#i'm just over here cackling to myself

[damnonew]

under the cut for spoilers on the new season of shadow and bone

why can kirigan make an amplifier with a finger bone but alina gotta kill her boyfriend to make it work????  doesn’t she just need some of him.... inside her?  

i have clearly been in the fanfiction world for too long because i’m over here like... there’s a way easier way to do this  in fact, yall already did it once  wink wink but i guess in the ya fantasy world, sperm don’t count lmao

[samderella]

Living with my in-laws after evacuating from a hurricane be like

I appreciate you love and want to spend time with me, but if you don't let me hide in the guest bedroom and write nonsense for five uninterrupted hours, I will scream

[mrs-weasley-reid]

AUGUST REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! Here I am, once again, for yet another month of reading and living vicariously through our one and only Reader. I haven't read much this past month, and most of these sweet authors are people I follow (and shockingly, some are my mutuals, too !!! I'm too much of a fangirl to believe it's true). Give these gorgeous, spectacular writers a ton of love. They all deserve it so much, considering they're blessing us with such amazing work for free. Like. Comment. Reblog. The equivalent of a five-star review

Like always, I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. Reminder to please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+. MINORS should not be interacting in any way.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a muted shade of green by @dalamjisung ↳ the flow of this fic was so smooth my jaw dropped down on the floor as i read through (writer's first reid fic, and it was chef's kiss)

✿ hearts aligned by @raekensluver ↳ OMG this one had me melting. roommate spencer is such a dream

✿ sick love by @misserabella ↳ guilty pleasure unlocked. a wonderful reading session filled with interesting discoveries

✿ behind closed doors by @incognit0slut ↳ i loved binging this so much !!! was a giggling, kicking mess while reading this one; and it has four parts ! we're so spoiled

✿ kiss it better by @nereidprinc3ss ↳ tmi but was having an episode of mild anxiety attack, and this saved me in the middle of the night, giggling myself to sleep, so thank you for such amazing work x

✿ dead of night & nightvisions by @cxrrodedcoffin ↳ lol i read this at work and had to fight battles not to make any facial signs that i was consuming kinky content. the second part was another level, i was cackling like a witch

✿ much ado about nothing: act iii, scene v & act iv, scene i by @incognit0slut ↳ act iii, scene v left me speechless, reader didn't fold and i took that as a win. act iv, scene i played with my emotions lol

✿ just a number by @reidsdaisies ↳ i became a stand-up actress while reading this because it's overwhelmingly spicy and filled with tension i had to provide comedic relief for myself

✿ untittled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ no because i saw my reblog post of this and i immediately snorted and then laughed some more after rereading it. pipe cleaner will never not be funny to me

✿ poison me, i'm fine by @gghostwriter ↳ no because this one needs more attention ?????????????? i loved reading this so much i was so tempted to pull my heart out and ship it to pau, show how crumpled it was after reading

✿ my best colors for your portrait & my face in every place by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i wasn't lying when i said august is for angst and i immediately gobbled this up after seeing it. the way my chest was so tight but also smiling because the writing style is amazing got me looking like a lunatic

✿ cute, outraged genius by @lavenderspence ↳ tina got me laughing like a gremlin. it's so adorable she made me fall in love with spencer all over again

✿ another untitled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ sorry, sweethearts, ket just couldn't be bothered with titles lmao. secret lover reader is my favorite lover, sooooo you all will enjoy this cutie patootie creation

✿ one single thread of gold by @gghostwriter ↳ you'll overdose of sweetness. it's so adorable and a great way to feel giggly about spencer reid.

✿ for the fear of falling apart | part one by @pathologicalreid ↳ i haven't read the rest of the parts but mhmmm this was DELISH. well-written creation that made me show emotions while reading at work. my coworkers asked me my my eyes were so wide and i think that says a lot at how great this is

✿ second to none by @raekensluver ↳ ooooo this one got my blood boiling in a good way

✿ untitled work by @sincerelybubbles ↳ adorable stuff make me melt especially when it's a spencer one

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ darling, in any life series by @hotchfiles ↳ at this point are we even surprise im including yet another series form lari here ? anywayyy, i love me some old flame trope

✦ picket fence dream by @hotchfiles ↳ this is a new part from the choiceless hope series and i gobbled it up. i was screaming when i read this

✦ tells by @ssahotchnerr ↳ first thing i read in the morning, and i sobbed from the overwhelming sweetness

✦ silver by @solardrop ↳ okay but this was so adorable ??? plus im def one of those gals who tried to throw herself on him, maybe even catapult myself

✦ sympathy for the devil by @hotchfiles ↳ nosebleed. spice level is not as high as i make it seem but the writing really got me sweating. just read it, you'll understand what i mean

✦ spending time with you by @lavenderspence ↳ no because TINA CALLED ME OUT WITHOUT CALLING ME OUT. i was slightly offended. the gasp i gasped was so loud asdkfnkg. but it is adorable, go read it pls pls

✦ doctor, love by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i love when reader slaps the character with some reality like a seasoned raw steak.

sorry, not sorry if this post is filled with lari. I reread her works religiously, so here are my favorites from hers truly:

✦ help me hold onto you ↳ oh, this is like crack for me, and i always come crawling back no matter how hard i try to stay sober

✦ half asleep takin' chances ↳ still waiting for future aaron somewhere out there

✦ choices ↳ gonna be honest with everyone this one makes me wanna deck aaron hotchner and then deck reader for folding so easily and also deck myself because im no better than reader

✦ quis ut deus? & daniel 12:1 ↳ my fave series from lari and i will never not reread them over and over and over and over again because i love it so much idk what's the appeal on me but i love it and i want this framed and buried with me even if it's unfinished

I haven't had a lot of time to visit the good ole "for you" feed in a while, so I apologize for missing all the amazing work every writer has put out this month. I will make it up to you, I promise! And if you'd like, you can send me works or mention me so I can read certain creations that you deem noteworthy for the next rec fic month!

love lots, ker x

[gloomwitchwrites]

You send him a text "Thanks for the flowers, babe" attached with a photo of a bouquet as a prank. Obvs, he gets jealous/possessive.

Anon, I love this. I cackled the first time I read it, and I've been wanting to get to it for a while. There are so many requests (and I will get to them all), but with my health being shit, I'm trying to select from the pool where I'm not overworking my brain or stressing myself out trying to come up with something. This prompt came very naturally to me.

These are all spicy. Period. I didn't hold back with this one. Maybe I'm ovulating or some shit but I literally couldn't write anything but smut for this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, spanking, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, restraints, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, jealousy, possessive behavior, orgasm control

Word Count: 4.4k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, attention stuck on Price who stands in front of a large map of Europe.

There are pictures—some have a red “X” through them while a couple others have black question marks. The mission isn’t done, but that isn’t surprising. This has taken months to complete. It’s been slow, and entirely too complicated for Simon’s liking.

His phone buzzes again, the vibration pulling his attention away.

When the third buzz comes in, his agitation turns to worry. Simon never allows messages to come through at work unless it’s from very specific people. To have three come through in less than two minutes stirs something in his gut.

Price starts talking again but Simon’s brain is melting. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Keeping it next to his thigh, Simon awakens the screen.

Your name is there and 3 new messages.

Simon glances up, but no one is looking at him. Silently, he unlocks the phone and clicks over to his messages, tapping on your name.

At first, Simon doesn’t understand. His brain short-circuits, and then unbridled jealousy comes roaring forward.

The first message is a photo of a beautiful bouquet sitting on the kitchen island. It’s fucking large, taking up most of the space. The flowers are different shades of pink, yellow, and orange. It looks like spring.

Beneath the picture are two texts.

Thanks for the flowers!!

I love you!

But Simon did not get you flowers. He didn’t order these, and he certainly didn’t have them delivered to the flat.

Fuck. What the actual fuck.

Someone else did this.

Simon’s first thought is that Johnny did it to prank him. But Johnny has been a bit subdued today, and his attention isn’t on Simon at all.

No. It’s likely not him.

Simon locks his phone and stews. He can’t just leave this meeting. It’s important, but he’s going to get to the fucking bottom of it.

By the time Price dismisses them, Simon is already out the door, charging toward his locker to grab his stuff. It usually takes him a half hour to arrive home, but today he does it in twenty. When Simon bursts through the front door, he’s ready to toss those flowers right off the balcony.

But then he sees your face—how happy you are—and Simon melts. You throw yourself into his arms, and Simon instinctually responds, embracing you tightly. He presses his face into your hair and inhales.

“Missed you,” you say, grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him. “Thank you for the flowers.”

I didn’t get you any flowers.

Simon smiles because it’s all he can manage. That jealousy from earlier starts to curl back up, twisting around in his ribcage.

“Did you like the note?”

You frown. “What note?”

The way you ask is…odd. It’s far too innocent in the presentation. Simon knows your cues and this seems forced to him. But the sender didn’t leave a message. That doesn’t give Simon much to go on if he’s going to track down who sent them.

“Maybe they forgot,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “Show them to me.”

With a bright smile, you take his hand, guiding him into the kitchen. They’re much more stunning in person and Simon momentarily freezes. Did he forget your birthday? An anniversary? An important event?

Simon recalls nothing for today’s date.

The jealousy rises again but he clamps down on it. Anyone could have sent this, especially a friend of yours or a family member. Doesn’t mean there is someone out there with predatory intentions. And for all Simon knows, you’re having a laugh, riling me up. You’ve done it before.

“They’re lovely,” observes Simon. “Better than the picture.”

Your grin is gorgeous, a thing Simon wants to bottle up. You open your mouth to answer him but the dryer goes off. “Hold on,” you call over your shoulder as you dash away. “Let me change over the loads.”

When you disappear, Simon goes for the bouquet. He quickly checks through every flower and between the stems, even sticks his fingers in the dirt. Simon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking for, but he’s grasping for anything.

The only thing of note is the business card which Simon quickly plucks from its holder and tucks into his pocket. Simon steps away from the bouquet when you appear again.

Jealousy is stewing, showing its fangs, curling tighter around Simon’s ribs.

When you reach for him, Simon sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the kitchen island. You giggle, but Simon cuts it off, drawing you to the edge to seize your lips in a fierce kiss.

That jealous viper between his bones tells him to possess you.

Simon’s hands drop to your waist and then your hips. He settles himself between your legs, hands moving down to your bare thighs.

You’re flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him, giggling his name as you fist his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” rasps Simon.

Your lips part and Simon slides his tongue inside. You moan, suck on his tongue, and release him. Simon’s grip on your thighs tightens.

“All day?” you ask softly.

Moving his hands to beneath your thighs, Simon tugs you into his arms and carries you over to the dining room table, but doesn’t place you on top of it. He brings you to your feet, and then his fingers curl around the shorts that are little more than underwear.

“Take these off.”

“Simon—”

“Do it,” he growls, releasing them and bringing his hand back to his side.

Slowly, you do as he says. You bring them up so that Simon can see them before tossing them to the side. That viper in him hisses, the venom leaking into his system.

Simon slides his hand between your thighs. You lean back against the table, hands resting on the edge as you part your legs. What his fingers find only makes him groan.

Withdrawing, Simon licks his fingers clean. “Turn around. Bend over the table. Show me what I want.” With a smirk on your lips, you face the table, and bend forward, going up on your toes.

Fuck the flowers and whoever sent them. You’re his.

Simon unbuckles the front of his belt, undoes the zipper of his pants, and frees his aching cock. He needs to be inside you, to hear you say his name, to feel you come around him. He needs to possess because it’s the only thing he can do right now.

Guiding with his hand, Simon rubs the head of his cock through your slickness. You’re already so wet for him—so fucking needy, and he’ll devour it all. Give you exactly what you want while taking something for him.

As he starts to slide in, you whimper. Reaching back, your hand grabs your ass, opening yourself a bit wider for him.

Bloody hell.

Simon doesn’t want to go slow. Using his grip on your hip, he slides all the way in, making you take him to the hilt with one forward thrust of his hips.

Your gasp is choked, and then Simon is lost, pounding into you as if this is the last time he’ll ever fuck you. It’s only your tightness, your breathy moans of pleasure, and the desperate why you say his name. It wraps around him, satiates the viper, calms the rising jealousy until it’s only you Simon can focus on.

Through the haze, Simon finds your clit, plays with it, slows his thrusts until your orgasm arrives, squeezing him so tight he almost finishes right then and there. But once that wave crests and crashes, Simon is back at it. Planting both hands on the table on either side of your waist, Simon stutters out, his lower back tensing, everything draw up.

Simon’s orgasm is an unraveling. All the tension melts as he finishes, and even then, he continues to thrust, pushing his cum deeper inside you. His chest heaves, body shuddering as he draws back a bit. Your breathing is just as labored.

Easing out of your body, Simon admires the bloom of cum at your entrance. He presses it back inside before helping you unbend from the table. Turning you around to face him, Simon claims your mouth in a deep kiss, his grasping the back of your head.

You form to him, and Simon’s hunger flares.

“To bed,” he says, drawing you away with a tug on your hair.

“To sleep?” you ask, smirking.

Maybe you did all this. Planned it all from the beginning.

Naughty girl.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He releases you, and then smacks your ass for good measure. Squeaking, you scurry away toward the bedroom. Simon stands there for a moment, composing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the business card. There is an address and a phone number.

Glancing over his shoulder at the bouquet, Simon comes to a decision. Stalking toward his duffle, Simon secures the business card in a side pocket. He’ll deal with this at work.

Right now, you’re getting undressed.

And Simon is much more interested in that.

Flowers can wait.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You send the final text and lock your phone, leaving it on the coffee table.

It’s just a little prank. A tease.

Kyle is always a gentleman even when he makes your toes curl and pulls unseemly sounds from between your lips. But riling him up can be just as fun. Kyle isn’t one to be jealous or even possessive of you. He’s certainly protective, and his presence always makes you feel safe, but you’re aching for something else right now.

The flowers weren’t all that expensive. And they are pretty.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it.

It buzzes again.

When you check the screen, you see two new texts from Kyle. You stare at it, and set it back down. You’re going to let him stew and question. If anything, Kyle might think the flowers innocent.

Tapping your fingers against your knee, impatience stirring in your belly, you stare out the patio door. You need to distract yourself, but the urge to look is too strong. Snatching the phone back up, you glance at the messages.

That’s sweet, love.

But I didn’t get you flowers.

Honesty. This man is terrible at lying or hiding his feelings.

You tap out a reply.

Of course you did! Loved the note you left with it!

Kyle’s reply is instant.

Note?

You nearly cackle at the ceiling and when you hit send.

I want you tonight. You know you can have me whenever lol. No need to send flowers about it.

Within seconds of you hitting send, you phone starts to vibrate. Yelping, you nearly drop the thing. Kyle’s name and a photo of him at the beach pop up on your screen. You stare at it, allowing it to go to voicemail. He calls again immediately.

You launch off the couch, pacing as the phone falls back into voicemail. It’s a bit thrilling knowing that Kyle is likely worked up on the other end.

Answer the phone, comes Kyle’s next text, and then, I’m coming home.

Oh shit.

You are all nervous excitement waiting for him. And when he does come barreling through the door, you’re a bit shocked at the sight of him.

Slowly, he shuts the front door, striding into the kitchen where the bouquet is. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze on you.

“Kyle,” you say brightly, walking toward him.

He holds up a finger and walks past you. You hear the opening and shutting of doors, of drawers being opened, and items moving around. Kyle returns, hands on his hips, concern on his features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I didn’t send you those flowers.”

“Didn’t you?” you reply, innocently, moving toward them.

Kyle shoots forward and begins digging through the stems. “Where is that bloody card?” he mutters.

There is no card. No note. You made it all up.

“Kyle,” you say, but he ignores you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, ripping opening the plastic to see inside.

“Kyle,” you repeat, adding a bit of volume behind your voice.

Again, he ignores you, scattering the flowers across the countertop.

“When I find the fucking wanker that—”

“Kyle!”

He turns, eyes a bit wild. Kyle looks ridiculous, and you suddenly feel terrible. You reach for him, placing both hands on either side of his face. “There’s no note.”

Kyle blinks like he didn’t hear you correctly. “What?”

“There’s no note,” you repeat. “I bought the flo—”

Kyle groans loudly and places his entire hand over your face, muffling the last few words. “Bloody hell, baby girl.” He lightly pushes off, dropping his hand, and stepping back.

You grin sheepishly as Kyle crosses his arms over his chest.

“What was the goal?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.

You shrug your shoulders. “To rile you up?”

Kyle laughs, short and clipped. “Rile me up?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

He leans in a bit more, a smirk on his face. “And what do you think was going to happen once you riled me up?”

You know that Kyle already knows the answer to this question. But he’s indulging you. As he always does.

“I didn’t think that far,” you reply, but it’s far from the truth.

You wanted to rile him up so that he’d come home and fuck you like a man possessed.

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and you track the movement. “No, love. You did.” He straightens. “And I know what you want.”

Kyle steps into your space, his head dipping as if to kiss you but pausing just before. “You need a good throat fucking. I need an apology. And then I can give you what you want.”

“Kyle,” you breathe.

“On your knees, love. Present your mouth.”

You obediently drop to your knees, and part your lips.

“Wider,” he almost growls.

You do so just as Kyle reaches down and undoes the front of his belt. He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t flinch. The belt is gone and the front of his pants are open by the time Kyle grabs your face and brings you close.

“Tongue out.”

You do so, and Kyle taps the head of his cock against it before sliding it back and forth over your tongue. His hold shifts, falling to the nape of your neck.

“Take it like a good girl. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle draws you forward, forcing you to take all of him. Holding you in place for a few seconds, Kyle only eases you back once your gag reflex kicks in. Kyle adjusts his stance, and your hands grasp the sides of his thighs.

Kyle’s hand on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand tangles in your hair. Keeping you in place, he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. All you can do is cling to him, to hold on as he grunts above you.

There isn’t any anger there, just a stern brow and a need for control. It’s delicious. Entirely mouth-watering. Your core warms, a slickness blooming, indicating just how much this turns you on.

To bring Kyle toward his end, you make little sounds in your throat. It makes him stutter. It makes him moan. Beneath his pants, you feel the muscles in his legs tighten. And then he’s forcing you down his length, throating him entirely as he comes down your throat.

Breathing through you nose is the only thing holding you together. And when he slides you off, you cough, wiping at your lips.

Kyle’s hand caresses your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. He arches a single eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Reaching out, Kyle draws you up to your feet, bringing you close. His smile is soft, and when he comes in for a kiss, it is consuming.

