a line of kisses along the curve of your neck. Each press of her lips was slow, deliberate, designed to set your skin aflame.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” she purred into your ear, the words like molten heat. Her voice was rich, the approval in her tone unmistakable as her fingers moved with unwavering confidence, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. She drank in every gasp, every tremble, every moan, her hold on you steady and unyielding, as she guides you to ride her hand.

The praise sent a rush of heat through you, your body arching against hers as she took you higher. The fogged windows turned the world outside into a blur, all your focus narrowed to the way her fingers moved inside you, the way her lips claimed every sound you made. Her fingers pressed deeper now, her movements steady and confident.

Her lips found the curve of your neck, her teeth grazing lightly before pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. The contrast of her gentleness there and the unrelenting rhythm of her hand and your rolling hips left you reeling, every nerve in your body alight.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmured. The praise hit you with a force that made your chest tighten, your stomach fluttering as you arched closer to her, seeking more, needing more.

Your nails dug into the fabric of her shirt as you clung to her, barely able to keep yourself steady. She responded with a low hum of approval.

“Emily —” her name fell from your lips, broken and pleading, your voice trembling with need. She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her dark eyes locking onto yours.

“Come on,” she urged softly, her breath warm against your temple. “I want to feel you. Let me take care of you. Let go for me,” she said, her tone firm but filled with an intimacy that stole the air from your lungs.

Her words were a command and a promise all at once, her fingers pressing just right as the tension that had been building within you finally snapped. The world blurred at the edges as your body arched against hers, a strangled cry escaping you as waves of pleasure crashed through you, each stronger than the last. You fell apart in her arms, she held you through it, her touch never faltering, her kisses a steady anchor in the storm.

You collapsed against her, your forehead resting on her shoulder as you tried to catch your breath, your heart racing so hard you thought it might burst. But she didn’t let you go, her arms wrapping around you securely, holding you as though you were something precious.

Her lips pressed softly against your temple, the tenderness of the gesture a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just passed between you. “You’re safe,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing, her hand rubbing gentle circles into your back.

Even as your body trembled with aftershocks, the warmth of her embrace grounded you, a silent reassurance that she wouldn’t let you drift away. You closed your eyes, melting into her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself surrender completely.

The rain outside had intensified, now battering the windows in rhythmic drumming that matched the pulse still thrumming in your veins. The fog had settled over the glass, blurring the world outside as if it was a dream—fuzzy, indistinct, just like the space between you two now.

#requests open #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #lesbian emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution

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greengoblinswifey · 2 days ago

Text

Old Flames, New Fire— Jaehyun x Fem!Reader

summary— you and jaehyun are torn apart by his commitment issues but when he sends you a ticket the ab nct concert, you reconnect unexpectedly with old sparks reigniting during an intimate and apologetic backstage meeting after a show the show

warnings— exes to lovers, oral(m&f receiving), praise kink, choking, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff.

a/n— my first nct fanfic requested by my hg, hope you all enjoy <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

You hadn’t seen Jaehyun in over six months—not since the breakup. The relationship had been a whirlwind of emotions, full of late-night phone calls, spontaneous road trips, and quiet nights where his voice lulled you to sleep. But as intoxicating as it was, it had unraveled just as quickly.

“I can’t do this right now,” he had said that night, his voice low but firm, his eyes avoiding yours. “It’s not you. It’s just, I’m not ready for something this serious.”

You remembered standing there, stunned, trying to process his words. “You’re not ready?”you had repeated, bitterness seeping into your tone. "Then why start this at all? Why make me fall for you if you were going to leave?”

He had no answer. His silence cut deeper than anything he could have said. Despite his claims, you knew there was more to it. Jaehyun was afraid—of what it meant to love and to be loved fully. His commitment issues stemmed from the intense pressure of his career, the relentless schedules, and his fear of letting someone in only to disappoint them.

Now, months later, you found yourself at his concert. The ticket had come unexpectedly, delivered with a simple note, Come. Please.

The arena was packed, the energy palpable as NCT took the stage. Jaehyun was magnetic, his every movement commanding attention. But your focus was on him alone. His eyes scanned the crowd as if searching for something—or someone. When his gaze landed on you, it lingered, a flicker of recognition and something unspoken passing between you.

After the show, you were escorted backstage. Jaehyun was waiting, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his hair damp with sweat. The sight of him sent something through you, but you steadied yourself.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, his voice softer than you remembered.

“I almost didn’t,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively. “Why now, Jaehyun? What do you want?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know I messed up,” he said, his tone sincere. “I pushed you away because I was scared. Scared of how much I wanted this—wanted you.”

Your heart twisted at his words. “You don’t get to do this,” you said, your voice firm. “You don’t get to walk back in and expect me to just forgive you.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I’m asking for a chance to prove that I can do better, that I want to do better for you.”

The sincerity in his eyes was disarming. But the pain of the past still lingered. “And what happens when it gets too hard again? When the schedules and the pressure become too much? Do you leave me again?”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “No. I’ve learned, I’m not perfect, but I’m not running this time.”

You studied him, searching for cracks in his resolve. But all you saw was the man you had fallen for—the man who, despite everything, still made your heart race.

The tension was thick as he led you to his dressing room, his hand brushing against yours. Once inside, the air seemed to shift. “I meant every word I said out there,” he murmured, his voice low. “But if you don’t want this, tell me now.”

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. Months of longing and unresolved emotions poured out, the connection between you just the same.

“Still can’t speak when I’m around,” he teased, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

“Shut up,” you murmured, pulling him closer.

Your lips crashed against each other as his hands roamed your body, making sure he felt every inch of you to make up for the past few months. When you finally pulled away, he had that stupid smirk on his face.

Back at his hotel room, he handed you a glass of water, his usual post-show routine on full display. His eyes kept flicking back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Finally, he sighed and sat down next to you on the couch. “I owe you more than an apology,” he began, his tone earnest. “I was so scared back then, scared of failing, scared of letting you down. And instead of facing it, I pushed you away.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “It wasn’t just fear, Jaehyun. You didn’t trust me to handle it with you.”

“I know,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. “I was selfish. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I want to show you that I’ve changed—if you’ll let me.”

His vulnerability caught you off guard, but the sincerity in his voice was undeniable.

“Show me,” you said simply, a small smile on your lips.

You stood, the black silk of your dress catching the soft hotel lighting as it slid off your shoulders. His gaze darkened as the fabric pooled at your feet, revealing your black thong.

“Who’s this for?” he asked

“Whoever the lucky guy backstage was going to be,” you replied with a smirk, watching as his eyes widened slightly before narrowing in playful challenge.

“You’re something else,” he muttered, stepping closer and brushing his fingers along your jawline.

He eased you onto the bed, his hands grazing your sides as he peeled the thong away. When he paused, his eyes flickering with surprise, you felt a spark of pride.

“You’re this wet already?” he murmured

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you teased, though your breath hitched as he lowered his head to your leaking pussy.

His movements were deliberate, every flick of his tongue, every kiss on your clit reigniting memories of the passion you’d shared before. Your hands tangled in his hair as his lips and tongue worked their magic, drawing soft moans and gasps from you.

“Baby,” you whispered, your voice breathy and unsteady.

“Cum on my tongue,” he urged, his voice low and full of need. You obeyed, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

When he finally looked up, his lips glistening, he smirked at your flushed expression. “Still the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his voice tinged with mischief.

But as he sat back, you felt a sudden urge to even the score.

“Your turn,” you said, your voice firm as you reached for his shirt.

“You don’t have to,” he protested, though his words lacked conviction.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied, your hands already working the buttons. “You know how much I love your dick in my mouth.”

You kissed along his chest, savoring the way his breath hitched as your lips traveled lower. When you finally fell to your knees, his body tensed.

Your movements were purposeful, every touch designed to elicit a response. You took him deep into your mouth, working your tongue from the base back up to the pink, leaking tip. You then moved to stroking the girthy base, your tongue now focused on swirling around the tip, the saltiness savory on your tastebuds. His hands found their way into your hair, gripping lightly as he moaned and whimpered under your attention.

“God,” he groaned, his voice shaky. “I missed that mouth.”

You smirked, speeding up your efforts, determined to push him over the edge. You bobbed your head faster, gagging noises filling the hotel room as his cock got sloppier and twitched in your mouth. Not be able to hold on any longer, he finally released, his body trembling and you swallowed his cum, looking up at him with a satisfied grin.

He pulled you up and kissed you deeply, his hands cradling your face. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice full of reverence.

The moment Jaehyun pressed you against the bed, the weight of him grounding you, every lingering doubt you had about the two of you dissolved. His lips moved with an urgency that felt like he’d been starving for you, his hands wandering over your naked body as if memorizing every curve all over again.

He broke the kiss first, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

Your reply got caught in your throat when you felt him hard against your thigh. A faint blush rose to his cheeks when he noticed your smirk.

“That looks painful," you teased, your voice laced with amusement.

He groaned softly, running a hand down your side. “Yeah, well, maybe you could help me out?” His lips brushing over your jaw. “Let me make you feel good too.”

You bit your bottom lip, hesitating for a split second before nodding. You weren’t in the mood to play coy, you’d been craving this as much as he had.

You felt his tip brush against your wet folds, and the sensation sent a jolt through you. He teased you at first, sliding over your wet pussy, creating that aching friction. The squelching noise filled the room, making your cheeks burn.

“You hear how wet you are?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s all for me.”

You opened your mouth for a snarky reply, but the words died the moment his thick cock pushed into you, a gasp escaping your lips instead.

“Fuck, still just as tight as I remember,” he growled, his voice strained as he eased himself deeper.

He started slow, letting you adjust, but every thrust felt hard and deliberate, as though he wanted you to feel every inch of him. One hand gripped your hip, and the other slipped around your throat, his fingers applying just enough pressure to make your heart race.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispered against your lips, his movements steady and controlled, your body jolting beneath him.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” he asked, his tone dark but affectionate.

“You,” you whimpered, arching against him.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice softening. “And it’s only ever going to be me. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

His words made your orgasm rip through you, the coil in your body finally snapping. You cried out, clinging to him as your release washed over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, brushing his lips against your temple.

Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you over, pulling you into his lap. “Remember how much I love watching you ride me?" he asked, his hands firm on your hips.

You smirked, resting your palms on his chest. “I could never forget.”

Slowly, you began to move on his cock, savoring the way he stretched you. His hands gripped your waist, guiding your rhythm, while his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck that always made you shiver.

“You’re doing so good,” he groaned, his voice full of pride. “I missed this—missed you.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you bounced on his thick cock faster, your body responding to every praise and touch. He moaned your name, his grip tightening when you reached you finally shuddered again, trembling in his arms. The feeling left you limp.

Jaehyun wasn’t far behind. Flipping you onto your back, he picked up his pace, his hands framing your face as he whispered your name like a prayer. He thrusted up into you, pounding like his life depended on it so he could get the release he wanted to. As he did, you locked your legs around him, a droopy smirk on your lips.

“You need to let go baby, I’m close,” he warned, his voice desperate.

You shook your head, pulling him closer. “No. Cum inside me. Now.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment before his cum spurted deep inside your pussy, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you.

The two of you lay tangled together afterward, his hand stroking your hair as his lips found your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and then your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “For everything. I’ll make it up to you—I swear.”

“You’d better,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. Just promise me you won’t either.”

He kissed you deeply, pulling you closer. "I promise."

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brittle-doughie · 5 hours ago

Text

Blueberry Blues (Parfaedia)

It had been quite sometime since you were given your suspension from Parfaedia Academy after your little…tradition of using uncontrolled spells without any sort of discipline within a dungeon you had found.

While the staff, including professor Espresso Cookie, were relieved to know you were safe, they still had to tack on consequences for violating your in-academy suspension and sent you home.

The solemn feelings you felt ate away at your desire to practice your spells and magic, blaming yourself for your predicament. While the academy hasn’t explicitly expelled you, the lack of word from them told you everything you needed to know.

What were you going to do?

Your parents were so proud of you to have enrolled in Parfaedia Academy and now what were you going to tell them?

That you were essentially expelled for your lack of control and practicing of dangerous, unregulated magic?

That for all their efforts, only to have you ruin that?

The guilt ate away at you and your desire to practice magic…

….

…

Maybe you should’ve…wait, was the mailbox outside your window not empty?

You head outside and open your mailbox to see a letter designated to you.

It was from…Blueberry Yogurt Academy?

———————————————————————

“Dear Mx. Y/N Cookie

On behalf of the Blueberry Community, we are delighted to announce an opportunity to offer you admission at Blueberry Yogurt Academy as a Day student in the Class of XXXX.

We feel strongly that based on the results that Parfaedia Academy has received about you that while you’re passionate about foraging your path in the realm of magic, you’ve nonetheless displayed the academic and personal qualities that make Blueberry Yogurt Academy the rich and engaging school that it is!

However, we have noticed that you are still enrolled within Parfaedia Academy and you haven’t made your final decision. We implore you to be thoughtful and careful over your choice, but here, we believe that you and Blueberry Yogurt Academy will make a wonderful match! We hope that you come to the same conclusion as we have!

We look forward to having you in the community as well as what we hope to be a lifelong connection with the wonders of the academy and with the warmth of its family. Again, our most geunine congratulations for you here at Blueberry Yogurt Academy!

Sincerely,

Assistant Head of the Admissions Department for Blueberry Yogurt Academy.”

———————————————————————

Blueberry Yogurt Academy.

