#and the guy playing young chase is great

[ladyhawke]

i’m loving the casting for the younger version of the characters in the old man

[cherie-doll]

Cod men’s kids getting the t shirt that says “DILF devoted involved loving father” for father’s day/their birthdays

The men’s reaction?

DADDY'S HOME

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

:‹ Price would be surprised to find out that his kids bought him something at all. They're so young he expected to only be handed a handmade card that read "Happy Father's Day" in squiggly handwriting. He's so happy he doesn't even really read what the shirt says until he's looking at it closer. He likely doesn't even know what other meaning DILF has so he will proudly wear that shirt for a week STRAIGHT before one of the guys points it out. Then he's chuckling to himself thinking that you must've had some say in the picking of the gift.

:‹ Simon immediately lights up knowing his kids got him something, although he doesn't know how to show that excitement. His eyes zero in on the box being carried by his son while you and your daughter watch expectantly. He doesn't know how to act as he waits to be handed the gift and has to clear his throat multiple times in the meantime. He unboxes the gift and... his eyes widen. The kids can't grasp the reaction of their parents, Simon is rolling his eyes and you can't stop laughing. He loves it though, and now you must deal with him wearing it every time you go out as a family.

:‹ Johnny was so hyped to get home when he found out from you that the kids had something planned for him. He receives the shirt and is already acting all sappy saying crap like "awww, you didn't have to" and proudly holds it up to his chest and asks how it looks on him. You have to turn around to keep from laughing but assure him it looks great. Even once he sees what's written on the shirt he still thinks it's the best thing his little ones could have gifted him.

:‹ Kyle in front of the kids would simply act all blown away but once he turns the corner he's chasing you down asking if you had any say in this. "You gave them the idea, didn't you?" He can't believe you played this prank on him at the expense of the children's good intentions, how dare you??? (Not like he's made worse jokes using the kids as a shield from you). Overall, since it's from his little blessings he'll play his part of a loving father like the shirt says and wear it to their hearts' content.

:‹ Roach feels so touched that he's getting a gift. The poor guy might want to shed a tear when he sees how carefully wrapped and decorated the gift is. He can tell you let the kids decorate the giftbox because of the amount of stickers stuck all over it and the messily tied ribbon to top it all off. Of course his emotional reaction is interrupted when he sees what the shirt says. He reads the "DILF" part multiple times thinking he must be dyslexic but then you tell him to read the rest in small font. He resumes his crying.

:‹ Alejandro knows all too well something may be up. They are his kids after all, he taught them one too many tricks and it may be coming back to bite at him for doing so. Either way, he can't deny it makes his heart feel something when they so innocently hand the shirt over. At first, it doesn't even click until he, like the dad he is, looks up the shirt to see how much it was and in the search suggestions sees "dilf meaning"...

:‹ Rodolfo does not know anything about this. He just sees it as a beautiful gesture from his children and is so touched by it he's furrowing his eyebrows and squinting trying not to show his teary eyes. He hears the giggles and laughter the kids are trying to keep in. He gives you a look like, "what's going on?" and you just shrug your shoulders pretending not to know. You only have an inkling of what may be happening but you don't let on the possibility of what it could be. In the end they don't tell him what is really means.

:‹ Phillip found out what the kids were planning because they had used his online shopping account to buy the shirt so he got the notification. Still, to not ruin their excitement he pretended to be surprised for the camera being pointed at him to catch his reaction as he held up the shirt. His eyes find yours and he can't tell who the kids got their mischief from; you or him. But he loves this shirt so much he's wearing it every time you go out as a family.

:‹ Makarov is like old or just really out of the loop to not know what DILF actually means so he doesn't get why you're snickering so damn much. Are you mocking the adorable act of love his kids prepared for him? No of course you wouldn't, you'd have to explain to him and the kids would all have to go scurrying if they don't want to be caught by him. In truth, he cherishes this dumb shirt so much and will wear it under his suit when he's in a rush and forgets what he has on under.

:‹ Keegan thinks that compared to the gifts he's seen the kids get you, he should be at least given a gift card or something but they just handed him a shirt not even wrapped up or anything. He shrugs it off and is so confused on why you keep telling him if he's gotten it yet, gotten what? Is there a joke he isn't understanding? Even after you try to explain it to him he's like.. "yeah... so I've been a dilf all these years.. devoted involved lov- oh". Then he swears it's one of the most clever and best gift he's ever gotten.

:‹ König would look so good in one of those shirts it would make you go feral for that man because he is a DILF through and through. The kids bought it for him because he truly is a devoted to raising them, involved in all of their activities and loves them more than anything in this world. To you, he is also the 'other' definition of DILF. His innocent reaction has you biting your lip back to keep from laughing for he's too precious, and frankly you don't want to ruin that for him with your thoughts.

:‹ Horangi is holding onto that title and NOT LETTING IT GO. The kids are clinging to his side eager to see his reaction while you walk forward with the box in hand. (Btw, you look absolutely angelic in Horangi's vision right now, like this exact scenario with his kids around him and you coming to him, smiling and everything. God, he's all starry-eyed in this moment.) He picks up on the mischievous little smiles his kids give one another and half expects for something to pop out and scare him the moment he opens the box. He stares confused at the shirt for a moment before he bursts out laughing. He's wearing that everywhere with sunglasses on.

:‹ Nikto would just nod and say thanks for the shirt so his kids automatically assume he didn't like it but you can tell he loves it. Finally all that hard work of waking up late at night to change diapers and helping them with their math homework paid off, right? He's just thankful they thought of giving him something, even if it's a lame shirt. He will wear it every weekend when the kids are around the most so that they see him clearly loving his gift. Doesn't care if you laugh because he doesn't mind being the cause of your amusement.

[papayainsectorone]

Teach Me

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summary: A chance reunion with Oscar at a party leads to a night of exploration, vulnerability, and intimacy—where he learns to ask for what he wants, and you’re more than willing to teach him.

content: 18+! smut, nsfw descriptions, oral sex, praise kink

word count: 4,7k

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

a thought: this turned out to be great potential to add some parts, so maybe stay tuned if it does well

teach me series

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You hadn’t seen him in years. Not really. Not since both your lives split off into entirely different rhythms—his dominated by circuits and airports, yours by everything else.

And yet, when you bumped into him again at a mutual friend’s party, he still had the same shy smile. Still held eye contact like it meant something. Still remembered the dumb in-jokes that made you laugh harder than the alcohol.

You ended up talking for hours. About nothing and everything. And somehow, that turned into walking back to your hotel together. And somehow, that turned into sitting too close on your bed, the TV playing something neither of you are watching, knees touching like it’s a game of dare.

You can feel how tense he is. Not nervous like scared—but nervous like hesitant. Like he’s not sure what’s okay to want.

“You’ve always been so good at this,” he murmurs eventually, eyes flicking down to your mouth and then away again. “People. Talking. Flirting. I don’t think I ever got the hang of it.”

You tilt your head. “When would you have? You went straight from karts to cars. The rest of us were fumbling through school dances—you were chasing podiums.”

He huffs a laugh. Quiet. Embarrassed. “Yeah, but even then... the other guys, they still talked about it. About girls. Hookups. I never really—” He breaks off. “I was just thinking about racing.”

“That’s not a crime,” you say softly.

His voice drops a little, barely more than a whisper. “Feels like I missed something.”

You glance at him sideways, curious “Are you a virgin?”

His head snaps toward you—wide eyes, startled. Then he lets out a small, awkward chuckle. “Yeah... I mean—no.” He exhales sharply. “I’m not totally new to this. I’ve had sex.” A shrug. “We were young. It was fast. Awkward. Over before I could really think about it. And then... I don’t know. Life just kept happening.”

“Do you want to learn now?” you ask.

His breath catches. Then: “Yeah.”

Your thumb brushes his cheek. His skin’s warm, a little flushed. You lean in just enough for him to meet you halfway if he wants to.

He does.

The kiss is gentle. Curious. He doesn’t rush it, and you don’t push him. Your hand cups the side of his neck, feeling the soft thrum of nerves and anticipation under his skin.

When you pull back just enough to speak, your voice is almost a whisper.

“You don’t have to pretend you know what you’re doing.”

His fingers tighten slightly where they rest on your thigh. “Good,” he murmurs, a little breathless. “Because I really, really don’t.”

You kiss him again, slower this time, letting it linger. His hand drifts to your waist, unsure, but you press into his palm to tell him it’s okay.

When you pull back, his cheeks are flushed, his lashes low.

“Okay,” you say softly. “New rule.”

He blinks. “Rule?”

You nod. “You have to talk to me. No hiding it. If you like something, you say it. If you want me to stop, you say it. If you want more…” You trail your fingers lightly down his chest. “You say that too.”

He swallows. “Even if I sound stupid?”

“You won’t. I promise.” You smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “There’s no wrong answers. Just tell me what feels good.”

He hesitates only a second before nodding. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”

You lean in again, mouths meeting, and this time you ease him gently back against the pillows. Your knee slots between his thighs, your hand sliding under his shirt, just brushing warm skin.

His breath stutters.

“That okay?” you murmur.

“Y-Yeah,” he whispers. “It’s… good. Warm.”

You laugh under your breath. “Good start.”

You guide him through every little step—how to touch, where to focus, how to relax into the way your lips find his neck and your hand curls low on his stomach.

Every time he gasps or moans, you stop and make him tell you why.

“It—when you do that thing with your thumb,” he pants, eyes fluttering. “It… it makes everything feel tighter. Better.”

You press your mouth to his jaw. “That’s what I want. For you to feel everything.”

And he does. Slowly, sweetly, in breathy little confessions and nervous laughs, in the way his hands start to get bolder, braver.

He listens. He learns. And he lets you teach him with lips and tongue and open praise.

It’s messy, a little clumsy, but none of that matters—not when he’s watching you like you’re the only thing anchoring him. His hands are on your back now, sliding under your shirt like he’s memorizing you.

You roll your hips just enough to make him shiver.

“Still good?” you ask, voice low.

He nods quickly, too quickly, then corrects himself. “Yes. I like… when you move like that.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

He fumbles for a second, eyes flicking away. Then, quieter: “More. I want more of you.”

That’s all it takes.

You ease his shirt up and over his head, kiss your way down his chest, slow and soft. His skin is warm, marked with a few nervous trembles, but he’s breathing steady through it now. Trusting you.

When your hand slips lower, he gasps, hips lifting into your touch before he remembers to speak.

“Yes,” he says, breathless. “That—please, don’t stop.”

You smile against his skin. “Good boy.”

He whines. Actually whines. And it goes straight through you.

His hips twitch again like the words themselves tug at something deep inside him. His fingers curl tight into the sheets, his jaw slack with need.

“God,” he pants, like the sound of praise is almost as intoxicating as your touch. “Say it again. Please.”

A soft, almost shy laugh escapes you as you pull back just slightly, looking down at him. You tilt your head, fingers brushing along his jaw.

"Did you like that, Oscar?" you ask, your voice low, teasing in a way that makes his breath catch. "Me telling you how good you're doing?"

His eyes snap open, pupils blown wide. His face flushes a deeper shade of red, and for a moment, he doesn't say anything—just stares at you, caught in a mixture of surprise and a shy kind of awe. Then, his hips buck involuntarily against you, as if the praise itself set something off inside him.

His chest heaves, and he stammers, his voice tight. "I… I… yeah, I liked it. It—it felt… good."

You lean in closer, your lips brushing just above his ear. "I could tell." You press a little firmer against him, watching his face twist with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. "You’re doing so well, Oscar. You like hearing me say it, don’t you? When I tell you how good you’re being for me?"

He bites his lip, the flush on his face spreading all the way down his neck. “Yeah… I… I want to hear it.”

You let the words sink in, savoring how they make him squirm beneath you, how much he craves that affirmation. And you know, in that moment, you could keep going—make him beg for it, make him crave your praise until he’s dizzy with it.

You give him what he wants.

“You’re doing amazing. Such a good boy, Oscar.”

That breaks him.

"Fuck, please," he says, voice trembling.

His grip tightens on the sheets, and you can feel him shift beneath you, eager, almost frantic. His body is a perfect contrast to the hesitant boy he once was. Now, he’s confident in his need, in his craving for your approval.

"Please," he gasps, his voice rough and shaky. "I need to hear more…"

Your fingers hover just above his waistband, your breath hot against the sensitive skin of his abs. Oscar’s body trembles beneath you, the anticipation almost too much to bear, and youcan feel his nerves radiating through the tension in his muscles.