“Now that you’ve riled me up,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Kyle pulls away, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

“Take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed. And bend over. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle drops his hand.

“That’s my good girl.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny’s ears are ringing.

“You better be bloody joking,” he growls at his phone.

On the screen is a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Flowers that you’re thanking him for. Flowers that he didn’t send.

And the card? Bloody fucking hell. That card is going in the shredder. Johnny will tear it apart with his own teeth if he has to. Some fucker had the bright idea to send you flowers like he’s the one you’re dating.

No. Fuck that.

Johnny might be the demolitions expert, but he knows Ghost could dig around for him if he asked. Scratch that. Johnny is asking right fucking now.

“Hey, Lt!” Johnny jogs over to Ghost and turns his phone around. “Can you trace who sent these flowers?”

Ghost’s expression behind the balaclava remains flat. “It’s a fucking photo, Johnny.”

Cursing under his breath, Johnny forwards the image to Ghost. Ghost checks his phone, enlarging the image.

He grunts. “Should be easy.” Ghost glances up from the screen. “Why?”

“Someone making a move on my woman,” replies Johnny, holding back a growl.

“Done,” says Ghost. “Give me a couple hours.”

It doesn’t take Ghost long, and Johnny has to laugh out loud.

“You fucking naughty thing,” mutters Johnny as he unlocks the door to your flat.

When he enters, you’re nearly on your toes, eager for him. It’s cute, but you need to learn first. Sure, the prank is harmless, but you were wanting a rise out of him.

Punishment is needed.

“Johnny,” you say brightly, coming around the counter to greet him.

As you arms reach for him, Johnny removes his belt. Your gaze drops, but he is faster than you. Johnny has the belt around your wrists and secured before you can even protest.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” Johnny tuts. He yanks you forward, bringing the two of you almost face-to-face. “Bought those flowers yourself.”

Johnny tugs on the belt again. You stumble into him and he spins you around. With another quick tug, Johnny has the belt looped onto one of the coat hooks embedded in the wall.

Reaching down, Johnny palms your ass, his lips pressed to your ear. “Got me all jealous at work. Had Ghost stalking the flower shop and everything.” He squeezes, and then smacks your ass. Hard.

You whimper. “Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, love.” He kisses your throat. Your skin is soft and he inhales, savoring your scent. You’re freshly showered, and the smell of your shampoo invades his nostrils.

It doesn’t take much to rid you of your underwear. It’s just you in an old shirt and your bare ass on full display. Johnny slides his hands between you clenched thighs.

“Spread them.”

You do so obediently and a primal part of him simmers with pleasure. Johnny slowly drops to his knees behind you. He savors the view, taking his time to enjoy the sight before him. Even from here, Johnny can see how slick you are. How wanton.

He’s going to devour you. Make you beg. Deny you what it is you most want until you’re a fucking mess for him. That’s punishment enough.

Johnny tests by running one finger over your pussy. It comes back glossy. He pops it into his mouth, groaning at your taste.

“Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” asks Johnny, running his finger over you again.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”

That’s a start.

Johnny leans in, the tip of his tongue playing with your entrance. He traces it with his tongue before slipping inside, slowly fucking you with it. It’s not enough, but Johnny knows this. He needs to suck on your clit and give you his fingers to make you come.

But even then, you’ll have to wait.

You’ll have to beg.

Johnny trails upward, swirling his tongue, finding your clit. He teases it. Flicks it back and forth in a steady stroke. You’re already growing wetter. You’re already moaning above him. Too bad you don’t know what’s coming.

Johnny slides one finger inside of you, pumping twice before inserting a second. You’re tight around him. He can feel the stretch.

He works you slowly, lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy as he teases your clit with his tongue. Above him, your moans come unbroken and loud. It’s sweet. He loves the sound. But Johnny knows your tells, and when your muscles begin to clench and unclench quickly, he ceases all movement.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, glancing down.

Johnny chuckles. “You have to earn it love.”

“Johnny, please,” you beg.

“What’s that, love? Didn’t hear you?”

“Please,” you say, drawing it out.

“Please what?” he prompts.

“I want to come,” you murmur.

Johnny smirks and starts fucking you with his fingers again, but doesn’t put his mouth back on your clit. It’s not enough for you. You’re squirming. Wiggling. Needing more.

“You pull another stunt like this again, love, and this,” Johnny smacks your ass with a sharp thwack, “will be red.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. Please. Just—please.”

Johnny teases your clit with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Beg some more.”

You do. All sorts of obscene things fall from your lips. When tears form in the corner of your eyes, Johnny finally gives you relief.

He fucks your gorgeous pussy with his fingers. He tastes and teases until you’re crying out, clamping around him as you come undone.

Johnny withdraws. Straightens.

You’re still hanging on the hook.

He frees you from it, but does not remove the belt from around your wrists. Johnny presses you against him with a flat palm upon your stomach.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.

“I won’t.”

Johnny kisses your throat. “To bed.”

You frown, holding up your bound hands. “But the belt.”

“Stays on,” he says, fisting the tangling leather. “Until I’m done with you.”

John Price

John isn’t one for texting.

You’ll send him a barrage of texts only for him to call you hours later asking what you were texting him about.

Which is why you didn’t think this plan would work.

But then it did, and now you’re bent over John’s lap, bare ass in the air.

John told you that he was working late to catch up on paperwork. Whenever that happens, he always gives you a call to check-in and hear your voice. It’s routine at this point. A comfort. Most of the time, he just wants you on the other side, to have you talk about the day or whatever you want while he’s working. John will usually remain silent, listening, basking in your voice.

You planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d check his phone before giving you a call. You sent the photo of the flowers. A beautiful display really. And they were on sale. You also sent him a picture of the makeshift “note” that you made for it. All it said was “thinking of you” with no name. All of that was follow up by a “thank you” and promises to please him later.

John was calm when he called you—almost eerily so. When you thanked him from the flowers, he didn’t reply. He simply pushed past it. The thing is, John saved all of that energy up for when he came home.

Your ass stings. John rubs the spot he just smacked before squeezing.

“Now, love. Tell me the truth.” He says it so sweetly, like it’s such a simple thing.

And you don’t know how much longer you’ll last under this barrage.

“You bought them for me,” you whimper, keeping up the façade.

John shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He squeezes your ass again, the sting burning slightly when he let’s go.

“I’d guess you’re seeing someone else but that would be lie. Wouldn’t it?”

He punctuates this statement by slipping his hand between your thighs, his fingers running over your pussy, parting your slickness. John dips one finger inside and then another, only to retreat and grab your ass cheek with the same hand.

“I know just how to make you wet, love. You have no one else to run to.”

“I told you—Fuck! John!” You jolt in his lap as his palm comes down on your already throbbing cheek.

“Be honest, love. Or you’ll get a few more.”

You swallow down your pride. You wanted him riled up, but you weren’t expecting this. Not for John to come home, strip you down, and bend you over his lap.

“I bought them,” you grumble.

John’s hand eases. “You what?”

“I bought them,” you snap.

“I knew you did.”

Before you have the chance to form a retort, John guides you up and into his lap. He grabs the front of your throat, bringing you close to him. He does not kiss you. He simply hovers.

“You’re going to straddle my lap and bounce on my cock until I fill you up. You understand?”

You nod, and Price let’s go of your throat.

“Get to it,” he purrs.

John is fully clothed, and you’re wearing nothing at all. You undo the clasp of his belt, pull the zipper, and he flexes his hips enough that you can work his pants down a bit. When his hard length is free to you, you straddle him, lining yourself up.

He remains impassive as you start to sink down. The stretch is perfect—as it always is, and you groan as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. Gripping his shoulders, you roll up and back down, rocking when you can to give your legs a break.

John still stays quiet but his gaze is assessing. Slowly, his hand comes around your neck again, and this time he squeezes slightly. It’s not to hurt. It’s to dominate and possess.

“Who do you belong to, love?” he asks.

“You,” you murmur, sinking down on him.

“Say it again,” repeats John.

“I belong to you,” you gasp, coming up and then back down.

“Again,” and this time there’s a growl in his tone.

“I’m yours, John.”

“Fucking right,” he says, crashing his mouth to yours.

The kiss is a claiming, one that shoots through your body and consumes your limbs and control. You shudder, pussy clenching, and then John is fucking up into you, his hands on your hips.

You’re no longer in control. It’s just John, and his need to possess.

taglist:

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@saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67

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@jackrabbitem @jaggersinclair @dakotakazansky @daemondoll @keiva1000

[tojirights]

Prompt “❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜” with alastor :3

Likke reader has been with multiple people but alastor is the first person to make her cum 0.0

prompt: Hii I really like your work! Can you do face sitting with alastor like reader mentions that she wants to sit on alastor face to angel and alastor overhears or angels says outlook to husk while his wasted thank youu

a/n: combining these two prompts!! ^ thinking maybe alastor overhears you talking with angel about your woes and offers to uhhh assist 👀

"the guys down here suck, angel." you sigh, sitting next to angel in the hotel lounge. you crack open your beer and hand him one as well. "yer tellin' me, babe." he chuckles. "whats got ya worked up this tIme?" he hums, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "thats the thing! nothing!" you groan, leaning into his body. "you know how many times i've tried hooking up with someone just for them to bust in 30 seconds and rub my inner thigh?" angel almost chokes on his drink.

"they're the worst. no one down here has been able to make me cum but myself." you mutter, taking a sip of your drink. "who do you want, hm?" angel asks. "maybe i can hook ya up with someone good." he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you. the alcohol is making you feel a little brave, so with a sigh, you let your words free. "y'know who i think about all the time?" angel's eyes widen with interest, anticipation building.

"alastor..." you admit for the first time out loud. angel does choke on his drink this time before he laughs. "bitch! the radio demon?!" he barely contains his cackle. "stop! i mean, have you seen him? god, angel. i'd get down on my knees and bark if he told me to. i wanna sit on his face, hold onto his antlers for support. ughh, he's so hot." you whine into angel's chest, embarrasmemt finally setting in. angel tries to contain himself, but you've never said something so out of pocket but also very relatable.

unbeknownst to you, alastor stands not far behind you, his ears twitching as he listens in. a part of him does feel a tinge of guilt for listening, but you'd be quieter if you didn't want anyone to hear you. "well now, isn't that interesting?" alastor's voice makes you jump, almost tossing your beer straight onto angel. "oh fuck..." angel all but pushes you over in an attempt to get away.

"oh my god. alastor i'm so sorry, i was just-" you scramble to defend yourself, but alastor puts his staff under your chin to raise your eyes to his. "what was that you said about wanting to... sit on my face? about these worthless little demons not knowing how to treat a woman?" the sultry tone in his voice has you clenching your thighs together, which you blame on the alcohol swirling in your gut. you laugh awkwardly, trying to brush this off as alastor teasing you but there's a look in his eyes that tells you he's dead serious. "it's nothing! just venting some frustrations, that's all."

your eyes are a dead giveaway, desire flooding them as you peer up at alastor. "why don't you accompany me to my room for the evening, darling? we wouldn't want these inexperienced fools to try and make a move now, would we?" he extends his hand, and you decide to throw caution to the wind. standing, you let him pull you close. "blow my mind, radio boy." you whisper, watching alastor's eyes darken and his smirk grow. alastor uses the shadows, leading you straight to his room in a mere moment.

your heart rate sky rockets, realization hitting your gut as you start to strip. "how long has it been?" he asks, picking you up with ease and carrying you to the bed. "w-what?" you hesistate, watching as alastor ushers you to climb on top of him. "since someone else made you cum?" you swallow, straddling his chest. "i don't even remember al..." alastor's hands come around to grip your ass and pull you forward. with a gasp, you brace yourself on the headboard and then the feeling of alastor's tongue immediately has your brain turning to mush.

it's dizzying, the slide of his tongue up and down your slit was already far better than anything you've experienced in such a long time. "o-oh fuck." your body shudders, barely being able to hold still. alastor's tongue dips passed your entrance, lapping up your juices like a man starving. you already feel that familiar coil in your stomach forming, threatening to snap all over alastor's face. "that's, oh god alastor, that's so good." you moan, gripping tighter on the headboard as your hips start to stutter on their own.

then, you feel alastor's hands on your ass start to push and pull you, forcing your cunt to slide over his tongue. "y-you, i'm gonna-" you can't even think straight, pleasure blinding you to anything else happening in the entire world. alastor hums against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and that's it, you're cumming hard enough that your vision goes dark and tears well in your eyes.

you're shaking, barely being able to breathe as alastor's tongue runs lazy circles over your still sensitive clit to ride out your orgasm. before you're fully recovered, alastor quickly flips you onto your back and his fingers find your puffy pussy. "you have no idea the honor it is to be the only one to see you like this, my dear. the only one to feel you-" he pauses, pushing two fingers inside your needy cunt so he can hear your sweet moans. "cum. and i will be the only one to continue feeling that. you will cum on my face, my fingers, my cock... anything you please."

the desire burning in your core strengthens once more. not even your own fingers have ever made you cum twice, but alastor is about to pull a second orgasm from you almost completely back to back. "make me cum again." you whine, hips arching further off the bed as his fingers pump in and out slowly. "on your cock, fuck, please fuck me alastor."

alastor chuckles, his free hand unbottoning the front of his pants just enough to free his cock. "how could i deny such a good girl? cum on my cock, my princess." in an instant, alastor's fingers are replaced by the thickness of his cock. the first thrust alone has you teetering on the edge, while his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit.

your pussy clenches around his girth, pulsing with every sweep of his finger. each thrust of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, his cock filling you like no one else could ever. "y-you, gonna cum again." you cry out, spasms wrecking your body as your second orgasm hits even more intense with the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

alastlor groans, pumping his cock deeper, deeper until he's cumming as well. "such a good girl." he grunts, pushing each thick rope of cum further inside. "you won't ever have to worry about not being taken care of, my dear." he assures, pulling out slowly even as your cunt tries to squeeze him in. "there's plenty more where that came from, rest your pretty little eyes." he coos, pulling a blanket on your tired body.

you just know this is going to be the best sleep pf your fucking life...

[twi-liight]

Petty Jealousy ❣

Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!

“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!” 

5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks. 

“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.” 

Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”

Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.” 

Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate. 

 “Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm. 

“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!” 

“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words. 

“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips. 

“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?” 

“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.” 

Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.

“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds,  “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.” 

Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.” 

Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.

“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?” 

He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”

“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.” 

If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something. 

He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.

“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?” 

Yes. They all nod their heads. 

“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.” 

Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.” 

“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.” 

They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind. 

Unbearably unaware of their true nature.

Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting. 

The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined. 

“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.” 

How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone. 

No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.

Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke. 

"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."

Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.

“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”

“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.” 

Excellent. 

“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!” 

“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.” 

“Karlach!” 

“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.” 

“Gale?!” 

“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”

“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

[chippedshake]

Darry helping Pony out with some bullies and a six-year-old Ponyboy running up to him a week later with a comic in his hand, saying "Darry, Darry, look, he's just like you!"

And it's a Superman comic book, open to a page where he's fighting a villain and bringing some civilians to safety

"See? He's helping people like you helped me!"

Darry just laughing and ruffling his hair

"Sure, Pony, I'm Superman."

And going back to his homework

But Ponyboy won't let it go. He starts calling him Superman and gets Soda in on it. Two-Bit absolutely cackles the first time he hears it and instantly plays along. Then Johnny starts saying it too, maybe a bit as a joke, but also because he's thinking about how Darry helps him with his homework sometimes and helped scare those Socs away and gave him a hug when he found him in the lot. Steve starts once Darry grows up and actually starts looking like Superman and by the time Dally gets there, he doesn’t even question it.

Darry laughs at first. Jokes about it. Then he starts hearing people talking about Superman and thinks, for a second, that they're talking about him before he remembers that it's just his family that calls him that.

By the time Ponyboy's eight, no one remembers how it started, no one cares about how it started, it just is.

Then it's a Tuesday evening when Darry's twenty and he's getting home from ten hours of heavy-lifting and has to cook dinner and the bills are due and he feels like collapsing onto the couch and sleeping for three days, but he doesn't have the fucking time to sleep because Pony has to go to school and Soda has to not oversleep and they have to have something to eat for dinner and he needs to convince Johnny he can stay over and isn't a burden and Two-Bit can't be getting too drunk because he needs to graduate goddammit and Steve might be kicked out tonight and needs to have somewhere to sleep and Dally needs some sort of constant in his life and it's too much and Darry's just twenty, he can't do it anymore–

"Darry, Darry, look, he's just like you!"

And suddenly Ponyboy's hopeful eyes are looking up at him, seeing Superman instead of his big brother because he helped fight off some Socs.

But that isn't enough anymore. He can't just fight off some Socs and come home and do his seventh grade homework. He needs to somehow keep his family together, make sure they all have a place to sleep and food to eat. And he can't falter, can't fail for a second because he's Superman, and Superman is invincible. Doesn't feel pain. Doesn't get tired. Doesn't let anything get him down.

"Hey there, Darry. Everything good?" Steve walks into their house without knocking.

"Yeah, just a bit tired." Darry sits up from where he’d been leaning back on the couch. Can't be tired. Can't be weak. "You kicked out again?"

"Yeah. Cool if I hang out here tonight?" Darry nods, stifling a yawn as he gets up. "What's for dinner?"

"Uh..." He glances towards the kitchen, trying to remember what they have. "Not sure. I'll figure it out."

"Need anything from the grocery store?"

Darry shrugs. "I can get it myself."

"I don't mind. You look beat."

"I'm fine," Darry says instinctively.

Steve snorts. "Okay. Need anything? I'm gonna go buy some cigs anyway."

"Uh..." Darry opens the near-empty fridge and sighs. "Some spaghetti for tonight. Get some chicken, too, we'll make it tomorrow. And a couple apples so you idiots eat some fruit."

"Got it."

Darry starts digging around for his wallet.

"Don’t worry. S'on me. Still got some from when the old man kicked me out two weeks ago."

"Steve, I can't ask you to–"

"Then it's a good thing you ain't askin'."

They stare off for a few moments before Darry relents.

"Thanks, Steve."

Steve nods. "No problem, Superman." He gives a mock salute and walks out the door.

Darry stares at the empty doorway for a couple seconds before he snaps out of it and starts cleaning up in case the state decides to poke around. He knows it isn't sustainable. They can't go on like this forever, he can't take care of his brothers alone forever.

He knows he isn't really Superman.