An illustrious institute that houses brilliant minds and they were approaching you for a chance to enroll!

Y-you couldn’t believe it! This was it! If you had attended, you could make your parents and friends even more proud of what you dream to be: One of the greatest magic users in all of Crispia!

You headed back inside, all excited and giddy to share the news to your folks…when you looked around your room.

All this Parfaedia memorabilia on your walls and desk. A banner of the academy, a photo showing your first day at the academy, your awards in a number of classes you attended, you chuckle to yourself a little at remembering that you were always Latte Cookie’s favorite while Eclair Cookie was fascinated to know what you did to come up with such spells!

But the one class you never got one from was…Espresso Cookie’s class, he wanted you to follow the steps exactly and didn’t exactly enjoy when you always added a bit of your own pizzazz to the spells, always getting tired and needing caffeine afterwards..

Nothing you did seemed to be good enough to him, but you found following exact measurements and procedures to be unfitting to your style, leaving you at odds with Espresso constantly….

Maybe..by doing this and accepting into Blueberry Yogurt Academy, you can make him and your other professors proud by being a better magic user than before!

You could make them proud of you…

After thinking it over, your resolve was ignited and you began writing a letter.

It was time to get back in the magic saddle!

#brittle answers #cookie run x reader #cookie run #cookie run x you #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #latte cookie #espresso cookie #eclair cookie

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thedissonantverses · 2 days ago

Text

Let’s Talk Taash, Or How Neurodivergence Relates to Gender Identity:

I’ve tried to write my feelings on Taash multiple times now but realized I need to break it down into parts. I relate to Taash on so many levels it’s kind of insane. I’m biracial, queer, neurodivergent, and had a parent I had a complicated with relationship with who died before we resolved any of our issues with each other. I can breathe fire too but it’s a secret.

I’m far from the first person who’s noticed how heavily Taash is autistic coded. The hyperfixation on dragons, blunt patterns of speech, the strong sense of justice amongst other things.

If you can’t tell by the everything about me, I have a searing case of ADHD and would like to get retested for autism. I am not even remotely kidding one of the things that drew me to Dragon Age were the dragons because of that hyperfixation. There’s a reason I’ve spent years pouring over every bit of lore and doing meta analysis. I just…really like dragons….

One other thing to understand is that I have chafed against the gender binary my whole life. I’m a cis woman but to say my feelings around gender are complicated is underselling it. I know perfectly well I can lead saw crews in the woods and wear dresses and shave most of my head and still be a woman, but I’ll be damned if people don’t try to police my gender still at 32 years old. One of the reasons it was so easy for me to accept gender as a social construct was because I knew it was bullshit but was still expected to contort myself into some version of a “woman” that never made any sense. I use she/they pronouns as a result.

Like a wise protagonist once said “Being a woman shouldn’t hurt.”

I was listening to an autistic non-binary man speak and he said it better than I ever could, but when he sits in a room by himself he doesn’t have a concept of gender. He use he/they pronouns but he realized it’s because all of his masks are male. It hit me like a truck then that yeah, most of my masks are modeled after my mom.

I don’t know if other neurodivergent people relate, but it’s one of the reasons I’m so attached to Taash. This struggle against identity and the culture in your house and around you is something I’ve dealt with my whole life. It took a lot of struggle for me to get as comfortable in my own skin as I am now. Taash is my hero because they’re unapologetically who they are in the face of that struggle.

Shokra to ebra.

#dragon age #veilguard #veilguard spoilers #taash #dragon age meta

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overtaken-stream · 1 day ago

Note

Is there a “Sanji as a boyfriend” headcannon list i readed your Zoro one and just wanted to ask if there was one for Sanji as well? (Or even Ace?)

Well, there is now! (Also, sorry this took forever😭)

The flirty face Sanji puts on in front of women falls right off the second you invite him to just sit on your bed. No matter how close you and him were before, Sanji was shy during the earlier days of your relationship. Even if he declared his love for you every day of the week, he still could not believe you agreed to be his partner.

Sanji's love language is cooking and gift giving. During dinner, he doesn't treat you any different than the crew, like before your relationship, he adds extra of your favorite ingredient, just like everybody else. However, you now taste test his experimental dishes, ones he isn't quite certain about, or is insecure to try due to the preparation it needs. You're special to him, so he wants you to feel special and be involved in activities he finds soothing. Whenever he leaves the ship to stock up the supplies, he'll find something nice to give you as a present, such as: pearl accessories, eye-catching earrings, or a souvenir from that island. All paid by Nami's treasures, who definitely helps out Sanji with the said presents, who do you think knows your taste the best? Your boyfriend or your best friend??? You better choose a correct answer : )

He's extremely considerate of your feelings, acting like a butterfly around you, fluttering his feelings carefully and gently so as not to seem too desperate to taste the sugary nectar you provide with just a smile.

During arguments, he definitely tries to apologize first, doesnt matter if he's the one that was right. He will apologize the second after it's over. Even when you say you need some space to cool off, he doesn't let you go, he wants it to be resolved as fast as possible. For his own sanity.

His best tasting dishes are driven by guilt, so you are guaranteed to get the juiciest, most flavorfilled, nutritional plates of hot food that just satisfyingly melt the moment it's in your mouth. It's also followed by a nonalcoholic drink that he knows you like.

Despite knowing you love him, he is often in need of reassurance, though because he has you, it doesn't mean his self-sacrificial tendencies are any less potent, so he makes sure to always say how much he loves you before stepping on an island, or splitting apart in groups, obviously he desperately wants you to say it back, in case something goes wrong and he can't reunite with the rest of the crew.

No one took the Whole Cake Island incident as hard as Sanji. He cured his very existence for betraying your trust and loyalty. He is unable to treat women badly, so yes, he will still be kind to Pudding since this situation was something neither wanted. He is a gentleman but not a cheater.

#one piece #anime #sanjionepiece #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji x female reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #sanji x reader fluff #sanji headcanons #sanji x reader headcanons #.my headcanon.

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lizzy019 · 2 days ago

Note

Hihi! So, idk if your requests are open (if they're not, feel free to ignore this :))

Could I have the gang (seperately) (idk if you do all of them in one post srry(if not, then just Johnny or Ponyboy)) with an S/O who's uncomfortable with drinking and drugs and gets like, a bit tense/anxious when they see either - including when the gang has any - just cuz of some bad childhood trauma?

Thanks!

Love you sm <3 /p and I hope you have a good day/evening!!

Ahh back again with a request haha! Sure, I'll write short drabbles for each of the gang members :))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1) Ponyboy 2) Johnny

3) Dally 4) Darry IN THIS ORDER!

5) Soda 6) Steve 7) Two-bit

1) Ponyboy

Ponyboy knew that you tended to be a bit uncomfortable when he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it within a matter of seconds. Now normally, you'd just plug your nose and push past it since this was just Pony's addiction, but lately you seemed to cough from the second hand smoke and stood far away from him.

You couldn't find it in you to tell him how your parental figure did it too often when you were still a young kid. You saw how they got when they were high off of their mind, it bugged you ceaselessly and you really didn't want to see Ponyboy like that either. But then again, you were supposed to be a bit tougher, so naturally you didn't tell him.

But Ponyboy caught on quick enough.

Now, it was very common for him to smoke when he got stressed or anxious about something. Though Ponyboy preferred the easy way out of his stress, smoking his cheap tobacco, he tried to keep it away from you. Whenever he was stressed, he'd find you and lay his issues on you to resolve them together.

It wasn't a big fix, but if it had you coughing less and smiling more, he'd do just about anything for the curl of your lips and the laughs you shared.

2) Johnny

Now, Johnny was well aware of your trauma and discomfort when it came to drugs and substance abuse. He tried his best, honestly, to keep his addiction away from you, or to a minimum if he really couldn't suppress the urge.

He understood fully why you didn't like substances like weed or tobacco, especially when you had these tiny freezes every time he lit up a cigarette and took a puff. They could be dangerous, fatal even, and he knew that it deeply worried you seeing him smoking them. As a trauma survivor himself, he knew it could be tough trying to push past something that scars your life.

But Johnny should've known better. He should've tried harder, especially so when you started physically distancing yourself from him when he smoked. Second hand smoke was bad, but it was worse because he knew why you were getting so overwhelmed.

You were scared, and he couldn't be mad at you for it.

So Johnny decided to quit. Just one evening, he handed you his cigarettes and his lighter and made sure you trashed them for him. At the end of the day, it was saving you both from a lot of issues in the future.

3) Dally

Dally by no means meant his teasing when you first told him how him smoking around you made you uncomfy. But he tried to at least grasp why it made you uncomfortable, to prevent the disliked feeling sway you away from him.

While Dally struggled with breaking his addiction (he was 12 when he started), he had a goal in mind. Less than a pack a day, hopefully less than 15 if he got good enough. It was just something he tried to do to keep you safe, he loved you more than anything and he'd prioritize your comfort over something as silly as a few cigarettes.

You were very happy when his average intake of cigs had dropped a couple, and it made you proud knowing you were the cause of it. And as of lately, he even seemed to be more cheery because he wasn't smoking that much anymore.

You both were very happy with what Dally had done for you.

4) Darry

Darry is a simple man. While he did like his beer, a cigarette every now and then helped soothe the stress of taking care of two buffoon siblings and all his friends. The man was overworked, you couldn't blame him for needing some affordable way to release the overwhelming stress building and building.

But you didn't like when he smoked. You were scared, truthfully. He was smart, he was a dignified and respected gentleman. Seeing him smoke was like seeing a rabbit eating corn instead of the stereotypical carrots or celery. It was odd, it wasn't correct.

So the minute you informed him of your dislike to his smoking, along with your reason for the dislike to be trauma, he was quick to throw out his lighter and just hand the cigarette box off to Soda. It was efficient, and at least with beer, the effects were more manageable compared to being high off of his mind.

5) Sodapop

Soda in all honesty doesn't smoke that much to begin with. He just doesn't see it as something he wants to use to calm himself for the rest of his life considering his other brothers already cough up a storm from them.

But he especially tried to quit doing them at all when you came along. He could see your utter discomfort at the sight of the measly tobacco stick, and he questioned you. But he quickly took back any jokes he made directed at your trauma, as he didn't know... and the last thing he wanted to do was drive a wedge in between you two because of some stupid joke he made.

That was the day he stopped smoking around you. Any time he felt the need for a smoke, he'd just tell you he'd be outside for a few minutes and he'd pop back in.

Sure, he smelled of pungent tobacco afterwards, but it was the thought that counted, right? If seeing him smoke bothered you and he was too far into his addiction to quit, he would happily find ways that'd work for the both of you!

6) Steve

Now let's be honest here, Steve drinks more than he does smoke. Regardless of it, he'll happily accept a cigarette when it's given to him, he can't deny a free cig!

But he noticed the tenseness in your shoulders, the pained and fearful look buried in your gaze as you eyed him with just a cigarette between his lips. Were you upset at him for smoking? Maybe worried for his health? He didn't know, but he threw the cigarette out even if it still had a good amount left over.

It was then that you relaxed, shoulders going loose again and eyes soft like always. Oh, so you didn't like cigarettes at all, period. Maybe you just didn't like him doing drugs, but he didn't want to question you. Then again, even if he wasn't the smartest educationally, he was smart when it came to things like body language.

Instead of taking the cigarettes offered, he started brushing them off, smiling a bit in your direction as if to show you how much he cared about you. Steve wanted you to be proud of his responsibility, and you were. Well... you only smiled back because his smile was just too contagious.

7) Two-bit

Deadass, this man has awful habits. From drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, to drinking beer while smoking cigarettes, it wasn't uncommon for him to be seen tipsy or a bit stoned every now and then.

But once you and Two got together, he maintained his sober streak for a good while. Sure, an occasional beer maybe, but never too much and never too many cigarettes. He never even knew of your trauma to them until you both were with the gang, and he started smoking just because everyone else was.

Heavily influenced, you dubbed as one of his many poor characteristics.

But he knew at least vaguely from the gang that you didn't like it. After all, it was noticeable how your usually cheery, warm expression would shift to discomfort and appal. He didn't know how to handle the guilt knowing he possibly triggered some trauma you had, and his apologies were in the form of handing you his lighter and bottle opener.

It wasn't much, but it'd slow him down.

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eerna · 21 hours ago

Note

Hiii I have some thought contributions to the Arcane symposium if you'll have me!

I see people understandably angry at how Arcane handles who is or isn’t a villain and I suppose my two cents is that I didn’t have any hope of them handling it right in the first place, even back in s1 there were always parallels made, always some “both cities have good and bad” nuance when one city doesn’t have air to breathe and is colonized by the other. If anything the beginning of s2 was more consistent in that the second Caitlyn is personally inconvenienced she goes full chemical warfare and mass institutional violence

Personally I thought it unlikely that they suddenly change narrative tones and resolve the plot in a way that was satisfying to me, and I knew the pacifist “choose love not hate <3 zaun and piltover arms in arms” both-sides ending was inevitable, so I’m glad they at least had that whole thing with Viktor and Jayce and the timelines to distract me from it

“they shouldn’t have made Viktor, a Zaunite, the villain” but Arcane always made the villain a Zaunite! Before Viktor there was Silco, Piltover chooses peace but Jinx blows the council up and now they have to do a whole “look what you made us do” arc. This was my beef with Arcane from day 1 (it wasn't emphasized enough, IMO, that the villain is Piltover's oppression and marginalization of Zaun, and that this context renders null any "both cities" comparison)

Also Vi was written so poorly this season what's up with that

All that being said I suppose it’s more complicated to discern “writer’s intent” from that kinda show than it would be in a book or an indie project where there are fewer people involved in the plot writing and less interference. Like one deleted scene or one line of dialogue omitted radically changes the message. But well, there's the intended message and there's the manifest message and as the audience we are allowed to criticize both

Of course we shall, step to the podium~ Truly, the "writer's intent" is truly so complicated here, because anti-capitalist messaging in mainstream art powered by capitalism is always a nightmare to get through.