You look up at him, voice soft but coaxing. “You’re doing so well, Oscar,” you murmurs, lips grazing his skin lightly. “But I need you to tell me what you want. What feels good? You just have to say it, baby. I’m here to listen.”

His eyes meet yours, uncertainty flickering in them, but there’s something else too—a hunger, a desperate need to feel good, to know that you want to hear what he’s craving. His hands curl into fists at his sides, still not sure how to ask for it.

You kiss his thigh gently, lips lingering for just a moment before you pull away, letting the tension build. “It’s okay. You can tell me, Oscar. I won’t bite. Just tell me what you need.”

Oscar swallows hard, his voice trembling when he finally speaks. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

You smiles softly, hand brushing his side soothingly, the touch gentle, patient. “It’s alright. Just start slow. Tell me if it feels good when I touch you like this.” You move your fingers again, grazing the waistband of his pants, letting him feel the heat of your proximity. “Does that feel good?”

He nods, his body reacting with a soft moan that escapes before he can stop it. “Yeah… yeah, it feels good… But I… I want more…”

Your heart races at his admission, the vulnerability in his voice making her pulse quicken. “More?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet full of warmth and encouragement. “Tell me what more feels like. I want to know what makes you feel good, Oscar.”

Oscar’s breath catches, his face flushed, but he nods again, this time with more confidence. “I… I like when you’re close. When you touch me, but… maybe with your mouth…”

Your eyes soften at his words, and you leans in closer, your lips brushing against his skin. “I can do that,” you murmur. “Just tell me if it’s too much or if you want more, okay?”

He shuffled to the edge of the bed and as you gently slide the last of the fabric down, his body exposed now, not prepared for the sight that greets you. You pause for a moment, eyes widening slightly, unable to hide the surprised expression that cross your face.

"Fuck, Oscar," you breathe, voice low and full of disbelief, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "How did you hide that?" Your gaze linger on him for a beat longer than you mean to, taking in how he stands there, vulnerable yet undeniably… impressive.

Oscar’s face flushes a deep shade of crimson at her reaction, his body stiffening with embarrassment.

But you’re not going to let him feel self-conscious for long. You lean in closer, your breath warm against his skin, your gaze flickering up to meet his once more.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper, your voice soft, reassuring. “You’re exactly what I wanted.”

With that, you lower yourself further, your hands resting on his thighs for a moment as you look up at him, silently asking if he’s ready. He nods, barely a whisper of a sound escaping him, but you hear it—his consent.

You move slowly, deliberately, pressing your lips to his skin just below his navel, tasting the heat of him before continuing your descent. His body flinches slightly, a soft gasp escaping his lips as your mouth moves lower, your lips brushing over him with a delicate pressure. You feel his hips twitch beneath you, and you pause, your eyes flickering to his, seeking confirmation.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” you murmur, your voice soft, but with the authority of someone who knows exactly how to guide him. “Just say the word, Oscar.”

He shakes his head, his hands fisting in the sheets, and his voice trembles with need. “It feels good,” he breathes, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. “Please, just… don’t stop.”

You smile, knowing you’ve unlocked the vulnerability in him, the one that lets him speak his desires. And you’re more than willing to give him what he needs. With that, you finally take him in your mouth, slow at first, the heat and taste of him overwhelming your senses as you move in rhythm with his quiet gasps.

As you continue, the sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel him struggle to keep his composure. The way his hips buck unexpectedly sends a jolt of shock through you, and you stumble for a moment, a slight gag catching in your throat. Tears well up in your eyes from the sudden movement, but you quickly recover, a trail of spit still connecting you both, glistening in the dim light.

For a moment, you just breathe, letting the surprise and intensity of the moment settle, your hand gently resting on his thigh as you look up at him. “Did you like that?” you ask, your voice a little breathless, your eyes soft with the mix of surprise and affection.

Oscar’s chest heaves, his breaths coming quick and uneven as he watches you. His eyes are wide with a mix of shock and excitement. “Oh my God… yes,” he pants, his voice hoarse with need, a little desperate now. “I didn’t mean to—fuck, I—”

You smile, wiping your lips gently, savoring the way he’s unraveling in front of you. “It’s okay, Oscar,” you say, your voice soothing, though there’s an underlying teasing tone.

You take his hand, guiding it to your hair, your fingers lightly curling around his wrist, urging him to take a little control. “You can take some control,” you murmur, your voice low and full of trust. “Just guide me if you need to.”

Oscar’s eyes widen in surprise, his hand trembling in your hair as you lower yourself again, your lips brushing against him, waiting for his guidance. His breath catches as you look up at him again, your expression soft, yet encouraging.

As you pause, waiting for him to take the lead, his mind is spinning, and a sudden surge of confidence rushes through him. He’s starting to get it—how it feels to guide you, how much you’re willing to trust him with this. Slowly, he exhales, his hand tightening in your hair, not pulling, but gently guiding your head down as his hips buck up again, this time with purpose.

Your eyes meet his, and for a brief moment, he freezes, unsure if he’s doing it right. But your smile, the way you relax under his touch, reassures him. “That’s it, Oscar,” you murmur, your voice low and soft, as you sink further into him, your mouth finding its rhythm again. “You’re doing perfect.”

The control he feels is intoxicating. He guides you just a little more, feeling his own body grow tighter with the sensations. The rush of pleasure builds, and it’s almost too much to handle. He squirms beneath you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares down at you, his breath hitching with the overwhelming feeling.

"I think I’m gonna…" he starts, his voice faltering, a mixture of panic and desire in his tone.

You pull off for a moment, your lips still glistening, a soft smile playing at the corner of your mouth as you look up at him. “It’s okay, Oscar,” you breathe, your voice soothing and encouraging. “Just let it happen. Let me know where you want it to be.”

Your words are the reassurance he needs. He exhales a shaky breath, his grip on your hair tightening again as he gently moves you down, his hips bucking once more in need, desperate for the release he’s been holding back.

“Please… can you…” He doesn’t know how to ask for it, but the words tumble out, raw with need. “Can you… finish it? I… I want you to.”

You smile softly at his request, your eyes locking with his.

You lower yourself once more, moving with deliberate slowness, each motion intentional as you take him in.

Your tongue glides over the tip, circling gently, your pace steady. His hand remains tangled in your hair, fingers brushing the softness as you move. Each subtle bop of your head brings him closer to the edge, the sensation growing more intense with every second. The pressure builds inside him, and though he tries to hold back, it becomes overwhelming. With a deep, almost primal grunt, he loses control, his hips jerk upward, hitting the back of your throat — the final spark that ignites everything.

The pressure inside him snaps all at once, and his body shudders violently beneath you. One hand grips your head, pulling you down harder without thought, caught in the grip of release, while his other arm locks tight behind him, bracing against the mattress and forcing his upper body forward. His back arches, hips lifting fully off the bed, his torso folding over you as if every muscle in him is straining toward you, unable to hold anything back.

But you don’t stop. Your mouth stays on him, your throat tight around the tip, taking every inch as his body bucks beneath you. One hand holds his thigh steady, the other stroking him gently through the aftershocks as he gasps through a stuttering stream of “Oh God… fuck… you feel so good…” The words fall from him unfiltered, broken by the rawness of the release.

When the tension finally ebbs from his muscles and his breath slows, he collapses back onto the bed, chest rising and falling. Only then do you let him slip from your mouth, slow and careful.

The silence between you both is comfortable, filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing, and you move to sit beside him, your fingers gently brushing over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your touch.

"You okay?" you ask softly, your voice a soothing contrast to the intensity of the moment just passed. Your eyes are full of warmth and care, checking on him in a way that makes him feel safe and cherished.

Oscar nods, still catching his breath, his eyes meeting yours. A soft, almost shy smile tugs at his lips, and his hand reaches for yours, gently pulling it to his chest. "Yeah… I think I’m just a little overwhelmed," he admits, his voice quieter now, full of a mixture of contentment and vulnerability.

You smile, your thumb gently tracing over his hand, the simple touch grounding him. "It’s okay. You did amazing," you say, your voice tender, reassuring.

He blushes slightly, the praise settling into him like a warm blanket, making him feel both shy and proud in equal measure. His voice almost shy as he looks at you with wide, honest eyes. "I… I didn’t expect it to feel THAT… good."

You chuckle, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your touch tender and careful. "We can do that again, whenever you like."

He smiles, all flushed cheeks and messy hair, eyes still a little glassy from the afterglow. “Yeah?” he breathes, disbelief and hope threading through the single word.

You nod, leaning in until your foreheads touch, your thumb still gently stroking his temple. “Yeah,” you whisper, as if it’s a secret just for him. “You just have to ask.”

Oscar swallows hard, his heart thudding all over again—but for a different reason now. Not nerves, not lust. Just this quiet, aching affection building in his chest. “Okay,” he says softly. “I… I think I will.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek—sweet, not rushed, not trying to stoke the fire again, just sealing the promise between you. Then you rest your head on his shoulder, fingers drawing slow, lazy shapes on his chest.

For a while, you don’t speak. You don’t need to.

He eventually tilts his head to glance at you, his voice sleepy but sure. “You’re really good at making people feel safe.”

And he doesn’t say anything after that—just holds you a little tighter.

NEXT PART

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader having crushes on each other for 10 minutes

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

super cute idea based on a request and taking place before drew and y/n became a couple

when they were dancing behind the scenes…

The country club set was done up for Midsummer, the OBX cast scattered about in their finest attire for the elegant event. Between takes, Madelyn and Madison filmed a video touring around the set.

“We have this super nice bottle of champagne…” Madison said as Madelyn filmed her picking up a large and expensive bottle of alcohol. Madison jokingly raised it to her lips before sitting it back down on the table, Madelyn and her continuing their tour. As they stepped off the patio, they ended up in the middle of the dancefloor. There was no real music playing, extras chatting in their little groups, but two people in particular didn’t seem to care about the lack of music: y/n and Drew.

In the middle of all the actors, the two of them were spinning around and laughing. Drew grasped onto y/n’s waist with one hand, holding her hand lightly in the other as they sang some song they’d been listening to all morning,

“And this is the dancefloor, where y/n and Drew are… I think they’re dancing— I’m not really sure.” Madelyn said, furrowing her brow as Madelyn zoomed the camera in further with a giggle. Drew and y/n broke apart, breaking into the robot together and laughing until they gasped for air. The two of them collapsed into each other, grasping onto each other's arms in an attempt to keep their laughing forms upright.

when they answered interview questions like this…

The two of them sat on Zoom in opposite rooms of their shared apartments. Following the success of Outer Banks season one, countless outlets were vying to interview the young cast that was quickly rising to fame.

“So, out of everyone in the cast, who would you want to be stranded on a boat with?” The interviewer asked.

“Oh, y/n.” Drew said quickly, barely taking even a minute to think about it. Y/n’s eyes widened, trying her best to hide the flustered expression on her face.

“Yeah, I would pick y/n because she’s funny and resourceful. The two most important things when it comes to surviving.” Drew said with a chuckle, his eyes lingering on y/n’s video on his screen. He smiled gently, causing y/n to smile as well.

“I think I would pick Drew.” Y/n grinned. “He’s a good fisherman and he just seems like he knows how to survive in the middle of the ocean.”

At y/n’s response, Drew’s smile grew impossibly larger, a blushed pink rising to his cheeks.

when the cast teased drew…

Chase and Austin lounged on the couch in their apartment, watching as the comments on the live stream flew past.

“‘Where is Drew’?” Austin read. “That’s the question, guys, he said he was gonna be here 15 minutes ago.”

“He’s probably busy talking to y/n.” Chase muttered, causing Austin to try his best to stifle his laugh just as Drew walked in the front door.

“There he is! Starkey, the people have been waiting for you for ages!” Austin said, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he angled the camera towards Drew. He quickly kicked off his shoes before crossing the room.

“Sorry, sorry, I had to pick something up for y/n.” Drew said, stepping over the back of the couch before wedging himself between Austin and Chase. The two men leaned around Drew, catching each other's eyes with a cock of their eyebrows, casting knowing glances just in front of the oblivious Drew.

when the cast teased y/n…

“You guys have quite the hot cast, both in terms of popularity and in the looks department.” The interviewer said, raising her brows as the OBX girls broke into giggles over the video call. “What’s it like being surrounded by hot people every day?”

“It’s great, I mean… look at everyone. Definitely easy on the eyes.” Madelyn said, gesturing to the computer as Madison and y/n laughed again.

“With that being said, there’s gotta be some crushes amongst the cast, right?” The interviewer continued further. Y/n could feel her cheeks warm up, blinking quickly as she tried to focus on the totally fun and lighthearted question and not a question that nearly made her heart skip.