But maybe if he lets himself get help, he doesn’t have to be.

[justliketoreadsowhat]

Delusion Of Jealousy ꨄ

✰ this was a request from my Wattpad I abandoned, but I thought it’d be fitting since I’m still stuck on the leg sleeve physique ✰

oh!! and another thing, where the FICS AT?? I’m seeing a whole bunch of yapping and not enough strapping, no put intended ya’ll be killing me with the sm!ut. Where did all my good reads go?? I know the girls know how to WRITE. Either imma be fed with good literature or imma start feeding myself, that’s it that’s all.

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

—————

"𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓!" 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞t 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝟏𝐯𝟏 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩.

You were never the athletic type of person but when it comes to Paige begging you to participate in her antics, you can't ever deny her. If it made her happy, you'd be down to do whatever.

"Alright that's enough of taunting me, you're a professional! It's just the inevitable" you sighed watching her dribble the ball with ease toward your feet.

"Aw don't sound so defeated mama, you just gotta get your skill game right" she stated in a confident tone. Her face twisted up into a sly smirk. Those "skills" she yapped about were far too out of your reach, but not because you didn't learn them, Paige just had a horrible way of teaching you them, at least in your defense she did.

"Well maybeee if you had enough patience to properly teaching me these amazing skills, I could probably beat you-"

Your statement laced with attitude was halted as you felt the strong impact of a basketball hitting your back. Spinning around on your feet nearly losing your balance from the unexpected force, who was no other than KK.

"DID I SCARE YOU POOKIE?!" She laughed pulling you into a tight hug. You solo forget about the stinging sensation you felt on your back. You absolutely adored KK but in all honesty, who doesn't??? Her energy always remains unmatched and unhinged.

"Not really but you definitely got stronger during this offseason cause that hit was low-key a little strong" You pulled back from the hug tugging at her arms in amusement.

"Girl boo now you're just yapping" She put your hand in your face dramatically and turned to Paige who was unimpressed by the conversation. "Fix your face Bueckers you know you're happy to be in my presence" she beamed twirling her twists in her face. "Why y'all are in here anyways ? Looking all sour-faced?"

You giggle at KK's words "Nothing much, just another day of me getting beat in a matchup by yours truly" you shrug nudging Paige in her side.

"Don't let her fool you, girl, she just likes to win at everything- she's not THAT good" The strong empahsis in her tone made a light bulb go off in your head.

"Now why are going to sit here and lie??" Paige questioned laughing at the statement. The two of them hardly ever took each other seriously, especially when it came to competition. "Baby the proof is in the pudding! Let me teach your girl how to win the right way" KK dramatically pushed Paige to the sidelines, flcking her forehead before running off towards you in pursuit, praying she wouldn't run after her.

"Woww I'm gonna get trained by the infamous KK Arnold, I'm so exciteddd" she giggled patting her shoulder playfully. Paige glared at the two of you with an unamused expression plastered on her face.

Kk cackled at the sight "Okay so boom we're just gonna ignore the big bear being mad over there, let me show you how a real one does it" dribbling the ball in between her legs swiftly, taking a smooth step back from the 3 point line, shooting the ball with her right hand, it drains into the net with ease. "BOOM! short, sweet, and simple" she beamed looking back at you.

You grabbed the ball attempting to mimic her dribbling skills but failed miserably. "Yeah, we're gonna need a little more practice I fear.." you said trailing off into uncertainty.

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

For the next 30 minutes, you and KK practiced dribbling and shooting the ball like your lives depended on it. You had become too engrossed with learning these skills, you failed to realize Paige had left the gym for god knows how long.

"I think I'm top 5 in the rankings now KK" you breathed out, "I gotta go find Paige".

"OH I know you are, don't forget to mention me when you win that Emmy award" she winked at me holding back her laughter. "Have fun tryna find P boogers"

How unserious can one human possibly be? because you were 100% certain she fit all the criteria for it. Shaking your head at your antics you gathered your purse and keys, dropping the basketball back on the rack, and headed out into the seemingly cold hallways of the facility. You thought you'd find her in the training room chilling but to your surprise, she was nowhere to be found.

Sighing to yourself, you pulled out your phone

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 "𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞💜".......

"Oh! Are you done practicing with your partner for the final 4?  Done so soon?" her voice swarmed with annoyance.

"What happened to hello?, why are you being so rude about it we were all just having fun"  Confusion roamed throughout your mind, she never acted like this towards you.

The line went silent.

"Paige? hello?'

"We must have two different definitions of the term rude considering the fact that you didn't even care to notice that I left" her voice echoed from behind you. Swiftly turning around you saw her leaning in the doorway. Her cheeks flushed as if someone sliced the color out of them. She was livid.

"Paige it was all fun and gamessss" you whined hopelessly, "I was just preparing to get my payback for you beating me- "You stopped yourself mid-sentence as the awareness of her irritation wasn't irritation at all. "Aw P are you jealous??" you questioned as your face turned up into a smirk.

She kissed her teeth in annoyance "I'm not jealous y/n... be so fr right now" she scoffed.

"Yesss you are! There's no way you'd be upset over me trying to learn the sport that you love" you poked at her face laughing "You just want me to give you allll the attention hm?" cocking your head looking up at her, you knew you were right, but she'd never admit to it.

"Now you're just chatting" shaking her head in disbelief, playfully mushing your face.

"Your pride is too big for you to admit that your jealousy got the best of you babe, happens to the best of us I suppose"  Resting your head on her chest you smiling to yourself, you had her hooked. "Since you're so jealous I guess I'll go get Canes by myself, wouldn't wanna focus my attention on bringing someone else with me"

"Nah never that! I'm ready to go right now" she shot back at you as she lifted you up into her arms easily, a little too easy for your liking. You never understood how someone so small was able to lift weight like it's thin air.

"Mhm, that's what I thought" you emersed, softly kissing her temple.

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

________________________________________________________________

[annievrse]

How'd You Turn It Right Around? / Act IV

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place post-time skip. W/C: 20.3k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Zou spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: Mentions of torture and violence, Doflamingo (& his past), anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, and more violence. A/N: Welcome to the final instalment of Labyrinth! I'm so beyond excited to share this with you, and I hope you find it a fitting ending for a story I've poured so much of myself into. This chapter is more reader-focused, but Law isn't far away! Enjoy!!

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

Much to your chagrin, the Palace is nothing short of elegant—it disgusts you. You sit on the highest level, gazing over a country ruled by a sadistic, arrogant psychopath, and wonder how you ended up here. You could have fought him back on Green Bit, but with Law so close and Doflamingo so ruthless, you took the first out offered to you. Law isn’t weak, you know this, but with his motive so personal, he would act irrationally and maybe get himself killed in the process. So, you took it upon yourself to save him, which cuts him deeply. You know you shouldn’t be putting him through this, but it’s his life or yours. And he deserves to live. 

There’s shuffling behind you, Doflamingo’s executives preparing the chamber for something. They give you wary looks, some laced with terror and some with curiosity, and you wonder what he told them. 

“Dreamweaver.”

You scowl at the name and turn. “Don’t call me that.”

Doflamingo leans against the massive throne that faces the window, his looming figure ominous. You stumble backwards, the backs of your thighs hitting the other throne behind you. There are specks of blood splattered on his pink, feathered coat, but you don’t linger on them for too long, scared of what your mind will conclude. 

“Touchy,” He mutters, sucking his teeth. “Your dear Law will be here soon.” 

Your eyes narrow. “What?”

A grim smile paints his lips. “I captured him, you know, so that I can kill him… if he isn’t already dead.”

You squint at him, the urge to ask what he means by that on the tip of your tongue. The awkward air between you is palpable, but you don’t turn your back to him. “You said—”

“Did I?” Doflamingo interrupts, and then you close your eyes and scold yourself for being so naive, so trusting. He lied about resigning from the Warlords, even got the newspaper to cover it, yet you believed he’d stay away from Law in exchange for your cooperation. How foolish. 

“He fought so valiantly for you,” He continues, pouting. “Too bad it wasn’t enough. He’s just as weak as he was as a child.” 

Vexation churns in your stomach, and you regard him with such revulsion that Doflamingo cackles. Angry tears burn your eyes as you clench your jaw. 

“Who knew the brat could have someone like you caring for him? Someone with an ability so beyond the realm of human comprehension—” 

“Young master,” A man says from the doorway, effectively cutting Doflamingo off. “There are some issues on the lower levels.”

He scowls, his fingers jagged. It’s too late before you fathom what’s happening. The man falls to the floor, his body writhing. His cries are broken, and you watch in horror as the man’s limbs twist and snap grotesquely. You blanch at the sight of his mangled body, his bones turning to ash under his skin. 

Doflamingo's malice is unlike anything you've ever witnessed, his wicked grin stretching wider with each passing moment. He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he looks down at the man, who lies unconscious from the torment.

“They never learn, do they?” 

You don’t breathe. The man’s body dangles like a marionette, invisible strings controlling his limbs. 

“Stop,” You whisper. The sound is almost muted, but a strangled cry escapes your throat when the corners of the man’s mouth rise into a sick, unnatural grin. “Stop!”

Doflamingo looks over his shoulder, his arm raised as he plays with the man like a toy. “Make me.”

If you were thinking clearly, you'd realise this was a test—a twisted way for Doflamingo to gauge the limits of your power. But at this moment, all you can focus on is the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze—for Law, for this man, for everyone who’s suffered at Doflamingo’s hands. You can hardly believe you fell for his manipulative words.

Then Law’s face flashes in your mind, and you feel the tension in your fist ease. You have to stick this out. You can’t let your emotions take over—not with Doflamingo. You can’t let yourself die before seeing Law finally exact the revenge he’s carried since childhood. You cling to the loathing and raw fury that fuels you, and a smile twists your lips.

“I’m not playing games.”

The King of Dressrosa pauses his assault and drops the man to the floor, his body tumbling like slime. “I’m glad. Neither am I.”

He faces you, sunglasses reflecting the sun shining through the windows. Behind him, the man’s soul exits his body and enters Seam. You hope he has a nice time there. 

A crash echoes from below, muffled by the palace's many levels, but neither of you moves. You lock eyes with him, and the way he runs his tongue over his teeth tells you everything—you’re confident no one has dared meet his gaze like this in a long time.

“Wanna tell me why you kidnapped me in the first place?”

“Fiesty.” He was having fun. Nobody has spoken to him like this before and gotten away with it.

You cock your head. 

“Not one for jokes, then,” Doflamingo sighs with a hint of humour. “You possess the Sew-Sew Fruit, correct?”

Nodding warily, you watch as he gestures with his hand. 

“There’s your answer.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Doflamingo pauses, almost dumbstruck. “You really don’t know what you are?”

“Clearly not.”

“Calm it with the fire, sweetheart.” 

You feel your body go numb, and suddenly, you feel like you’re floating outside of yourself. “Don’t call me that.”

Doflamingo smirks. “What? Sound familiar?” 

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t think Law would like that very much. Though, I’ve never cared what that brat likes.” 

You take a step back, gaze sweeping his body with disgust. “Are you done?”

“Who do you think is in control here, dollface? Because it sure as hell isn’t you.”

“I’m not fighting you.” 

“Smart.” 

A knock on the wide-open door draws you from your staring contest, and you swallow thickly. 

“Yes?”

“Young master, we’re here to deliver your package.” 

The thought of Law being treated like nothing more than a package ignites a searing rage inside you. Your lover sways unsteadily on his feet, clearly unconscious, as massive men drag him through the door. Sea-prism stone cuffs bite into his wrists so tightly that blood drips from his fingertips.

They throw him onto the throne, their hands moving swiftly to attach chains to his cuffs on either side of the chair. His head hangs limply, his body a dead weight. The sight twists something dark and cold in your gut.

“Pity. He’s not dead.” 

You’re too immersed in a state of shock to react to Doflamingo’s comment. What happened after Green Bit that could’ve led to this? 

He greets the newcomers with a casual nod—Baby 5 and Buffalo, both familiar from Punk Hazard. Doflamingo lets out a long sigh as he moves toward the chair opposite Law, stretching his arms high above his head before settling into the seat. You watch, tense, as he relaxes into the position: one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, head tilted in a way that suggests he’s ready for an interrogation—or at least, that's how it seems to you.

Doflamingo uses his strings to reel you in, his grip on you almost suffocating in possessiveness. You bite your lip, fighting back the surge of nausea. How dare he.

Law sits slumped, his hat missing and his clothes in tatters. Upon closer inspection, you see the skin of his stomach streaked with dried blood.

“Nice of you to join us, Law.”

Your eyes snap to his face, and your breath catches when his weary gaze locks with yours. It takes him a moment to register it’s you, and then he’s struggling against his restraints. You force yourself to bite your tongue, stopping yourself from doing something reckless.

“Let her go! This is between you and me!”

Doflamingo blinks, a slow, mocking grin stretching across his face. “Oh, I didn’t take her unwillingly. There were... conditions. I made that clear in front of the Colosseum.”

Law’s usually indifferent, half-lidded gaze is now sharp and wild as he scans your body. You seem unhurt, standing there unrestrained, but Law knows you too well. He knows exactly what Doflamingo must have said to make you comply, and he realises that tearing out his own heart without his power would hurt less than seeing you like this.

“Well, your conditions don’t mean anything, do they? I’m still here.”

You lunge forward, anger burning in your chest, hands poised to strike at Doflamingo. But before you can move, you stagger back, the strength of invisible strings pulling you against the wall. Law grunts, realising you are physically being controlled by Doflamingo.

With a low snarl, you glare at Doflamingo, focusing on the minuscule needles aimed at his eyes. He senses the danger, and with a flick of his index finger, he effortlessly swats the nearly invisible metal rods away from his face.

“Try that again, and Law dies. Got it?” 

Your lover looks up at you through his lashes, the blaze in his irises sparking brighter. “Don’t touch her.” 

Doflamingo smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Pathetic. You’ve become a fool, Law.” 

His breaths are ragged as he squirms in the chains. Law is losing his composure. “I will fucking kill you!”

Doflamingo lets out a low chuckle beside you, and Law shoots him a venomous glare.

"Don’t even look at her."

A whimper escapes you as the restraints tighten, and Doflamingo pulls you roughly in front of him. His eyes slide over your body, making you shiver with disgust.

“What are you gonna do if I do? Huh? Keep throwing empty threats at me?” He spins you around so you’re body is facing Law, and he drags a finger along your throat.  

Law huffs through his nose, his muscles straining as he tries to wrench the cuffs off his wrists. He grunts with pain, but the blood dripping from his skin doesn’t stop him from trying again. You focus on him, silently willing him to meet your gaze, to understand the message in your eyes—that everything will be okay.

When he finally looks at you, you inhale sharply, furrowing your brow in a silent promise: no matter what happens, you’ll both make it out of here alive. The unspoken exchange lingers between you briefly before Doflamingo clears his throat, breaking the tension.

“Enough.” The expression on Doflamingo's face indicates his disturbed attitude towards the connection between you and Law, and he stands. 

“Something wrong, Young Master?” Buffalo asks, oblivious to whatever understanding his master has of his two hostages. “Did you hear something?”

Doflamingo ignores him and approaches Law, his hands in his pockets. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, brat. I’m not about to let you mess this one up too.” 

Law scowls up at him, his lip curling. “You can’t control me anymore.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” The King laughs, his hand jerking quickly to draw you toward him. You stumble but catch yourself before you fall. “As long as I have her, you’re nothing but a slave.” 

Suddenly, a giant boulder comes out of nowhere, crashing from the left side of the room with a slick zing of a sword to lob off Doflamingo’s head. You stand there in awe and bewilderment as you see the blonde head tumble to the floor and bounce away. The scene before you is grisly and horrifying, but where you expect blood, there’s nothing. You blink in horror at the lack thereof, and your brain struggles to catch up to the present. 

There are screaming and guttural cries around you, but you stare at the stump where Doflamingo’s neck is—how is he still standing? 

Everything makes sense: how he flies, controls a body like a puppet, and can stand without a head… it all stems from the strings. The same strings that control the country’s citizens, the ones that held Law against the tree on Green Bit, and the ones that wrap around your waist to keep you compliant are controlled by Doflamingo. 

You gasp and turn, spotting a man battling Baby 5 and Buffalo. It wasn't a boulder after all, but a gladiator-clad figure who had just sliced Doflamingo’s head clean off his body—or, his fake body. Thinking fast, you conjure a needle and swiftly sever the strings binding you. A wave of relief washes over you as they drop to the floor.

Law watches you, his expression calm, though he knows exactly what you're planning. You rush toward him but halt abruptly, the sea prism cuffs sending a jolt of dread through you. "Shit."

"There’s no time," Law snaps, his voice laced with urgency, making the anxiety in your stomach spike. "Go while you still can."

“Like hell.”

“Traffy!” 

You let out a scoffing laugh, recognising that voice all too well. Luffy calls your name moments later, his smile stretching wider. His timing is, as always, perfect.

“You’re okay!”

“I am,” You reply, exhaling with relief. Your heart clenches at the sight of him, and for a brief moment, all you can wish for is that Luffy would scoop you and Law up and whisk you both away to some peaceful, far-off island.

A woman runs alongside Luffy, a key in her hand. Luffy grabs it from her and nearly tackles you in his rush. With Doflamingo’s headless body, his executives battling a gladiator, and you finally free from his grasp, Law sits frozen, overwhelmed by the commotion around him.

“How’re you here, Straw Hat?”

The key is shoved into your hands, Luffy shaking with anticipation. “Do it.” 

“Me?” You blink. “I can’t touch sea-prism stone either.”

“Did you destroy the factory?” Law side-eyes Luffy. 

“Why’s it always business with you?” Luffy asks, pouting. “What if I just wanted to save you guys?” 

Your hands tremble as you aim the key at the cuff's keyhole. Without touching them, you can’t unlock the cuffs properly. “I can’t do it.” 

“What if we—”

A chill spreads through your body like a bucket of ice water has been dumped directly over your head. A sinister laugh echoes through the room, and when your eyes lock with Law's, fear and alarm are evident in his gaze. You were right—it’s all connected to the strings.

The entire chamber goes deadly still, and then, instantly, you’re lifted into the air. Your legs flail, searching for something to land on. You hit the ground with a slide, landing on your feet, followed by Luffy and the woman. Law remains seated on the throne, which comes to a halt a few feet away, tossing him sideways onto the ground.

A stone pillar juts up from the floor, but before you can process where it came from, Doflamingo’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“That was a surprise.”