Oh yes it's a good take, I remember the discussions from s1 era well! However, I still don't think the "both sides have good and bad" thing is a red flag in stories, simply because it's true IRL. A ton of people have trouble committing to a side in a conflict because neither is totally morally pure, which completely blinds them to the truth that NOTHING is morally pure and choosing the lesser evil is the way to go. Silco was a brilliant villain to me because he was an oppressor himself, as people in power are rarely anything else, but that didn't mean that Zaunite ideals were worth any less! After all, Ekko held the same anti-Piltover ideals, but he is morally pure and thus unable to become an influential politician. He can support a small society, but not a large one, because no one really can do that without resorting to some bad shit. Just because Silco dreamed of being the same as Piltover's elite and became a class traitor by forcing his citizens into another toxic work culture, except this time they made HIM rich instead of Piltover, doesn't mean we should just give up on trying to make things better. Zaun during Silco's reign is just as worthy of freedom and equality as Zaun during Vander's reign. It doesn't matter that there are terrorists living there now - that doesn't excuse Piltover's violent actions. And s1 seemed to be aware of that, considering how the Enforcers were depicted, and in the end it's the Piltover council who are forced to give up instead of the Undercity. And the choice of peace wasn't as morally pure as it sounds: the council opposed it and was forced into it by Jayce and Mel's combined power, even Jayce was resistant to the terms at first, AND it still left the Undercity in Silco's hands, fixing absolutely none of the sins they committed there. It wasn't an evil terrorist blowing up a bunch of hippies, it was a hurt Undercity girl setting in motion an event that has been brewing for a long, long time, against a system which gave too little, too late.

So yeah, in short, I don't interpret s1 as ever trying to question whether Zaun was right to demand more from Piltover by saying "well both sides are bad so nothing should change". It simply showed the ugly truth to any revolution: leaders are practically never good people, and those who get too close to it are doomed to very cursed lives. And yet, giving up isn't an option, because the system IS bad and the system HAS to be changed, and if that isn't gonna happen by the way of peace, then you can't help but sympathize with those who were wronged when they do something horrible.

That's why it only worked when it focused on individual characters - that way you can understand why everyone is acting the way they are acting, and you avoid falling into broad strokes. S2 instead focuses on the aesthetic of revolution and war and the characters get lost in the big picture, which absolutely sucks and completely negates everything I've been typing about here. In fact, who knows, maybe my opinion changes too after I sit with s2 for a while and contextualize s1 within it. Maybe I was just wishfully thinking and misinterpreting this whole time. I already feel like a clown for defending this show, so I can totally accept that I could probably be wrong here. But I just wanted to write it all out in the name of discussion and interpretation!

#eernask #eernanon #eernask talk arcane #arcane spoilers #my pov is largely influenced by my family's experience with system changes and economic rollercoasters #it is so easy to say ''well both systems sucked and oppressed us which means there's nothing to learn from either and there is nothing els'#but that isn't true! just because both systems chose to abuse the people they were meant to protect doesn't make your fight for your rights #any less important!! disillusion with your leaders sucks but damn it's not about them it's about the people around you

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ir-abelas-vhenan · 9 hours ago

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Did Someone Say Running Back to Fiction to Cope??

It's probably safe to call this Me Losing My Mind over Veilguard 5/??

One of the things upsetting me the absolute most is no mention from the Inquisitor about Varric's death. Perhaps the most integral storytelling mechanism and all around champion of reluctant heroes has been taken away from us, and one of the people he was closest to doesn't feel even a little compelled to discuss him with his apprentice?

I'm still a little dumbfounded, clearly.

Even if we as fans didn't deserve better, Varric deserved better. I've always believed that the better the character, the better a death they deserve when it's their time to go.

So anyways. In my smooth pea brain, I can't reconcile a world in which Lavellan shows up with her unconditional love blazing without first confronting and resolving the fact that her love has led to the death of one of her closest friends. So it's back to the drawing (writing?) board to soothe my disappointed soul.

I saw a version of Varric's letter to a Solas-mancing Lavellan that was datamined and ran with it.

One: All the Words Unwritten

Charter,

Yes, the trail went cold, but we haven’t entirely lost it. Solas left us a little farewell note. So I’m not giving up just yet. Maybe it’s gullible of me, but I know the Inquisitor feels the same: Solas isn’t too far gone to save. And she’d never forgive me if I didn’t try. But I don’t think I’m wrong here. Solas didn’t have to warn me and Harding off the chase when he could’ve killed us like the others who came after him. I don’t think he wants to do this. So, I’m taking the chance. Tell the Inquisitor…tell her I’ll bring him back.

—Varric

Her first tear spatters onto the parchment. The final sentence becomes an ink-stained massacre, and she throws it far away before she can lose any more of the handwriting she’ll never again see waiting for her above the seal representing his best friend’s house. Her palms bite into the unsanded wood, welcoming the bite of pain as she shoves back from the recovered tree stump she’s been using as a desk.

“Inquisitor.”

Morrigan’s voice doesn’t register, hardly rises over the sound of blood rushing through her ears like an open wound. Gods, wrong comparison . But there it is, playing out against the darkness of her eyelids every time she blinks to try and stem the flow of more tears. The wound in Varric’s chest, gushing with no one to hold pressure over it, to ensure the rise and fall of his sternum until help could arrive, no one to watch his back because the woman who did it best is no longer able to. This too, is her fault, and there has hardly been a conversation in the years that followed where she hasn’t looked into Varric’s quieter, sadder eyes and wanted to beg him for a forgiveness she knows he’d have frowned at her for needing.

It had been her job to keep him safe now, her promise to Hawke that the choice to become another martyred hero in Ferelden’s bloody history wasn’t in vain. And here was the proof at last that she was every inch the fantasy-addled fool bards wrote about when inspiration ran dry. Here was the proof that her hope was a mantle, weighing down everyone around her until there was nothing left but blurred ink and bloodstained pages in the famed Inquisitor Lavellan’s wake.

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syndrossi · 1 day ago

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Hey sorry if this has been asked before, but will Baela and Rhaena exist in your story? How will be their relationship with Jon and Rhaegar? Like will their personalities go along? And their sibling relationship?

I plan for Laena to get her own twins, but it likely won't be with Daemon, considering their very different pressures and timelines. Laena knows she needs to be married quickly, as she's had the conversation with Rhaenys about being able to salvage the Laenor situation if she has daughters who can be betrothed to Luke at the very least, so that they can ensure that Driftmark's rulers still have Velaryon blood.

Whereas Daemon a) is incredibly resentful of Viserys commanding that he remarry (to the point of contrariness alone) and b) incredibly preoccupied with the twins. He feels that he needs to "make up for" the eight years lost with them and that adding another person into the mix would take time away from them, as well as perhaps give the impression that they're not good enough if he feels like he "needs" more children. And then there's the active kidnapping attempts that he wants to resolve. Basically, his time is 100% split between bonding with the twins and figuring out how to protect them / end the Volantis threat, leaving nothing for anything else for the foreseeable future.

And Laena can't really wait the indeterminate amount of time he'd need to feel secure enough to seriously consider marriage. Jace and Luke are only getting older; a match with too large an age gap might not be considered. (If Daemon wants marriage two years down the line, Baela and Rhaena would be 7-8 years younger than Jace and Luke, which means they'll either be forced to be very young mothers, as Aemma had been, or the two heirs to the Iron Throne after Rhaenyra are waiting until they're 24 before having heirs of their own.)

Now, is it possible that pressure mounts on Daemon from Viserys, if he's feeling very antsy about potentially getting more "prophecy babies" out of him? Certainly, but Daemon doesn't do well with being told what to do. You're way better off manipulating him. (If the twins themselves expressed a desire for a mother and siblings, he'd move the world to accommodate them. If you managed to convince Daemon that he's not good enough on his own, that he's failing the twins by not giving them a mother, etc.)

Really, the problem is that the story is endgame Daemon/Rhaenyra but I don't want to treat Laena as some kind of stepping stone who only exists to have her twins and then die.

#resonant asks #though @textbookchoices is on a personal mission to convince me to try a valyrian wedding solution #laena will be making her own attempt in the “catch daemon” marriage hunt soon enough #you can bet rhaenys stopped at driftmark on the way back from her stop at dragonstone to brief rhaenyra on the dragonseed situation

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i2rizz · 2 days ago

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505

Fandom: Blue lock

Characters: Chigiri x reader

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The evening was heavy, the kind of night that carried a quiet tension in the air. The clock ticked on the wall of your dimly lit apartment, an unwelcome reminder of how long it had been since you last saw Chigiri. He wasn’t supposed to leave like he did—no warning, no explanation, just the slam of a door that echoed louder than any words could have.

But you knew better. You knew him better. Chigiri always ran when things got too complicated. And yet, here you were, waiting for the sound of his knock, just as you always did.

He was already speeding down the empty highway. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white as he pushed the car faster, the roar of the engine drowning out his own thoughts. It didn’t matter how far he had to go, or how long it took—he needed to see you.

"If it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive…”

The lyrics played softly on the car radio, eerily matching his resolve. He smirked bitterly at the coincidence, his crimson hair falling over his eyes as he shifted gears.

His mind flickered back to the last time he saw you, lying on your side in bed, your body tucked into his as if you were made to fit there. He could almost feel the warmth of your hand resting against his thigh, a casual gesture that still sent shivers through him whenever he thought about it.

You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The memories of him were suffocating tonight. The way he looked at you, the way his voice softened when he called you by your name, the way his touch lingered just a second too long—it was all too much.

"Stop and wait a sec…"

Your mind drifted to the way he always looked at you before he spoke, as if weighing his words carefully. It was a look that could cut through every wall you’d built around yourself. And the way he smiled, crooked and teasing—it always left you feeling like the air had been knocked out of your lungs.

But it wasn’t just his looks, or the way he made you feel. It was the way he left. Always leaving. Always running before things could get messy, before they could get real.

You turned onto your side, burying your face in your hands. "Why do I even wait for him?” you whispered to no one.

"The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start…"

Chigiri’s thoughts were spiraling. He didn’t mean to hurt you, not again. But he’d panicked, the idea of being vulnerable enough to love you fully both thrilling and terrifying.

He thought of the way you looked at him when you were mad, your eyes blazing with a fire that matched his own. It was a look that made him want to stay and fight, but also run as fast as he could.

And yet, here he was, racing back to you.

The knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts. Your heart leaped, knowing exactly who it was. You hesitated for a moment before walking over, your hand trembling as you unlocked it.

Chigiri stood there, rain dripping from his hair, his face a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. He looked like he’d run through hell to get here, and maybe he had.

“Hyoma…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he interrupted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I screwed up again. I ran when I should’ve stayed. I know.”

You closed the door behind him, leaning against it as you crossed your arms. “Then why are you here now?”

He looked at you, his crimson eyes softening. “Because I can’t stay away. No matter how much I try, I always end up back here.”

His words hit you like a wave, all the anger and frustration melting into something warmer, something heavier. You didn’t say anything, just stared at him as he stepped closer, his hands hesitating before cupping your face.

“You’re my 505,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “No matter how far I go, I always end up coming back to you.”

You sat together on the couch, the silence between you more comforting than words. His hand rested on your thigh, his touch grounding you as the storm outside raged on.

“But I crumble completely when you cry…”

The words played softly from your speakers, and you couldn’t help but glance at him. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed as he listened. You reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers.

“Hyoma,” you began, but he opened his eyes and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “I know what you’re going to say. And you’re right. I don’t deserve you, not after all the times I’ve left. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned into him, letting the weight of his presence soothe the ache in your chest.

As the hours ticked by, the rain outside slowed to a gentle patter. The world seemed to settle, the chaos of the night giving way to a quiet stillness.

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” he whispered into your hair, his arms tightening around you.

You smiled softly, your eyes drifting shut as the sound of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep. For the first time in a long while, you felt at peace.

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IM GOING BACK TO 505 IF ITS A SEVEN HOUR FLIGHT OR A FOURTY FIVE MINUTE DRIVE

#anime #anime and manga #blue lock #bllk x y/n #x reader #bllk #blue lock x reader #manga #bllk x reader #x y/n #chigiri x you #bllk chigiri #chigiri x reader #blue lock chigiri #chigiri hyoma

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abysshare · 2 days ago

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Wow..i saw the leaks and just. Wow.

I was hoping they were fake and its everything i hate in a series. I was biting my tongue until i saw the episodes but here we are.

Before i go into spoilers i do want to say that i AM grateful that we even got anymore of Arcane, but sometimes less is more.

Spoilers underneath

Edit: these are kinda messy thoughts.

My biggest gripes:

Too many plot points for a finale

Family trade in ( Bio sister for found sister for bio sister again )

Vander dying, Alive but fucked up, okay, fucked up again, dead, alive but fucked up, dead.

Not bringing up Isha at all??? Not even a quick funeral?