“We have our theories…” Madison nodded, biting back a smile.

“Oh yeah we definitely have theories.” Madison doubled down, giggling to herself. Y/n furrowed her brows slightly, trying her best to remember what “theory” the two of them were exactly referring to.

“We have theories?” Y/n asked, eyeing the camera suspiciously as Madison and Madelyn simply laughed in response.

“Well Madison and I think someone has a crush on you,” Madelyn teased. “But that’s for us to know and you to find out.”

when y/n made a cake for drew’s birthday…

The entire OBX cast sat around y/n and Drew’s kitchen table, freshly moved into their new apartment together. Drew sat at the head, a cheesy blue party hat resting atop his mop of hair. The talking that was filling the room quickly died down before breaking out into song as y/n stepped into frame.

In her hands sat a cake smeared in white and green frosting, topped with a dash of sprinkles and flickering candles. Their friends continued to sing around them, the words to “Happy Birthday” falling on deaf ears as Drew watched y/n walk towards him. His attention graced the cake for only a second before they focused on y/n, a concentrated expression on her face as she carefully carried the cake towards him. The flames of the candle cast beautiful shadows on her skin, highlighting each curve of her face.

Once she finally sat the cake down in front of Drew, her eyes flicked up to look at him. She hadn’t been expecting to meet Drew’s eyes, and let out a slight gasp before her lips fell into a wide grin. As the last notes of “Happy Birthday” played out, the cast burst into applause and hollers. Drew turned to his cake, blowing out the candles before turning his attention immediately back to y/n.

“Happy Birthday, Drew.” Y/n said quietly, patting his shoulder gently. Drew smiled up at her, a wide cheesy grin making its way across his face.

tagged: @slaylorrsliftt

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Danny's final Interview with Tim Drake for the Wayne Enterprise's Space Program Operation Janus Crew... Demon Twin AU.

Danny had been waiting for his offer letter from WE to be officially part of the Janus Crew. He'd done all the standard rigorous testing and passed with flying colors. He'd talked to every single head engineer and interviewed at all levels to prove that he was the man for this mission. It was as good as gold, so Danny was surprised when he got a call from the PA to Tim Drake, the CEO himself, to come in for a final interview. Just a formality and mostly just to meet the man who was going to be the poster boy for their program. Makes sense, but is unnerving, nonetheless.

The second he walks into the office space, Tam Fox seemingly does a double take, blinking a few times when he explains that he's there for a final interview. She nods and he proceeds as if nothing about that was weird.

Tim Drake has four laptops in front of him and a scattering of papers, but looking up to see Danny, he closes them all and the image of a scattered young man trying to run a Fortune 500 company is replaced with some one of deadly capability.

"Danny Fenton. Great to meet you, I appreciate you coming by today." Tim says, but Danny can see the sharks fin in the water.

"Of course, I'm excited to be part of the Crew." Danny throws back, making it clear right away that Tim needs to cut to the chase if Danny's not going to be an astronaut with WE. NASA will take him back in a heartbeat if WE is going to try and play games.

"We're excited to have you, everyone speaks of you like the next Armstrong or Aldrin. I just had a few questions, as an informality, that I wanted answered."

"I feel like I've answered every question there could be about me, but go ahead. I'm an open book."

"Great. I suppose I'll start with asking about your adoptive family, the Fentons. Were they good to you when you transitioned to their home?"

"...It's not common knowledge that I'm adopted. Mom and Dad are fine. We have a strained relationship now because of my teenage rebellion but I still go home for most holidays." Danny is on edge, but also a bit excited? How did Tim find this out?

"I see. I'm an adopted child myself, you can understand maybe why I asked. Do you have any relationship with your birth family?" Tim asks, but its clear he's asking something else. Danny calls it how he sees it.

"What are you trying to find out? I mean really, you're very polite but this doesn't have to do with my job."

"I'll cut to the chase then. Do you hold any allegiance to Ra's al Ghul or the League of Assassins?"

"Woah." Danny blinks.

"Woah as in you're surprised I found out, or Woah in surprise that you've been found out?"

"Woah as in, what the fuck, I haven't thought of his name in decades. I escaped pretty young after being abused from birth."

"That's what I needed to know. You have a sister through the Fentons, and a cousin that I suspect is a clone, any other siblings?" Tim asks, his to the point question making Danny's head spin. How the fuck did this guy know about Dani?

"How do you-"

"Any other siblings, Danny?" Tim repeats, cutting him off.

"...Yeah. I should have a twin running around out there. But if this has to do with whatever crazy bullshit he might be up to, I swear i'm not in contact with him or his family. I haven't been since I freed myself."

Tim looks like he's contemplating something, his eyes are still evaluating Danny as though he were a frog in freshman year Bio.

"I have a little brother, Danny, and it's interesting. He's not particularly fascinated by space but he likes to keep up with all the astronauts. I took it upon myself to research you once you came on the roster two years ago for this position. I know you're capable and I had no doubt that you'd be the man for the job. Then I saw your picture."

"You... saw my picture?"

"My brother watches out for Astronauts because he holds onto the hope that someone from his past might be one some day. That it might lead to their reconciliation." Tim clarifies.

Danny can't do anything but stare. No. No way.

"I told Damian not to look into the astronauts for the Janus Crew. Want to guess why?" For the first time, Tim's eyes look soft around the edges. Danny stays silent for a while, head reeling from this information.

"...Is he. Is he free?" Danny finally asks.

"He's left the league and burned all allegiance he held for them, if that's what you're asking. Came to join his dad, my adoptive father, when he was about ten. So just a few years after you made your own way out without him."

"That's... That's good. I'm glad. He's healthy?" Danny can't help himself but inquire. He'd loved his brother until it literally broke him.

"Most days. He runs an animal sanctuary, has a girlfriend and a best friend, gets along with our large family."

"Woah." Danny's near speechless again.

"I'm telling you this because... He's going to find out Friday with the press release of you being our Crew Leader. He'll see you and no doubt try to contact you. I want you to have the choice of reaching out to him before that, or at least make your peace with what you have to say to him if you don't want a relationship."

"Why?"

"Because I don't care to see my siblings hurt. Here, it's my personal line, below it is Damian's. Reach out to me if you'd like for me to plan a meeting spot, reach out to him if you'd prefer I stay out of it. I understand completely if my questions have led you to not trust me." Tim offers him a piece of paper with two phone numbers on it, Danny takes it with shaking hands.

"I... See. Okay." and then after a moment, Danny added numbly "Thanks."

Tim stands and Danny follows, they're both walking towards the door and Danny can't help but feel like he's waiting for another shoe to drop. Tim has a look in his eye like Jazz might on his birthday.

"One last thing before you go and you're officially listed as our star Astronaut: I took care of those pesky case files and lab reports for you. The white ones. It is quite literally impossible for that heinous shit to every bother you again."

"Wait, What? Why would you do that for me? You couldn't have known-"

"It's what family is for. Have a good day, Janus Crew Lead Danny."

[quitesins]

Non Mc! Reader & Mentor!Rafayel [Sfw]

Thinking of writing a fic where you’re a young artist who gets sort of mentored taken in by Rafayel, years before he reunites with Mc. You spend almost every day with him, learning new skills both in and outside of art. You’re still young and timid, but Rafayel’s penchant for never pulling his words, forces you to match his energy. He makes you honest. You’re trying new things, going new places, comfortable in relying on Rafayel to keep you confident. Despite all the back and forth, the sass that isn’t spared on you, you find it’s far too easy to fall in love with him.

And for the most part it’s also easy to keep that part of your heart secret.

Until he meets Mc. You’ve heard of her in passing and you knew the day would come. What you didn’t expect is for your daily meetings to lessen, gallery trips missed and the art events reserved for you, now for a girl you can’t even seem to hate.

She’s too nice. You can see exactly why she holds Rafayel’s heart entirely. That’s why you decide to protect your own, no longer trying for Rafayel’s company or attention and even turning him down the rare moments he reaches out first.

You think it’ll be fine but Rafayel isn’t stupid. You’re his friend, and he knows something is up. Unfortunately the both of you are as tense as each other because the conversation he hopes to go smoothly, ends up an awful, angry argument. One that when you try to leave, has him grabbing your arm on instinct. Rafayel is just as shocked as you, instantly pulling back like he’d been burned. But it’s enough of a scare that you don’t say another word, practically running out of his place. He doesn’t chase after you, a deep set guilt keeping him anchored and a bubbling heat in his hands that he hasn’t yet understood.

He doesn’t see you again. For a while he doesn’t talk of you either. He doesn’t see you around Linkon, your place— he swears he was passing on accident— seemingly vacant. The egregiously painted pots the two of you once made, no longer displayed proudly on your door step. Only in secret guilt filled moments does he think of you, but never feeling enough to reach out.

When he does mention your name, it’s been years and somehow Thomas’s casual nostalgia feels wrong. It��s like you were just some fleeting figure, not a friend he once upon a time deeply cared and even felt responsible for. But there’s nothing more he can do. You aren’t his responsibility, maybe you never were. And there’s no reason to seek you out now.

So it’s his surprise when he does find you. Two cities over, he almost thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Your hair has changed a bit, and you’ve definitely grown— into yourself, a proper adult now. There’s a simmering pride within him, watching how the shy thing he once gave security to, now struts around on her own without the need for him to keep you balanced.

But there’s confusion too. He wonders why you aren’t an artist anymore. Your name is never said amongst his industry peers, and even if it changed, he’d recognise your style in a heartbeat. You were so close to being great, how could you give it up so easily.

He thinks to ask why, but as he approaches, it takes one look at your hand, the healed skin from a burn that could only be his, for him to come to the horrible realisation himself.

A/n: fa me it would be purely platonic on his end, I loveeee unrequited love, but I also want to see rafayel feel guilty so it’d be over him being a shit friend… also also for some reason the idea of Rafayel unintentionally taking on a nurturing protective role is sooo interesting to me and I’d loveee to explore it…

Guys if this is ooc it’s okay because I can imagine anything 🫡

[togenabi]

the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground. 

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident. 

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more. 

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair. 

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child. 

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute. 

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk. 

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to? 

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t. 

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.” 

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room. 

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed. 

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.” 

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head. 

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start. 

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better. 

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically. 

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink. 

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of. 

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him. 

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime. 

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were. 

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative. 

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills? 

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face. 

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know. 

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges. 

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway. 

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.” 

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response. 

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open. 

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age. 

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor. 

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way. 

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet. 

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously. 

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.” 

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—” 

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.” 

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.” 

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?” 

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.” 

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same. 

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone. 

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods. 

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon. 

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?” 

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him. 

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze. 

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail. 

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy. 

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords. 

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again. 

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage. 

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you. 

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around. 

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water. 

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell. 

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now. 

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space. 

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring. 

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here. 

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue. 