Luffy gasps before you do, but you’re too stunned to move.

“The whole country’s in chaos now that the toys are free.”

Toys? The word sends a jolt through you, and memories of the clown from when you were shopping for disguises flicker in your mind. You gape in shock as the realisation hits—it was a toy, not just a figment of your imagination.

“Tragic, really. I was having fun.”

You squint at Doflamingo’s body, the tendrils of string emerging from the base of his neck. 

Doflamingo’s head lets out a heavy sigh, a look of mock contemplation crossing his face. 

“Looks like I’ll have to use the Birdcage to get this under control.” His voice is smooth, almost casual.

Across the room, you hear a chair scrape against the floor, followed by the frantic sound of chains rattling. Law’s body thrashes against the restraints holding him in place. His eyes are wide with panic, his breath coming in short, keen gasps. 

“No! You can’t!” His voice cracks, raw and desperate.

Doflamingo’s eyes flick over to him, his expression unreadable as he raises a brow. "Oh? You seem concerned, Law. You remember, don't you?" 

Law’s chest heaves as he glares at the man before him, his usually composed demeanour wholly shattered. 

"You would subject innocents to this?" His voice is filled with disgust, and his tone’s an apparent tremor—a mix of dread and revulsion. 

Doflamingo’s lips curl into a cruel smile. 

“Nobody is truly innocent.” His tone is flat, devoid of empathy, as if he'd long abandoned any notion of moral boundaries. The words hang in the air, chilling in their certainty.

Law's face contorts with frustration. “You’re wrong,” He spits, the words thick with disdain. "Innocence isn't something you can just take from people, Doflamingo."

Before Doflamingo can respond, a figure steps forward from the shadows—the imposing gladiator, his muscles rippling beneath his armour. The man draws his sword fluidly, the blade gleaming in the sunlight. His face is set in a grim, determined expression.

“Enough!” the gladiator bellows, his voice booming with authority. Without hesitation, he leaps from his position, sword raised high as if preparing to charge. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, the room brimming with the sense that everything is about to escalate into an uproar.

You watch the scene unfold, heart pounding, as Doflamingo’s smirk deepens into something more sinister. Law’s struggle intensifies, his body twisting and writhing in his chair.

The tension is unbearable, the calm before the storm.

Doflamingo materialises behind the gladiator, fully intact—no longer the headless phantom he once was. You blink, heart racing, a wave of horror washing over you. The sheer force of his power is palpable, and for a moment, you wonder if you could pull off the same technique. The thought lingers, both terrifying and fascinating.

A low, menacing growl rumbles from Doflamingo’s throat as he steps forward, his leg swinging from the right with a devastating force. 

“I’ll show you how to behead a man properly...” His words drip with malice, and before anyone can react, the room erupts into screams of terror. But just as Doflamingo’s leg is about to make contact, Luffy shoves the gladiator out of the way, sending him sprawling to the floor, and plants himself between you and Doflamingo. The world feels like it shifts around you. Sunlight bursts through the cracks in the building, dancing on your skin, and when you glance up, the sky seems impossibly vast, stretching above you.

Your mind struggles to process what just happened. There’s no way a single kick could have taken the roof off a building.

You push the thought aside, focusing instead on the fight before you. Amid the rubble and mayhem, you sprint toward Law.

"It's no use," Law says, his voice strained, his eyes filled with frustration and helplessness. "You can't touch it..." His words are heavy, laced with a deep sense of defeat, and there's a desperate plea behind them. "Please, just leave."

Your breath catches in your throat. His face, normally composed, is filled with an urgency you can’t ignore. But there’s no time for hesitation.

"Where's your katana?" You ask quickly.

Law shifts uncomfortably in his chair, his teeth gritting in pain. "Don’t know—please, just leave."

You ignore his pleas, your focus honing in on getting him free. You search desperately around the space, looking for anything to help cut through the chains. But before you can find anything, a scream cuts through the air, a distinct cry of panic that stops you dead in your tracks.

Instinctively, you turn, your gaze snapping to the scene unfolding before you. Your voice catches, but it escapes, barely pushing through the rawness of your throat. 

"Luffy! There’s two!"

He looks up just in time to see two figures of Doflamingo descend upon him, one headless and the other fully intact. The sight is enough to make your blood run cold, but Luffy doesn't flinch. With a burst of speed, he rolls out of the way, narrowly avoiding the attack.

Seizing the brief moment of distraction, you face Law again, checking his condition. Your breath catches as your eyes fall on his abdomen.

“He shot you,” You gasp, your fingers trembling as they hover over the dried blood and bulletholes that mar his skin.

Law’s lips curl into a pained but rueful smile. “Three times.”

A billowing rage floods your chest, and your hands begin to shake, your anger threatening to overtake your thoughts. You clench your fists at your sides, barely holding back the venom in your voice. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” You mutter, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Law’s gaze narrows, his voice low and calm but with a hard edge. “I will, for taking you away.”

You shake your head in disbelief, the intensity of the situation rendering an argument pointless. But before you can respond, an explosion of rock to your right makes you stumble, and you instinctively reach out for something to steady yourself.

A jagged spike from the shattered floor shoots upward, embedding itself into your calf. You cry out, the intense pain momentarily blinding you. It’s small, nothing you can’t handle—but just as you compose yourself, the ground beneath you shifts.

Once solid beneath your feet, the tiled floor begins to ripple, moving like water, sending waves of disorienting motion through the room. The world tilts as the ground you stand on seems alive, pulsating with someone’s power.

Your heart pounds. This is bad. Too bad. And it’s only going to get worse.

“I need to get you out of this,” You grit out, your jaw tight as you reach for Law’s forearm. The chair gives way beneath you, and apprehension sweeps through you. In one swift motion, you extend your hand, desperate to free him from the chains that bind him to the throne.

Threads of power shoot forward, wrapping tightly around the chains, constricting them. The tension in the air is suffocating, but your focus is razor-sharp as you glance toward Luffy and Doflamingo. They’re locked in combat, the two moving like a whirlwind of destruction, a brutal dance of fists and fury. You clench your hands, and the sound of metal ringing through the chaos is like a jolt to your senses.

With a sudden, determined jerk, Law breaks free, his body lurching forward despite the weakening effects of the sea prism stone. He stumbles against you, and you wrap your arms around him, supporting him the best you can. But the ground beneath your feet begins to shift again, the floor undulating like the surface of water, and you brace yourself as the room shakes violently.

Before you can fully react, the palace tilts. Gravity pulls at you both, and with a sickening lurch, you tumble, dragged by the chaotic motion. The wind slashes at your face like knives, the world a blur of spinning rock and dust.

You grip Law tighter, but his weight is too much. He’s slipping. You can feel it—his body going limp in your arms, the lack of strength in his limbs a grim reminder of the toll the sea prism stone has taken on him.

I can't carry him, you think, not like this, not without help.

Desperation surges through you as you fight against the pull of the mountain, your hands shaking as you try to keep him upright. 

Luffy yells above you, his body flying toward you. The gladiator’s sword flashes as he falls past you, and the realisation hits immediately. The tiles beneath you give way, and you scream as you drop toward the ground. Law yells something, but his words are drowned out by the rush of wind in your ears before he slips. You watch with horror as Law plummets ahead of you, a strangled cry leaving your throat.

Just as you’re about to crash into the solid ground, Luffy expands, and you land with a jolt on his stomach. It happens so quickly that you can barely process it, but you're grateful for the soft landing. You groan as you sit up, tears streaking down your cheeks and adrenaline blurring your vision. No one speaks—no mention of Luffy’s ability or that you all nearly fell to your death. Instead, everyone’s gaze is fixed upward, staring at the sky in stunned silence.

You don't care what Doflamingo is doing now. All that matters is getting to Law. You crawl over to him, and his eyes flick over you with a curt intensity, his gaze locking on the gash in your leg—a deep, jagged cut from the pointed rock that had impaled your calf.

“I can stitch it up,” You murmur, your hands trembling slightly as you cup his face. It’s not the most reassuring of statements, but it's the best you can offer now.

His frown deepens, his brows furrowing in that way you know all too well. The silver of his eyes flickers with concern, even as his tone remains steady, though laced with frustration. “It’ll get infected if you don’t clean it out first—”

“Law,” You cut him off, your laugh breathy and strained. You don’t have the energy for an entire conversation right now.

Luffy groans beneath you, his body deflating like a balloon, and you roll off him, helping Law to his feet with a quick but careful movement.

Law blinks at you, his breath catching as he stands on shaky legs. “It’s starting.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you follow his gaze, dread pooling in your stomach. 

Above you, the sky begins to twist. 

Strings. 

Hundreds of them, thin as silk, fan out in every direction, their glowing ends weaving together at a central point directly overhead. The air grows thick and heavy with the impending doom, and the calm summer day is suddenly replaced by a storm cloud gathering ominously above you. It’s as if the Gods themselves are bracing for what’s coming.

That’s the Birdcage.

“Traffy!” Luffy yells suddenly, his voice full of urgency and confusion as he runs toward you, his eyes wild. “What’s the Birdcage? What does it mean?”

Law’s eyes widen with something you’ve only seen a handful of times in the two years you’ve been with him. The last time was when you were shot on Hachinosu when poison coursed through your veins and left you unconscious for eight days. He displays such uncharacteristic, raw emotion that your heart skips a beat, suddenly gripped by the weight of what it could mean.

“It means he’s going to kill everyone in Dressrosa.”

You swallow hard, words failing you for a moment. The Birdcage isn’t just a cage; it’s a trap. 

The group gasps, the woman whimpering as she looks at the gladiator. They exchange a quiet, wordless conversation, and you avert your gaze, giving them space. Luffy, however, locks his eyes on Law, his lip curling in frustration.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you suddenly feel a tug along your spine. It’s subtle like someone gently testing the tension.

Law immediately senses your discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s still got me,” You whisper, and from the way Law’s jaw tightens, he understands precisely what you mean. “Luffy, where’s that key?”

“Uh…” Luffy pats his clothes, scanning the ground. “I gave it to you.”

You freeze, trepidation rising in your throat. “Shit, I must’ve dropped it.”

Law curses under his breath, pulling at his restraints in vain. It’s no use.

Suddenly, your body jerks and you instinctively reach behind you to grab the string. Your name rings out from the mountain, Doflamingo’s voice echoing like a twisted melody. He sings it, dripping with cruel, sadistic pleasure.

Your feet leave the ground, but you fight against the pull, driving a needle into the earth to anchor yourself. Law’s gaze is wild, his eyes locked on Doflamingo as he toys with you.

“We have to go!” The woman yells, nearly tripping as she starts to run. The deafening crack of stone makes you flinch, and a massive shadow looms overhead, casting its dark presence over you and the country below.

“I’m not leaving,” Law growls, his voice steady with resolve. “You guys go ahead.”

You watch as the gladiator and Luffy hesitate, their eyes wide, bulging with shock at the sight above you.

Law gives you a stern look, but you urgently shake your head. "Law, go."

"Like hell."

He throws your words back at you, and you clench your jaw in frustration. "Law—"

Doflamingo roars again; his voice laced with a deadly promise. The venom and wrath in his tone send a chill down your spine as he urges you to stop resisting the pull of the string. You’re yanked forward, a puppet under his command, but you manage to attach a thread to the ground, pulling yourself back toward Law.

“Trafalgar, go.”

He ignores your command, his voice laced with defiance. "No."

You yelp as it feels like your spine is being torn from your body. Doflamingo’s rage pulses down the string, and you shove Law away, desperate to protect him. 

"Go!" You plead, your voice shaky, almost desperate. "Go with them, please!"

Law’s brow furrows, confusion and concern flickering across his face as he meets your frantic gaze. "No! I’m not leaving you here!"

You grab hold of the fabric of his coat, your hands shaking, fingers digging into the material as if you could hold onto him forever. 

"You have to!" Your voice cracks with the effort it takes for you to say it. "If Doflamingo gets to you again, if he kills you—if I lose you, I—" The words catch in your throat.

Law's eyes soften for a split second, but then his voice comes out strained, raw, like he's trying to hold it together, too. 

"No... No way in hell I'm leaving you," His gaze shifts away, and when it comes back to you, there's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—determination laced with acceptance. He knows you can handle yourself. You hadn’t been training with him for two years for nothing. 

"You better not fucking die," He spits out, his voice thick with emotion. "You have to come back to me. You hear me?"

Your heart twists painfully, and you pull him closer, your forehead pressing against his. The warmth of his skin against yours is the only thing that feels real right now. 

"I’ll never not come back to you," You whisper fiercely, your words a vow, a promise etched into every fibre of your being. "You have my word."

For a moment, neither of you speak. The chaos around you fades into the background as you hold each other, the storm raging inside your chest more painful than anything the outside world could throw at you.

“Hurry up!” the gladiator yells, his voice pulling you away from Law, snapping you back to the destruction around you. 

Luffy takes a step forward but freezes when your eyes meet. His eyes are full of concern, something you rarely see in the gaze of someone so carefree. You offer him a smile, though it's shaky.

"I’ll be fine, Luffy," You reassure him, the words slipping out with more confidence than you feel.

"But we just got you back!" Luffy protests, his voice tight with panic. "I’m not letting him lay another finger on you!"

You swallow hard, fighting to keep your tears in check. "I’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon, alright?"

Luffy’s eyes narrow, his face a mask of determination, but you can see the storm brewing underneath. He doesn’t want to let go.

You meet his gaze, steadying your breath. "Please, Luffy. We can’t fight him right now."

Luffy huffs, frustration flickering across his face, but after a long beat, he nods once, his jaw set. "See you soon."

You turn back to Law, your heart heavy. A lump forms in your throat, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the tears threatening to spill. 

"I’ll see you soon, too, okay?" You whisper, but it’s barely audible.

"I love you," Law mutters, his voice hoarse, his chest rising and falling as he breathes raggedly. The words are heavy like he’s trying to say everything at once, and it hits you harder than expected. You push him gently toward Luffy, your hands trembling.

"I love you," You repeat, your voice breaking. "Now, go!"

Luffy catches him quickly, his strong arms wrapping around Law’s body like a vice. With one last glance at you, Luffy carries him away, moving swiftly, but you’re left standing there, your heart in your throat.

The tears you’ve held back finally break free, but you can’t look away. You won’t look away.

Your body is yanked upward when you release the thread, your limbs hanging limply as you cry. You watch Luffy run off with Law, wishing you were anywhere but here—somewhere safe, warm, surrounded by everyone you love. The desire for peace, for something ordinary, washes over you. But you were born to be a pirate, and your cries cease. 

You stay with Doflamingo, not because you want to, but because he seems to know more about you than you do yourself—and that’s something you can’t allow.

— Scene 2 —

You’re sick with trepidation. Night has fallen, and the strings of Doflamingo’s Birdcage glitter under the full moon. He sits across from you, stabbing his fork into the medium-rare steak on the plate before him. You decided to forego dinner, feeling far too queasy to stomach anything. 

“When’d you eat the Sew-Sew Fruit?”

You control your breathing, calming yourself from both anger and fear. “When I was seven.” 

Doflamingo’s eyebrow arches, and he bites the steak off his fork, the metal scraping his teeth. “And you still haven’t awakened your true power?” 

Curiosity outweighs caution. “No.”

He hums. “Would you like me to teach you?” 

Your muscles tense under your skin, and your heart rate increases so rapidly that you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears. 

“Our abilities are intertwined, you see,” Doflamingo says when you take too long to answer. “But your power is unlike anything on this planet. Have you heard of the legends they call Dreamweavers?” 

Your head shake is slight, and he takes it as a sign to continue. The clink of his metal fork on the ceramic plate jolts you from your thoughts, and you breathe deeply as he prepares his speech. 

“Devil Fruits embody humanity’s evolutionary potential, with each power representing a distinct path for the future. Born from humanity's collective hope and ambition, they are a tangible manifestation of what we could become.”

You recall hearing this story in your grandfather’s library as a child, though you’d long forgotten it since his death. Devil Fruits had been one of his greatest passions, something he obsessed over. When he finally acquired one, he gave it to you, his most prized possession. It had been his life's single greatest achievement, and he entrusted it to you, asking you to eat and wield it. You smile softly at the memory.

“There were three original rulers at the dawn of time: The Dreamer, The Monarch, and The Reaper. One to blend dreams with reality, one to rule over the seas, and one to govern life and death. That’s how they lived. That’s how they thrived.”

It strikes you as strange that Doflamingo speaks so openly, with no venom or mockery. You don’t know much about his past, but somehow, you get the sense that if he’d been raised in an environment devoid of cruelty and ambition, he might’ve been a very different person—a far more pleasant one.

“Following?” He asks, his dinner now forgotten on his plate. The sight of untouched food causes a flare of irritation in your stomach. Sanji would have a fit if he saw this.

You nod, rolling your shoulders and propping your chin in your palm, trying to seem casual about his strange demeanour.

“Nobody knows what happened during the Void Century, but it’s been theorised that a revolt, now known as the Celestial Dragons or the World Nobles, overthrew the Big Three, rendering the world a hopeless, war-torn hell hole.”

The upset and surprise are evident on your face, but Doflamingo pays no mind—you know he revels in the misfortune of others. There’s a nagging piece of information about the World Nobles that Law told you about Doflamingo that you struggle to remember. 

“The Dreamers were beheaded, their ideals and prophecies branded as blasphemy and forbidden. The Monarchs were slaughtered, their weapons far less advanced than the Celestial Dragons. The Reapers were sentenced to eternity underground, where even the brightest light couldn’t penetrate. It was a fate worse than death.

“From their deaths, the Devil Fruits were born. The people of the four seas, lost and enslaved, clung to the ideals they inherited—the ones foretold by The Dreamers. The hatred for the World Nobles and the hope that their reign would one day end fueled the creation of the Fruits. This very defiance gave them life, allowing humanity to fight back.”

“What’s this got to do with me?” You ask, your throat dry. 

Doflamingo smirks and lifts his head from where it leans on his palm. “You’re a Dreamer.” 

You scoff, pushing yourself halfway out of the chair. “You’re delusional. You just said they all died out.”

Before you can fully rise, strings shoot out from his fingers, wrapping around your wrists like chains. They yank you back into the seat with an unyielding force, pinning you to the chair.

“You don’t get it,” Doflamingo says, his voice low and cold, as if explaining something obvious. “Your Devil Fruit is the direct descendant of a Dreamer. The Sew-Sew Fruit was created as a way to continue the practice of weaving reality with fantasy or dreams. You defy the Celestial Dragons every second you’re alive.” 