People being brought back to life but Isha and Jinx has to die.

Jinx has to sacrifice herself to save Vi and herself. 😒

The SEX scene.

Better explaination:

Too many Plot points:

I knew it was gonna be too many. I KNOW we needed answers/resolved plots, as well as needing things to make sense. But it.. was too much. Like most media at this point.

Family Trade In:

So... no one really talks about this trope? Or whatever you want to call it. But it bugs me, so much. If you don't know what I'm talking about..

To me a family trade in is when a Character, no matter their role, has family, turns evil or gets lost and finds a family of their own, and then when it seems perfect for them, they end up back with their original family because the new family died for them/their old family or they just.. don't belong/want to go.

Perfect example that isn't Arcane: Amphibia. Anne has to leave her adoptive found family from another universe and can never go back ( until she dies basically ). As well as her friends have to leave their found families as well and also cannot go back. Anne loves both her families..

And while i understand life isn't fair, and that people are allowed to not want to stay here or there.. it just bugs me the trope is to always trade back in for the old.

With Jinx, she "loses" Vi ( and yes Silco but it isn't about him right now ), And gets Isha. I KNEW the second i saw her she was gonna die ( this isn't a bash against those who didn't see it coming ( /genuine ) at some point. While i adore Isha and i am fine with Jinx adopting her, i am not okay with the writers choice of adding her just to kill her and be practically a trade in for Vi later on.

It sucks. I'll just say it out right.

And i want to be very clear. By trade in i do NOT mean replace. I know Isha was never a replacement for Vi ( or Powder ).

Again, i know life sucks, and you just don't get everything you want in this world, especially when it comes to war. But since this is a trope or at least a thing i see constantly, whether its in a pg way or an R rated way... its annoying.

Which brings me to....

People dying / Jinx / Vander:

Why? Other than shock value?

Jinx Dies, and it felts uncomfortable to me as a Psychotic/Schizospec person like her. She should have lived, she should have been able to find her own happiness after properly grieving Isha.

Isha Dies, happy to do so for her big sister(s), but like.. it ends up not being worth it. It both does and doesn't. She saved them time but then-

Vander. Vander is killed, then brought back to life in a fucked up way, then okay for awhile, then fucked up again, then dies ( by Isha ) and then is fucked up again and alive, and then dead.......... and then fucked up and alive again! And then dies, with Jinx!

It doesn't feel satisfying. Of course that one moment was very sweet and worth it. But oh my god? Why do it at all if you're just gonna kill and reanimate him again and again. Its not shocking its annoying by the third time and a joke by the fourth.

Viktor.. Same deal with him? And I'm not even clear if he is dead or just fucked off to space-time with Jayce, but still. It wasn't shocking anymore. Or thrilling. Just like "ah. Okay. Cool mask".

Heimerdinger... when i read the leaks i thought he was gonna die. Then i was watching and thought "oh no okay, he's gonna stay in that universe. Thats nice he deserves that". Nope. He's either also dead or also in space time. I just sighed really hard rather than be sad.

And finally.. The Doctor's daughter gets to live- AND HIMSELF- even he gets a happy ending? Over Jinx or Vi? What.. i mean yes Vi gets Caitlyn , but.. ? Ugh

The Sex scene:

I'm glad for Sapphic rep i really really am. I like Caitvi a lot as well. But this didn't feel comfortable for me. Not because it was an intimate moment, but because neither of them talked things out properly. On top of that it was really random.

Vi was upset, then suddenly horny for i guess.. make up or grief sex? Or both? And Cait was obviously fine with it, but then to suddenly try and talk about Maddie. I'm glad Vi wasn't the typical ">:( you fucked someone else while i was hurting?!" It was so... random. This is why they needed to talk before hand. At LEAST say it before getting into it.

And doing it in Jinx's cell? It feels so.. weird and wrong in a way? I don't know how to describe it.

TLDR: what in the five marvel hells was that other than visuals pretty

#Arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane spoilers #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 spoilers

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differentpostrebel · 3 days ago

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Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

Chapter 51: Aftermath

A/N: And we are back at it again, with a new chapter! This chapter is crazy also! We have a Sanji POV… Y/N POV… Nami POV… Brook POV… Ichiji POV… Its a whole lot of POVs here, and we even some mild spice. But yall we still haven't gotten to the good parts yet and we still have some more hardships for y/n and Sanji. We also got a little seducing in here, as well. Thank you guys for following, liking, reblogging, and commenting! Without further ado let the adventure begin!

Sanji x Reader, One Piece X Reader, Sanji X Y/N

Nami POV…

"Jinbei! Do you think you can break us free?" I yelled, hope swelling in my chest.

Jinbei tried to break the bars with his powerful technique, but it didn’t work. My heart sank. "It failed..." I muttered.

"Should’ve known, that was Montd’Or’s work," Jinbei said, analyzing the situation. Before I could lose hope, Luffy jumped right back in. "Okay! Back to Plan A!" he declared, ready to break his arms again.

"Luffy! No!" I cried out, panic rising in my voice. "Hold on, wait!" Jinbei interrupted. He held up a torch, his eyes glinting with a new plan. "These books are susceptible to fire!"

"Wait, you’re going to torch the cage... with us inside?" I yelled in disbelief.

"Just get out of the enclosure once you’re free!" Jinbei said with confidence, but I wasn’t so sure.

"But what if we can’t?!" I protested, frantically thinking of what could go wrong.

Jinbei remained calm. "It’s your only option for escape, time is running out, and the other choices aren’t that great," he said, making the situation clear.

Luffy, of course, was already all in. "Alright, go!" he shouted, a grin plastered across his face.

"That quick?! Wait! I’m not ready!" I shrieked as Jinbei set the book on fire. The flames caught instantly, and I could feel the heat rising. "No! My dress is on fire!" I screamed, watching in horror as the flames crept closer.

Luffy grabbed me quickly, pulling me out of the cage as Jinbei doused us with water. I stood there, drenched but free, trying to catch my breath. "Haha! We’re free now!" Luffy cheered triumphantly.

"Damn it..." I muttered, trying to cover myself as best as I could, my burned dress clinging to me. "Why do I feel like I’ve been through something like this before?" I grumbled, frustrated but relieved.

As I glanced around, I noticed Y/N’s satchel—still intact despite the fire. The faint violet glow and hue from before were beginning to fade. "At least these are safe," I thought with relief, clutching the bag close to me.

"You survived! Well done," Jinbei said with a proud smile as Luffy laughed heartily.

I quickly changed into another outfit, one that one of the other prisoners had handed me. "Thanks a bunch, Jinbei," I said, grateful as I adjusted the new clothes.

Suddenly, I heard a shout in the distance. "The screams came from the prison library!" yelled a soldier, alerting the others.

"We better move fast," I muttered, feeling the tension rise again.

“Damn it, I'm so weak, too hungry,” Luffy grumbled, his stomach growling in protest. Despite his exhaustion, his resolve remained as strong as ever. He turned to Jinbei, giving him a grateful look. "Anyway, Jinbei, thank you!" Luffy added, the urgency in his voice clear.

“Things are pretty bad as is, we were all tricked—Sanji included. I have to warn him!” Luffy said, his steps quickening as he headed up the stairs.

“Jinbei, take care of Nami for me.” His voice echoed down the hallway.

He turned back for a brief moment and looked at me with determination. “Nami, find Y/N and warn her!” he called, the weight of the task heavy on his shoulders.

I nodded, my heart racing as I clenched Y/N’s satchel closer to me. "I will, Luffy. You be careful, okay?" I shouted back, hoping he'd hear me as he disappeared up the stairs.

I looked at Jinbei, who nodded firmly. Time was running out. We had to find Y/N before things got any worse.

Sanji POV…

I sat next to Reiju, my mind racing as I finished recounting everything I had witnessed—from start to finish. Pudding’s deception, her cruel mockery, and how Y/N had barged in, risking everything to try and save Reiju. I even told her about Y/N’s speech, the one she gave before Pudding erased her memory.

“Think I’m lying?” I asked, my voice low but steady.

Reiju shook her head, a soft look in her eyes. “I don’t. I know you would never mislead me.” She sighed. “I was wary of Pudding, but I didn’t imagine her to be this devious.” Her gaze shifted to Y/N, still resting peacefully. “I knew there was a reason why I was quite fond of her,” Reiju said softly. “And the fact that she risked her life for me...”

“She had her suspicions of Pudding, too,” I added, remembering Y/N’s sharp instincts. “She called it a woman’s intuition.”

Reiju chuckled softly at that, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. I looked at Y/N, her bandaged form resting so still, and my heart ached with regret. I wanted to reach out, to take her hand and feel that warmth again, but I stopped myself. I didn’t deserve to touch her—not yet.

“Will you tell her what happened? Since she’ll only remember you and Pudding being... intimate?” Reiju asked gently.

I shook my head, barely able to whisper, “No...” The words felt heavy in my throat. “I’ll tell her my feelings once more, when I’m ready again. I don’t want to make her think I’m lying just to save face. Hell Pudding erased so much of her memory that it, might overwhelm her”

I glanced at Y/N again, a soft sadness filling my chest. “Knowing her, she’ll be mad... but with her heart as big as it is, she’ll forgive me in due time.” I let out a shaky breath. “I want to do right by her, Reiju. So this is my cross to bear.”

Reiju nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. I let out a deep sigh, unable to shake the weight of everything pressing down on me. "I really screwed up," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... if I accepted the marriage, I would save my crewmates." I stared down at my hands, the guilt eating at me. "And all I needed to do was stop Y/N’s wedding to Ichiji. But that was never in the cards—it was all a ploy. Of course, I thought it would all work out if I took one for the team." I gripped my hair, frustration boiling inside me.

"They fooled our father too," Reiju said, her voice calm but laced with bitterness. "He’s a wise man, but filled with arrogance. He’s dealing with an emperor. We should have been more cautious, but... I believe that Germa should be destroyed."

I blinked at her, shocked at her resolve. "I’d like to pretend I’m ignorant and let Big Mom carry out her plan," she continued.

"Don’t be stupid, Reiju! They’ll kill you too!" I yelled, a bit too loud, causing Y/N to slightly stir in her sleep. I lowered my voice but kept the urgency. "Not only that, but they’ll still kill Y/N." My mind flashed back to all the dangers we’d faced, and the thought of Y/N being caught in that crossfire—it was unbearable.

"Leave the past where it lies," Reiju said softly. "We are beyond that. You don’t owe me a single thing. I only helped you once before."

"Y/N doesn’t owe me a single thing either," she added, her gaze turning to Y/N, who remained peaceful despite everything. "Go, find the Strawhats. Take Y/N and leave this island, Sanji."

"Like how?! I can’t do that!" I snapped, the frustration overwhelming me again. "What do you think will happen to the Baratie? Hell, what do you think will happen to King and all those people on that island that Y/N loves and cares for?! we can’t just leave them all behind!"

"Just run. Figure it out and escape. Stay here, and all of you will die," Reiju said firmly. "Sanji, you have to live—for our mother’s sake."

"Why bring her up...?" I muttered, the pain of that memory still raw.

Reiju took a deep breath and began to explain. "Our mother did everything she could to protect you quadruplets from losing your humanity. Father forced the surgery on her, but our mother... she took a toxin in an attempt to foil his plan." Reiju’s voice softened with each word, the weight of the memory evident in her tone. "It was a powerful drug, strong enough to manipulate the elements."

I could feel my heart clench. I knew our mother suffered, but I never knew the full extent.

"But for Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji, they were already showing signs of the genetic mutation," Reiju continued. "You, though... you had compassion. While mother began to show weakness, you—"

"She died because of me!" I interrupted, my voice breaking under the weight of that realization. "I caused her death!"

"Nonsense! Don’t think that way!" Reiju snapped, surprising me with the intensity of her words. "You brought our mother genuine happiness every single day. Even though she passed, her kindness still lives on in you, Sanji. She selfishly died to protect and save your humanity. You are the future she wanted to see."

Her words hit me hard, but they also brought a sense of peace—a peace I hadn’t felt in years. I sat there, trying to absorb everything she’d just told me. Our mother, the sacrifice she made, the humanity she fought to preserve in me—it wasn’t all for nothing. I had to live up to that. For her, for Reiju... for Y/N.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the heavy silence, groggy but unmistakable. Y/N turned to her left, blinking softly trying to adjust her vision.

"Hey, Reiju..." Y/N's soft voice cut through, and both of us turned our attention toward her. She was still waking up, her eyes half-lidded as she pushed herself up, a tired but amused smile tugging at her lips. "You should’ve seen the look on Ichiji’s face when after breakfast he asked me to have dinner with him… and it didn't go as smoothly as he planned. Her smile widened, clearly recalling the moment. Even though she was still recovering, Y/N had a knack for finding light in the darkest situations.

Y/N’s smile widened, but her eyes held a mix of hurt and confusion that made my chest tighten. Reiju gave me a subtle look—one telling me it was time to go, that she would fill Y/N in on some of the details. I trusted her, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that followed me as Y/N turned her attention to me.

"Sanji... come here," Y/N said softly, though her voice carried an edge I couldn’t ignore.

I hesitated for a second, but then I made my way over to her slowly, unsure of what to expect. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand with a surprising grip—and with her right hand, she punched me square on the head.

"Owww! What was that for?!" I yelled, clutching my throbbing skull.