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

[sainzsiren]

"i happen to love happiness"

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pairing... op81 x norris!reader

now playing... daylight by taylor swift

summary... lando is not happy about the developments between his teammate and his sister

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liked by oscarpiastri, alexandeasaintmluex, lilymhe, and others

yourusername girls love monaco, proud of you lan

view comments:

mclaren our favorite sibling duo!

yourusername also your only sibling duo??

landonorris you're going to make me lose my job

user y/n being an icon as always

lilymhe gf 😍😍

yourusername gf 😍😍

user oh to have norris genes

user ikr every day i wake up mad that i dont look like a norris sibling

landonorris thanks for coming, y/n/n

yourusername 🫶

user them still using their childhood nicknames for each other is my favorite thing ever

alexandrasaintmluex mother

yourusername 💍?

charles_leclerc seriously y/n

alex_albon you get used to it 😊

yourusername you guys are just mad i stole your bitchessss

user the day y/n gets pr trained is the day i die

user i'm new to f1, is it a big deal that oscar is in her likes?

user no, lando and oscar are very close so it makes sense that y/n and oscar follow each other and like each other's posts. especially bc y/n is somewhat of an influencer

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and others

mclaren a very requested norris siblings dump!

view comments:

landonorris whos that ugly rat next to me in all these photos

yourusername die.

danielricciardo awe look they used to get along

landonorris false, we chased each other with knives

yourusername false, i chased you and you cried

user y/n being the younger sibling and the chaser is my favorite thing ever

oscarpiastri my favorite norris and her annoying older brother

user WOAHHHH OSCAR

user oscar i was not aware of your game

landonorris excuse you?

charles_leclerc scureriaferrari where's mine and arthur's dump 🤨🤨

scureriaferrari our bad, on it

mclaren copycats

user oh how i love admin beef

yourusername's story

view reply from landonorris

landonorris y/n/n

landonorris what the fuck

landonorris where are you

landonorris who is he

yourusername jesus lando no "i hope it goes well"

landonorris i hope it goes terribly you're too young to dare

yourusername IM 21?!?!

view reply from georgerussell63

georgerussell63 i was asked to check in on you

yourusername everything's going great, thank you george

view reply from alex_albon

alex_albon i was also asked to check in on you

yourusername i promise it's all fine tell lando to calm down

view reply from carlossainz55

carlossainz55 he's sitting in your apartment waiting for you to come home btw

yourusername great.

view reply from lilymhe

lilymhe GIRLS DATE TOMORROW I NEED DETAILS

yourusername 🫡

TWITTER:

landonorris this is my formal request for everyone to go on a manhunt for my sister and this boy (i just gagged while typing that) she is on a date with. she is at a nice italian restaurant in monaco. internet do your thing.

user overprotective brother lando has made his public debut

user lando i have some unfortunate news for you.

landonorris WHAT

user oscar was just spotted at a nice italian restaurant in monaco

landonorris no.

f1wagupdates oscar piastri was just seen with who appears to be lando norris's sister, y/n norris. y/n posted a picture of their meal on her instagram story with the caption "first date, kinda nervous" and tagged monaco as a broad location. what do we think?

view attached image

user oh my god they're adorable

landonorris i just vomited

danielricciardo oh this is fun

user i cannot wait to see how this unfolds

landonorris oscarpiastri if what i am is hearing is true, count your fucking days.

user a non-pr trained norris strikes again

INSTAGRAM

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, francisca.cgomez, and others

yourusername i can explain

view comments

landonorris y/n im nauseous

landonorris how could you do this to me

landonorris no point in soft launching i already know you betrayed me

yourusername i will explain if you come to my apartment and KNOCK instead of breaking in

landonorris will HE be there

yourusername no.

yourusername food will be provided

landonorris deal

georgerussell63 ok this is cute

landonorris GEORGE YOU TRAITOR

maxverstappen1 y/n you're going to kill your brother with a heart attack

yourusername good 😊

user THEYRE SO CUTE

user ahhhh y/n in her gf era

user more like wag era!!

fransisca.cgomez im so happy for you 🥹

yourusername ily kiks

lilymhe ❤️

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc you torturing lando is incredible

yourusername thanks i've had lots of time to train and perfect my abilities

danielricciardo ok but on a real note you deserve this, so glad you're happy

yourusername this is why you're my second favorite driver 🫶

landonorris IVE BEEN DEMOTED TO 3RD?!?

yourusername pls you're 18th

user bye i want to know who y/n has beef with on the grid

oscarpiastri 🫂

liked by yourusername

user THIS IS GETTING REALLL

liked by yourusername, mclaren, logansargeant, and others

oscarpiastri 🧡

tagged yourusername

view comments

user OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING ITS OFFICIAL

yourusername ❣️

liked by oscarpiastri

lilymhe this is the cutest thing ive ever seen

alex_albon i tell you im in love with you in your comments??

lilymhe shush alex

landonorris hello.

oscarpiastri hello.

yourusername LADIES, LADIES! THERES ENOUGH OF ME TO GO AROUND

user oh how i love yn

logansargeant OSCAR??? WITH A GIRLFRIEND?? THIS IS UNHEARD OF

oscarpiastri 😐

mclaren so... need another paddock pass for canada?

oscarpiastri yes 😅

landonorris no

user my ynoscar heart cant take this

user THE SUNSET DATE??

user THE AQUARIUM DATE??

landonorris bleh.

TWITTER

landonorris oscar jack piastri i am in your walls

yourusername he was actually just in mine this morning 😊

user Y/N 😭

landonorris OH MY GOD Y/N

landonorris YOU'RE LITERALLY A CHILD YOU SHOULD NOT BE DOING THAT

landonorris ARE YOU AT LEAST BEING SAFE???

f1tea make the replies lando's search history

user how to get my little sister's boyfriend to leave her but not hurt her feelings

user are condoms 100% effective

user oscar piastri social security number

user how long until the average couple breaks up

user should i be happy that my sister is in a relationship

user what to do if you don't get along with your teammate anymore

user oscar piastri mclaren contract end date

user oscar piastri dating history

user oscar piastri location

INSTAGRAM

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, yourusername, and others

landonorris look at what i have to deal with. i hate happiness.

tagged yourusername, oscarpiastri

view comments

yourusername awe lando this is probably the sweetest thing you've ever done in response to my relationship

landonorris stfu i'll delete this

user norris sibling bond has not been broken

user WAR IS OVER (??)

maxverstappen1 i see some of the convincing worked

landonorris don't flatter yourself

maxverstappen1 i actually take full credit for this

georgerussell63 hey it was a group effort

alex_albon ^

charles_leclerc ^

carlossainz55 ^

danielricciardo ^

logansargeant ^

lewishamilton ^

oscarpiastri am i allowed back at your house or no

landonorris you may come if you feel so inclined

zbrownceo see lando supporting your family is good for you

landonorris meh 2/10 experience

liked by oscarpiastri, kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmluex, and others

yourusername i happen to love happiness ❣️

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

lilymhe AWEEEEEEEE

liked by yourusername

iamrebeccad this is precious

liked by yourusername

logansargeans he's giggling and kicking his feet rn

oscarpiastri am not

georgerussell63 are too

alex_albon are too

alexandeasaintmluex my favorite ❤️

yourusername i love u

user YNOSCAR HAS MY ENTIRE HEART

user how can they be so cute

francesca.cgomez y/n/n and her boy 🥹

liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri you're my favorite person

yourusername and you're mine

landonorris gag

yourusername FUCK OFF LANDO

landonorris i am still nauseous but this is growing on me

yourusername jesus finally

[femsolid]

I watched the movie Strange Darling tonight. Great rating on IMDB. Positive reviews all around. It was sexist propaganda à la Gone Girl. I'm sure it'll be called a feminist movie.

The story is about a serial killer hunting down his last victim. During the first part of the movie we see a young, skinny, blond woman being chased by the killer, a big man with a rifle. She's in pain and has lost an ear. The man is not hurt and every time he appears on screen, some big scary music plays, telling us "he's the killer!"

Then we see a flashback of their first encounter. They're on a date, drinking in his car, she gives him a lecture about how a one night stand can be a life or death situation for women, so women aren't prudes they are careful, but he can't understand that because he's a man. Unlike in real life, he patiently listens and doesn't object nor scream Not All Men. A little feminist lesson. She then tells him that her "kink" is to be strangled and beaten in bed... okayyyy what was the point of the feminist lesson exactly? He's flabbergasted and reluctantly agrees to indulge her. Because we all know it's women who want to be abused, men are just following our lead and have no sadistic bone in their bodies. She starts crying and tells him to stop during it, she tells him that just because she said yes at the start doesn't mean she can't say no later and he should respect that. He feels bad, and suddenly she starts laughing, she was just messing with him pretending to have boundaries and stuff, what a turn on! She toys with him, keeps inviting him to have sex and then says no at the last second because women are just twisted provocatrice, I guess. What a tease! She's giving him "mixed signals." Then she drugs him and tortures him, and we discover that she's the serial killer, and he's a cop! HA! You thought women were abused by men? You thought her little feminist lessons were sensible? You were wrong! Never trust a woman! Men can be victims, too! The reason we didn't see his injuries at the beginning of the movie was because she tortured him with a knife on his chest. See? Men have hidden scars. Don't assume they are the abusers! Since he's a cop, he has a secret gun and manages to escape her by shooting her ear off. She runs from him, and he chases her, and we're back to the beginning of the movie. He catches her eventually, handcuffs her and calls her a cunt.

She still manages to kill him, right as the police arrives because he called for backup. She puts her pants down and lays on the floor ass naked, crying, pretending that he tried to rape her, and she defended herself. False rape accusations, guys! Don't be fooled by women playing the victims! There are two police officers that arrive: a woman and a man. The woman is immediately sympathetic to the fake rape victim, something her male partner questions. She responds "it's obvious what happened", takes the handcuffs off the killer and helps her get up, while the male cop tells her to wait because things don't look right. Blinded by her female solidarity and her defence of rape victims, the stupid female cop doesn't follow the procedure. She tells the male cop that just because she has a vagina doesn't mean she's wrong, another little feminist lesson rendered voluntarily ridiculous by the fact that we all know she's gravely wrong and will likely get both of them killed. He tells her it has nothing to do with her vagina, he speaks from experience because he's older. Eventually the truth is revealed, the victim is the killer, the male police officer calls the killer a bitch. The killer lets the female officer go because she helped her, and kills the male.

The entire movie had a clear message that we all know too well by now: men are the real victims, don't trust women who report abuse, feminism is laughable. I mean, the propaganda wasn't even subtitle or anything. The killer spends a good portion of the movie in lingerie too. Instant classic. True cinema. Would you be surprised if I told you this movie was directed and written by a man?

[lamnwar]

Sure you can take it? Imayoshi Shouichi x Fem! Reader

MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!

A/N: wrote some part of this while I was pissed drunk at a bachelorette, I think you guys will be able to tell while reading 🙂

Context: He's the worst but that dick is so good!!

Warnings: Imayoshi is a bitch but are we surprised? size kink!!, blowjob, mentioned of fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected sex, Imayoshi comes on reader's ass, reader cries, mix of praise/degredation (reader receiving), slight sadism, Imayoshi Shouichi as a person deserves a warning tbh

Shouichi Imayoshi is a bastard.

Or so has been your mantra for all the years that you’ve known him. Cunning eyes and a sly smile plastered on his face, enough to make you wary of him. He is, without any doubt, the guy that your mother has always warned you about. He’ll break your heart and ruin you for anyone that’s to come next.

Then, can anybody explain in all rationality the bruises on your legs from how hard he’s fucked you? Or the traces of your own nails in the palms of your hands from the excruciating pleasure he makes you feel? It’s insane, irrational even. He’s the worst, really. Such an asshole, yet you can’t help but beg for that cock as if your life depends on it. A constant chasing game, where you run away only to circle back right into his arms. He’s the moon, and you’re the tide, always coming to him in your every attempt to pull away. You can’t even tell when that started. Maybe it was just meant to be meaningless hate fuck, something that you stupidly figured would help you deal with his despicable personality better.

You have since learned not to play games with Shouichi Imayoshi, because as much as it breaks your ego to admit it, he is far more intelligent than you’ll ever be. That’s probably why you are on your way to his place right now – not even the fatigue from this week can convince you to stay away from him. You need him, desperately even, it’s ridiculous. You barge in his place almost hatefully, only to find the tall man enjoying himself a late-night drink, that annoying smirk on his lips.

“You should have told me to pick you up, it’s never a good idea for a pretty girl to walk alone at night.” He hums, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead as a greeting.

You sigh, melting in the softness of his gesture. How can you take yourself seriously when he behaves like that? That may actually be the thing you despise the most about him. You are truly convinced that there is no greater jerk than that guy, but he doesn’t behave like one at all. Always the gentleman, he’s even had the audacity to ask you politely before ravaging you for the first time. You went back home after that first time legs wobbling like a new-born deer. You should have known that something was wrong with you back then – you couldn’t even take him all the way without crying, and yet, you keep running back to this dick as if you get your life force from it.

Today is no exception to what has become your new normal. Shouichi’s sporting an aura of calm and confidence that is almost unsettling, while you sit uncomfortably in the pool of arousal that gathers in your panties from how he riled you up enough to make you take the last train to his place. His actions are slow, calculated despite their seemingly nonchalance. The way he watches you through his glasses as he sips on his drink quietly.

“How have you been?” “Have you been sleeping enough lately?” “That’s a lovely blouse that you are wearing today, sweetheart.” “Are those rings new?”

Casual talk that would lead anyone to believe that he truly cares about you, often time letting strangers ask if you are dating. Surely, you must be! Why wouldn’t want such a charming young man all for you? A smart, classy boy, with a great sense of leadership, a wordsmith destined to greatness. The aunties would tell you to marry him as soon as possible so you can benefit from the greatness of becoming his wife. Even your friends can’t back you up, and that’s entirely on you. You could tell them how mean he is to you, how cruel he can be – but you contradict yourself with the shameless things you do in his company, and in all willingness, at that. He’s never forced you, he’s never manipulated you. No, if anything, he’s always said that he’s in love with the way you see right through him.

“You know, angel, nothing’s ever made my cock harder than he first time you called me an asshole.” He confessed once, while he was balls deep in your pussy.