Then it hits you what Law said about the World Nobles: how the Donquixote family were considered Celestial Dragons, and then they lost their privileges when Doflamingo’s father wished for a normal life… Your lip curls, the bitterness rising like acid in your throat. 

“And you want to use me for what? Some kind of revenge plot?”

Doflamingo’s smirk shifts, dark satisfaction shining in his eyes as if amused by your defiance. “You’re a smart one. Law doesn’t deserve someone like you—someone so far beyond his reach.”

The words hit you harder than you’d like to admit. You swallow thickly, your heart heavy in your chest. "When you said I could be a god..."

The thought lingers between you, and you can see the twisted mirth in Doflamingo's eyes like he's savouring the moment. “You could be more than a god. You could reshape the world, bend it to your will.”

A chill runs down your spine.

“You can control the minds and thoughts of everyone across the four seas,” Doflamingo continues, his voice dripping with malice. “You can create entire false realities that people will live in as though they’re true. Weaving dreams into the fabric of reality—it's what your Devil Fruit was made for. You’re the last of the Dreamers.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you take a moment to steady yourself. Who’s to say whether or not he’s telling the truth? Doflamingo is a master manipulator, a liar who thrives on controlling others. This could easily be another of his twisted games—getting you to unlock your power only so he can use it for his own ends.

But then, Law’s face flashes in your mind. The way he spoke on Punk Hazard, his words were heavy with something you didn’t fully understand then. “I’ve heard of legends with the same name.”

That strange surge of power stirs inside you again, stronger now, urging you to act. You yank your wrists free from the chair, the strings Doflamingo had bound you with snapping quickly under the force of your will. His smirk deepens, watching you with a mixture of pleasure and dark anticipation.

As you stand, the chair screeches against the tiles, its sound jarring in the room's silence.

“Leaving so soon?” Doflamingo taunts, leaning back with a lazy air like he’s entirely in control. “You’re going to take all that juicy information I gave you and not even thank me?” He lets his tongue flick out, brushing the gap in his grin, his amusement evident.

You tense, your hands curling into fists, and despite the disorganisation of your thoughts, something inside you cements. He’s not going to win this. 

“I’m not killing Celestial Dragons for you. I won’t let you hone me into your personal weapon just because you told me some fairytale.”

Doflamingo tilts his head, his grin morphing into something far more sinister. The veins in his forehead pulse, a telltale sign of his growing frustration. 

"Why would I go through all this trouble to bring you here and then lie to you?" He sneers, his voice low and chilling. "You're special. I'm trying to help you."

You narrow your eyes, unfazed by his theatrics. 

"And what about your power?" You retort. "You use strings to control others."

"That's where we're different," He says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at your question. "I control people with my strings, but your power creates entire mindscapes, places where people live—spanning across the four seas. Your ability doesn’t drain you; mine does. You were made to weave dreams into reality, to rule the world. You're more powerful than you realise, and even I don’t fully understand the extent of it. The Dreamers kept much of their knowledge hidden."

"I don’t want to rule the world," You say firmly.

"Yet," Doflamingo mutters, his voice dripping with condescension.

You shake your head, unwavering. "I don’t."

His expression darkens. "You're selfish. Ungrateful. Do you know how many lives you could save with your power?"

"Save?" You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "You don’t want to save anyone. You only dream of a world where you hold all the strings, where death and destruction are the price for your sick version of control."

His face hardens momentarily, but without missing a beat, his scowl fades into a twisted grin. "Yeah, you're right."

You crash into the wall, the impact force stealing the breath from your lungs. Doflamingo approaches, his fingers curling and weaving in the air with a sinister grace. Your mind struggles to process what's happening, still disoriented from the surprise of his power coiling around you and pulling you backward.

“If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll have to force you. Do you want that?”

You grit your teeth, and your jaw hurts with how hard you tense. “Fuck you.” 

“That’s all you seem to say to me,” He chuckles darkly, leaning his face close to yours. Doflamingo is so close you can see the strings moving under his pores. “But I need you to work with me here. I need to destroy the Celestial Dragons.” 

“Not gonna happen,” You spit before stabbing him between the shoulder blades with a needle. Doflamingo keels over, and you take the opportunity to get away from the wall. Blood swells from the puncture and drips down the feathers of his pink coat. 

"Bitch," He mutters under his breath. You gasp for air, sprinting toward the door, but the wood splinters into chunks before you can reach it. Skidding to a halt, you whip around, only to find Doflamingo’s clawed hand pointed directly at you. “Strings.”

Turning your focus inward, you activate your Observation Haki. Time seems to stretch as five metallic strings streak toward your torso. You pivot to the left, narrowly avoiding the attack. Each time you dodge, another string is sent flying in your direction. You can’t waste energy fighting him head-on—not when you know you’ll lose.

“Fight back,” Doflamingo growls, his frustration growing with every evasive move you make. He closes the distance between you, his attacks becoming more rapid and precise. You wince as a string slices across your shoulder, but you force yourself to keep moving.

The palace begins to shake. At first, you don’t understand why, but then it becomes clear—Doflamingo is the cause. He bares his teeth at you, pausing his assault for a moment, and that’s when you feel it—tendrils of string weaving into your mind. Without hesitation, you rip them out with Seam Ripper, a technique you mastered a year ago when a pirate with the Persuasion-Persuasion Fruit attacked the Polar Tang.

“Fight me!”

You glare at him, your hands clenched at your sides. "Why? So you can taste my power and figure out how to control me?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, the movement stiff thanks to the needle lodged in his back.

You pause, taking a breath, considering your next move. A manic smirk slowly pulls at the corners of your lips. “What do you say, Doflamingo? Ready to have some fun?”

He chuckles lowly, his twisted grin mirroring yours. “Finally, a worthy opponent.”

Your eyebrow arches, and you fling your arm out. Threads, woven into a tight rope, whip out to sweep Doflamingo off his feet, but just as quickly, his own ropes send you flying to the side.

You sniffle, a thought flashing through your mind—maybe your abilities are more intertwined than you realise.

“Bullet String.”

The pellets ricochet off the needle you wield like a sword. Your movements are fluid and precise—if someone from the outside were watching, they’d mistake you for a swordswoman. You silently thank Zoro for drilling the motions into you over the years.

You press forward, matching his attack with your own. “Darts.”

The battle rages on, both of you exchanging strikes, dodging, weaving, and countering with perfect synchronicity. It's a standoff—an even match.

You gulp down a breath, your lungs burning as you round a corner of the palace, the fight spilling out of the chamber when Doflamingo reveals his Excess String Whip.

Your head hurts with the stamina you’ve used, and you feel the effects of not using Seam in your hands. With a definitive, fragmented sigh and a burning urgency to end this and get back to Law, you position yourself in the hallway, waiting for Doflamingo to close the distance. Blood slides down the side of your face, and you wipe it away with your shoulder, smearing it along your skin. 

“You can’t hide,” A sing-song, ragged voice taunts. “I will defeat you, Dreamweaver.”

You bite your lip, his words only spurring you on. “We’ll see about that.”

Without waiting to face him, you summon Seam.

Your body aches when he enters, his pure, unadulterated power already clawing at the walls of your mindscape. You scream as you collapse to the floor, your hands squeezing the sides of your head. 

There’s a faraway crash, but you ignore it to concentrate on keeping Doflamingo’s soul inside you. 

Your name cuts through the foggy pain reverberating in your skull. You strain your eyes, trying to bring the figures in front of you into focus, but they remain distorted, shadows dancing just out of reach. You think you're screaming—an agonising, blood-curdling scream that forces the two figures back, hands clutching their ears in desperation. Tears pour from your closed eyes, and blood streams from your ears; the white-hot power of the man’s soul inside you wreaks havoc. 

A touch comes, someone trying to lift you from the floor, but they recoil instantly, your skin burning too hot to bear.

Your throat is raw, searing with every breath, but you know it’s time. And with a final, desperate breath, you enter Seam.

— Scene 3 —

It’s eerily quiet when you appear, the world around you a vast stillness, interrupted only by the crash of distant waves. The air is thick with salt, stinging your nose, but you push it aside. Doflamingo sits some distance away, his fingers threading through the blades of grass, lost in his thoughts.

You don’t move to attack him, instead standing behind him, watching. The chirp of birds passes overhead, their flight a gentle reminder of something once familiar, something that hurts to remember.

“Is this your mindscape?” He asks, his voice slicing through the silence.

“Yes,” You respond, your tone cool.

The feeling here differs from the usual pull of Seam, but you can't tell if it's unsettling or calming. Seeing Doflamingo, a monster who now taints your thoughts and memories, sitting so casually in your mind makes your stomach churn. The images of what he’s done to Law, Dressrosa, and the other nameless people who now live in his shadow burn you with disgust.

Law’s words echo in your mind but do nothing to quell the hate rising within you. The emotions collide—hate, revulsion, and a quiet, simmering fury. The mix churns beneath your skin as you study the man before you, wondering how much further you'll have to go to make him pay.

In the end, you’re seething, each breath coming faster and harder. “You deserve everything that’s coming for you.”

Doflamingo doesn’t even bother to turn around, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “So you can see the future?”

You step forward, the words barbed. “No, not the future. Just what I’m going to do to you.”

Before Doflamingo can move, you focus on the back of his head, your mind swirling with something ancient and unwelcome. The words slip from your lips like an instinct, more felt than thought, the word slipping free before you can stop it.

"Eyelet."

You’ve never ventured into someone else’s mind before—not like this. You’ve only ever existed within Seam, a realm born of your own memories. But this—this is different. Doflamingo’s consciousness feels like a cold, jagged thing, cruel and suffocating, and the skin on your body prickles under its intensity.

Your senses flare as you absorb the full force of what you’ve unleashed. This power is vast, far darker than anything you’ve touched before. It feels like a shadow of something you’ve long forgotten, something that the voices once whispered to you about, teaching you to wield it with cautious reverence. But now? It feels like part of you—a second skin that fits in ways you hadn’t imagined until now.

Indifferent, you remain still, allowing the new, raw power to wash over you. 

“She’s awakened.” 

“The Dreamweaver has returned.” 

“Welcome, young one. We’ve been expecting you.”

Feminine voices surround you, their whispers caressing you like a soft breeze, warm and gentle. A smile tugs at your lips as you feel their presence, and slowly, you open your eyes.

You find yourself standing in the ruins of a house, its decay a reflection of the destruction within. The bed is a mess, drenched in unspeakable filth, and the air is thick with the stench of rot and hopelessness. Every instinct screams at you to flee, but fear paralyses you, making it impossible to breathe freely.

In the corner, a small boy curls up, his face buried in his knees as he sobs in agony. Though his features are familiar, resembling Doflamingo in a way that twists your stomach, you know, deep in your bones, that this is not him. There is something pure about how he cries—innocent in a way Doflamingo never was.  

Without warning, the door crashes open, and another figure enters. This one, unmistakably Doflamingo, strides into the room with the same arrogance you’ve come to associate with him, even at his current age. His glasses gleam in the dim light, and his presence fills the room with a suffocating sense of authority.

“Get up!” He commands, his voice harsh, the words dripping with disdain as they land on the boy. Your heart clenches when you realise that the child on the floor is none other than Corazon, his face streaked with tears and his hair matted to his forehead. The contrast between the two is striking, and the moment's violence weighs heavily on you.

Doflamingo’s following words are chilling. “Stop crying, he deserved it.” His voice cracks like the snap of a whip, and the cruelty in it hangs in the air.

Still shaken, Corazon lifts his head, his face red from emotion and pain. His voice is quiet but full of desperation. “But why?”

The eldest Donquixote child scoffs, stomping towards him with the same disdain he carries now, a gun dangling carelessly in his small, trembling hands.

The scene before you fades, its bitter hatred dissolving into the ether. This isn't the memory you need.

Another materialises in its place—a young child wearing the same patterned hat Law always wears. He looks up at Doflamingo, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bear to watch this.

Just a boy, Trafalgar Law stands there with a fierce scowl, hurling his small body against the towering man’s legs. Around his waist are dozens of grenades, each one wrapped in a dull khaki green. "Let me in!"

Doflamingo scoffs, his gangly form looming over the child. "Not a chance, brat. Get lost."

Law’s face morphs into something unreadable, and before you can process it, the door slams in his face. He stands frozen, staring at the wooden panel, his heart sinking at the stark reality—he’s unwanted, unwelcome. Alone.

He stumbles away, fighting back the tears, as he trudges down the grimy stairwell into the waste processing plant, swallowed by despair.

At that moment, the hatred you feel for Doflamingo crystallises into something darker and more dangerous. You lift your arm, your movement fluid, and a new memory plays before you. A cruel satisfaction fills you as you make your choice, knowing this is the memory that will hurt Doflamingo more deeply than any before it.

His soul thrashes violently within the confines of Seam, shaking the very core of your being. Doflamingo’s Haki-infused strings press against your mind, sharp as daggers, their relentless pressure threatening to tear through the walls of your consciousness.

The same voices you heard earlier whisper to you again, guiding you with soft, melodic tones, their words like a balm to the chaos swirling within you. They gently walk you through extracting the memory from Doflamingo’s mind, showing you how to pull it into reality.

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice tight with anxiety and your stomach churning with unease. You hesitate, your hands shaking as you halt the process, the air heavy with the question.

“We are the Dreamers of time past. You are our descendant, chosen to consume the Sew-Sew Fruit and restore balance alongside The Monarchs and The Reapers. You are the saviour of this world.”

Your throat tightens as you struggle to swallow the lump forming there. “But I don’t want to rule.”

“There is no need to wish for power,” they reply, their voices soft and understanding. “You are one of us—someone who hopes for the best for others and desires nothing for herself. We bear no ill will toward you for not seeking dominion. But time is of the essence. You must hurry the extraction; the man you harbour within you is far too dangerous.”

A screeching, hollow sound echoes in your mind when they depart, but you ignore it, focusing on your task. With a swift motion, you pull yourself free from his mind. As you return to Seam, Doflamingo’s pale face stares back at you, his eyes wide and full of disbelief.

“What did you just do?” His voice is laced with fear and fury, but it doesn’t rattle you like it once would have. Beneath his arrogant mask, you see him for what he really is—a boy given too much power too soon, thrust into a world that demanded cruelty over compassion.

You don’t pity him. But you do feel a deep, sorrowful sadness. When you look into Doflamingo’s eyes, hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you don’t see a man but a child—one who was placed on a pedestal and taught to wield power for destruction, surrounded by people who saw weakness as something to be stamped out, never nurtured. He’s a product of a broken system, raised to carry on the twisted legacy of the Celestial Dragons. Whether it’s tragic that he failed is irrelevant—you’re not here to play Gods.

With a deep sigh, you leave Seam, taking his soul with you.

Doflamingo’s body jerks as he’s violently pulled back into himself. He gasps, his anger flaring as he shoots you a venomous glare. “You little—”

Before he can finish, the words slip from your mouth without thinking. You don’t know where they came from nor what they fully mean, but they feel natural. They feel right.

“Binding and Stitch.”

Your mindscape bleeds into the material world, the scene seamlessly overlapping with the palace hallway. Doflamingo blinks, his confusion turning to dawning realisation as he senses the shift behind him.

His mouth opens and closes as his eyes fall on the fire, the brick wall, the deep crimson stains of blood, and the iron shackles—memories he tried so hard to bury. “No…”

Doflamingo’s voice falters as the raw, jagged edge of the memory snaps shut, locking it into the space around him. The scene solidifies. It’s a frighteningly beautiful thing, and the power thrumming through you makes your skin hum with exhilaration. There’s a gnawing hunger for more.

“Pin.”

With a keen snap, Doflamingo vanishes from the ground and reappears, pinned high against the wall. His curses echo in the air, his iron shackles rattling, but you don’t flinch.

The voices of the women in your ears sing praises, urging you to unleash more, to continue the assault. But you remain unmoved, standing still as Doflamingo’s defiance and rage bounce harmlessly off your calm, unyielding focus.

As expected, the shackles shatter almost immediately, and Doflamingo’s hand shoots out in a blur of savagery.

“How dare you?” He spits, his voice seething with venom. Razor-sharp strings whistle through the air, their edges a hair’s breadth from your neck. The memory replays in the room, the screams of children flooding your senses, and dizziness pulls you into its dance. Blood pricks your skin like ice, and you shut your eyes tight, trying to block it out. “You think this is funny, huh?”

“Binding and Stitch,” You murmur, the words laced with raw power. White-hot energy lashes out, searing the skin of your neck as the cords of Doflamingo’s strings tighten.

The world tilts, and your vision blurs as a fierce white flash erupts behind your eyes. Another memory erupts, pulling you deeper into its grip. The room is heavy with dread and bitter resentment, the fading embers of an inflated superiority complex thickening the air with suffocating smoke. The ground beneath you trembles, the polished tiles warping into grimy cobblestones, shifting with the tremors of a long-forgotten trauma.

“Father! What are they doing?” 

Doflamingo freezes, his face draining of colour. His lips press into a thin, tense line as his gaze shifts quickly to the right.

“Stay calm,” Donquixote Homing orders, his voice laced with apprehension. “Take Rosinante and lock yourselves in the house. Quickly.”

“But, Father—”

“World Noble scum!” 

A rock, the size of a man’s fist, hurtles through the air, striking the child and sending him sprawling to the ground. Donquixote Doflamingo pushes himself up on his elbows, a steady stream of bright red blood spilling from his temple. Another stone slams into the cobblestones beside him, followed by another. Then, a shower of pebbles and larger rocks pelt a father and his son, rendering their pride irreparable. 

“You deserve to die!”

“I heard they live on top of the hill! Burn it!”

Flames lick the palace's ceiling, and Doflamingo’s grip around your neck loosens. 

“They’re burning down the mansion!” 

“I hope they’re still inside!” 

The Donquixote family stumbles down the steps of their burning house, the wood cracking and metal warping as the flames consume everything behind them. A woman with an intricate braid, the strands of her hair barely holding together, presses a small boy tightly to her chest. Donquixote Rosinante clings to his mother’s shirt with desperate strength, as if his very survival depends on it—and perhaps it does. His eyes are swollen and red, his face streaked with the remnants of tears and sheer terror. The eldest Donquixote son hides his emotions beneath a mask of silence, his heart stewing with profound and unsettling darkness, honing it into a weapon he will eventually unleash on the world. His young mind processes the entropy around him in ways no child should.

