#ask vice

[vicekillx]

*Oinks in your general direction* (this is a gesture of appreciation)

[cautiously, with a boar spear in hand] thank you

[ariespsyche]

shotgunning shenanigans

[ruporas]

drank too much

[ID: Digital Art of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. Vash’s body is turned slightly away from the viewer as he holds a staggering Wolfwood by his shoulder. He has one foot ahead of the other, the foot in the back used to stabilize himself from tipping over. Wolfwood is tethering into Vash, his weight pressed into him with his arms wrapped around Vash’s waist and his face is hidden away as he leans against Vash’s shoulder. Vash’s expression can be seen, his eyes wide and mouth tight-lipped, and his face is flushed red. A speech bubble comes out from Wolfwood, saying a drawled “Spikeyyy...”. The background are desaturated pastels of blue and green, showing night time, as they stand in the middle of an empty street that is also lit by the moon not depicted. Yellow light is seen coming from the inside of a saloon. End ID]

[invye]

We are interrupting our regularly scheduled program to bring you a snippet of a potential ZoSan undercover as a married couple fic:

(Timeline wise shoehorned in sometime shortly after the timeskip, before the Strawhats make it back into the news big time.)

(People need saving from a exclusive circle of nobility, but most of the Stawhats have already been seen around the island, so the lot ends up on Zoro and Sanji to try get in posing as a freshly married couple on their honeymoon to try get more information.)

[after coming up with the plan and Zoro and Sanji hesitantly agreeing]

Robin: "You seem a little stressed, Cook-san."

Sanji, chain-smoking his third cigarette: "I'm fine, I'll do this… I just… I don't like lying about something as significant as marriage, alright? I know it's stupid, but that's just how I am."

Luffy, perking up from where one might have thought he wasn't paying attention at all: "Oi, Sanji, promise to protect Zoro?"

Sanji, puffing out smoke: "Obviously, the Marimo would get lost within all of two seconds without me having his back."

Luffy: "Good! Now, Zoro--!"

Zoro, already rising to the bait: "Oi, if anyone is protecting anyone, I'll be guarding your lanky ass, shit cook!"

Luffy, laughing: "Alright, then as the captain of this ship I hereby pronounce you married!"

Zoro:

Sanji:

Robin: "Oh my, congratulations!"

Brook: bursts into song

Luffy, grinning at Sanji: "See, now it's not a lie anymore, so you don't have to feel bad about calling Zoro your husband."

Zoro: "LUFFY!!! YOU CAN'T JUST--"

Sanji: wordlessly walks off to get ready for the mission

Usopp: "Wait, wait!" runs after Sanji, grabbing his wrist

Sanji: stares

Usopp, sweating nervously: "Need your ring size…"

Sanji: staring intensifies

Usopp, scurrying off as quickly as humanly possible: "Wedding gift!"

Luffy, in the distance, still being yelled at by Zoro: "Too bad we don't have time to celebrate, I really want some wedding cake… :("

[hatsunevita]

if we don’t get a post-war moment of inko and bakugo talking by deku’s bed and inko asking bakugo to keep looking after her son cuz she knows katsuki’s the only one who can keep him safe, and bakugo agreeing and smiling with determination cuz there is literally no way he’s NOT gonna protect the nerd. if we don’t see a scene like that then horikoshi obviously just forgot to add it to the final draft because i know this WILL happen.

[transformers-synergize]

They/Them prowl....... (/pos)

All the cybertronian characters are technically they/them since cybertonains are physically, socially, mentally, and societally genderless. The cyerbtornian language does not have pronouns that indicate separate genders because gender isn't really a concept on Cybertron beyond it being known as a phenomenon common in a lot of organic alien races, and even that is not common knowledge among most bots.  most of the time, the bots will use they/them to refer to each other; some even use they/them when talking about the humans characters since human gender is quite confusing for many of them.

Going by specific pronouns or being preserved as a specific gender is very new to the earth-bound cybertronians, Most bots will go along with whatever humans assume they are. That doesn't mean some bots don't have preferences on what they are referred to as, but most don't care, especially the ones not invested in human/earth culture. 