And to make your case even more of a lost one, you were moaning like a bitch in heat at these words. Ultimately, Shouichi will always look at you in a way that asks who’s the real twisted one between the two of you? Because there might be something unsettling about him, but he is not the one that’s made the conscious choice to choke on his dick.

The way you get on your knees between his legs as he’s still sipping on his drink to eagerly rub your face against his bulge is already telling. He chuckles, fingers almost loving in the way they caress your hair. He takes a sip, enjoying the show you’re putting up for him. Hurrying to remove his pants and to free his semi-hard cock from his underwear.

“Fuck.”

You swear, annoyed at how big he is already. You know you’ll get wrecked by him, you know it’ll hurt good. And you know that he has all the rights to look at you in all superiority when he’s packing a dick that huge. It’s ridiculous, the spectacle of you trying as hard as you can to fit him in your mouth.

“Take your time, pretty, I’m still enjoying my drink so no rush.” He coos, pulling your head away so you can choke out some air.

You are too cocky, thinking you can stretch your mouth enough to take him that fast. You feel like a first timer, not skipping ahead any step. The languid stroke of your tongue on his tip as your hand pumps his base, letting the blood rush to the organ to bring it to life. Then your nails dig in the flesh of his thighs when you go for it, wrapping your lips around his head – so far, so good, you can take it. He sighs, watching you go step-by-step, every single action increasing the pleasure that courses through his body. Ah, you seem to have settled already, with the nice pace you’ve set as you take the first few inches of his dick.

Perfect.

The hand that was previously gently petting your head now holds your hair in a tight grip, making your scalp ache as he suddenly thrust his dick full in your mouth. You choke, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you whine. He laughs, watching the drool dripping out the corner of your slutty mouth.

“So cute… go ahead, suck me more.”

You can protest as much as you want, you still obey. Watching him with teary eyes as he fucks your throat shamelessly never fails to make you horny. You really can’t help the pulses of your clit when you do such things, or the way you feel your blood rush to all the wrong places, carrying with it lewd thoughts and shameful desires. Depravity must be your name, because nothing else can justify the pleasure you get from being treated like that.

He doesn’t even give you the liberty to decide whether you’ll suck him to his orgasm, just so you can swallow every drop of his delicious cum (also a thing that you hate about him – how can semen taste this good?).

“Stand up and bend for me.”

“But I’m not done!” you pout, to which he laughs.

“You’re a better slut when you don’t complain.”

His words are followed by a harsh kiss on your lips, tongue snaking inside your mouth to keep you quiet. He’s smart enough to tell that all your fussing and complaining is meaningless, because you instinctively always do what he says. You’d be a fool not to go with his flow – he’s let you take the lead once, just so you learn your lesson, and the evident conclusion is that it’s never going to be as good as when he’s the one setting the rules.

“Fuck you, Shouichi” you breathe out when he finally leaves your mouth.

He hums, hands already pulling down your pants, before he hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties, pulling your panties teasingly.

“Will you do it?”

He chuckles at his own joke, while you stand there, wandering if it makes any sense at all for you to be with a man like that. But you’re quick to find the answer to your question the moment his mouth founds your neck, and his fingers find your clitoris. Hand ever so slyly finding your cunt, letting you gasp in pure surprise and pleasure at the languid way he twists the bundle of nerves. He’s so smooth, making you nothing but putty in his hands. So malleable, so easy to bend and contort to his will. You are a truly, honest to god, nice girl. He’s no dupe, he knows that the venom that you spit at him is harmless – you’re a mere grass snake, nothing next to a cobra like him. He’s magnificent, you have to recognize it. He is, when he stretches your pussy good with his fingers right there in his kitchen, hot breath kissing the sensitive skin of your neck as you mewl desperately.

“Desperate, aren’t we?  Wanna go to my bedroom or are you too impatient?”

“Stop playing around!” you whine, pushing your ass back to meet his length. “Fuck me already.”

“My… and here I was trying to be a gentleman.” He clicks his tongue, hand on your lower back pushing you to arch just like he wants you to. “You’re so sweet, though, how can I say no to such a good whore?”

You whimper, feeling the tease of his tip between your folds. It’s mean – despite the softness of the act. Every second feels like eternity, leading you to leave your dignity at the door so you can plead for his cock in all neediness.

“Ah… here we go.” He lets his head tear through your walls, drawing a breathy moan out of your lips.

He grunts, hands gently caressing your hips as he stills. You wince, your mind going blank at his size. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been in this predicament before, you may never get used to him. That cock might kill you one day, that much you are convinced of. He may try to distract you with the soft caresses on your lower stomach, or the slow circles he runs on your clit, but you know it’s a short-lived respite.

“Go ahead, fuck yourself on me” he commands, slithering voice reverbing in your empty head, before travelling down to your pussy.

Your sweet, drippy and obedient cunt that takes inch by inch. Your tears that fall silently down your cheek; Shouichi knows not to worry, you do that when you feel too good. He knows all the tells – the way your own fingernails dig in the skin of your palms when you clench your fists, and the furrow in your brows and the whimpers that roll off your tongue. The slight shake of your legs as you try to hold yourself up and the gloss in your eyes from your tears of pleasure. Nothing could make Shouichi Imayoshi more excited than the sight of you like that.

No, actually, it’s not excitement. It’s love.

He loves the way you take him, the way you cry and beg for his cock, and to see your sweet hole stretch like that to accommodate him. He feeds on the knowledge that he’s got you ruined for anybody else – no matter what harsh word you throw at him, you’ll always be back. Ass up, legs spread, back arched, pussy all for his to conquer.

“That’s a good slut…” he whispers in your ear before lightly nipping at the lobe, “you like to be split in half on my dick, hm?”

You nod eagerly, your lewd moans speaking volumes.

“You like it, when it hurts good… ah!”

He throws his head back, a soft grunt leaving his tongue as you clench around him. Surprisingly, you manage to push half of him out, but you are quick to pull it back by pushing your ass to his pelvis, your skin meeting his in loud slaps. It’s animalistic, actions driven by pure lust and nothing else.

“Gonna come, fuck!” you whine, tears blurring your vision.

It’s just such a heavenly pain, a tear in your guts that makes your soul ascends to untouched heights. Your hips have a will of their own, trying to engulf all that you can take of his massive cock, seeking more. Drunk on him, hooked on his body. You are addicted to Shouichi Imayoshi.

“Yeah, me too…” His laugh is tender, pure ecstasy that makes him thrust back just to make you come around him.

You cry loudly, the melody of your voice making his dick twitch as you let go, erratic contractions of your walls tiring your body. He’s never failed to make you come hard, giving you the kind of orgasm that you cannot reproduce without him, no matter how much you try. Strong arms hold you as your worn-out body collapse against the kitchen counter, the next following minutes being a blur.

All that you know, is that you eventually feel a big emptiness in your body when he pulls out to decorate your ass with hot ropes of cum. You are shaking, breathing through your tears. His thumb swipes the salty drops away from your face, drinking the taste of your tears. It’s so sweet, so addictive, that he can also wish to get more of it on his tongue.

“You always come for me, don’t you? That’s just lovely.”

[cheshireliam]

"The Past Records: Liam Evans & Harrison Gray" Party Event: Chapter 1

Outside the Mise-en-Scène

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

This is a story from a little while before the robin ventured into the darkness and lost its way—. 

…

Victor: That was impressive. The two of you were practically glowing as you cornered the target! 

Victor commended Liam and Harrison for their performance in completing a recent mission. 

It was a rare moment where all members of Crown happened to be having dinner at the same time, thus the lively atmosphere at the dinner table.

Liam: Harry and I sure make a great duo! 

Liam puffed out his chest with pride and put his arm around Harrison’s shoulder. 

Harrison, despite looking annoyed, didn’t resist. 

Ellis: You two always look happy like you’re having fun together. Have you been close ever since you met? 

Liam: Nope, not at all. 

Liam: For example… let me think, hmm… you might be shocked if I told you about the first time we met. 

With a mischievous look in his eyes, Liam began recounting past events.

The story goes back to the time before Harrison, Ellis, and Jude joined Crown—. 

…

<< Liam’s POV >> 

That night, I, Liam Evans, was dashing through the streets in town.

(I got so carried away chasing the target that I lost track of time…)

(Victor is gathering all the members of Crown today, so I need to hurry back to the castle.) 

Perhaps because I was in too much of a rush and didn't pay attention to my surroundings, I accidentally collided with a male passerby. 

Rough-looking Man: Ugh!

Liam: Whoa, I’m so sorry! 

Rough-looking Man: Ya think an apology’s gonna fix this? Ya done broke my bones! 

Liam: Huh!? From that? 

It was only a light brush against his shoulder, there was no way I could've broken any of his bones. 

Rough-looking Man: Ya gonna cough up the cash for my treatment or what?

The man seemed to be familiar with the act of extorting money through intimidation. 

(If I waste any more time here, I’ll keep everyone from Crown waiting for me…)

(... I don’t have a choice. I’ll just give him the money and resolve this peacefully.) 

(As long as it gets me out of this situation, it doesn’t matter if it makes a dent in my wallet.) 

Liam: Alright, I’ll—... 

Young Man with Mint-Coloured Eyes: Hold on. 

Just as I was about to obediently hand over the money, a young man with mint-coloured eyes stopped me. 

Rough-looking Man: The hell’s your problem, butting in where ya shouldn't?

Young Man With Mint-Coloured Eyes: You're lying about your bones being broken.

Young Man With Mint-Coloured Eyes: You should stop using that trick to get money out of people. 

Rough-looking Man: Hah!? What proof ya got…? Quit yer nonsensical yappin’. 

Young Man With Mint-Coloured Eyes: If you think what I'm saying is nonsense, why don't you come with me?

Young Man With Mint-Coloured Eyes: I’m a policeman, you see. Let’s head down to the station and have a little chat. 

Rough-looking Man: P-policeman!?

Rough-looking Man: My bad! I was wrong ‘bout my bones bein’ broken!  

The moment he heard the young man say he was a policeman, the swindler's facial expression changed and he fled the scene. 

(I’m saved…! 

I wanted to thank the policeman with mint-coloured eyes, but he already left. 

…

Victor: Welcome back, Liam. Now everyone’s here! 

Liam: Sorry! I got into a little trouble…

Victor: It’s alright. The others only arrived a few minutes ago too!

Liam: That’s good… anyway, why did you gather all of us here today?  

Victor: I’m glad you asked! I called everyone here to introduce our newest member. 

Victor: Come inside! 

When I saw the young man who entered the room, my eyes immediately widened in surprise. 

Liam: Oh! You’re that guy from just now! 

Young Man With Mint-Coloured Eyes: So you're a member of Crown.

Liam: Aren’t you a policeman?

Harrison: That was a one-off lie I told. — Nice to meet you, I’m Harrison Gray. 

Harrison: I have the curse of the Lying Fox. I look forward to working with all of you. 

Victor: Thanks for the introduction. Let’s give our new member a round of applause! 

After the applause, Victor looked at Harrison and I with his gemstone-like eyes. 

Victor: Did the two of you already know each other before? 

Liam: When I ran into trouble earlier on, it was Harrison who helped me. 

Victor: What a fateful encounter. In that case, Harrison should be paired up with you for his very first mission! 

…

After the meal which doubled as a welcome party, we received the details of our mission… and Harrison left the dining hall.

I hurriedly chased after him. 

Liam: Harry! Wait! 

Harrison: … Are you talking to me? 

Liam: Yeah! Using nicknames makes us feel closer, don’t you think?

Liam: Let me introduce myself once again— I’m Liam Evans. We’re about the same age, so I think we'll get along well. Looking forward to working with you! 

Liam: Oh, also, thanks for helping me out earlier! 

I extended a hand to Harrison with a smile. 

But he merely cast a quick glance at it with no intention to shake my hand. 

Harrison: You’re lying. 

Liam: … Huh?

Harrison: The part where you said you “think we’ll get along well” was a lie. 

Liam: I-I’m not lying… 

Harrison: I have the ability to tell if a person is lying. 

Harrison: And so I just saw right through your lie. 

Liam: … 

Harrison: … You and I are only colleagues. There’s no need to force a friendship between us. 

Harrison: No need for nicknames either. Bye. 

If this were a play, my story with Harrison would develop naturally over time.

But this wasn't a fictional play, and we weren't mere characters. 

Outside the mise-en-scène — in this world where there was no script to follow, I had no idea how to deal with Harrison. 

[redflagshipwriter]

check yes to go on a date w a dead guy ch 4 progress

next chapter here

(masterpost with this story here)

It took a minute for Jason to recover from that realization. He kept the anger he felt off his face. Danny didn’t seem upset about dying young, but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an appropriate topic to prod about on a first meeting. He’d get there eventually.