“Stop…”

"Interfacing." You move like a shadow, spinning a labyrinth of thread. The sheets you create stretch as tall as the ceiling, as wide as the walls, as strong as the thickest metal in all four seas—an inescapable barrier.

You sprint down the hallway, heart pounding. You only have a little time. Doflamingo won’t stay contained for long. Soon, he’ll be hunting you again, relentlessly.

A door slams open ahead, and you duck to the side just as figures rush from the stairwell, pausing for a split second before giving chase. You push yourself harder, dodging and weaving through the narrow corridors. Every corner blurs into the next, every hallway the same, and the sound of footsteps pounding behind you grows louder closer. You throw attacks desperately to slow them down—prompt, precise strikes, but there’s no time to stay and fight.

Hey! Stop!”

You flinch as a bullet zips past your ear, its shrill whistle still ringing in your head. Instinctively, you activate your Observation Haki to anticipate the next shot.

But you’re interrupted when you sense a Devil Fruit user nearby, their presence suffocating.

The overwhelming force of their power presses in on you like you’re being crushed under an invisible hand. You strain to pinpoint their location, but they’re everywhere. In the walls. The floor. The very air around you. 

“Pica.”

Though the name rings a bell, it's faint, barely a whisper in the back of your mind. The face of the person who said it is a blur, but you recall a massive, terrifying figure breaking through the ground in the chamber where Doflamingo held Law captive.

You piece it together—like your own, it’s a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit. You sift through your knowledge of Devil Fruits and their weaknesses. The two years with Law were spent training and learning about the many different fruits, some useful and some deadly. The knowledge is proving more valuable than ever.

Suddenly, the cobblestones beneath you begin to crack and give way. Before you can react, the ground collapses beneath your feet, and you’re falling, only barely managing to catch yourself on the level below.

You scan the area, relieved to see the people following you remain unaffected by the Devil Fruit user’s power; it gives you the edge you need to make your escape.

Ahead, double doors swing open to reveal a balcony. You push through them, skidding to a halt, when you catch sight of the drop. The wind howls in your face, stinging your skin as you squint to get a better look. Below, the city sprawls far beneath you. The palace perches precariously on a jagged rock, its foundations slanted at an unnatural angle as if defying gravity itself.

Your heart drops when you spot the Birdcage. Its metallic threads are shrinking like a noose around the island. You watch in horror as buildings are sliced to pieces, their shattered remains falling to the streets below. Citizens scream in fright, some crushed, others mutilated by the unrelenting power. The carnage is just beginning—only the outermost areas are being affected for now.

Doflamingo must have finally escaped the maze of threads. And now, the island is in turmoil.

With little hesitation, fueled by a surge of courage, you wrap a thread around your waist, leaving just enough slack for a rope to slip through. Your eyes dart nervously down the hallway, ensuring no one is watching as you toss another strand over the edge, letting it drop as far as it will go. Carefully, you thread the end of the long strand through the web of threads at your waist, securing it to a needle.

Climbing over the railing with shaky hands, you crouch down and stab the floor with the needle, imbuing all the Armament Haki you can into it to keep it stable. The stone cracks with the force, and when you wiggle it, it stays in place. 

You don’t dare look back at the sheer drop behind you, the nerves tightening your chest, making it hard to focus. But the thought of Doflamingo catching you in such a vulnerable position is enough to propel you forward. Without hesitation, you push off the edge of the balcony.

Coating your hands with Haki, the purple sheen shimmering under the full moon’s light, you descend the long thread. The wind dies down, and you’re left with only the sound of your breath and the city below. With each slow movement, the pain of distant screams grows louder and harsher, as though the suffering in the streets is chasing you down.

The palace groans, a deep rumble vibrating through the thread. Your grip tightens, but the adrenaline dulls the anxiety that would usually freeze you in place. The sounds of shouts and breaking glass rise from the palace as it starts to collapse. You focus on the thread beneath your feet, inching closer to the ground, and when your feet finally hit the street, a violent tremor shakes the rock beneath you. 

You pull away from the thread and sever it from your waist. You need to find someone who can help you. You need to see Luffy and Law.

— Scene 4 —

Civilians scatter around you, frantic cries and desperate prayers filling the air. You don’t know how long you’ve been running, each step a blur. The only thought consuming you is the desperate need to find Law and Luffy. 

But you’re distracted; the screams around you only focus on a colossal man destroying the city. You finally choose to look, and when you do, your heart skips a beat when you see the figure clearly—a massive stone giant attacking the skies as if trying to catch something—or someone. Squinting, you spot the figure attacking back— a swordsman, three blades flashing in the moonlight as he cleaves the stone into chunks.

A gasp escapes your lips, and you sprint toward the battle, cutting through the sea of panicked people gathering in the centre of the Birdcage. Some try to push you back, telling you you're going the wrong way, but you shove them off without breaking stride. 

Zoro moves with the precision and power of a force of nature, his every motion fluid and controlled. His black blades slice through the stone like paper, each strike sending debris flying. There’s no hesitation, no wasted effort—just raw, unrelenting precision. With every swing, the ground trembles, and the air ripples from the force of his speed. The once-solid stone crumbles beneath him, a testament to his honed skill and dedication.

You watch in awe, a swell of pride rising in your chest. This is the result of two years of gruelling training. Zoro’s mastery is on full display, and you can’t help but feel emotional when you see how far he’s come.

"Zoro!" You shout, your voice cutting through the turmoil. A lump forms in your throat, but you push it down, your heart swelling with pride. Your friend has grown beyond what you thought possible, and it fills you with both awe and a tinge of nostalgia.

As you push through the crowd, the chaos seems to slow, but Zoro remains focused, every movement an extension of his purpose. Despite the destruction around him, you catch a slight smirk tugging at his lips, a flicker of mirth in his eyes as they meet yours.

“I’ll be a sec, just have to drop this guy,”

The words catch you off guard momentarily, and a tiny laugh bubbles in your throat despite the dread. Only Zoro could be fighting a stone giant and still manage to make time for a cocky joke. 

But there’s no time to lose. Luffy and Law need you. 

And, as if he’s read your mind, a piercing scream echoes through the night, abruptly cut off. Zoro lands atop the rubble, sheathing his swords with a fluid motion before he makes his way down to you. You can tell by how he walks, his smirk practically a permanent fixture, that he’s pleased with himself.

“Did you see that?”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused by his cockiness. “I did. Enjoy yourself?”

Zoro chuckles, shrugging with a grin. “Psh, of course I did. You know me.”

You roll your eyes, the smile fading as you nudge him to walk with you. "Have you seen Luffy?"

"Yeah, he's at the palace on the hill. With Law."

You halt in your tracks. “They are?”

Zoro nods, scratching the side of his head. “They should be.”

You glance at the crumbling lookout beside you, the rocks threatening to give way at any moment. It looks like the perfect vantage point.

"Get me up there."

Zoro raises an eyebrow, his expression doubtful as he follows your gaze. "Right now?"

"Yes, now!" You snap, urgency thick in your voice.

“Damn, okay.”

Zoro crouches and wraps his arm around your legs, effortlessly hoisting you over his shoulder.

"Zoro!"

"This is faster, alright? Relax, I won’t drop you. I swear you guys have no faith in me."

You grip the back of his suit jacket, feeling the fabric wrinkle under your fingers as he springs back onto the stone man’s remains. He then nimbly leaps to the jagged rocks of the lookout. As he climbs, your mind drifts back to the events at the palace.

There had been two people when you sent Doflamingo into Seam, but then they were gone. The hands on you had felt familiar, comforting even—but then they disappeared, and that was the last thing you remember before infiltrating Doflamingo’s mind.

“Quit thinking so hard; you’re giving me a headache.” 

“Sorry,” You mumble, lifting your head to study the palace in the distance. If Luffy and Law were there when you trapped Doflamingo in Interfacing, how furious would he be to find them roaming his castle without care?

“I need to get back to the palace.”

Zoro pulls himself over the lookout's edge, gently setting you down on the grass.

“You’re not making any sense,” Zoro sighs, his brow furrowing. “You just escaped. Why the hell would you wanna go back?”

“If Luffy and Law are in trouble, I—”

Your name echoes through the air, and you turn to see Usopp standing there, sweating, with his oversized slingshot gripped tightly in his hands. “What are you doing here? Violet said you were fighting Doflamingo.”

Usopp glances back toward the woman you saw earlier, the one you left behind when you parted ways with Law. She’s standing still, her eyes wide and filled with fear as they lock onto you.

“Usopp,” You gasp, your breath coming out in shaky bursts. “What are you doing up here?”

Violet’s voice breaks in before Usopp can answer, her tone tinged with desperation. “Luffy and Law are in danger. Sugar’s closing in on them.”

“Sugar?” You ask, confusion mixing with the rising alarm.

Usopp nods. “She looks like a little girl, but she’s not. She’s actually—”

“How are they in danger?” You cut him off, your heart pounding in your throat.

“Sugar is the one who turns people into toys,” Violet explains quickly, her words like cold water splashing over you.

The gravity of her words hit you, and everything seems to freeze for a moment. A wave of panic floods through your veins, and your heart races uncontrollably.

“If she turns you into a toy,” Usopp adds quietly, his voice heavy with dread. “Everyone you know forgets you—until she’s taken out.”

The realisation slams into you, and you can barely catch your breath. “I have to get over there.” 

You’re not about to be launched by Usopp’s slingshot, but you can’t waste any more time. 

“Just get the guy to throw you there,” Zoro mutters, sounding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s how he got me onto that rock guy.”

Usopp gives him a flat look, clearly unimpressed. “We’re not launching her through the sky, Zoro.”

You hesitate momentarily, and the idea starts to take shape in your mind. 

"That doesn't sound half bad," You say, already weighing the possibility. "Where is he?"

Usopp blinks at you, his face frozen in disbelief. "You two are out of your minds."

Zoro grins, leaning over the edge of the lookout, scanning the area like it’s a casual day out. “He should be around here somewhere...”

"God Usopp!" A civilian's voice suddenly shouts, causing you to jump. You turn, startled, and see a crowd of people behind you. "Come with us, and we'll make it as painless as possible!"

"Why are they so angry?" You ask, brows furrowed.

"Did you hear the bounties?" Zoro mutters with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You shake your head, confused. "What bounties?"

Usopp whimpers next to you, eager to avoid further conversation about it.

Violet gasps before Zoro can explain, her voice trembling with fear as she recounts what she witnessed. You can’t help but be impressed by her ability, and Usopp fills in the gaps, telling you that she has clairvoyant powers. 

“She’s getting closer! Usopp, get ready to fire!”

Usopp fumbles with his slingshot, his hands unsteady as he slides the bottom of the handle under his foot. He pulls the elastic back as far as it will go, then carefully loads a large ball, nearly the size of his head, into the leather pouch.

Zoro perches on the ledge as he searches for the man, his feet swinging dangerously close to the drop below. You swallow thickly, your throat tightening as the reality of the situation sinks in. Usopp's shot has to be perfect—if he’s even a millimetre off, Luffy and Law will vanish from everyone’s memory, lost to the curse of forgetting. 

Usopp trembles, his body shuddering with the weight of the pressure. The steady drip of sweat mingles with the rapid beat of his heart; each drop is a reminder of just how high the stakes are. His breath comes in shallow gasps, and he wipes his forehead only for more to replenish it, the tension building with every passing second. Every movement feels too loud, too heavy as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for him to make the shot.

You hold your breath, the tension thick in the air, your pulse drumming in your ears as you wait for the moment to unfold. But time seems to stretch, and the climax never comes.

“Usopp,” You whisper, your voice soft but firm enough to cut through the silence and bring his attention back to the task. “Slow your mind. I can hear your thoughts from over here.”

He doesn’t respond verbally but nods, his fingers loosening slightly on the slingshot as he adjusts his stance.

“Hurry!” Violet squeals, her voice high with anxiety as she covers her eyes with one hand, unwilling to watch what could be the final moment of reckoning. “I can’t watch!”

Usopp, however, remains focused. His expression hardens, and the resolve in his eyes returns with full force. He takes a deep, steadying breath and, with a swift motion, lines up the slingshot again. His gaze sharpens as he aligns it perfectly, focusing on the left-bottom pane of a window in the distant palace. The world around him blurs as he enters the zone—calm, centred, and ready to make the shot that could change everything.

And then, everything seems to slow.

Usopp pulls the rubber band back just a fraction further, his eyes never leaving the target. He takes one final, steady breath before releasing it. The slingshot snaps, sending the plant ball flying through the air, cutting through the silence of the lookout.

Everyone watches, holding their breath as the ball hurtles toward the window. It’s too far to see exactly where it lands, but the tension in the air is palpable.

And then, a loud cry breaks the stillness.

“I-It hit! It actually hit!” Violet screams, her voice trembling with joy, her hands shooting up to her face in disbelief. Tears stream down her cheeks as she laughs, overwhelmed with emotion. “It worked! Oh my God, it worked! Sugar is down!”

Her voice rings across the lookout, and you can't help but smile at her relief and joy. The tightness in your chest lessens just a little as the reality of Usopp’s success sinks in.

But even amid relief, trepidation clings to you like a leech. The looming dread always shadows the joy of victory. If one of Doflamingo’s executives is down, he’ll be livid—and the consequences of that rage could be catastrophic.

"Zoro, where's this guy?" You ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Zoro’s eyes scan the area, his gaze flicking over the crowd. 

"There!" He points, his finger stabbing through the air. "That guy, the one with the weird hair and the huge jacket."

You follow his gaze, narrowing your eyes to spot the figure amongst the crowds of people. It’s like a countdown now—every second matters. “Thank you.” 

Usopp’s voice calls out behind you, laced with concern, but you don’t slow down. The wind catches the edges of your thread as you descend the cliff, the rush of air filling your ears. With a thud, your feet hit the rocky ground, and you’re off, heart pounding as you dart towards the man. His massive frame cuts through the crowd like a towering figure, and you catch up to him in no time. 

"Hey!" You call out, skipping the pleasantries. "You're the one who tossed the green-haired guy onto that rock, right?"

The man turns, his expression shifting to irritation. “Yeah? What’s it to you?”

You don’t waste time. “Think you could throw me toward the palace?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the request. For a moment, there’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes as he assesses you—your determination and the desperation leaking through your tone. The air feels thick with tension. He looks you up and down as if trying to gauge whether you're out of your mind or if there's something more to it.

“You want me to throw you?” His voice holds a mocking edge, but something is calculating in how he studies you. “Like I did that green-haired guy?”

You step closer, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You can almost feel the pulse of time slipping away. “Yes.”

His gaze flicks to the horizon, then back at you, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “Fine. You better make it count.”

He steps forward, closing the distance, and you can see the glint of something fierce in his eyes. “You get one shot at this. If you fall short... well, that’s on you. Don’t come crying to me.”

You nod; relief is evident on your face. With a grunt, he positions himself, his muscles tensing. His hands find their place around your waist, and you barely have time to brace yourself before—

With a swift motion, he launches you into the air, and for a fleeting moment, you feel weightless.

The wind rushes past you as the world blurs below. You barely have time to process it all when the palace looms ahead, much closer than anticipated. And as you hurtle toward it, all you can think about is how you’ll kill Doflamingo. 

The palace looms closer, towering above the landscape like a jagged mountain of stone and marble. You can see the windows gleaming like cold eyes, watching you as you fly toward them. The sounds of the battle reach your ears: distant shouts, the crackle of energy, the rumble of disarray.

The ground rushes up too quickly, and dread claws at your chest. You adjust your body midair, instinctively tucking your knees beneath you to brace for the impact. There’s no time to think about using threads to break your fall—you’re a Straw Hat, after all… logic is only a sometimes thing. 

Without thinking, your body hardens with Armament Haki, and you hit the ground with a sickening thud that shakes your bones and rattles your teeth. The shock of the landing sends a burst of pain through your legs, but it’s nothing you can’t push through. Your body rebounds from the impact, rolling quickly to absorb the force. Your Haki melts away, leaving you with the aftershock of landing.

Your palms scrape against the stone, ripping the skin of your palms as you scramble to your feet. You wince at the ache in your legs, but there's no time to slow down. Your vision clears, and you stand just a few meters from the entrance. You glance around quickly, assessing your surroundings. The area is eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of battle. A deep rumble shakes the ground beneath you as something significant crashes far off in the distance—probably another of Doflamingo’s executives wreaking havoc.

You step forward, your feet steady despite the pain, and then another. You’re sure adrenaline plays a significant part in how you feel, and Law will no doubt scold you for your recklessness afterwards. 

You spot a group of soldiers moving toward you from the side, weapons raised, and you instinctively draw in a breath, ready to spring into action.

But before you can move, a shadow falls across the courtyard, and you freeze.

It’s a figure—a familiar one—with a signature straw hat perched atop his head.

“Luffy!” You shout, relief flooding through you, but there’s no time to waste on catching your breath. You point toward the palace entrance, urgency creeping into your voice. “We gotta go.” 

“You made it!” He exclaims, a grin spreading across his face. “Thought you’d never catch up!” He pulls you into a quick, tight hug.

“I’m fine,” You say, shoving him off with a smirk. “We don’t have time for this. Where’s Law?”

Luffy doesn’t hesitate, pointing toward the palace doors. “He’s inside. He’s been holding his own, but things are getting worse. Doflamingo’s up to something big.”

You nod, heart pounding. You don’t need to be told twice. The air inside feels heavy with the tension of a thousand possible outcomes, and you know that every moment you spend out here only increases the risk. But there’s no turning back now, not that you want to. 

A voice calls from the darkness of the palace halls. “Over here!” 

It’s Law, unmistakable even through the strain in his tone. His voice cuts through the madness like a beacon, and in that moment, you have a one-track mind. The weight of everything that’s happened—the battles, the separation, the endless dangers—melts away. You dart toward the sound, your heart hammering, emotion clogging your throat. 

As you round the corner, you spot him. Law is standing there, leaning against the wall, bloodied but alive, his breathing shallow, and his expression pained but focused. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades. There’s no madness. No fight. Just him and that familiar, steady look in his eyes that you’d thought you might never see again.

You can’t stop the rush of relief that powers through you. Without thinking, you sprint toward him, your feet pounding against the cold stone floor. When you’re close enough, you throw your arms around him in a fierce hug, the rush of love almost knocking the air out of both of you.

“Law…” You whisper, your voice hoarse. He's warm against you, his pulse beating steadily beneath your hands. Law hesitates briefly, surprised by the intensity of your hug, then wraps one arm around you, pulling you in just as tightly. His voice, rough but filled with that familiar edge, cracks the fragile silence. 