"For what you did with Pudding!" she snapped back, her tone fiery. But just as quickly, she winced, holding her own head. "Damn it, why does it feel like I’ve been hit with a battering ram again..." she muttered, the irritation clear in her voice.

I stumbled back slightly, rubbing my head, but before I could think of getting up, Y/N pulled me into an embrace that took my breath away. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, a silent message saying, I’m glad you’re here. The warmth between us melted the tension, if only for a moment.

“You know, Sanji…” she began, her voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of pain. “I’m still hurt, and it’s going to take time for me to process everything… especially after seeing you with her, doing something so intimate.”

Her words pierced me like a dagger, and I braced myself for the worst. “You must hate me for what I did…” I whispered, struggling to meet her gaze.

Y/N held my gaze steadily, and her next words took me by surprise. “Hate is a strong word, Sanji… I should, but I don’t.” Her honesty hit me hard. In that moment, I saw the depth of pain I had caused her. Her eyes, which once sparkled with affection, now bore a weight of sorrow. The spark was flickering, but the pain remained.

“It’ll take time for me to trust you again, let alone stop being mad at you,” she said, her voice firm yet gentle. But then, to my astonishment, she pulled my head into her chest, and my hands instinctively found their way around her waist, unsure of how to respond. She kissed the top of my head, a soothing gesture that sent shivers down my spine.

“But… despite all that… I still care a lot about you. You mean a lot to me… Ji.” The nickname she had given me a while back sent my heart racing. My breath hitched as warmth flooded my chest.

“Does this mean you’ll never let me go?” I swooned, gazing up at her with wide eyes. “Ohhh, princess, I do!” I declared dramatically, imagining this moment as a proposal.

Suddenly, I felt the ground shift beneath me, my heart pounding so loud it echoed in my ears. I dropped to my knees, clutching my chest in an exaggerated show of affection. “Ohh dear ocean! What have I done to deserve this angel’s kindness?” I yelled, letting the theatrics take over.

“Now, Sanji…” Y/N started, but I cut her off, unable to contain my feelings any longer.

“I am utterly unworthy of your grace!” I continued, my voice rising to a near crescendo. “How could I ever repay you for this moment?”

The sincerity in her gaze made my heart swell, even as I realized the truth behind her words. I was still in the deep waters of her hurt, but there was a flicker of hope in her eyes that told me all was not lost.

Y/N shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. "Listen, I’m going to keep resting. You keep doing what you’re doing." With that, she pulled the covers over her head, hiding her face and stifling a laugh.

"Sanji, go..." Reiju urged, gently nudging me to pick up the basket filled with food and wine and walk out of the ward.

I turned to the left and settled into a chair just outside, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired pressing on my shoulders.

Y/N POV…

As I continued to hide under the covers, pretending to sleep, I heard a faint click at the door. My heart raced with curiosity, and I peeked out to find Reiju smiling at me. “Now, mind telling me how you and I got here?” I asked, a laugh escaping my lips despite the pain radiating through my body.

“All I remember is that I electrocuted some soldiers, and one of them shot me on the side and hit my head,” I continued, trying to piece together the fragmented memories.

“Y/N, the truth is, you were right about Pudding,” Reiju said, and my heart sank.

“I knew it!” I winced as I spoke, still feeling the dull throb in my head.

“I was weary of Pudding, so I followed her. That was when she shot me. I thought I was done for until you came breaking through her door,” Reiju explained.

“Ha!” I exclaimed, clenching my fists as both fire and electricity surged through my body, invigorating me. “These are pretty handy,” I said, feeling the rush of power before unclenching my fists.

“Not only that, but Pudding also altered your memory,” Reiju continued. My heart dropped as I processed this information. So that’s why everything is fuzzy and hazy.

“She also plans to kill you and Sanji, along with your crew and the Vinsmokes, me included,” Reiju added, her expression serious.

I looked at her, my anger bubbling to the surface. “Over my dead body am I going to allow that bitch to cause any harm. Hell, she’s going to have to fight me for round two!” I declared, the determination in my voice overshadowing the ache in my head.

“Damn it!” I muttered, wincing at the throbbing headache.

“Why did you save me?” Reiju asked, her eyes searching mine.

I turned to her and smiled. “You showed kindness to me, along with covering for me in order to memorize the library to find my captain and Nami. On top of that, I was able to get back my blade. It’s the least I could do.”

“I knew there was a reason why I was fond of you,” she said, laughing, which made me chuckle in return.

Just then, a familiar voice rang out. “Sanji!”

“That’s Luffy!” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. As I tried to get up, I winced again, looking at my injured side. “Damn, that bitch shot me good,” I muttered under my breath.

Reiju stood, and just as Luffy got closer, she pulled him into the room and locked the door behind him. Luffy turned to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “It’s you!” he exclaimed.

"Luffy…" I said, my voice shaky as my heart swelled with happiness. His familiar, carefree grin lit up the moment he saw me, and before I could even process it, he pulled me into a tight hug. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, grounding me in the chaos around us, but I couldn't help but wince as the pressure on my injured side sent a sharp jolt of pain through me.

“Y/N! I’m so glad to see you!” Luffy’s voice was full of excitement and relief, but his expression quickly shifted when he felt my reaction. He pulled back slightly, his hands still on my shoulders, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on the bandages peeking out from under my clothes.

His carefree smile faded, replaced with a look of concern that was rare to see on his usually happy face. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice firm and steady, but I could hear the underlying anger building.

I hesitated, not wanting to worry him even more, but the concern flooding his voice made it impossible to brush it off. “It’s nothing, Luffy. I’ve had worse,” I tried to assure him, but his eyes narrowed, not buying my deflection for a second.

“Y/N, tell me,” he insisted, his grip on my shoulders tightening just a little, his determination unwavering. "Who. Did. This."

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t hide the truth from him, not when he looked at me like that. “It was Pudding,” I admitted quietly, the words heavy as they left my lips. Luffy's eyes widened for a second, but it wasn’t long before concern turned to fury in a heartbeat.

“Pudding?!" he growled, his fists clenching at his sides. The carefree energy he usually carried vanished, replaced by a dangerous intensity that sent a chill through the air. I nodded, though I tried to stir past that conversation, since we were short on time.

“I’m glad you’re free! And Nami too?” I asked, needing to know more about my friends.

“Yup! She’s with Jinbe. She was going to look for you, but I guess I found you first, huh?” Luffy grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Straw Hat, you’re looking for Sanji, aren’t you? He was here just a few minutes ago,” Reiju interjected.

“I need to warn Sanji,” Luffy said, his expression turning serious.

“What happened to your leg?” he asked, noticing Reiju’s injury.

“Thanks for asking, and Sanji is aware of the whole thing, as well as Y/N,” she replied, and Luffy’s eyes widened as he turned to me.

“You knew this whole time!” he yelled, his voice filled with shock.

“Hold on, Captain. I just found out her plan, as did Sanji,” I said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I tried to convince him to run away and escape with you and your crew, but he was worried about the East Blue hostages, as well as King and the others on that island,” Reiju explained, looking at me with understanding.

“He was…” I whispered, feeling a rush of concern for him.

“As well as the well-being of your crew,” she continued, her gaze steady.

“The East Blue hostages from the Baratie! Sanji’s friends are my friends, and I’ll go if they need my help! Same goes for Y/N; her friends and King are my friends!” Luffy declared, his resolve unwavering.

Hearing those words caused me to choke back a sob. “Luffy…” I said, my voice trembling with emotion. Just then, Luffy’s stomach let out a loud growl, breaking the tension in the room.

“Would you like something to eat?” Reiju offered, her tone gentle.

“I’m okay,” Luffy replied with a grin, brushing off the suggestion. “At least I don’t have to worry as much now. Sanji and Y/N know what Pudding’s up to.”

“Y/N! You ready to come with me?” Luffy asked, excitement radiating from him.

“As much as I want to, I’ve got to figure out a plan to keep my fiancée at bay for now. That way, if you do come up with a plan, we have enough time to execute it!” I explained, my mind racing with strategies.

“Just tell Nami to find me in the mirrors and to make sure she still has my weapons,” I added, a smile creeping onto my face.

“You got it!” Luffy said enthusiastically, then smashed the window as he prepared to leap into action. “I’ll find Sanji!”

“Wait, he realizes that’s the wrong way to Sanji, right?” Reiju asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reassured her, chuckling at Luffy’s reckless spirit. “Now, I might need your help with a plan I have brewing.”

Reiju raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “Alright, what’s the plan?” she asked, her tone curious but cautious.

“I need Ichiji to sleep until our wedding.,” I said, leaning in slightly. “Since Sanji’s wedding follows shortly after, that gives me enough time. I need a drug strong enough to knock him out for a few hours, allowing me to meet with the rest of the crew, plan something, and then come back before anyone notices.”

Reiju considered my words for a moment before her gaze sharpened. “Do you, by any chance, still have that drug Ichiji injected me with before?” I asked, hopeful.

Without hesitation, Reiju reached into her dress and pulled out a small vial, holding it up between her fingers. “Yes,” she said, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

I raised an eyebrow, teasing her, “You just carry this around in there, huh?”

She shrugged, unbothered by my comment. “It was precaution, just in case Pudding tried something,” she said casually.

I grinned, taking the vial from her. “Perfect. I’ll drop some of this in his glass. That should give me enough time to execute everything.”

Reiju tilted her head. “But how will this plan work exactly?”

I couldn’t help but smirk, the gears of my mind already turning. “Simple. I’ll play into his desires,” I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes. “And I already have the perfect outfit in mind.”

Reiju’s expression shifted from surprise to a slow, approving smile. “You’re bolder than I thought,” she said, leaning back slightly. “Well, let’s make sure everything goes according to plan.”

I smiled confidently. “Now all I need is the champagne and the right moment. We’ll have Ichiji out cold, and I’ll be gone before he even knows what hit him.”

Soon after, I found myself making my way to the sixth floor, where the Vinsmokes were staying. My heels clicked against the polished floors, creating an echo in the otherwise quiet hallway. In my hand, I held a bottle of champagne and two flute glasses. Hidden discreetly in my coat pocket was the vial from Reiju, along with my thigh halter and blade, just in case. My heart raced, not from nerves but from anticipation of executing my plan.

As I approached the door, two soldiers stationed nearby stepped forward, blocking my path. "Aren’t you supposed to be resting?" one of them asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

I smiled sweetly, doing my best to mask my true intentions. “I’m just here to spend some time with my fiancé before we officially become husband and wife tomorrow,” I replied smoothly, keeping my voice light and friendly.

The soldier hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, seemingly convinced. I took a breath and knocked lightly on the door, though the rowdy noise from inside was already evident. Laughter, clinking bottles, and drunken voices filled the air.

The door swung open abruptly, revealing Yonji with a beer mug in hand. He leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Well, well, if it isn’t my dear soon to be sister-in-law. What brings you here at this hour?” he asked, his eyes roaming over me as if assessing my presence.

I returned his smirk with one of my own, stepping closer and holding up the bottle of champagne.

I met his smirk with one of my own, stepping closer with purpose, holding up the bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. The playful glint in my eyes wasn’t lost on him. “I came to see my fiancé,” I purred, my voice smooth and dripping with charm. “I did say I was going to see you both later, and I must admit I got a little lonely in my room.”

Yonji's eyes flickered to the bottle in my hand before trailing down the length of my body, taking in every detail, his smirk widening with each passing second. He wasn’t subtle—his gaze lingered on the way my coat jacket clung to my form, the rich red lipstick on my lips that seemed to draw him in, and the sleek ponytail that made my appearance sharp, confident, and dangerously alluring.

"Lonely, huh?" he asked, the teasing tone barely masking the intrigue in his voice. Yonji’s smirk deepened as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying the moment. “And here I thought Ichiji was keeping you well-occupied.”

I chuckled lightly, not taking the bait, and stepped even closer. “Who says he’s not?” I replied with a playful raise of my brow. “But there’s no harm in spicing things up a bit.”

“A surprise visit, huh? I like your style,” Yonji replied, his voice teasing as he stepped aside to let me in. He turned his head and called out, “Ichiji! Your fiancée is here!”

The room was thick with the scent of alcohol, and the barmaids didn’t even flinch at my arrival, still occupied with flirting and pouring drinks for the men. Some of them were laughing and partaking in the festivities themselves, drinking from scattered bottles as the night dragged on.

The moment I made my presence known, Ichiji’s eyes locked onto mine, his smirk widening into something more dangerous.

"Well, if it isn’t my bride-to-be," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. He took a slow sip from his glass, his gaze never wavering. "Missed me?"

Niji let out a chuckle, raising his own glass in amusement. "Looks like someone’s eager," he teased.

I met Ichiji’s gaze with a teasing smile of my own, though the tension between us was unmistakable. "To tell you the truth," I began, keeping my voice smooth and playful, "I was feeling a bit lonely in my room." I shifted slightly, my hands still behind my back, holding the champagne bottle and glasses. "But it seems to me you had quite the distraction." My eyes flicked to the barmaid who had her hand resting on Ichiji’s chest, her eyes filled with adoration as she gazed at him.

Ichiji glanced down at the woman, not even bothering to push her hand away. His smirk only deepened. "Just a little entertainment to pass the time," he said, his tone casual, as if the woman’s presence meant nothing. "But now that you’re here, I suppose I’m in for a real treat."

I could feel the weight of his words, the way he played with power and control, expecting me to fall in line like the rest of them. But I had my own game to play, and he had no idea what was coming. "So, I guess we won’t be finishing up what we started back at dinner before Yonji interrupted, huh?" I tilted my head, allowing a playful smile to dance on my lips.