Prowl does not have a preference for what pronouns others refer to them as, they are fine going by they/them, he/him, or she/her

[fanaticsnail]

Smoker for Kissing Booth please? 💕🌻

The Kissing Booth: Smoker for Sunflowersatori

Word Count: 850+

Notes: I hope you enjoy some dad-jokes. Ever since I saw the pants and the ice-cream, I couldn't stop slipping some cringe humor into his kisses. I hope you enjoy your kisses from the vice-admiral, sunflowersatori!

The corner of your lips upturned as you heard a small child cry out in glee at winning a prize. Humming briefly, you shake your head and deeply inhale through your nose to take in more of the surroundings. 

Caramelizing sugars in the heated cylindrical dome rose towards you, as did several meats and vegetables smoking over an open fire. As you continued your analysis, you could almost smell your next guest before you heard him approach the table. The sour scent of cigars caused you to recoil slightly, shaking off the heady scent of tobacco-laden nicotine. 

Several leaves were placed beside you in the glass container, a gruff cough grunting out as you heard a larger body sit themselves down on the wooden stool in front of you. Alongside the cigar scent, the lingering woody scent of pine and oakmoss aftershave caused your brows to furrow inquisitively. 

“M’sorry to do this to you,” the rumbled baritone called in front of you, the stool scuffing the floor as he inched closer to you. “My-... uh-... underlings decided to force me to come to your booth. Not somethin’ I’d ever seek out for myself.” You sink back in your seat, pursing your lips and folding your arms together in disapproval.

“No, no, no. Not that I don’t think you’re-...” he trailed off, attempting to back track his words while growling under his breath, “...I’m just gonna dig myself a hole no matter what I say now, aren’t I?” 

“Seems that way, yes,” you admit with a small scoff. You heard him chuckle in response to your retort, his body beginning to descend closer towards you. He placed his hand over yours, drawing your digits up to his face and permitting you to dance your digits over his cheeks to map his face before your kiss.

“Just so you know who your kissin’,” he whispered, his face near inches away from yours as you rolled your thumbs over his face. His heady aftershave swirled your mind as you flicked over the coarse skin on his cheeks and chin. 

“Thank you,” you whispered in response, gently lacing your fingers over his cheek to card through the cropped hair at the nape of his neck, “Very considerate of a man who was priorly digging himself such a deep hole.” 

“What can I say?” he whispered, his breath tingling your lips due to his close proximity, “I’m a kind and considerate excavator.” You fling a carefree giggle in the air before finally pressing your lips to his.

His lips felt chapped, subtle creases in his upper lip that indicated the puckering grimace of a nicotine addict. He drew his broad hand down to cup your thigh as he dominated your lips with his almost immediately.

Circling his chin and changing angles of his kiss, he hungrily sought out more of your lips and mouthed at you to open yourself up to him. His tongue darted out to dance with your own, the slow grind atop your own tongue holding a lingering taste of sour smoke. 

You continued to press lengthy movements of your lips on his, slowly dragging your hands at the base of his neck and raking your digits down towards his chest. He hummed into the kiss, his nose brushing against yours as he switched angles once more before ending the engagement. 

Pulling away from your lips, he softly rumbles a soft chuckle. Reaching his hand up from your thigh, he slowly thumbs over your bottom lip and caresses your cheek gently. 

“I’ll, uh…” he sheepishly chuckled with a breathy sigh, “I’ll be back to plow you some more later.” You immediately furrow your brows and downturn your prior smile and clench your teeth. 

“Excuse me?” you recoil away from his grip, sitting back against the barstool. He immediately staggered over his words, coughing before reaching into his jacket pocket and rustling his hand around.

“I just meant, from our earlier hole digging-...” he trailed off, prompting you to shake your head and huff out a small laugh. He joined your laughter with a chuckle of his own, flicking back the metal flint to spark the heat of a small flame. He rose to his feet, sliding back the barstool and sighing deeply. 

“Enjoy taking your quarry somewhere else for a couple hours,” you giggle at him, your tight-lipped smile withholding your more unbridled laughter, “I don’t mean to bore you, but I’ll be planted here for a little while longer.” 

“Oh, you’ll be mine soon enough,” he chuckled in response, reaching down and grasping your hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. He turned away from you, walking back over towards his subordinates and verbally chastising himself. 