“Took you long enough,” He mutters, though you can hear the relief in his voice despite the sarcasm. 

You pull back slightly, looking up at him, breathless and with a shaky laugh. 

“I had to get back here somehow,” Your fingers graze the cuts on his cheek, and you can see the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He gives you a keen, tired look, but there’s something almost tender in how he searches your face. 

“You’re insane,” He says, his voice low but softening. “You shouldn’t have come back. You were free.”

“And leave you here alone? Never.” You can feel the heat of the battle around you, the urgency creeping back into your veins, but it doesn’t matter. Everything feels right for these moments with him in your arms. 

“I gotta go,” Luffy interrupts. “Doflamingo is on a rampage.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and open your mouth to ask him where he’s going when he runs out of the palace. 

“We need to get to a rooftop near the middle of the Birdcage. Luffy and I have a plan.”

You nod and go to grab his hand when you freeze, your hand hovering in midair. The absence of his touch—of the weight of his hand—sends a shock through you, an emptiness settling in your chest. No, your mind screams as if in denial. This can’t be happening.

His left arm, the one you were trying to reach for, is gone. Still fresh and raw, the stump of it stares back at you. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at the empty space where his arm should be. 

“...What?” He asks, his voice rough.

The space where his hand should be feels like a chasm. Your fingers brush against the blood-soaked fabric of his sleeve, but the emptiness where his hand would’ve been is a painful reminder of what’s been taken from him.

“I’m fine,” Law whispers, realising what you’re staring at. “I can fix it. We just need to get to a rooftop, and I’ll do it there.”

“Fine,” You sigh, knowing he’d brush it off. “Let’s go.”

— Scene 5 —

The battle rages below you, Luffy’s roar of fury echoing in the distance as he clashes with Doflamingo. The sky above the palace is alive with the storm of their fight, but there’s no time to linger. The tension within you tightens with each passing second. You know what’s at stake.

With your hand braced against his back, you lead Law toward the nearest edge of a building. The sounds of Luffy’s fight grow louder—the sickening crack of bone against flesh, the ferocious sound of rubber meeting the wind—but you can’t think about that now. 

You survey the drop. Small ledges, scattered stones, and an open rooftop with a short drop—just enough for a quick jump. Law’s eyes narrow as he watches you study the distance. His breath quickens as he shifts his weight slightly, clearly reluctant but understanding.

"Don't—" He starts, but you’ve already decided. 

When you inch closer to the ledge, Law grumbles something under his breath, a curse or two. The wind howls as you push off from the edge, feeling the weight of Law in your arms. Everything is suspended in time for a moment—the world beneath you shrinking and the rooftop ahead growing closer.

You land with a jarring thud, your legs reverberating with the second landing of the night. The rooftop is elevated, and you have a clear view of Luffy in the sky, his body larger than you’ve seen—a new technique?

As you carefully lower Law onto the cool stone, the wind whips around you, your hands trembling as you check him over. Your muscles ache, but you’re glad the journey to get here wasn’t that hard.

You’re both hidden from Doflamingo’s view, the sounds of Luffy’s battle clearer than before, but for a brief moment, it’s just you and Law—quiet and away from the mayhem of Dressrosa.

"Good?" You ask, looking at him with concern. 

Law glances at you briefly, his silver eyes stark with focus, before looking back at the chaotic battle between Luffy and Doflamingo. He tugs his hat from his head, his hair sticking in all directions. You watch Luffy in his Gear Fourth form, his strikes thunderous, and wonder when he discovered that. A flicker of something crosses Law’s face — a mix of frustration and the ghost of a smirk. 

“This should be fine.” His face remains impassive, but there’s a tightness in his jaw, a subtle flinch when he moves. 

You watch as he expands Room, using Shambles to summon his arm. It’s odd to see Law handle his own limb like this. 

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a sideways glance. “Do you want to reattach your arm? Or do you want me to?” 

Your words hang in the air, though you can hear the slight edge of amusement laced within them. The situation, grim as it is, feels strangely familiar — him, injured and stubborn, not wanting to ask for help.

He pauses briefly, eyeing you with a hint of that usual deflection. "You’re not going to let me do it myself, are you?"

You smirk, inching closer to him. “I could let you try, but you might get your stitches tangled.”

Law snorts, a small, pained laugh escaping him despite himself. “My stitches are perfect.”

“Tell that to my torso,” You quip, remembering how often your stitches ripped when you first met him. 

“That was your fault,” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t know how to sit still.”

“And you do?” You meet his eyes, an unspoken understanding between you. The situation is dire, and Law needs to use his power soon, so without hesitation, you summon Sew. 

“Don’t move.”

Law doesn’t respond—but his half-smile, which barely tugs at his lips, is enough to settle your heart.

As you begin working, Law remains surprisingly quiet. The battle rages above; Luffy’s shouts and Doflamingo’s curses punctuate the tension. But for now, in this small moment amidst the chaos, the two of you sit in a rare silence, the past few days of turmoil and bloodshed settling into something almost calm. 

You make quick work of the sutures, conjuring a gauze from Sew when they are finished. 

“Done,” You say, your voice a little breathless, as if sewing him together has taken more out of you than you care to admit. You secure the end of the gauze before leaning down and pressing your lips to his shoulder. 

Law flexes his fingers, testing the strength of the arm. His usual mask of cool indifference slips just a little, and, just for you, a smile plays at his lips. 

“You sure you’re not going to be a little more gentle next time?” He teases, his voice still raspy from the strain of the fight earlier. 

You laugh, though it’s a little breathless. “Maybe I’ll take it easy next time,” You say, lightly brushing over his arm's now-healed skin, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

Law speaks again, voice softer than before. “I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’d allow someone to put me back together again.”

You glance up, locking eyes with him. 

“You don’t need to do everything alone, you know.” You whisper. “That’s why I went with you to Punk Hazard despite your relentless arguing.”

“I didn’t want you to be in danger. I can’t handle it.” 

His gaze shifts away for a moment as if the vulnerability of his words unsettles him. The admission catches you off guard. But then, that’s always been his way—never one to show weakness, yet here he is, allowing himself a glimpse of it. The vulnerability behind the facade is just for you.

You close the distance between you instantly, your hands reaching his chest. 

“I know,” You say softly, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his eyes. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you close. His fingers tighten ever so slightly as if ensuring himself that you’re here.

“You better not,” He mutters, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m not leaving you,” You say, your voice firm. It’s in moments like this, when everything else goes silent, that you know for certain: no matter what happens or the dangers that await, you’re not letting him go.

His forehead rests against yours, and you close your eyes, the weight of his breath mingling with yours. The world outside could burn, and you'd still feel this—this unshakable connection between you two.

“You know,” Law says, his voice low, but there's a playful edge. “I don’t need you to save me.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound a little too close to a sigh of relief. 

“I’m not saving you. I’m just making sure you don’t bleed out on me,” You tease, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness behind the words. 

“I could’ve done it myself,” He mutters, brushing his lips against your forehead before pulling back slightly, his gaze darkening as he meets your eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, aware of the subtle change in his tone. 

“What, now you're going to fight me about how much I love you?” You laugh, though you know the real fight is just starting. This brief moment of peace is fleeting.

“Always,” Law replies, and you don’t need him to say more. His actions have always spoken louder than words ever could. “Because I love you more, sweetheart.”

And just as you roll your eyes and go to answer, there’s a voice.

“Law?”

Violet and a pink-haired girl emerge from the darkness, their expressions tainted with fear. 

“Here,” He mumbles. “Is Luffy almost done?”

“We’ve got two minutes.” 

But now, Luffy’s struggling—his body pushed beyond its limits, his Fourth Gear faltering. He won’t last much longer. 

And then, as if on cue, he collapses. The look in his eyes as he stumbles back, bloodied and exhausted, makes something snap inside you. The night rages on, the Birdcage encapsulating only a mere kilometre of Dressrosa. 

"No..." You mutter under your breath. You’ve seen Luffy take hits before, but this time, it’s different. The familiar power he had just moments ago is slipping away, and Doflamingo is already closing in, that smug grin plastered across his face. 

Your eyes narrow as you look up at the sky, your gaze zeroing in on his body.

Law tugs you into him, his breathing rapid and his voice low. “You have to kill him.”

You blink, your eyes wide. “What?”

“Luffy’s down; he’ll be out for ten minutes. We don't have that much time.”

“But you—”

“I can’t. My stamina’s run out, my power’s useless,” Law says quickly. “It has to be you.”

“Law…”

“Please,” He begs. “For me, for Cora.”

You frown, tears welling as you nod. “Okay.”

Rising on shaky legs, you take a deep breath. 

“Doflamingo!” You shout, your voice slicing through the air. He turns toward you slowly, amusement curling his lips.

“Oh? And what do you think you can do, Dreamweaver?” His voice is condescending as if he already knows the answer. “You can’t possibly think you’re going to stop me. You’re weak!”

His strings whip through the air, targeting you, aiming to pierce, constrict, and control. But this time, you don’t dodge; you don’t need to. The power inside you surges, something ancient and primal awakened by the desperation coursing through your veins. 

Your hands snap to life, fingers moving with purpose as you channel your power. 

The strings Doflamingo sends toward you come in slow motion as your mind takes over. You flick your wrist, and the threads appear mid-air, their shimmering lines of power intertwining with the strings Doflamingo controls. Your threads, woven from sheer will, latch onto his, effortlessly pulling them apart.

“What the—?!” Doflamingo snarls as his strings begin to unravel, sliced through by your own, snapping under the force of your mastery. Once awakened, it feels like there’s no limit to your power.

Law, Violet, and the girl you’ve come to know as Rebecca gasp, their surprise a welcome sound. 

The battlefield quiets momentarily as Doflamingo is forced to retreat, confusion flickering in his eyes. You can feel his shock; he wasn’t expecting you to be able to manipulate his strings. You’re not just fighting him now; you’re bending the very laws that govern his power—just like he said you could, but you don’t think he thought it possible. 

You’re done letting him control innocent people and drink their grief as he pleases. This isn’t about survival anymore—it’s about protecting your crew, your friends, your family. With one last look at Law, you nod. 

The pressure of the moment weighs heavily on your shoulders, the culmination of years of pain, battles fought, and lives lost. His life, in particular, comes into sharp focus—Corazon.

You never met him, only catching fleeting glimpses of his face through Doflamingo’s twisted memories, but his legacy reverberates in every part of Law’s soul. The boy who had once been a scared, isolated orphan, consumed by the need for vengeance, has grown into one of the most extraordinary men you’ve ever known.

You think back to that first meeting. The awkwardness and confusion. Law had been so guarded, so closed off. He didn’t trust you. You weren’t sure why you felt compelled to help him at that time—perhaps because you saw something in him that was so familiar: a pain that mirrored your own—a loneliness. You were away from the Straw Hats, unaware they were alive, and felt utterly useless.

Now, standing in the eye of the storm, with Doflamingo finally glaring down at you with a scathing hatred, you understand the truth. Corazon had never wanted anything for himself. The way he saved Law from Doflamingo’s cruelty, even when his own life hung in the balance… It was a gift that could never be repaid.

And now you were going to avenge him.

Law’s Adam’s apple bobs, and he nods once back, recognising the fire in your eyes. The moment is fleeting, and you step onto the rooftop's ledge. 

“Go get Luffy,” You say, Violet and Rebecca hurrying off the roof to retrieve your captain. You roll your head, cracking your neck as you breathe out. 

You pull the threads together with a single, fluid movement, weaving them into a perfect net of power. It’s not just about cutting or controlling anymore; you can reshape and rebuild. And you can feel Doflamingo’s control over Dressrosa slipping with each string severed. 

"You’re brave," He laughs. "I’ll have fun with you.” 

You don't answer. You don't need to. With a single thought, you twist his strings, feeling the connections snap and pop under your command. His stance falters, just for a moment, but it's enough. You seize the opportunity, sending your threads into his body, sinking deep into his flesh, pulling him toward you with an almost sickening precision. His body jerks as he tries to resist, but the more he struggles, the more your threads tighten around him, squeezing, constricting, making him fight against his own body.

The Sew-Sew Fruit isn't just about control; it's about creation. And you're about to reshape the battlefield itself.

With a brutal yank, you rip the strings of his power from his body, using them against him. The tension in the air becomes palpable as Doflamingo's strength turns on him, his movements jerking in unnatural directions. He roars in anger, but you're not listening anymore. You're focused, the world shrinking to the space between you and him, where you will make the final strike.

A flurry of movement, a desperate swing of his hand, and you dodge just in time, the strings grazing past your cheek. You respond with a sharp movement of your own—your hands flashing through the air as you manipulate the threads around him, tying his limbs together, pulling his body into an intricate web that he can't escape. His attempts to break free are fruitless; your threads are everywhere now, pulling and twisting him into submission.

"Stop!" Doflamingo howls, his voice strained and desperate. But the sound of his frustration only spurs you on. 

“You think you’re the only one who can control strings?” You sneer, your hand outstretched as you weave more threads into the air. They dance in the sky, intricate braids of thread coming together to sing a song of destruction. 

Doflamingo’s face twists in anger, but his eyes show an undeniable hint of fear. This is not the kind of power he expected from you. His usual smugness falters, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

“I’m the one who made you like this!” He spits, trying once more to tap into his power. “If I didn’t tell you the truth of your power, you’d be dead!”

You pull tighter, weaving the threads through his joints, making him bend to your will, contorting him into painful positions. His skin tears where your threads dig in, the blood staining the light pink of his coat. But you're relentless. The control you have over his body now is unadulterated. The ground beneath you vibrates, a low hum running through your body as you extend your reach. 

His eyes flash with panic as he realises he is now a marionette, and you're the one pulling the strings.

Needles fly toward him, overlapping and creating a network. Doflamingo is surrounded by a metal cage, the gaps closing with every second that passes. He gasps for breath, but it’s futile. The reality you’ve woven around him is his prison, and now he can only watch as his defeat unfolds.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you gather every ounce of energy left in you, and with a final, swift motion, you break the threads. The sickening sound of his body, his soul, being torn apart echoes in your ears as your power rips through him, pulling his strings free from his body like a shattered puppet.

Needles clatter to the street below, and his soul screams before tapering off with a whimper.

“You’re done,” You whisper with finality and a deep sense of resolve.

And Doflamingo’s body falls to the earth, defeated.

— Scene 6 —

The first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, painting the sky with soft hues of pink and gold. It’s a slow, gentle rise—like the world waking up after a long, restless night. The ruins of Dressrosa, still scarred by the battle, bathe in the early light, casting long shadows that slowly fade into the warmth of the sun’s touch.

The oppressive weight of victory slowly begins to lift from your chest, replaced by a quiet reverence. The Birdcage retracts, the strings pulling up from the ground and disappearing when they meet in the middle of the sky. As the dust settles, the tension in the air gives way to something deeper, something far more personal. 

“Luffy,” You gasp, turning around and making a beeline for his exhausted body. His face is smeared with dirt, his body bruised, but that light in his eyes, the unshakable spark of life—that hasn’t changed.

His grin spreads even wider as if seeing you standing there, alive, is the greatest victory of all. But when he sees the look on your face—something softer, something raw—his expression falters just a little. His voice, always full of energy, carries that familiar comfort.

"You alright? I knew you'd pull through. You’re tougher than you look!"

You walk toward him, your chest tight, your throat thick with emotion. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come at first. How do you convey the years of struggle, the battles fought together, the times when it felt like everything was falling apart, and yet you never gave up because he was there, always believing in you, in all of you?

Luffy doesn’t push you to speak. He just watches with that patient, understanding look in his eyes. He knows you’ve been through something heavy. He knows the weight of a captain’s responsibility, the loss of friends, and the pain of living a life filled with blood and betrayal.

You kneel before him. His wide eyes blink in surprise, the usual bravado of his face softening. The words are stuck, but then, something inside you breaks. You feel it—the flood of gratitude, of relief, of everything he’s done for you, for all of you. The way he’s always believed in you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself. The way his stupid, unwavering faith pulled you back from the edge time and time again.

"I don’t know how to say it,” You say, smiling through tears. “I can’t… But thank you. For everything."

Luffy’s expression softens, a rare vulnerability creeping into his eyes. The words might be simple, but they carry significance. You can see it in how his shoulders relax, and his chest rises with a deep breath. He opens his mouth, but instead of some teasing remark, it’s something much quieter, much more real.

"Don’t say that. You don’t need to thank me. It’s just... it's what I do. You’re my friend.”

You feel something swell in your chest, a quiet release, like all the tension you’d carried for so long, just melts away in those words. The bond between a captain and their crew is unshakable.

“You did most of the work,” You laugh, moving the hair from his face. “I just finished him off.” 

Luffy’s laugh bursts from him, loud and unrestrained, as if he’s just heard the funniest thing in the world. The same carefree, reckless sound has always been a beacon of hope and unshakable confidence, even in the darkest times. He throws his head back, his arms flailing in the air as his laugh echoes across the ruins of Dressrosa.

“You’re really something, you know that?" He grins. The weight of reality doesn’t seem to reach him, not when he’s laughing like this. 

You shrug helplessly, a laugh leaving your lips. Luffy’s laugh—it’s infectious. It makes the whole world feel just a little bit lighter. And in this moment, despite the scars and bruises, bloodshed and loss, it’s as if his laughter proves that everything you’ve been through was worth it. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, noticing the exhaustion painting his demeanour. He nods, but then his eyes roll to the back of his head, and snores erupt from the deepest parts of his chest. 

You stand, your gaze meeting Violet and Rebecca, and you thank them for caring for your captain. 

Law’s eyes lock with yours across the rooftop, and it’s as if time slows—the world around you blurs into nothingness, and in that single, suspended moment, all the pain, the loss, the suffering fades into the background. Only the two of you exist in this space, your hearts racing to meet one another.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t need to. The relief is in how his shoulders ease, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his usually stoic face.

"...You did it."

His voice is quiet, but there's weight in the words—more than just acknowledgment, it’s gratitude, it's understanding. It's the recognition of everything he’s sacrificed, everything you've fought for. He steps forward; the movement is almost tentative, unsure whether to close the distance or give you space. His gaze never leaves you like he’s making sure you're there, standing after all the carnage. 