Jason stilled. Ah, shit, he still didn’t have a plan. Just eating together was too short and too boring. He needed to have something better than that.

Fuck, what were they going to do next? 

Jason strained for ideas. What was a good date? Normally, he'd know more about a person before they hung out romantically. 

Well. Actually, normally he hung out platonically with someone a lot before he started to feel interest in them. This was all kinds of backwards: but he didn't want it to end yet. 

“So, uh, what do you like to do?” Jason asked. Masterful. So smooth.

Danny scrunched up his nose. “Lately my afterlife sucks,” he groused. “I am drowning in paperwork and busy stuff.” He slumped over. “I miss being in high school,” Danny sighed. He drew his knees in and rested his elbows on them, then squished his cheeks with his palms. “I guess I used to just hang out, you know?” He shrugged. “Played a lot of video games. I miss that.” 

“Of course,” Jason said, despite never having hung out and played video games in high school. He'd been an overscheduled nerd in junior high school and then been too dead for high school. “That sounds fun. Wanna go back to mine and play something later?”

Danny lit up, blue eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Yes! That would be great.” He straightened his legs and kicked his heels against the side of the building. “Wait, can we do the whole grungy high school hangout thing with pop and chips and dip and pizza and stuff?”

He almost said “we literally just ate”, but what the hell. “We'll hit the store next,” Jason said. He couldn't say no to that face. Look at ‘em. He was so excited.

'Ugh, god. Danny died in high school,’’ Jason realized. He'd already known Danny died young but it still stuck in his stomach like a rock. 'No wonder he misses what he did then. He's interacting with the physical world now but if he died, he probably went to like, dead land immediately.’

But, uh. Video games. He could do that. He kept up a conversation as his mind churned, asking Danny what kind of games he liked.

The thing was, Jason didn't really play video games. He had a console at his place and if he was hanging out with Roy or Dick there, they'd bring a game over. He owned like, two games. 

He considered popping by the store and just buying something. But that would be weird and intense. He'd probably freak Danny out if he went and dropped money on a game just to play with him. 

Ok. Well. He'd get someone to drop off games before he and Danny could get back to the apartment. Jason sneakily got out his phone and strategized. 

Steph? No. Terrible. He couldn't let that girl know he had a date until the poor bastard really liked him for sure. She'd either chase Danny off or somehow orchestrate the two of them getting engaged. 

Tim? God, no. He'd definitely own a lot of games but they'd all be for the PC, and he'd hang around and smirk about Jason meeting up with Danny.

Dick? Too far away, and way too smug. He'd take it as an opportunity to tease.

Oh, wait. He had it. Jason opened up a message to Duke and sent out a quick “I want to bribe you. Homemade pizza? Artichoke dip? Fried oysters???” 

“Did you take a life?????” Duke shot back. Then, “pizza! What do you need?” 

“Get to my place with a bunch of video games that'll work on my tv in less than an hour and I'll make whatever you want.” 

The three dots indicating typing popped up. They stayed there for a weirdly long time. Then, Duke said, “Can I stay and hang out? 🥺”

Adorable little bastard. Jason typed out NO and then hesitated, feeling kinda bad.

“Who's that?” Danny prompted. 

Ah, shit, he was being rude. Jason flushed. “Asking a little brother to bring over a game,” he admitted. “He wants to stay.” 

Danny laughed. “That's adorable,” he announced. “It's fine by me. Lots of games are better with more people, anyway.” 

Well. If that was the case, Jason was fine with it. He sent Duke an OK and then put his phone away before the inevitable “I AM THE FAVORITE SIBLING” fireworks started. 

[mellebabbles]

Batfam Favorite Disney Princesses:

(Disclaimer: I'm using the official Disney Princesses list. These are my personal HCs)

Bruce Wayne:

Cinderella. A lover of the classics, Bruce has a weakness for the kind orphan girl who chased her own destiny by disguising herself after dark-- with the help of an elderly "Godparent." He remembers watching it as a child with his Mother, when he asked her if fairy Godparents were real. To which she responded, "What do you think Alfred is?"

Alfred Pennyworth:

Snow White. Alfred remembers seeing the film for the first time in theaters as a lad, and it's been a favorite of his ever since. To this day, Snow White herself reminds him of a young and whimsical Martha Wayne. From the dark locks, to the red lips and ability to charm everyone around her.

Richard Grayson:

Ariel. This movie practically fueled Dick's love of redheads from a young age. And coming to Gotham's high society from the circus, he felt a connection watching the little Mermaid try to find her way in the human world. (Extra: Put Dumbo on in front of this boy if you wanna watch him sob uncontrollably)

Barbara Gordan:

Also Ariel. Not only because it felt nice as a little girl to see a Princess who looked like her, but because guilt over keeping a secret double life from her protective Father, and losing her ability to walk hit almost too close to home.

Jason Todd:

Belle. A normal yet sassy girl with big dreams living in a poor village who loved books, was pretty much the reason the dark romance genre is thriving, showed forgiveness and compassion for a guy who severely fucked up? He was smitten from the moment she started singing about books and adventure "in the great life somewhere."

Tim Drake:

Tiana (and Lottie) from The Princess and the Frog. Apart from his weakness for people who aren't afraid to sass him, who go after what they want, kooky blondes and just being a big nerd for Keith David, he didn't really need much else.

Stephanie Brown:

"Superman."

Yes, she says this with 100% seriousness. Has never changed her answer.

Cassandra Cain:

Also, Ariel. Barbara Gordan showed her "The Little Mermaid," when she first came to stay with her. She still can't take her eyes off the screen when it's playing.

Damien Wayne:

Jasmine. Even though he complained about the historical and cultural inaccuracies of the film when he saw it for the first time, she's been his number #1 ever since then. Strong, fierce, she has a pet tiger??? (Something he's still begging Bruce for.)

Duke Thomas:

Rapunzel. No, not because she also has abilities related to "Light." He claims that's a coincidence, but the rest of the Batfam have pointed out how she was also a "mistreated foster child" who rebels against her abuser to pursue her own dreams, and ends up finding her parents in the process. He refuses to clarify if that's also a coincidence.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Well now I need a backstory on Vampire Lord Bill before I finish gnawing through the bars of my enclosure

Also, I’m obsessed with the idea that, if Ford is at all a reliable narrator, Bill was angry at Ford, somehow kidnapped Stan (did he know about Stan or think he was Ford at first then decided this would be hilarious?), turned him, and then left him as a present for Ford

Amazing.

So i don't have a hard back story for him, just a general idea that might flesh out as I write this.

SO. Bill is old, like, pre written history old. He was a messed up kid in his home, an ancient city of some kind, long lost to time. He was born with extra abilities (like his fire :)) and was an outcast, despite his mom trying her best to help him feel loved.

At some point, young and sixteenish, he either got turned by another vampire or became one by less traditional means, either making a deal with a demon, drinking his tormentors blood, something. However it happened, Bill entered his undead life already powerful and with a higher class of vampirsim that makes him stronger, faster, and with a wider set of powers than the norm (less so than he is currently, being so old, but still powerful for a newborn vamp). Then he went and ate everyone in his home, burning the place down in his blood fueled hunger, too out of it to really think about what he was doing or pay attention to who he was eating.

But it was all in good fun! He's powerful and he can do whatever he wants! Its their fault for messing with him in the first place! (He is Not Looking. He didn't do anything Wrong. He is sixteen(ish) forever and cannot hear his mothers screams)

Time goes on, and he gets a better handle of what he can do and why. Eventually starts building an undead army to overtake humanity and give him ultimate control of the human cattle, putting him on top. (He's sixteen(ish) forever and has delusions of grandeur and has become insane).

No one else is happy with this, of course. Not just some of the other, non Bill related vampires, but also humans and other supernatural creatures. They band together to take him out, eventually pinning him down. Except he's sixteen(ish) (or looks it, no one knows how old he really is) and uses his fake tears and baby face to sway some of the softer hearts (axolotl maybe?)(or maybe they couldn't kill him, not with the speed he regenerated) so instead of killing him outright he gets sealed, classic vampire style, chained in a coffin in a blood stained circle and all kinds of signs saying 'hey, this guys bad news! get away from here!'

So of course Ford stumbles across this huge red flag and says 'man life sure is beautiful behind my rose colored glasses'. cuts his finger on the coffin, rousing Bill from sleep and creating a connection, which results in all their dream dates. Bill was sealed so long ago for a misunderstanding Ford! He's so lonely here, and he wants to see the amazing world Ford knows! What is he? A god! His vessel was sealed, trapping Bill in this psychic space, but he sensed Ford was special, and they can do great things together :)

Ford has no idea Bill's a perma sixteen year old vampire. Bill's lying about his age here, catfishing a grown human man.

Anyway it ends with Ford breaking the seal, and Bill gets free. He looks awful and mummy like, and the only reason he didn't kill Ford straight up was because he wanted to turn Ford and has enough self control right now that Fords not bleeding to bypass him.

There's a lovely town down below after all :) Perfect for a hungry vampire.

Meanwhile Ford realizes he's Fucked Up Big Time, scrambles to chase Bill to stop the blood bath he knows will happen. Gets there in time to witness half the town dead and shout about how he's not gong to let Bill get what he wants! Except there's still that psychic connection, so Bill sorta hypnotizes Ford into not fighting him (not that he thinks Ford would stand a chance, but still).

Bill thinks this is so cute! Fordsy is playing hard to get, wants to make a game out of his inevitable turning. Bill, being a perma sixteen(ish) has fallen hard for Fords older man energy. Is convinced its only a matter of time before Ford folds and falls for his charms, let Bill turn him and together they'll take the world by storm. He's got it all planned out, has all kinds of dramatic 'oh no, you've got me ;)' and 'look at who I have here ;)' scenarios planned out. Then theyll make out or something. Doesn't matter, as long as Ford belongs to Bill.

Except he got Stan instead. Stan, the other Pines, who's nearly identical but also the bottom of the barrel in terms of humans. Bill wouldn't care about Stan, except that he's connected to Ford, so getting him instead of the real deal is like almost getting a jack pot then one of the spinners goes over or something. I don't know anything about gambling. It pisses him off, but! He can use it, use Stan as a new weird foreplay thing where he kills Stan and gives his shriveled corpse to Ford. Ford will love it! Or hate it, and chase Bill more! Either way, Bill wins!

Then he finds out Ford did not get the shriveled corpse Bill had prepped. Where did it go? Who's going around stealing corpses? Oh, Stan's a vampire now? Huh.

Rage. Rage in Bill 100000 years. He doesnt want Stan! Stan's not supposed to be a part of Bill's undead legion! He's supposed to be dead! Or forgotten once Bill turns Ford and paints the world red! Or fed to Ford in some other, more messed up form of foreplay! He's not supposed to be walking around in undead life!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Roadkill | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of smut

Word Count: 4772

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“Alright,” Dean began, cruising down a darkened road. “Tell me about Highway 41.”

You leaned your head on your arms between the shoulders of the two boys on the back of the front seat as Sam began to talk.

“Twelve accidents over fifteen years,” the brunet explained. “Five of them fatal; all of them happening on the same night.”

“So, what are we looking at— Interstate dead zone? Phantom hitchhiker? What?” Dean questioned.

Sam shook his head, continuing to flip through his notes. “Not quite. Year after year, witnesses said the same thing made them crash. A woman appearing in the middle of the road, being chased by a man covered in blood.”

“Two spooks?” you asked.

“Sounds like it,” Sam responded.

“Any idea who this chick is?” 

“I think I might,” the brunet said, handing you a clipping from an old newspaper he’d printed off online. “Molly McNamara. Killed in a car crash fifteen years ago tomorrow night. She took another guy out with her; Jonah Greely. Farmer who was out in the road, and Molly couldn’t slow down in enough time to stop.”

“So, what? She haunts the road now with Greely chasin’ after her?” you questioned.

Sam shrugged. “I guess.”

“I say we go talk to the husband. Only survivor of the crash.”

And that was just where you went. You discovered she hadn’t been buried; she’d been cremated.

“So, what’s keeping her here?” Sam wondered aloud as you left the survivor’s house.

“I don’t know,” you replied. 

*** The next night, you, Dean, and Sam headed down Highway 41.

“Please don’t run into the bitch and kill us all with your stupid driving,” you implored Dean, who shot you a look in the rearview mirror.

“I’m a great driver, what are you—” He cut himself off as something in the road caught his attention. “Holy—!”

You braced yourself on the back of the front seat as Dean slammed to a stop in front of a young blonde woman with scrapes and bruises littering her body. “You have to help me!” she yelled, crying.