Before Ichiji could respond, Yonji draped his arm over my shoulder, drink in hand, laughing. "You mean saving you from whatever the hell that was!" he joked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Never knew I needed saving," I shot back, shrugging his arm off my shoulder gently, my attention shifting back to Ichiji. He looked at Yonji, sending him a glare that was both warning and annoyed, as if silently commanding him to silence himself. But Yonji, oblivious to the tension, continued to drink, grinning like he owned the place.

“Hey, princess, mind sharing some of that champagne?” Niji chimed in, standing up and reaching for the bottl e with a greedy look.

I raised an eyebrow, my smile unwavering as I held the bottle of champagne tighter, emphasizing the exclusivity of the moment. “No can do,” I said smoothly, stepping closer to Ichiji with deliberate intent. “This is meant only for Ichiji and I.” My tone dripped with finality, and the way I held the bottle protectively against my chest sent a clear message to everyone else in the room—this wasn’t for them.

The atmosphere thickened, the tension palpable as the barmaids exchanged glances, their giggles a quiet but persistent background noise to the unfolding scene. They were watching like spectators at a game of cat and mouse, eager to see who would win, who would bend.

“But…” I added, my voice soft but teasing, “if Ichiji doesn’t want to spend some time before our wedding, then I guess I’ll just return to my room.” I turned around dramatically, my coat flaring with the motion as I threw the words over my shoulder, letting them hang in the air like a challenge.

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, but before I could take another step, I felt a firm grip on my wrist, halting me in my tracks. I smirked, already knowing who it was without having to look back.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Ichiji’s voice was low, laced with amusement but carrying a clear edge of dominance. He tugged on my wrist, pulling me back toward him, forcing me to face him. His eyes glimmered with that dangerous mixture of arrogance and intrigue, his smirk widening as he saw the challenge still lingering in my own expression.

I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let him draw me closer, my free hand coming up to rest lightly against his chest. My fingers trailed slowly down the fabric of his shirt, my touch featherlight but deliberate, as if testing the boundaries of his composure. “I’m not going anywhere,” I replied, my voice soft yet defiant, a quiet promise in the midst of the storm brewing between us.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened, the playful glint giving way to something more intense, more possessive. His grip on my wrist tightened, but it wasn’t painful—just enough to remind me of the power he thought he held over me. But I wasn’t one to submit so easily.

The tension between us crackled like electricity in the air, and I could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on both of us, the stakes rising with every heartbeat. The room around us seemed to fade away, the other voices becoming background noise as we became locked in this silent battle of wills.

Leaning in closer, I let my lips brush the shell of his ear, my breath warm against his skin as I whispered, “Why don’t we celebrate in a more private setting?” The invitation was clear, but it was more than that—it was a dare. “I want you to show me that lesson you had in store for me,” I continued, my voice sultry and laced with seduction. Before he could respond, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, just enough to feel the way his body tensed beneath my touch, like a predator ready to pounce.

His grip on my wrist moved to my waist, pulling me flush against him as his gaze bore into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. “Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, full of promise and danger. “You might not be able to handle it.”

My heart raced in response, but I didn’t falter. “Try me,” I replied, my voice unwavering, a wicked smile playing on my lips. This was the game we played—pushing, teasing, testing each other’s limits, neither one willing to back down.

“Damn, this is getting spicy,” Niji’s voice broke through the tension like a sudden spark, his teasing grin spreading as he leaned against the bar, watching the exchange with clear amusement. “Ichiji, are you sure you can handle her? She might just burn the place down!”

Yonji laughed, clearly enjoying the spectacle as well. “Better make sure you keep that door locked, or we might just crash your party!” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I want to see how she handles you, Ichiji.”

Ichiji’s eyes flicked toward his brothers, his expression momentarily darkening with annoyance. But when he looked back at me, the smirk returned, more dangerous than ever. “Don’t worry about them,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t joking. “They wouldn’t dare interfere. This… is between us.”

I arched a brow, still playing along, but there was something in his tone that sent a thrill of excitement racing through me. He wasn’t just talking about this moment; he was staking his claim, making it clear that I was his in this twisted game we played. But I wasn’t about to let him have all the control.

“Well,” I replied, my voice dripping with honeyed defiance, “you better make it worth my while, then.”

Ichiji’s smirk deepened, his grip on my waist tightening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my skin. “Oh, I will,” he whispered, the promise in his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. The heat radiating from him enveloped me, drawing me in as if we were the only two people in the room.

The atmosphere thickened with tension, the rest of the world fading into a distant blur as our eyes locked. The playful banter around us became mere background noise, but I could feel the weight of his possessiveness, the way he wanted to claim me, to show me who was in control. And despite the thrill that coursed through me, I had no intention of making it easy for him.

“Why don’t we continue this in your room?” I suggested, my voice sultry and laced with temptation, a sly smile curling my lips. “Let’s celebrate our union a day early.” I held his gaze, refusing to look away, letting the challenge linger in the air between us.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened with a mix of intrigue and desire, and I could see the gears turning in his mind as he processed my words. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice, but the possessive glint in his eyes betrayed his eagerness. “You’re the one who came here, after all. What if I don’t want to share you with anyone tonight?”

My eyes still locked on his, I leaned in slightly, letting the tension build between us. “I wouldn’t want you to share me,” I said, my voice a low murmur that felt like a secret just for him. “I want you all to myself.” The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and I could see the effect they had on him as Niji dropped his drink in surprise, both of us momentarily turning to glance at him.

But my focus was solely on Ichiji. “I mean it, Ichiji. Especially after what was left of dinner…” I let the words trail off, a teasing smile playing on my lips. “I want you. I want you in every way a man like you wants a woman like me.”

The heat in the room intensified, and Ichiji’s breath caught slightly as his eyes flared with raw hunger. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he warned, his voice low and edged with a primal urgency. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, radiating a need that matched my own.

“I do actually,” I replied, leaning in, letting my lips almost graze his. “I’m asking for a night with my soon-to-be husband to explore the dangerous ways he knows how to indulge with his soon-to-be wife.” I emphasized the words, letting them hang in the air, igniting the tension that crackled between us. “I want you to take me to the depths of pleasure only you know.”

His gaze was unwavering, the intensity in his eyes sending a thrill through me. He stepped closer, his fingers grazing along my jaw, and leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You think you can handle all of me?" His tone was rich with both challenge and promise. “Because once we start, I’m not holding back. Every whisper, every gasp, every moan—I’ll make sure you remember them.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Please," I replied, matching his intensity. "I don’t need you to go easy on me. I want everything. I want the world to know exactly what you do to me." My hand slid up his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under my touch. "I want to hear you growl my name, Tiger, until there’s no doubt about what you make me feel."

A low chuckle escaped him, dark and dangerously tempting. “Then be careful what you wish for, because I can be relentless." He tilted my chin up, his fingers brushing down the side of my neck. "You’ll be gasping for more, and I won’t stop until you’re pleading for mercy." His lips hovered just a breath away from mine, teasing, torturing.

I leaned into him, my voice a playful whisper. "That depends entirely on what position you put me in," I murmured, letting the words hang between us. "I’m quite… flexible."

His eyes flashed with a hungry glint, his hands sliding to my hips, pulling me flush against him. "Flexible, huh?" he drawled, his voice thick with anticipation. “Good. Because I don’t intend to let you go until I’ve had my fill."

“But let’s not waste any more time.” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I wanted to get through with this to secretly meet my crew.” I thought

Ichiji’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he considered my words. “Then let’s go,” he said, the decisive tone leaving no room for argument as he took my hand, leading the way to his room

As we stood in front of his door, my heart raced with anticipation. Just as I reached for the handle, Ichiji surprised me by throwing me over his shoulder, the champagne and two flutes still in hand, along with the vial and my blade tucked safely in the pocket of his coat.

“Hey!” I squealed, laughter bubbling up as I adjusted to my new position. “Is this how you plan to carry me into the night?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, a playful edge to his voice. “What kind of groom would I be if I didn’t sweep you off your feet?”

“Just remember, if you drop me, you’re in big trouble,” I teased, feigning indignation, but my laughter was infectious.

“Trust me, I won’t let you fall,” he promised, his tone serious yet playful. He kicked the door open with his foot, striding into the room confidently. After a brief moment, he quickly set me down to lock the door, and I took the opportunity to explore the space.

Ichiji’s room was adorned with satin sheets that gleamed in the soft light, a small kitchen area tucked away, and a large mirror greeting me as I stepped further in. Perfect, I thought, excitement bubbling within me.

As I made my way toward the kitchen aisle, Ichiji spun me around, pulling me close and kissing me hungrily. I hooked my arm around his neck, my heart racing as our lips moved together. But just as things were heating up, he began to fumble with my coat, trying to open it.

I laughed, pulling away playfully. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in bed while I open this up for us?” I suggested a teasing smile on my lips.

Ichiji eagerly nodded, his gaze burning with desire as he turned around and made his way toward the bed. I took a moment to admire the way he moved, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

I placed the glasses and the bottle of champagne on the kitchen aisle before I pulled out the sleep vial from one of my coat pockets. Quickly, I opened the cork and poured a generous amount into his glass, closing it swiftly and returning it to my pocket. With the bottle of champagne in hand, I uncorked it, the fizz spraying out and hitting my skin.

“Oops!” I laughed, turning to see Ichiji already removing his shirt and pants, his toned physique illuminated by the soft glow of the room. I poured generous amounts of champagne into both glasses, savoring the moment.

With a playful smirk, I grabbed the bottle and sashayed my hips as I approached him, handing it to him. “Hold, please,” I instructed, my voice low and sultry.

Ichiji took the bottle, his eyes darkening with desire as I reached for our glasses. I handed him his, the warmth of his hand brushing against mine, sending a thrill through me. I slowly sipped from my champagne glass, feeling the bubbles dance on my tongue, while Ichiji mirrored my movements, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

With a playful grin, I grabbed the bottle and set it beside the bed before taking his hand, our fingers intertwining. “Cheers, to a memorable night,” I declared, our glasses clinking together before we both downed the champagne in one swift motion.

“Looks like we’ll need another refill, huh?” I laughed, the excitement bubbling inside me. Without warning, Ichiji threw his glass against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room.

I raised an eyebrow at his reckless abandon but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my lips. As he reached for me, I placed my glass down, my heart racing as I made my way up slowly, teasing him with my movements.

“Why don’t we take this off?” I suggested, my voice low and inviting as I untied my coat. The fabric slipped from my shoulders, revealing the black lace underneath.

Ichiji’s eyes widened, raking over my figure with a hunger that made my pulse quicken. “Black lace…” he murmured, his hands ghosting over the delicate fabric, igniting sparks of electricity across my skin. I could feel the heat radiating from him, and it sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me. “I thought it fit the theme… you don’t like it?” I said in a sweet, teasing tone, feigning innocence as I glanced up at him through my lashes.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened, a primal hunger flickering in his gaze as he took a step closer, closing the space between us. “Like it? No, Y/N. I don’t just like it,” he said, his voice low and filled with a raw, unrestrained desire. “I crave it. I want to feel every inch of you, to taste that fiery spirit of yours that makes me lose control.”

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I felt a flush of heat creep across my cheeks. The intensity of his gaze held me captive, and I could see the hunger burning in his eyes—a hunger that mirrored my own.

“You have no idea how hard it is to resist you right now,” he continued, his hands inching up to my waist, fingers grazing my skin through the delicate lace. “Every second that passes just makes me want you more. You’re driving me wild.” Ichiji then began to place kisses on my neck, causing me to sigh in delight.

His fingers trailed lower, teasing my core, and a gasp escaped my lips as I fought to catch my breath. “Ichiji…” I whispered again, my voice trembling with anticipation and desire. The way he touched me sent jolts of electricity coursing through my body, igniting a fire within that I could no longer contain. “Just like that.” I whispered as Ichiji continued, to tease my core through my panties. My hand went to grab his wrist, but Ichiji grabbed it, putting it behind my back. “Do you really want me to stop” smirked Ichiji as he continued to tease. “No” I said in a breathy moan. “Focus on the mission y/n!” I thought.

Ichiji then looked deep into my eyes, searching for permission, and the intensity of his gaze made my heart race even faster. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a low, sultry whisper that wrapped around me like a warm embrace. “I need to hear it.”

“I want you,” I breathed, my voice trembling just enough to sound genuine, the words laced with a mix of eagerness and vulnerability. “I want you to take me. I want you in all the ways I’ve imagined us together—this moment, right here, right now.” My breath hitched as I leaned into his touch, the deliberate tilt of my head back to sell the role.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened with desire, he let go of my wrist from behind my back and grabbed my waist, tightening it as he pulled me flush against him. “You’re intoxicating,” he murmured, his lips beginning to trail down my jawline and back to the sensitive spot on my neck, where his teeth grazed lightly before pressing a kiss that left me shivering. “Every word, every move you make... it’s like you’re daring me to lose control.”

I let out a soft, breathless laugh, threading my fingers through his hair as I tilted my head back, feigning surrender. “Maybe I am,” I whispered, my voice dripping with seduction, though my mind remained focused. Just a little longer until the drug takes effect, I thought, my heart pounding from the gamble I was taking.