“I’m a kind and considerate excavator?” he growled, sucking in a heavy lungful of his twin cigars, “What even is that?” Shaking his head, he spared you one last glance over his shoulder, noticing your kiss-bruised lips and subtle fluster on your cheeks. He can’t wait to see you again, if that’s at all something you would want from him.

[doublel27]

GMM you know what you need to do

Always the side piece, never the main event. It’s their time!!

Also they can eat

[vicekillx]

bites you :3

[yandere-daydreams]

are you ever going to return to the satosugu bugfucking era or was that a fever dream i had

you're kidding but i have actually failed to shake the butterfly!satoru + moth!suguru bullying a lost, frightened and flightless silk-moth!reader that were inflicted on me during the last hybrid au stint. perhaps some day. the petplay au and my newly forming angel au must be tended to first.

[visceranon]

Poor Edward nation I have a proposal (two proposals?)

[potato-lord-but-not]

I offer to you the ship of Roland Cummings, Delphine Cummings, and Charlie Dowd that has been absolutely rotting my brain and is ripe for Charlie angst. I talk about them a bit here in which I discuss multiple Charlie ships but I must spread the propaganda of them o7

Ohhhhhh despite not really being Roland/Noel girlie I can indeed see the appeal 👀

[mirensiart]

Ravio drops dead and Sheerow just sighs and goes to collect Legend's rented items

Sheerow seeing ravio drop dead for like 4th time now in the last hour: ah shit here we go again

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[driftsart]

Is skystar toxic yaoi in your universe

No... This kinda explains what happened between Starscream and him:

[fanaticsnail]

Just a short prompt idea for Garp: Either first Valentines day with him or first anniversary.

Bouquet of Red Roses

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,300+

Synopsis: Your work day was interrupted by an open display of devotion from your lover, something you both agreed was for the best to keep secret from your colleagues.

Themes: Garp x f!reader, feelings, established relationship, secret relationship, domesticity, act of devotion, fluff, kisses.

Notes: I had this sitting in my ask box for a little while. Really felt like I needed to pay the Vice-Admiral some attention.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Hands racing atop the wafer-thin paper, and eyes darting over the finer printed words of the latest outlined information from headquarters, you barely noticed the uncommon presence of flowers being placed on your desk. You held up your index finger, continuing to skim over the words with a simple command to the person arriving at your desk.

“Just a second,” you informed them, lifting up your pen and scratching a few markings on your notepaper beside you. Withdrawing your hand from the air, you shuffled the papers and placed them within a manilla folder to get the outline ready for your boss in his office. 

Upon floating your eyes up, you were immediately taken aback by the presence of your boss, Vice-Admiral Garp of the marine base. His smile drew up his face as he noticed your eyes meet his, his hand balling itself into a fist around the stems of the bouquet in his hands. Retracting his hands from your desk, and leaving the flowers behind in its wake, he stooped into a short nodded bow.

Immediately rising from your desk, you saluted the Vice-Admiral and stood at attention to receive a reprimand and formal scolding for your abrasive attitude towards a superior. All he offered was a soft chuckle in response, with him waving to the floor with his right hand and gesturing for you to halt your formal stance. 

“At ease, officer,” he snickered with a wolfy grin. You laced your hands behind your back, square your shoulders in a swift rotation, and gulped back your anticipation. He shook his head, looking down to the folder on your desk and tilted his head to the side. 

“This the list of new transfers and recruits?” he asked, arching his brow up and reading the titled page. You responded with a curt, “Aye, Sir,” and continued staring straight ahead. You met the eyes of his two proteges behind him, the pink-haired Captain offering you a soft smile, whereas the blonde-haired swordsman’s face remained stoic and vacant. 

“Bogard already in my office, Lass?” he asked you, stepping around your desk to get a better look at the folder and your writing. With a swift, polite nod, you offered him another disciplined, “Aye, Sir,” in response. Garp smiled, nodding his head towards his office and making eye contact with Koby and Helmeppo, wordlessly ordering them through the doors to meet with Bogard. 

As the two younger members left your desk and shut Garp’s door behind them, you finally looked down and noticed the bouquet of red roses placed delicately on your desk. Sprigs of baby’s breath, leaves of fine emerald ferns shot out amongst the soft opening of red bulbs of fresh roses. The scent wafted from your desk to the place you were standing at his side, your eyes once again depicted shock.