“Dean, I don't think she knows she's dead,” Sam realized.

Molly started banging on the window of Sam’s door. “Open up! Please!”

Sam obliged, holding his hand up to try and create some distance between the two of them as he opened the car. “Okay, okay! All right, all right. Just calm down. Tell us what happened.”

You hung back with Dean while he parked the car as Sam walked ahead with Molly. 

“What is he gonna tell her?” Dean asked quietly.

“Knowing Sam? Probably the truth,” you replied.

“She's gonna take off running in the other direction,” Dean sighed.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I— I swerved,” Molly was telling Sam, sitting against a tree stump, “ A-And we crashed. And when I came to, the car was wrecked and my husband was missing. I went looking for him, but that's when the man from the road, he- he started chasing me.”

“Did he look like he lost a fight with a lawn mower?” Dean questioned.

Molly looked up at Dean, shocked. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” he shrugged.

You played dumb, keeping what Dean had said earlier in mind. “Hey, what's your name?”

“Molly. Molly Mcnamara,” she said.

Sam looked over at you knowingly. “I think maybe you should come with us. We'll take you back into town.”

“I can't.” The blonde suddenly panicked. “I have to find David. He might have gone back to the car.”

“We should get you somewhere safe first. Then the three of us will come back. We'll look for your husband,” Sam tried.

“No. I'm not leaving here without him. Would you just take me back to my car, please?” she begged.

Sam hesitated a moment. “Of course,” he said finally. “Come on.”

The four of you clambered into the Impala, and Molly directed Dean toward the crash site. You were incredibly uneasy with a spirit just casually sitting next to you in the backseat, and every instinct was screaming at you to pump her full of rocksalt. However, you knew better and fought your gut feeling.

“Stop,” Molly told Dean. She was jumping out of the car before he’d fully come to a stop. “It’s right over there.”

She led you to where she thought the car would be, but there was nothing there. 

“I don't understand. I'm sure this is where it was. W-We hit that tree right there. This— This doesn't make any sense,” she rushed out, running a hand through her hair. She started to head further into the woods.

Not willing to let her out of your sight, you followed. “Molly, wait!”

She turned around. “I know it sounds crazy, but I crashed into that tree. I don't know who could've taken it. It was totaled. Please. You have to believe me.”

“I do believe you,” you said. “But that’s why you gotta get outta here.”

“What about David?” she protested. “Something must have happened. I have to get to the cops.”

Dean came up behind you. “Cops! That's a great idea. We'll take you down to the station ourselves. So just come with us. It's the best way we can help you and your husband.”

“Okay,” she replied.

You shot Dean a look and headed back to the car.

As the four of you drove, Molly spoke up. “We're supposed to be in Lake Tahoe.”

“You and David?” Sam asked.

“It's our five-year anniversary,” she nodded.

“A hell of an anniversary,” Dean muttered, almost making you laugh. However, you were too focused on keeping a hand on your gun in case she made one wrong move.

“Right before, we were having the dumbest fight,” she sighed. “It was the only time we ever really argued; when we were stuck in the car.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah. I know how that goes.”

Dean scowled at him, making you smile.

“You know the last thing I said to him? I called him a jerk. Oh, god. What if that's the last thing I said to him?” she cried.

The younger Winchester turned to face her. “Molly, we're gonna figure out what happened to your husband. I promise.”

Suddenly, the radio started flickering. Its whirring and crackling soon turned to the opening notes of “House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals.

“Sam, you didn’t—?” you started.

He shook his head.

Dean sighed. “I was afraid you'd say that.”

“This song…” Molly trailed off.

“What?” you questioned.

“It was playing when we crashed,” she breathed out.

The radio crackled again, and settled on another disturbing station. A voice began to fill the car coming over the radio. “She's mine,” the voice taunted. “She's mine. She's mine.”

“What is that?” Molly asked.

Jonah Greeley suddenly appeared in the middle of the road.

Dean began flooring it straight at him. “Hold on.”

“What are you doing?” she shrieked as Dean drove into Greeley, who disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“What the... What the hell just happened?” Molly breathed.

“Don't worry, Molly. Everything's gonna be alright,” Sam coaxed.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” you quipped as the Impala began to shudder. It coasted to a stop on the side of the road.

Dean tried to start it again, but the ignition sputtered. “I don't think he's gonna let her leave.”

You got out of the car, hand still on your gun. 

Dean put a hand on the small of your back, cooly saying, “Relax” into your ear. A shudder went through your spine at the contact, but you did your best to release the tension you were holding in your body.

“That’s my girl,” he said, more to himself than you. 

Your heart swelled with pride just as Molly started to panic on the other side of the car. “This can't be happening.”

“Well, trust me. It's happening,” Dean remarked. He moved to the back of the car and started pulling weapons out of the trunk.

Molly came around and noticed the arsenal, immediately backing away. “Okay. Thanks for helping, but I think I got it covered from here.”

“Wait. Molly, Molly, wait a minute,” Sam begged, chasing after her.

“Just leave me alone.”

“No, no, no. Please. You have to listen to me,” he told her.

“Just stay away!” Molly started walking faster.

“It wasn't a coincidence that we found you, alright?” Sam told her.

“Oh, here we go,” you told Dean.

“What are you talking about?” the blonde asked defensively.

“We weren't just cruising for chicks when we ran into you, sister,” Dean snarked. “We were already out here. Hunting.”

“Hunting for what?” Molly questioned.

“Ghosts.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it for her,” you deadpanned.

“You're nuts,” she laughed in disbelief.

“Really? About as nuts as a vanishing guy with his guts spilling out. You know what you saw,” Dean pressed.

“We think his name is Jonah Greeley. He was a local farmer that died fifteen years ago on this highway,” Sam explained despite Molly begging him to stop. “One night a year, on the anniversary of his death, he haunts this road. That's why we're here, Molly. To try and stop him.”

It seemed like this was starting to make sense to her. “Now, I suppose this... ghost… made my car disappear, too.”

“Crazier things have happened, huh?” Dean replied.

“You know what? I'm all filled up on crazy. I'm gonna get the cops myself.” She started away.

“Not to be harsh, but you’re not gonna get far,” you called after her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she scoffed, turning back.

“Means that plan A was trying to get you out of here. Obviously that didn't go over too well with, uh, Farmer Roadkill,” Dean informed.

“Molly, we're telling the truth,” said Sam. “Greeley's not gonna let you leave this highway.”

“You're s— you're serious about this, aren't you?”

Dean nodded. “Deadly.”

‘No pun intended there, I’m sure,’ you thought.

“Every year, Greeley finds someone to punish for what happened to him. Tonight, that person is you,” Sam told Molly.

“Why me? I didn't do anything,” she cried.

“Doesn't matter. Some spirits only see what they want,” Sam shrugged.

“So you're saying this ... Greeley, he took my husband? Oh, god,” she wailed.

Sam caught her gaze again. “Molly, look, we're gonna help, all right? But first, you gotta help us.”

“Help you?” she questioned. “How?”

*** Molly led you over to a deteriorating hunting cabin where she saw Greeley. You walked in behind Dean, only slightly unsettled by the numerous blood-stained tools scattered around the room. Hunting ghosts, chopping them up— sure, no problem; Animals? They were off-limits in your mind. 

“Huh. Seemed like a real sweet guy,” Dean commented upon taking in the bloodstained metal table.

“No markers or headstones outside,” Sam told you and Dean.

“You're looking for Greeley's grave?” Molly asked.

Sam nodded.

“Why?”

“So we can dig up the corpse and salt and burn it,” Dean responded nonchalantly.

“Oh. Sure, naturally,” the blonde scoffed.

“It's a way to get rid of a spirit,” Sam told her.

“And that'll save David?” Molly asked.

“Well, this is what'll help both of you, provided there's a corpse to be found,” Sam replied. You could tell the truth was burning on his tongue.

“So how do we find it?” Molly continued.

“I'm not sure. After Greeley died, his wife claimed the body. And that was the last anyone saw of her. So good guess she brought him back here. But they had a thousand acres. He could be buried anywhere on 'em,” Sam said.

“So this is really what you guys do? You're like Ghostbusters?”

“Minus the jumpsuits,” you remarked.

Briskly, Dean started, “This is a fascinating conversation and all, but this highway is only haunted once a year, and we got till sun-up to wrap this thing up. What do you say we move it along, okay? Great.”

You followed Dean outside to search for Greely’s corpse or his house.

“Can’t say I’m enjoying babysitting Casper,” you whispered to Dean.

“Me neither,” he chuckled.

“Any thoughts on what’s got her stuck?” you asked.

“Probably the fact that she doesn’t know she’s dead,” he shrugged.

“But… why would that matter?” you questioned.

“I guess you can’t move on if you don’t even know you have to,” he said.

“Makes sense,” you considered. 

“David? David? David!” you suddenly heard Molly screaming behind you. She then yelped in shock, and you immediately raised your shotgun loaded with rocksalt and shot above Molly’s head at Greeley, who was holding her above the ground. He disappeared upon the round’s impact and dropped Molly.

“Nice,” Dean told you.

“Thanks,” you grinned.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Sam asked Molly.

“What has that son of a bitch done with my husband?” Molly shrieked.

“Just take it easy, alright? You're gonna see David again. You will,” Sam told her.

You noticed uneven cobblestone starting under your feet. “Hey!” you called to them.

Dean jerked his head in your direction. “Follow the creepy brick road.”

You followed closely behind Dean, blocking out Sam having to recap how ghost hunting works to Molly.

“You know, just once I'd like to round the corner and see a nice house,” Dean commented as you turned toward a slowly decaying house. It was similarly built to the smaller hunting cabin you’d first stumbled upon. You stumbled around the house, searching for any sign of Greeley or his body.

Molly and Sam stuck together at the back of the pack, and Dean stayed outside to look around. You headed up the stairs to look around. Upon doing so, you found a slew of papers strewn about. You searched through a few of them, only finding receipts, scrapbook pages, and to-do lists; nothing about a potential burial site. 

Sam and Molly soon made their way into the room and you tuned out their conversation about vengeful spirits as you poked around a wall that seemed strange to you. 

Dean appeared at the doorway. “Sammy's always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this. Me, I don't like 'em. And I sure as hell ain't making apologies for 'em. There's nothing downstairs. You find anything?”

“Uh, just about every piece of mail or receipt they ever had. Looked through a couple, but nothing about a grave so far,” Sam explained.

“There’s somethin’ back here, though,” you said, referencing the wall. You tossed your flashlight to Sam. You dug the balls of your feet into the floor against the adjoining wall and shoved the cabinet in your way over a bit. You revealed a small hidden door, and you dusted your hands off on your jeans as you crouched to it. “It’s locked from the inside,” you announced.

“Move over,” Dean told you. When he saw you were clear, he threw a back kick at the door. You were surprised to see the door still upright. So was Dean, to your amusement. He gave it yet another kick, and it finally fell inward.

You crawled through the opening with Dean hot on your heels. “It smells like old lady in here,” he grimaced. 

You stood, shocked to see a woman hanging by her neck from the ceiling. “Jesus, that explains why,” you cringed, covering your nose with the back of your sweater sleeve. 

“Well, now we know why nobody ever saw her again,” Dean commented.

“She didn't want to live without him,” Molly cooed sadly.

Sam found a chair the woman had assumedly knocked from under her feet when she passed away. “Dean, give me a hand.”

“Really?” Dean scoffed.

“What are you gonna do?” Molly questioned.

Sam gave his brother a scolding look. “We can't leave her like this.”

“Why not?”

“She deserves to be put to rest, Dean.”

You gave Dean a look as well, and he reluctantly agreed. He moved toward the woman’s body as Sam cut her down, cursing under his breath when it dropped into his arms; either at the smell or the fact that he was holding a corpse.

You helped the boys dig a grave for the woman, and Dean gently laid her in it.

“So... So, if you manage to put Greeley to rest, too... What happens to them?” Molly asked. 

Dean chuckled. “Lady, that answer is way beyond our pay grade.”

“You hunt these things, but you don't know what happens to them?” she pushed.

“Well, they never come back. That's all that matters.”

“Agreed,” you chimed in, but you knew the answer wasn’t satisfying her. “Look, once we get ‘em to let go of whatever’s keeping ‘em here, they just… go. Honestly, I hope some place better, but I don’t know. No one does.”

“What happens when you burn their bones?” she continued.

“Well,” Sam began, “my dad used to say that was like death for ghosts, you know? But… the truth is, we still don't know. Not for sure.” He looked over at Dean. “Guess that's why we all hold on to life so hard. Even the dead. We're all just scared of the unknown.”