His hands roamed my sides with deliberate intent, the slow, possessive glide of his fingers igniting a dangerous heat between us. They traced the curve of my hips, lingering just enough to make me gasp softly, before sliding up the small of my back. Each touch sent a shiver through me, blurring the line between the part I was playing and the reality of his desire. He pulled me closer, the distance between us vanishing as our bodies pressed flush together.

“You’ve thought about this moment,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that seemed to reverberate through the air around us. His lips hovered tantalizingly close to mine, his breath warm against my skin. His eyes, sharp and searching, burned with a mixture of intrigue and hunger. “Tell me,” he pressed, his tone both commanding and coaxing, “how you imagined it.”

My lips parted, drawing in a shaky breath as I raised my gaze to meet his, letting a flicker of vulnerability soften my expression. “I imagined this,” I replied, my voice soft yet steady, laced with just enough longing to make it convincing. My fingers trailed up his chest, pausing at his collar before brushing against the side of his neck. “I imagined the way your touch would feel—how it would ignite something inside me. I thought about how it would feel to have you lose control, to see you come undone because of me.”

With a primal growl, Ichiji’s restraint snapped. His hands gripped my waist firmly, pulling me flush against him, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. The sheer strength in his movements sent a jolt through me as his lips descended on mine, capturing them in a kiss that was raw, demanding, and unapologetically fierce. His breath was hot against my skin as he moved, trailing kisses down to the hollow of my neck.

“You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed,” he growled against my ear, his voice rough with desire. His words sent a shiver racing down my spine as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin at the base of my neck, followed by the soothing heat of his lips. My breath hitched involuntarily, my body reacting to the intensity he poured into every touch, every movement.

His hands roamed up my back, fingers splayed as though to anchor me in place, while his other hand drifted to my thigh, pulling me impossibly closer. “Tell me,” he whispered, his voice a velvet rasp, “did you imagine me like this—devouring every inch of you?”

I allowed my fingers to thread through his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his head back, forcing his burning gaze to meet mine. “I imagined you exactly like this,” I whispered, my tone a perfect blend of sultry and inviting. “I wanted you like this—unrestrained, wanting me as much as I want you.”

In one swift motion, he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed adorned with satin sheets. I took off his glasses and tossed them aside, noticing a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes began to blink, focusing on regaining his vision. Seizing the opportunity, I swiftly switched our positions, pinning him beneath me.

As I began to plant soft kisses along his chest and neck, I could feel his body react to my touch. “Princess…” he groaned, tilting his head back to grant me better access, his voice thick with desire. I couldn't help but tease him further, rolling my hips against him, feeling the way he shivered in delight beneath me.

“I want you to moan out loud what you want, tiger,” I said, my breath hot against his skin as I continued to kiss his neck, seeking out that sweet spot that made him squirm.

“Ahhh!” he groaned, the sound raw and guttural, echoing through the room. His hands gripped my hips like a lifeline, pulling me flush against him as he arched toward me, his need evident in every strained movement. His fiery red gaze met mine, burning with an insatiable hunger that threatened to consume us both.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his desire. “Please…”

I smirked, leaning forward just enough to brush my lips against his ear, letting my breath ghost over his skin. “Come on, tiger,” I teased, my voice dripping with sultry confidence as I rolled my hips deliberately against him, drawing another involuntary groan from his lips. “Be a good boy and tell me what you want.”

He shuddered beneath me, his composure slipping further with each passing second. His hands slid from my hips to my thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as though grounding himself. “I want you,” he finally growled, his tone both pleading and commanding, his control hanging by a thread. “I want all of you—no games, no distance. Just…you.”

Ichiji's raw desperation electrified the air between us, his grip on my thighs tightening as though he feared I might slip away. His fiery red gaze locked onto mine, blazing with a primal hunger that sent a delicious shiver coursing down my spine. His vulnerability, laid bare in that single plea, sent a thrill of power surging through me.

I grinned against his neck, dragging my lips lower, letting the faint graze of my teeth leave a trail of heat along his skin. My fingers danced lightly along his sides, teasingly tracing the contours of his lean frame. Every touch elicited a new gasp or groan, his body trembling under the weight of his restraint.

“You’re making this too easy, Ichiji,” I murmured, my voice dripping with playful seduction. My lips hovered just above his collarbone, brushing against it as I spoke, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath my touch. “Are you always this impatient?”

“Damn it,” he growled, his hands flexing against my thighs as his frustration boiled over. “Just…don’t tease me!” His voice cracked slightly, a mix of command and plea that made my grin widen. “I want you—now.”

I chuckled softly, noticing the way his eyelids were growing heavy, a telltale sign that he was beginning to succumb to sleep. Bingo! It’s working, I thought with a mischievous grin.

I continued to tease him, a playful glint in my eyes as I took his hands and dragged them over my body, finally placing them to rest on my bra. “Would you be a dear and hold still?” I asked sweetly, my voice low and sultry.

As I began to unhook the bra, I let the straps fall slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitched at the sight. “That’s it, Ichiji,” I purred, leaning in closer, letting him feel the warmth radiating off me. “Soon, you will have everything you’ve desired.”

I slowly rolled my hips again, feeling him sink deeper into the mattress beneath me. “What’s wrong?” I teased, grabbing my discarded bra and tossing it aside, his hands firmly resting on my breasts.

Ichiji soon bucked his hips, trying to get more friction, causing a soft moan to escape my lips. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, but I needed to stay focused on my mission. However, as I began to notice Ichiji's hands slowly slipping from their grip, I decided it was time to switch things up.

I stood up from my position, a soft whine leaving his lips, and sauntered over to grab the bottle of champagne once more. “You know, tiger,” I said with a sly smile, “you look so good right now.” I poured some of the champagne over him, the cold liquid mixing with his warmth, and he moaned in delight.

“I wonder how good you taste,” I murmured, leaning down to lick the champagne from his chest, savoring the flavor of both the drink and the man beneath me. The sweet tang of the champagne mixed with the salty taste of his skin, creating a heady combination that sent a thrill down my spine. I continued to trace teasing licks on his chest, going lower towards his defined abs.

“Y/N…” he groaned, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re killing me.”

With a sudden surge of energy, Ichiji flipped me over, pinning me beneath him as the champagne bottle clattered to the floor, rolling away unnoticed. His hands gripped my wrists, holding them firmly above my head as he leaned down, his face hovering just inches from mine. His breath was hot against my lips, and his crimson eyes burned with intensity.

“You really think you can tease me like that and get away with it?” he growled, his voice rough and low, sending a thrill through me.

I smirked up at him, maintaining my confident demeanor despite the rapid beating of my heart. “Come on, tiger,” I whispered, my voice dripping with challenge. “Show me how serious you are.”

His grin widened, predatory and wicked, as he captured my lips in a kiss that was as much a battle as it was a surrender. Heat surged between us as his lips moved against mine, hungry and demanding. His grip on my wrists loosened just enough for me to slide my hands free, trailing them down his chest and feeling the hard contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

He groaned against my mouth, his hands moving to my waist and pulling me closer, his fingers digging into my sides as though trying to ground himself in the chaos of the moment. I rolled my hips against him, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him that fueled my confidence further.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against my lips, his voice raw with need. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve, every inch, as though he couldn’t get enough.

I tilted my head back, giving him access to my neck, and he took the invitation eagerly, his lips and teeth grazing my skin in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire. “Thought about you. Wanting you. And now that I have you—”

He paused, his movements faltering slightly. His breaths came slower, his grip on my waist loosening as his body began to betray him. I opened my eyes and glanced at him, watching the subtle change as the drug I had slipped into the champagne took effect.

“Ichiji?” I said softly, feigning concern as I gently cupped his cheek. His crimson eyes blinked sluggishly, the fire in them dimming as exhaustion overtook him. “Are you okay?”

“I… I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice was unsteady. He shook his head, as if trying to clear the fog that was quickly enveloping him. “Just... tired, all of a sudden…”

I brushed my fingers through his hair, leaning in as if to comfort him. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered, my lips grazing his ear. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

He rested beside me, his breathing slow and controlled, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “Sweet dreams, fiancé,” I whispered, feeling a sense of triumph wash over me as phase one was complete. I got up and made my way to where my coat lay crumpled on the floor. Grabbing my thigh holster and blade, I secured them on my right thigh, feeling the familiar surge of power return.

With a swift motion, I wrapped my coat around me again, tightening the ties to ensure I was ready for action. Approaching the mirror, I took a moment to assess my appearance. I redid my ponytail, ensuring every strand was in place, and fixed the edges of my lips, which were subtly smeared from earlier. Just as I was admiring my reflection, I caught sight of two familiar figures in the glass—Nami and Chopper.

“Y/N!” they yelled in unison, their faces lighting up with excitement.

I smiled back, relieved and amused. “It’s about time you found me,” I laughed as they dragged me into the mirror world.

Once inside, I glanced back at Ichiji, still peacefully asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. For a brief moment, guilt crept into my mind, but I quickly pushed it aside. There was no time for second thoughts—I had work to do. As soon as I stepped in, my eyes caught Nami, now wearing a sleek jumpsuit compared to the dress she had on earlier.

"Nami, what...?" I started, but she shook her head with a small sigh.

"It's a long story," she said, brushing it off as if she’d seen too much already for one night. “What about you?” she said smirking. “Its a long story too.” I said laughing.

My gaze shifted, and to my surprise, I saw a familiar, comforting face.

"Jinbei!" I exclaimed with joy, rushing over to hug him. He returned the embrace, his deep, hearty laugh bringing a sense of warmth I hadn’t felt in a while.

"It's so good to see you," I added as I pulled away. Then I saw Carrot, Chopper, Pedro, Brulee, and that odd train guy who had clearly gotten mixed up in this chaos.

"Alright, where’s Brook?" I asked, scanning the group, realizing someone was missing.

"The mirrors mentioned that he was captured by Big Mom," Jinbei said, his voice somber.

"Damn, that's not good," I muttered, gripping my ponytail in frustration. Brook being captured was going to complicate things even further.

Nami interrupted my thoughts by tossing me my satchel. "Oh, Y/N, by the way, here."

I caught it, opening it up to find my second blade, my sword, and Zoro's bandana nestled inside. Relief washed over me as I grabbed the second blade, sliding it back into the thigh halter. As soon as the blades were reunited, a faint electric hue crackled around me, responding to their connection. I crossed the satchel over me, my sword still inside.

I tied Zoro's bandana around my head, the familiar fabric giving me a sense of comfort and focus. "Thanks for taking care of these," I said sincerely, glancing at Nami.

Nami raised a brow. "I do want to know why the blade was glowing even though you weren’t near it."

I smiled at her curiosity. "When I separated the blades, keeping only one with me, the other acts as if I'm still connected to it. My energy transfers through the blade, no matter where it is. I also set it to act as protection in case anyone tried anything, and well if someone were to take my things, they would get a surprise.” I said, smirking.

Nami nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... pretty impressive."

I shrugged, adjusting the bandana once more.

“There’s a lot more these blades can do, and I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface,” I said, glancing at the electric glow around my reunited weapons. The sense of untapped potential simmered beneath the surface, almost begging to be explored. But there was no time for that now.

Brulee, tied up and visibly frustrated, spat venomous words at Jinbei. “How dare you betray Big Mom, you spineless coward! You were given the choice to spin the roulette, and this is how you repay her?”

Jinbei remained stoic, but Pedro chimed in, his tone grim. “The game is rigged. Five years ago, my partner was given the same fate. Instead of a fair spin, his life was taken away.”

“Old hag,” I muttered under my breath, disgusted at the lengths Big Mom would go to maintain her twisted sense of control.

Brulee laughed cruelly. “The roulette is meant to kill those who try to leave. There’s no escaping Big Mom’s wrath. You’re all doomed!”

Chopper, clearly fed up, tightened the ropes binding her. “We’re wasting time! We have to hurry and find Luffy, Sanji, and Brook!”

Without further delay, we all clambered onto the train—though it was far from the most luxurious form of travel. As the train creaked and groaned under our weight, the conductor whined, “Hey, that’s not fair! You’re drastically over the weight limit!”

Carrot, ever resourceful, nipped at the conductor’s arm to get him moving. “Keep going!” she demanded, her determination evident.

The train lurched forward, albeit slowly, and we all braced ourselves. Time was running out, and we needed to regroup with the others before things spiraled even further out of control.

Brook POV..

After a fierce battle and my defeat at the hands of Big Mom, I found myself dangling helplessly in her grip. “Hmph, I owe our little friend a word of praise. He’s the first one to land a scratch on one of you,” she said, as Prometheus whined about the scar I’d given him.

I remained limp, pretending to be unconscious. It was the only way I could ensure I didn’t give anything away.

“Mama, do you plan to keep that skeleton with you?” Pudding’s voice rang out, dripping with disdain.

“That skeleton… Pudding, I’m appalled. Is that really all I am to you?” I thought, feeling a sharp sting at being so dismissed. But I remained still as Big Mom continued to dangle me like a ragdoll.

“Yes, certainly! This is a one-of-a-kind work of art, so I think I’m going to carry it around for a while,” Big Mom declared with a cackle.

“Please no… I don’t want to be her accessory,” I thought, shuddering inwardly.

“By the way, Pudding, you did a very good job yourself,” Big Mom continued. “I’m surprised the Straw Hats made it past the Seducing Woods. Even more surprised that the princess managed to make it to the engagement ceremony. But now, they’re all trapped”

My heart sank. “Luffy… Nami… Y/N…” I thought, concern for my friends.