“Sir?” you asked, cocking your head to the side, “There are flowers on my desk.” Garp hummed in thought, leaning his hips on the desk and gazing lovingly at you from his position anchored against the wooden surface. 

“Aye, so there is,” he admitted with a soft smile. He reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear, softly caressing your cheek and earning him an inquisitive smile from you in return. You swatted his hand away from your face and hushed your voice in a soft whisper.

“You said we weren’t going to bring this to the office, Sir,” you warned him with your soft scolding. His eyes held mischief with a soft gaze of love and affection. He collected your hand within his, looking between your eyes and softly flickering down to your lips.

“Aye, that I did,” he admitted softly, stepping closer to you and holding your hip with his unoccupied hand. He gently thumbed over your hip in a soft circle, caressing the joint raised on your waist and stepping closer to you.

“You said it wasn’t appropriate to openly display our relationship, Sir,” you tilted your chin away from him and warned him with your eyes, “Said it was unbecoming of an officer to be dating above their station. Showing favoritism, and all that.” 

“Aye, I said that too,” he confessed, his eyes creasing up at the corners as he leaned down towards you and attempted to kiss you. You pulled your hand out of his grip and placed your fingertips over his lips to halt his descent. 

“What changed, Vice-Admiral?” you pushed him a little with your hand, prompting him to smile beneath your fingertips. He pursed his lips under your hand, pressing a soft kiss against your fingers. 

Circling his hand around your forearm, he began mapping your skin with his lips in a slow descent of soft, intentional kisses. Without further warning, he kept tracing higher and higher up your arm while watching your hardening resolve break from your face and your smile grew wider and less withheld. 

He devoted his lips to bringing more of your smile to the surface, his mustache and beard tickling your skin and prompting you to giggle. Each of your soft laughs were as good as any trophy or medal he received in combat. His smile pressed into your skin, finally making his way up to the pulse-point in your neck and halting at that point for a moment beyond a simple touch.

“Can a man no’ spoil his wee bonnie on his anniversary?” he whispered huskily into your skin, shooting tingles up your spine and igniting a soft rise of goose flesh at the scruff of your neck. You finally gave in to his advances in the office, hooking your hands around his neck and drawing his face up to see yours. 

Pressing your lips against his, you parted your mouth and gasped your desires in soft moans against his skin. He smiled at your display and snuck his tongue beyond your bottom lip and began to caress yours in a dance of passion. The surroundings of your office and paperwork slowly dissipated from your sights the longer your lips lingered together. 

Upon pulling away, you pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes upon impact. Drawing his arms over your back, he held you closely and slowly nuzzled against your skin.

“Happy anniversary, Lass,” he uttered softly. His cologne rose to your nose as he held you firmly against him. Brushing his nose lightly with yours, he collected your lips against his for a soft, chaste kiss with more passion than the last. 

“Happy anniversary, Love,” you responded to him, looking up through half-hooded lashes to float your gaze over his scarred face. “Go to your office and leave me to sift through my reports.” He chuckled in response, giving your ass a playful slap in response. 

“I din’nae take your orders here, Bon,” he smirked at your soft yelp at the touch, pressing another kiss to your lips before withdrawing his proximity, “Home is another tale entirely.” You gave his chest a gentle tap in response, earning you a huff of mock pain and his hand clasping over his heart.

“Ye’ wound me,” he chuckled, shaking his head and removing himself from his place by your side. “But I’ll take ye’ scolding,” he began making his move to leave your desk, your gaze floating to the folder still remaining on your desk. 

“Garp,” you whispered, retrieving the folder and thrusting it forward into his hand, “Don’t forget this.” He gently took your wrist in his with his right hand, the folder in his left, and stooped to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“This is why I love you,” he whispered against your bones, rising from his bow and turning towards his office. Shaking your head, you move to sit back down at your desk and continue your work. 

The bouquet of red roses brought you joy throughout your working day, noticing the world became brighter for you the longer the scent of florals lingered beyond the margin of your stationary. You could not wait to celebrate your anniversary with your love after your shifts both finished, both of you eagerly anticipating the events to come as the night fell into soft darkness.