“The only thing I'm scared of is losing David. I have to see him again.” Molly paused for a long while. “I have to.” ***

You stood next to the two brothers after you left Molly in a room next door to the one you were in the house. Sam said he needed to talk to you both. 

“I think we should tell her about her husband,” Sam sighed.

“Oh, hell no,” you told him. 

“(Y/N), it's cruel, letting her pine for him like this. I don't like keeping her in the dark.”

“It's for her own good.” Dean got up from the chair behind you. “Man, I know you feel guilty, all right? But let's just stick to the plan. Let's get her out of here. Then we'll tell her.”

Molly suddenly appeared at the door. “Tell me what? What aren't you telling me? It's about David. You know what happened to him.”

“Molly—” Sam began.

Dean cut him off. “Sam, don't.”

“Don't what? Don't tell me because I'll mess up your hunt? You don't care about me or my husband,” the blonde angrily said.

“That's not true.”

“Really? Then whatever it is, tell me, please.”

The younger brother swallowed, hesitating. Before he could say anything, a radio distantly went static. Then, it played “House of the Rising Sun.”

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

“Stay with Molly,” Dean told Sam. He jerked his head at you to get you to follow him toward the sound. You followed the sound toward the living room, getting louder with each step. Dean stooped next to the radio and picked up a frayed, broken power cord. You heard another noise and headed to the door. It frosted over, revealing the words “She’s mine.”

You heard a scream and ran back to the room you left Sam and Molly in.

“He's got Molly!” Sam pointed out the broken window.

You jumped through it, running through the woods. You ran for a few minutes before you cursed under your breath, chest heaving. You returned to the house and started flipping through a scrapbook.

“This guy is persistent,” Dean said, coming up beside you.

“We gotta find Molly,” Sam huffed.

“We gotta find Greeley's bones,” Dean added. “And, uh, no pressure or anything, but we got less than two hours before sunrise.”

You noticed something in a picture of the hunting cabin with the Greeleys standing in front of it. “Hey.”

“What do you got?” Dean questioned.

“ 'February 6, 1992’,” you read aloud.

“That was, like, two weeks before the accident, wasn't it?” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah, but… something seems off. I swear there’s a tree right where they’re standing.” You tapped the picture.

“I should've thought of it,” Sam scolded himself.

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“It's an old country custom,” Sam explained. “Planting a tree as a grave marker.”

Dean chuckled. “You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness.”

“Yeah. I know,” Sam deadpanned somewhat bitterly.

You broke off in a sprint toward the hunting cabin with a shovel in hand. You immediately began digging around the tree. You suddenly heard a scream as the brothers came up beside you. 

“Go get Molly,” you instructed Dean, who nodded and headed inside.

Sam began helping you dig around the tree. You dug in silence feverishly until Sam said, “Hey, I got something over here.”

“Hurry up, guys!” you heard Dean distantly yell.

You looked into the spot where Sam was digging to discover a set of bones carefully laid in an open grave. You ducked down to the duffel bag beside Sam and handed him a container of salt as you searched around for the kerosene. Quickly, you stood back up and emptied the kerosene on top of the body as Sam finished salting the bones. Sam lit a match he’d grabbed and dropped it on top of the bones which immediately ignited into a roaring fire.  

Dean came out of the house with Molly, and you noticed a deep gash on Dean’s cheek. You ran to him as Molly continued ahead to Sam. You gingerly touched the wound, and he hissed in pain.

“When this is over, I need to patch that up,” you told him.

“I’m fine, (Y/N),” he insisted.

“Stop being so hardheaded. I need to fix it up before it gets infected,” you argued.

Dean grumbled, “Fine,” and followed Molly and Sam to the Impala. He patted the hood of his car lovingly. “Oh, baby, it's been a long night,” he cooed, dropping his bag in the backseat and climbing into the driver’s seat.

You rolled your eyes at him, and got down into the seat behind him.

You saw Sam arguing with Molly outside of the car, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. You then saw her smile in relief before eagerly climbing into the car next to you.

Wordlessly, Sam and Dean exchanged a look. You figured Sam told her he’d take her to David. Dean then drove a route you’d taken before to the man’s house. You pulled up to the lovely suburban home, light emanating from it into the dark night.

“He's in that house, right there,” Sam told Molly.

Her shoulders dropped and formerly cheery expression changed. “I don't understand.”

“You will.”

You got out of the car and stood next to Dean. 

Molly’s breath quickened. “That's— not— It can't be.”

You watched the woman carefully, and for the first time, felt bad for a vengeful spirit. You watched as David stood dressed in a bathrobe holding a steaming cup of liquid, sipping it before a woman came up to him and pecked him on the lips.

“What's happening?” Molly questioned. “Who is that?”

“David’s wife,” you answered. 

She turned back to the house, confused, before turning back to you and the Winchesters.

“I'm sorry, Molly,” Sam began softly. “Fifteen years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. David survived.”

“What are you saying?” The blonde’s voice wavered.

“We're saying there isn't just one spirit haunting Highway 41,” Dean added. “There are two. Jonah Greeley and you.”

“For the past fifteen years, one night a year you've been appearing on that highway,” explained the younger brother.

“No, that's not possible. It was our anniversary… February 22nd—”

“1992,” you cut her off.

“Yes,” she responded, looking at you like you were stupid.

“It’s 2007,” you finished.

“Oh, god,” she cried. “And Greeley?” 

“Each year he punishes somebody for his death... ah, chasing them. Torturing them. And each year, that somebody is you,” the brunet explained.

“But I don't remember any of it.”

“Because you couldn't see the truth, Molly. Some spirits only see what they want,” Sam told her.

“So that's why he won't let me off the highway. Because... I killed him. I killed us both.” Molly shakily moved over to the front steps of the house. You followed her over as she inquired, “Why didn't you tell me when you first saw me? Why wait until now?”

“You wouldn't have believed us,” Dean replied.

She looked up t0 Dean, stating accusingly, “And you needed me for bait.”

“Well, we needed you,” Sam chimed in.

“David,” she breathed out.

The younger brother sighed. “Molly, we brought you here so you could move on.”

“I have to tell him—” 

You cut her off. “Tell him what? That you love him? That you’re sorry? I’m sure he knows that. You go in there, you’re gonna scar him for life. He’s already grieved you. Let him move on.”

“David's already said his goodbyes, Molly,” Sam continued. “Now it's your turn. This is your unfinished business.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she sobbed.

“Just... let go. Of David. Of everything. You do that, we think you'll move on,” he explained.

“But you don't know where.”

“No, but that’s okay,” you said. “You don’t belong here.”

“Haven't you suffered long enough? It's time. It's time to go,” Sam finished for you.

She nodded sadly, then slowly stepped away from you and the brothers. She moved down the road toward the rising sun, and allowed herself to become absorbed by the light dawning. 

“I guess she wasn't so bad... for a ghost,” Dean remarked. He turned to his younger brother. “You think she's really going to a better place?”

“I hope so,” he shrugged.

“I guess we'll never know. Not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?” Dean quipped.

“Doesn't really matter, Dean. Hope's kind of the whole point.”

“Alright, Haley Joel.” He smacked Sam on the shoulder. “Let's hit the road.”

You and the brothers decided you needed to get some sleep a few towns over before searching for another case. These periods of down time between hunts were always bizarre; driving with no particular destination would always feel foreign to you no matter how many times you had done it.

***

You forced Dean to come to your motel room to let you patch up the few wounds he’d sustained from fighting Jonah Greeley’s ghost. 

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” he grumbled.

“I think it is. So, tough,” you said firmly. 

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but he thankfully said nothing. You set to work bandaging his cheek, standing between his spread legs as he sat on the bathroom counter. “How’s your shoulder?”

“What?” he asked.

“The gunshot wound, maybe?” you remarked.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” you giggled, half-mocking him. 

“It’s fine. Barely even feel it,” he shrugged.

“Then I guess it won’t be a problem if I give it a once-over,” you challenged.

Dean cut his eyes back at you, but decided against arguing. He shrugged off his leather jacket, then his canvas jacket, then pulled his undershirt over his head. No matter how many times you’d seen Dean shirtless, the sight would always make your breath catch in your throat. He seemed to note your reaction, smirking at you wantonly.

You rolled your eyes, fighting an amused smile as you unwrapped the wound on his shoulder. It was getting better, but you were still concerned about the wound becoming infected. The bullet had lodged in him several inches deep, and it was certainly going to take more than a month to fully heal. Gingerly, you touched the skin around the wound, and Dean hissed and grabbed your wrist.

You looked up at him apologetically, but still mockingly said, “ ‘Barely even feel it’ my ass.”

He rolled his eyes at you and released your wrist. When you had it completely wrapped up, your fingers lingered over the edge of the dressings. Dean grabbed your wrist gently once more, bringing it to his lips and kissing the inside near your pulse point. Your breath hitched as he did so, and he stared at you intently. You shrank under his gaze, heat spreading through your cheeks, and his self-satisfied smirk returned to his face.

“There you go again,” you joked quietly. “Always cheapening the moment.”

He smiled, using his free hand to wrap around your waist and bring you closer to him. He took the wrist he’d been holding and wound it around his neck and leaned forward to kiss you. You responded eagerly, pushing him back down onto the bed. You grinned against his lips, getting lost in the feeling of his body against yours. However, the two of you didn’t have sex that night. It was just enough to be with each other. The idea of that was foreign to the both of you— especially Dean— but you were grateful all the same.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

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Escapism

Frank Castle x Reader

Plot: Frank comes to provide you with some much needed escapism from work, even if it means only for an hour.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: This is very self-indulgent and probably below standards but my braincells haven’t been functioning from work and school. Kinda got inspiration from an actual colleague who went out of school once with her bf for lunch break even though shit hit the fan at school. Also this is me celebrating Frank’s return to the MCU🤘🏽

The bell rings, it’s only half past ten and you’re already mentally clocked out from work.

You love your job, you do. Being surrounded by books and imparting that passion to young minds was something you considered yourself very lucky to be able to do.

Your colleagues were wonderful as well. Easy to work with. But not everyone.

You don’t even know how you ended up in this mess, having to conduct another library session for the third time in the row. Sure, it wasn’t your job, but you couldn’t stand the kids being disappointed time and time again.

Once the last kid bids you goodbye, you slumped against your chair, taking a moment to look at the returned books tottering at the edge of the desk.

An alert pops up on your phone and you wonder what else could go wrong.

“I got your favorite. See you at 12pm.”

A message along with a photo attached of your favorite food is sent by Frank.

You smile, sending him a cute thumbs up sticker. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to get up from the comfy confines of your chair, getting back to work.

After updating the library system and planning next week’s library sessions, you give your body a good stretch, pleased to see that noon has finally rolled around. You flip your sign to indicate that you’re away for lunch and head down the long flight of stairs towards the guardhouse.

You meet a couple of primary kids going down for their lunch play and ever curious, they begged if they could come with you to see your boyfriend.

“I didn’t think we have extra company.” Frank chuckles as he gives fist bumps to the excited kids. “You guys want to say hi to Max?”

And that’s how you got stuck at the carpark for an extra ten minutes while the kids fawn over Frank’s pitbull.

With the help of your colleague who ushers them away (giving you a wink as she heads up the stairs), Frank takes you in his pickup truck to the nearby park for lunch.

“This is a nice change.” You sigh with relief. “Not having to find an empty classroom and chowing my lunch within fifteen minutes.”

You laze with Frank under the warm sun, enjoying the fried rice he had bought from your favorite takeout, along with the assortment of fruits.

“Tough day?”

“Tough week.” You laughed at the irony, seeing as it was only a Monday. “Don’t even get me started on my chronically absent colleague.”

Frank is a man of many talents, and listening without interrupting is one of them. You vent your frustrations, occasionally taking a sip of lemonade from the giant cup.

“Do you have her address?”

You snort out loud, “I appreciate that but she’s not worth it.”

“Exactly.” Frank affirms. “So just do what you’re doing. You’re doing great.”

“Thanks Frank… I guess I really needed to hear that.

“And that’s the truth. So eat up and finish the day strong.”

You eat the rest of your meal with gusto, enjoying your lunch break with Frank and Max, the latter running around chasing after butterflies much to your amusement.

Frank drives you back to the school, giving you a kiss before you head up.

“What would I do without you?” You return the kiss, opening the door to greet the guard.

“Hey! I’ll pick you up after.” Frank calls after you.

“Don’t you need to meet Matt?”

“Eh, blind boy can wait. My girl comes first.” He brushes it off.

“My hero.”