Pudding chimed in, her voice oozing with smugness. “I know, Mama. I went to see them. It really serves them right. But that princess still annoyed me—she’s too smart to fall for my tricks.”

“Y/N was right about Pudding,” I realized bitterly.

Big Mom laughed, her booming voice shaking me. “But it serves her right for trying to act all hero and snoop around. The first time was hard enough trying to knock her out, but she’s tough to crack. The second time, though, I shot her in the side.” Said Pudding

“What did she do?!” I thought in alarm, fighting the urge to move.

“Once the wedding is over, they’re all going to die. I’ve already sent out barmaids to everyone in Germa. They’re all so intoxicated, we can slip anything past them.” Big Mom let out a satisfied grunt.

Pudding let out a satisfied sigh.“Good. But Reiju was snooping around earlier. She’s very perceptive.

Big mom then halts and eyed pudding. “You didn’t kill her or Y/N, right?”

“As much as I wanted to kill Y/N, I didn’t,” Pudding replied, her voice gleeful. “I simply shot Reiju in the leg, shot Y/N in the side, and knocked her out with the gun. Then I erased their memories. "I even added had someone knock on her door before everything and had her see what Sanji and I were doing, she was in such a shock, tears even fell from her eyes!" said pudding laughing "had to manipulate her memory so that way she still harbored anger towards Sanji.

“That devil!” I seethed internally.

“I must be mistaken somehow... all this time, Pudding, I thought you were a nice girl...” I thought, my mind reeling as Big Mom’s words confirmed everything. My body began to spin slowly, almost involuntarily, towards Pudding. How could someone so outwardly sweet be so vile inside?

Big Mom’s voice cut through the air, her grip on me tightening slightly. “Be careful, dear, you're our precious little bride after all. If both Reiju and Y/N try to get revenge, there could be a disaster,” she said, her tone laced with mock concern.

“I appreciate your concern, Mama, but thanks to them, I got a chance to practice my gun,” Pudding replied with a twisted smile, pulling out her pistol. The sight of it in her hands sent chills down my bony spine—if I had one, that is. “Even the artificially modified people of Germa, along with whatever weapons the princess may have, won’t be enough to survive this,” she added, her voice dripping with malice.

Germa... and Y/N? My skull rattled as I held back my outrage, not daring to break my facade.

Big Mom let out a booming laugh. “What a clever girl! Then again, you are my daughter. Tomorrow, your gunfire will set my genius plan into motion. I can’t wait!” she cackled with twisted glee, revealing the dark depths of her plan. “Then, when the happy couple appears, everyone’s attention will be on the kiss. But once you reveal your third eye, Sanji will see the bride for the monster she truly is. Aim the gun between his curly eyebrows and bam! The wedding guests will be stunned, and soon the people of Germa will be, too. But it will be too late—a wall of gunfire will rain down on the Vinsmokes, and that will include the princess!”

They’re planning to kill Sanji and Y/N! I thought in horror, my mind racing. This is far worse than I ever imagined.

Big Mom continued with a wicked grin, her voice dripping with malice as she dangled me in front of Pudding. “All seven Vinsmokes will lie motionless on the floor, in a pool of crimson... after they have been stripped of that useless leader, their forces and technology will be mine!” she declared, her laughter echoing through the room, sending shivers through the air.

Sanji…Y/N! My mind raced. This isn’t just an assassination—it’s a slaughter, and Y/N will be caught in the crossfire. I can't let this happen!

"Ma-ma-ma-ma!" Big Mom cackled. “With the Vinsmokes out of the way, their science will belong to me. Germa’s army will finally be under my control!”

Pudding smiled darkly, her eyes flashing with malicious glee. "And no one will even suspect what hit them. Once the shock of my third eye and the gunfire sinks in, it’ll be too late. That pathetic princess won't even have a chance to draw those fancy weapons of hers."

I have to warn them, I thought desperately. But how? I pretended to remain unconscious, biding my time. I need to find a way to escape. The others—Sanji, Y/N—they're depending on me…

Third POV…

In the dimly lit meeting room, the tension was palpable as Montd'Or, the keeper of Big Mom's library, sat at the head of the table surrounded by the Charlotte children. His fingers drummed thoughtfully on the surface as he scrutinized the wanted posters of the Straw Hats and their allies.

"Can you confirm the groom is in his room?" Montd'Or asked, his voice calm but commanding.

"Yes, sir," replied a soldier, standing at attention. "The groom is resting in his quarters."

Montd'Or gave a slight nod. "Good. We know their objective is to retrieve Vinsmoke Sanji, and that there were seven of them when Pudding lured them to the island." His gaze shifted to the wanted posters and the rough sketches laid out before him. He studied the faces of Luffy, Nami, Chopper, Brook, and Y/N, alongside the sketches of Pedro and Carrot.

"Soul King, Brook, is with Mama, so he’s accounted for," Montd'Or continued, his tone methodical as he began crossing off names. "Pedro... well, he blew himself up in the third-floor courtyard. We can check those two off. That’s two down."

His eyes moved to the next names on the list, and he crossed out Carrot and Chopper’s sketches. "In the Seducing Woods, the rabbit and the raccoon were captured. So that takes care of them."

The others at the table watched as Montd'Or picked up his pen once more, the tip hovering over the last three remaining figures. He placed Luffy, Nami, and Y/N’s wanted posters front and center.

"That leaves these three," Montd'Or said, his gaze lingering on the faces of Luffy, Nami, and Y/N. "Straw Hat Luffy, Cat Burglar Nami, and the princess... Y/N." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "These three are still unaccounted for. And we know they won't stop until they’ve rescued the groom."

"We actually recieved report that the princess in with her fiancé, the other son from the Vinsmokes." said one of the soldiers.

Montd'Or’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the soldier’s report. “The princess is with her fiancé, the other Vinsmoke son?” he repeated, though skepticism laced his tone. His instincts told him that Y/N’s presence with Ichiji might not be as straightforward as it seemed.

“Hmmm…” Montd'Or stroked his chin, thinking. "I'm not entirely convinced. Send a few soldiers to the Vinsmokes' room. We can't afford to make assumptions when it comes to Y/N."

The soldier nodded and quickly exited to carry out the order. Montd'Or's sharp gaze shifted back to the posters of Luffy, Nami, and Y/N. “These three managed to beat Big Brother Cracker and then escape the Seducing Woods... Yet, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Monkey D. Luffy and Cat Burglar Nami are still inside the Prison Library. So why are we hearing rumors that they’ve escaped?”

His voice was cold and calculating as his gaze snapped toward Opera, who stood at the far end of the room, shifting uncomfortably under his brother’s scrutiny.

“Would you care to enlighten us, Big Brother Opera?" Montd'Or pressed. "I also heard Jinbei was there. What happened?"

Opera stiffened, his voice rising defensively. “I burned them to death!” he blurted out, his arms gesturing wildly. “Can’t you at least trust the word of your own brother?! I swear, I finished them off. There’s no way they could have survived that!”

Montd'Or’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion not fully eased by Opera’s outburst. “For your sake, Opera, I hope you’re telling the truth. But remember... if they did escape, that’s on you.” The tension in his voice was clear, hanging in the air like a blade ready to drop.

With a sigh, Montd'Or turned back to the room. “All of the intruders accounted for or not, the preparations are complete. Let’s focus on what’s most important now—giving our adorable sister Pudding an incredible wedding. We can’t afford distractions.”

As he gave the command, the soldiers moved to expand their surveillance across Whole Cake Island. “Expand your coverage until morning,” Montd'Or ordered sternly. “I want eyes everywhere. No one slips through the cracks. Not Luffy, not Nami, and especially not the princess."

The soldiers saluted and dispersed swiftly to cover every corner of the castle. Montd'Or remained, staring intently at the wanted posters. They’ve gotten this far... but we won’t let them interfere with Mama’s plans.

Sanji POV…

I sat down quietly, my mind racing, trying to figure out a way to save everyone. Reiju's words still weighed heavily on me, her voice echoing in my thoughts.

"Go find the Straw Hats. Take Y/N and leave this island, Sanji."

Her firm command rattled me. “Like how?! I can’t do that!” I snapped out loud, frustration clawing at my chest. It felt like I was being suffocated by the impossible choices before me.

What do you think will happen to the Baratie? Hell, what do you think will happen to King and all those people on that island that Y/N loves and cares for?! I can’t just leave them all behind!

"Just run. Figure it out and escape. Stay here, and all of you will die," Reiju had said firmly.

Her words rang in my mind, louder each time I replayed them, and I gripped my hair in frustration. "What do I do?" I muttered under my breath. It felt like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on me. I opened the basket sitting beside me and sighed, realizing something as I took out the bento box.

"Wait a minute... did I really cook this for Pudding?" I said, staring at the contents in disbelief. “Man, what was I thinking?”

As I began to look at the carefully prepared food, something dawned on me. I hadn’t made this with Pudding in mind at all. Each meal inside the box was meant for my crew—Nami’s favorite tangerines, Chopper’s chocolate treats, sandwiches for Robin, Luffy’s beloved mountain of meat, and even meals for Zoro, Usopp, Franky, and Brook. But the one dish that pulled me into a daze was Y/N’s.

I stared at her portion, the scent of it filling my nostrils. Her favorite: pasta with extra cream sauce, adorned with bits of meat and bacon, just the way she liked it. Even the wine bottle sitting beside it was one of her favorites. The memories of when I made this dish flashed in my mind.

Flashback...

I was in the kitchen, meticulously preparing everything for the crew. The scent of sizzling bacon and the richness of the cream sauce filled the air as I stirred the pot, adding the final touches to the pasta I was making for Y/N.

I had just placed her plate down when Zoro barged in, his eyes zeroing in on the dish I’d just finished.

“Hey!, cook! Where's my meal?!" he demanded, arms crossed over his chest. His impatience always grated on my nerves.

I grit my teeth, turning to him with a scowl. "Your meal? You’ll get it when I’m done with the others, you moss-headed swordsman! Don’t rush me!"

Zoro smirked, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “Seems like you already finished someone’s plate. What’s so special about that one, huh?”

Before I could retort, Y/N appeared, slipping into the kitchen with a bright smile. She made a beeline for her plate and took a seat. "Can you believe it? Sanji made my favorite pasta!" she exclaimed happily.

Her smile practically made the room shine brighter, and for a moment, I forgot all about the moss-head’s irritating presence. "He even got it down to a T! It’s perfect!" she added, her excitement contagious as she twirled a forkful of pasta.

I couldn’t help but smile back. "Anything for you, Y/N," I said smoothly, leaning against the counter.

But then, Zoro, the mosshead, sauntered over and plopped down next to Y/N, his gaze fixed on her plate with a wicked grin. "Hey, Y/N, mind if I have a bite?" Before she could respond, he snatched the fork from her hand, plopping the food into his mouth while maintaining eye contact with her. She blushed slightly, caught off guard by his sudden boldness.

"Not bad," he said, swallowing the bite, then casually handed the fork back to her, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. Y/N shook her head and laughed, clearly amused despite the cheeky interruption.

"Not bad," Zoro repeated, his smirk widening as he shot me a smug look. "The cook actually knows what he’s doing."

I felt irritation bubbling inside me, my fists clenching at my sides. The mosshead always knew how to get under my skin, but this—this was a whole new level of audacity.

Before I could snap back at him, Y/N playfully swatted Zoro in the chest. "Don’t be rude," she scolded, laughter dancing in her eyes. "Besides, it's a dish he made for me, right, Sanji?"

Her teasing smile instantly melted away my frustration, and I grinned back at her, all my irritation forgotten in an instant. "That's right, Y/N-chan," I said smoothly, flipping my hair as if I were on stage. "I made it just for you, with all the love and care in the world."

Zoro rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Tch, you really know how to lay it on thick, don’t you, curly-brow?"

End of Flashback…

I snapped back to the present, the warm memory fading as the reality of my situation sank in. I closed the basket tightly, gripping the handle so hard my knuckles turned white. "I made all their favorites out of habit," I muttered to myself, the weight of everything pressing down on me. My head fell into my hands as I tried to push the thoughts away.

"Forget them... you have to." The words echoed in my mind, but the more I thought about it, the harder it became. I don’t have to worry about Luffy and the others. They'll find a way out, like they always do. But Y/N... I can’t let her marry Ichiji. I don’t care about the Vinsmokes. I can die with them, but Y/N... for her to be bound to this cruel fate, to die with them too?

My thoughts swirled, chaotic and relentless. Even if my life was short, it was a fulfilling one, I thought bitterly. But that didn’t change the fact that Y/N was caught in this nightmare with me. And Luffy… he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t move. He promised he’d stay in that spot until I came back to him.

Suddenly, a soldier from Big Mom’s army interrupted my spiral of thoughts, reaching for one of the meat dishes meant for Luffy. "Ohh, food..." one of Big Moms children mumbled, grabbing the piece of meat.

Something inside me snapped.

"Hey, wait a second—are you Sanji Vinsmoke? Montdour said you were asleep in your room."

Without thinking, I lashed out. "Get your hands off!" I shouted, sending him flying into the wall with a single kick. "That food... is not for you!"

I stood there, chest heaving, realization dawning on me as I stared at the unconscious soldier. What the hell did I just do?

My body moved on its own. I grabbed the basket and ran, my heart pounding as my feet carried me faster than I could think. What the hell am I doing? I thought, feeling the panic rise. But my feet kept moving, and before I knew it, I was heading straight to where Luffy had said he wouldn’t move.

To the spot where he was waiting for me

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