Law is in shock at the extent of your power, but he holds off on asking about it when you take a step toward him and then another. Before you know it, you’re close enough to feel the heat of his body, to breathe in the scent of him—the faint trace of salt from the sea, the worn material of his coat, the familiar scent that’s somehow always anchored you. Without a word, your hands find him, and it feels like a release.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him. His body tenses for just a heartbeat, and his arms encircle you in return. It’s not a gentle embrace; it's raw, urgent like a drowning man grabbing hold of something solid. His fingers press into your back as if to remind himself that you’re real, that you’ve made it through this hell. 

"I never realised how... far you could take your power,” Law muses. “You awakened, didn’t you?”

You watch him momentarily, letting his words settle, and nod. Law isn’t the type to be easily impressed. He’s been surrounded by people with powerful abilities his whole life, seen every form of strength and technique. And yet, here he is—staring at you like you’re something new, something beyond even his experience. 

You glance down at the threads suspended in the air between you, your hands still tingling with the power you’ve just unleashed. For a second, you wonder if he’s afraid of it, the sheer weight of what you can do, and the responsibility that comes with it. After all, not everyone can control such power without losing themselves.

"No. Not a curse,” He shakes his head, his lips pursed. “I’m... I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. This is bigger than I thought. But I trust you. I always have."

His words don’t surprise you. Law has been your biggest supporter for two years; always one to improve your techniques rather than shy away from them. But the way he says it—quietly but with complete certainty—it’s like he’s acknowledging the full depth of you, not just the person you were, but the person you are now—the strength you’ve built and the raw power underneath your skin. 

“We make a good team," You smile, tucking stray hairs behind his ears. 

Law licks his lips, his eyes piercing in the dawn sun when he leans in. He captures you in a searing, dizzying kiss that sends you reeling. He pours everything he can into it, using his injured arm to draw you closer. Law doesn’t care that Luffy’s there or that Violet and Rebecca giggle behind you; all that matters is you.

“Hey! Guys!” 

You pull away from the kiss, the taste of Law still lingering on your lips as you catch your breath, your heart racing from both the intensity of the moment and the joy that surged through you just a moment ago. His hand still lingers in the space between you, but you break free, playful mischief dancing in your eyes.

Law’s gaze flickers with something between amusement and frustration, his fingers still reaching for you as you step back a few paces, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Hey, don't just run off like that."

You laugh, a teasing sound that makes his brows tug together, his lips curving downward in that way he gets when he’s trying to act annoyed, but the small tilt of his head and the gleam in his eyes betray him. He doesn’t mind the chase, especially not when it ends with you.

You glance over at the street below, where half of the crew is waving up at you, their bodies worn and tired from the night's battles. They’re standing in a disorganised, ragged line, but each wears that unmistakable, heartwarming smile despite their exhaustion. Zoro, ever the stoic, looks a bit more dishevelled than usual, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes—relief, pride, maybe even a hint of amusement as he watches you.

“Are you all okay?" Your voice calls down to them, and they all respond with bored yeses, like they’ve been waiting for you to acknowledge them, to pull you out of the moment with Law.

Zoro doesn’t answer, but you can tell he’s fine by the way his sword is casually slung over his shoulder, his stance relaxed despite the weariness in his eyes. A faint smile on his lips is too small to be noticed at first, but it’s there.

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and concern. The battle was brutal, and seeing your friends here, battered but smiling, brings warmth to your chest. You step closer to the rooftop's edge, gripping the stone and leaning out just enough to be closer to them.

“Are you sure? You all look like you’ve been through hell."

Franky throws both hands in the air, his signature mechanical arm extending dramatically. His grin is as wild as ever. "Franky’s super! I’m built to last, baby!"

He strikes a ridiculous pose, flexing his robotic muscles, and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, even after everything. His body’s covered in scratches and scuff marks, and there's a noticeable dent in his arm, but the energy radiating off him makes him seem fine. 

Robin’s laughter rings out next, soft and knowing. She stands a bit behind the group, her eyes glinting with something more than just the weariness of battle. Her power unfurls from your shoulder to gently pat your hair, a comforting touch that feels almost like a reassurance. You lean into it instinctively, feeling the faint flutter of her tendrils against your scalp.

"We’re all alive, at least,” She says; her smile is quiet, but her voice has a deep sincerity. 

"All thanks to captain Usopp!!" Usopp’s voice rings out from behind the others. He waves from where he’s leaning against a nearby building, a blinding smile on his face. He flexes his bicep, much like Franky, and laughs. Exhaustion is evident on his face, but there’s that ever-present glint of optimism in his eyes. 

"Zoro?" Your voice rings through the silence.

His eyes flicker toward you for just a second before he smirks, that familiar, infuriating grin creeping across his face. "Tch, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me."

His voice is hoarse, and you catch the subtle strain in his tone, but you know better than to press him. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head. 

"You’re all impossible," You mutter under your breath, but there’s a fondness. Even with their bruises and injuries, they are alive, and that’s all that matters. You’ve all made it through yet another fight, another battle against overwhelming odds.

You turn back to Law, who’s still standing there watching you, his expression unreadable but his eyes softening with something more profound. He steps forward, his hand reaching out to you, a silent invitation. Without a second thought, you slide into his side, leaning into him. Your fingers brush his, intertwining with his as the two of you stand there, watching the crew. There’s a quiet understanding between you; Doflamingo has been defeated, and the crew’s safe, but there’s still a long road ahead.

A loud, enthusiastic yawn sounds from behind you. Rolling your eyes, you glance at Luffy, who stretches his arms high above his head as if he’s just had the most peaceful nap of his life. The moment he blinks open his eyes, he’s already grinning—like nothing could ever be wrong in the world. His laughter rings out, even though he’s barely even fully conscious. 

"Mmm, I’m hungry! What’s for breakfast?"

Everyone groans, ignoring your captain as you figure out where to go from here. 

“The Navy’s still here. I think they’re on to us.” The moment Robin’s words cut through the air, the lighthearted mood of the crew evaporates like smoke in the wind. 

“We don’t have a ship,” Usopp says. “The others took the Sunny to Zou.”

“I can help!” A voice squeaks. You raise an eyebrow as the man steps fully into view, brushing dust and debris off his ragged clothes. He stands there, almost nervously, before raising a hand with a glint of determination in his eyes. “My ship can carry everyone and more!” 

“Rooster Head!” Luffy exclaims, rising to his feet. The nickname makes you blink again, but it’s clear that Luffy knows him. 

The man’s face lights up, recognition clicking in his eyes as he hears the name. You can practically hear the stars in his voice as he continues.

“Mister Luffy,” The guy cries. “I saw you fighting with Doflamingo. You are so incredible.”

Luffy laughs, jumping off the roof and landing on the street with a rubbery thud. “Nah, that was all her.”

You blink, caught off guard as his grin broadens, and he turns to you. There’s something in his eyes, something deep that makes your heart skip a beat.

“She’s the one you should be thanking.”

The green-haired man Luffy calls "Rooster Head" is staring at you with wide eyes now, his mouth hanging open like he’s just realised who you are.

“Incredible... this is perfect! I can’t believe it! I didn’t know I’d get to meet the hero of Dressrosa today!”

Luffy bursts into laughter, clearly delighted by the reaction.

“Oh,” You feel your cheeks warm. “I’m no hero.”

“So humble!” Rooster Head fawns. But as quickly as the starstruck glint in his eye comes, it disappears. He seems as though he almost forgot his initial reason for approaching. He starts to fidget a little, his hands moving as though he’s trying to figure out the best way to get to the point. “Oh! Right, right! I’ve got a ship nearby, a fast one. It’s perfect for getting away from the Navy.”

“Fast, huh?” Robin teases. 

“Yeah, yeah! It’s small, nimble—should be able to get you all out of here before they even know what happened!” His eyes are sparkling like this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life. For a second, it almost feels surreal. 

You look at Luffy, who’s grinning wider than ever. “See? I told you, everything works out! We’ll get out of here, no problem.”

You nod, a little smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you look back at the green-haired stranger. “Alright, let’s get moving then. Lead the way.”

Rooster Head nearly jumps out of his skin at your words, already turning on his heel to lead you to the ship. Luffy, as usual, follows in his wake, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. 

Violet and Rebecca thank you and the crew for all your help; hugging each of you tightly. Their teary goodbye makes you feel guilty for leaving so abruptly, but you’re eager to see the rest of your crews—both of them. 

Nami, Sanji, Brook, Chopper, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, and the rest of the Heart Pirates are on Zou. 

Law’s steady presence beside you feels like a quiet reassurance as he helps you down from the rooftop. You glance at him, but he already knows what you're thinking. 

“You ready?”

Nodding, you send a tired, easy smile as you reach for his hand with quiet certainty, your fingers brushing his as you clasp it. The gesture is simple, but it speaks volumes. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

As you both fall in step, you notice the Straw Hats already ahead of you, their movements light, laughter and chatter flowing easily between them. 

You follow them for a few moments, and the distance between you and them does not feel far at all. It’s just a ten-minute walk to the port, a short journey to the ship Rooster Head had told you about. The air feels fresh after Doflamingo’s defeat, as if the world feels free from the grips of a man like him.

“Rooster Head said the ship’s fast, right?”

“That’s the plan.” His voice is almost dry, but there's an undercurrent of amusement like he’s already resigned to the inevitable chaos when the Straw Hats are involved.

As you watch your crewmates ahead, you chuckle softly, the tension easing out of your shoulders. The thought of the Straw Hats and Heart Pirates forming an alliance, even briefly, fills you with something close to fondness. 

The ship comes into view, and you halt when you look at it. Law deflates beside you. It’s a strange, oddly shaped vessel painted with bright colours. The ship’s sails are adorned with a distinctive green and white colour scheme, and you can see the figure of a tall, spiky-haired man waving excitedly from the helm. The ship is unlike anything you’ve seen before—a testament to its captain's wild, fearless personality. The ship's exterior is covered in graffiti-like designs and emblems that pay homage to Luffy and his crew. Even the figurehead at the front is a massive, exaggerated bust of Luffy, grinning with unrestrained joy. 

Luffy’s cheers echo through the air when he steps onto the ship, throwing his arms up. “This ship’s great, Bartolomeo! You really know how to pick ‘em!”

Bartolomeo, practically glowing with pride, stands a few feet behind him, his hands gripping the ship's edge as he watches Luffy with awe. His eyes shine with admiration, and it’s obvious how much this moment means to him. This ship—his ship—now has Luffy’s stamp of approval, and to him, it’s the greatest compliment in the world.

“Alright!” Luffy yells. “Set sail! To Zou!” 

— Scene 7 —

As you sit on the bow of the ship, the sunsetting and half of your family partying behind you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You once believed you were a fool for thinking Law helped you out of the goodness of his heart, but the journey through the labyrinth proved you wrong, and you’d do it over a million times if it meant you’d end up with him. 

Whether you rejoin the Straw Hats or stay with Law and the Heart Pirates, you know both sides will be happy with your decision. Because love isn’t about being bound to just one world. It’s about finding the strength to exist in both. The Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates—they’re both your family. And with them, you know you’ll always be home.

You still have a lot to learn about your power, now awakened. If you're not careful, you think you might lose yourself to it—to the overwhelming pull of creation, the seductive promise of absolute control over memories, over fate, over the very essence of existence. At times, it’s hard to remember where you end and the world begins.

Something is lurking just beneath the surface—something that doesn’t make sense yet, a hidden potential waiting for you to unlock. You can feel it pushing at the edges of your mind, urging you to understand it and to delve deeper into the art of weaving the world itself into a tapestry of your design.

But you will learn. The power will be yours to command—on your terms. You will discover the true cost of weaving threads into the world’s fabric. And in the process, you’ll uncover a truth that only those who wield the Sew-Sew Fruit can recognise: You are the weaver, but you must never forget that some things cannot, should not, be sewn. And yet, the temptation to do so, to reshape everything, is always there. It’s just a matter of when you will choose to listen to the warnings or let the threads lead you down a path where only you can understand the full extent of your power.

And somewhere, deep within, you feel that perhaps this is only the beginning. The true test is yet to come.

With a final word count of 73,550 words, Labyrinth is my longest piece of writing to date, and I couldn't be more grateful to share it with you. Thank you so much for reading my fanfic in the first place; your kind comments and sheer excitement for this series warmed my heart so, so much. There may be more fics like this in the future, but for now, I will be sticking to reading them and finishing One Piece, haha! I love you all, and thank you for reading <3

Taglist: In the comments

[martinluvrr]

CRUSH CRAZY | PAIGE BUECKERS

⋅˚₊‧ paige x fem!physio

⋅˚₊‧ summary: the new physio of the Uconn Wbb has caught the eye of their golden player, but it seems Paige has become a little... crush crazy.

⋅˚₊‧ warnings: hoping none

⋅˚₊‧ duayaps: i hateee thisss but its been sitting in my drafts so i finally finished it 😭

⋅˚₊‧ nav ||

"AND BEFORE YOU TAKE THE PILLS MAKE SURE YOU ATE SOME FOOD" I said to Azzi. It's been about 2 weeks since I started working with her, the Uconn medical staff have been nothing but welcoming.

At first, I didn't know what I was getting myself into, where I come from basketball isn't a big enough thing the way football is ( soccer ). I also didn't spend that much tie on social media, but as soon as I opened tiktok, tons of edits filled my page, most about Uconn and other teams. There were especially edits of Uconn's number five.

Paige Bueckers.

The girl was attractive. And she had the confidence to prove it. Me and Paige had very little contact together , but even if it was for a second, for some odd reason, my stomach was filled with butterflies.

"Thank you again" Azzi's sweet voice said. I turned around to look at the girl, after she underwent surgery for tearing her ACL during practice last November, there was still a little pain in the leg, but nothing that should stop her from rejoining the team in January. Of course, left out from not being in the action.

"No problem and please be careful ,i dont wanna se you anymore, you're boring' I jokingly said to her, she let out a laugh. I heard a chuckle behind me, when I turned, there in all her glory, number five.

"Hi Paige" I muttered, suddenly becoming shy.

"Hey" She said grinning. "Soooooo..."

"Paige" I said sternly, hiding my smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I was just checking up on Azzi" She told me, cracking a small smile at Azzi. I hoped the disappointed wasn't showing in my face, the delusional part in me was hoping she just came to see me.

"Well she's all yours"

✰

"Coach" Nika yelled, suddenly at Geno. "I don't feel so good"

"What happened?" Geno questioned her, making her sit down. She was fine 10 minutes ago.

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up" She said, staring at the ground. Coach felt Paige come beside him. "You okay?" Paige asked, Nika shook her head.

"Maybe we should call Y/N" Paige said, Nika nodded. Geno looked at the both of them, did they hit their head?

"Y/N's a physio, she doesn't deal with stomach problems" He explained, then he heard a cackle come from behind them. KK.

Now he got it, just before Nika came up to him, she was talking with Paige and KK, the three of them whispering amongst one another. Knowing Paige and her little crush, he could figure out that she put Nika up to this.

"Try telling me that again after suicides, maybe i'll believe it then" He said,trying to hide his smile, both Nika and Paige groaned. KK struggled to hide her laugh, scratch that, she didn't even hide it.

"Girl Boo, maybe next time" She said to Paige, laughing.

✰

Practice was over, and everybody was tired. Most of them half a sleep, including Paige. While they were used to their morning practices, Paige had a late night.

"Nah I'm going pick up something from Y/N real quick" She hard Aubrey say. Hearing Y/N name, Paige was awake real quick.

" I'll come with you" She offered, the locker suddenly filled with laughs. Her teammate agreed but not before teasing her with the rest. After getting ready, both of the Uconn basketball players made their way to the medical wing, Paige was nervous, she was always nervous to see Y/N. Suddenly feeling insecure, Paige smelled herself, stressing because she's sweaty. She heard her teammate laugh. "Bro relax" Aubrey reassured her.

When they finally stood in front of Y/N's office door, when Aubrey saw that Paige was still in a bit of a daze, she took the honor of knocking on the office door. When they both heard a sweet voice yelling come in, they followed her orders.

"Oh Hi" I said surprised to see both of them here. Aubrey replied greeting me back, but Paige, just stood there staring at her, grinning like a maniac. "Hi P" I said to her.

"Hey" she replied. Before i could ask what she was doing here, Aubrey caught my attention, asking about her meds and if she could take lighter ones. I replied to all her questions, asking if she was feeling okay or if she needed a checkup. While i talked to Aubrey, i could feel Paige's eyes on me at the side of my head.

As Aubrey left, i expected for Paige to follow her, but the blonde didn't move. "P, do you need something?" i asked her.

"there's this party tonight , you should stop by"

Was Paige inviting you as a date? no.

"Okay, text me the details and i'll think about it" i kinda accepted her invite. Tonight i already made plans with my roommate, i don't think its a good idea to cancel those just because i want to see my crush. I also didn't want my hopes to be up.

While Y/N thought about that, Paige was beaming with excitement on the inside, if Y/N did show up tonight. this was going to be the night where she made her move.

✰

She didn't show, she. didn't. show.

In Y/N's head, she didn't think not being at that party was a big deal. she assumed Paige was just being nice inviting her and she definitely didn't know that P was disappointed.

Today they had normal hard practices, and today was actually the final time Paige tried to get Y/N's attention. no like actually the last time.

As she dribbled the ball, suddenly she dropped the ball, and dramatically fell to the ground. Ice let out a laugh, but while she knew what Paige's plan was, Geno and Y/N didn't.

I gasped, seeing Paige suddenly on the ground, she was fine literally 10seconds ago. Quickly running over, followed by the rest of the coaching staff.

“Can u get up by yourself?”

“I can try”

okay good sign, good sign. it’s not broken.

“To my office” I instructed both Nika and Paige. While holding on to Paige, giving her a bit of support.

When we arrived, I made Paige lay down. And started testing her knee. It seemed fine, actually perfect.

“Maybe we should get another opinion, I don’t think my brains working properly”

I can’t seem to find out whats wrong, she says her knee hurts, but the tests i did make her look perfect.

“Ummm Alright” i heard her hesitate. Her voice slightly nervous.

“Paige”

“Yeah”

“Are you… not injured?”

“Kinda” She answered.

I furrowed my eyebrows, making me think back. Maybe she didn’t want the pressure or she just wanted an excuse out of practice.

“Paige if you are using this to get out of practice well you’ve got another thing comi-”

“Im using this as an excuse to see you” She cut you off.

“What”

“I’ve literally been giving you hints all year and you’re telling me you didnt know i liked you?”

“Well no” I answered honestly. When i finally met her eyes, a small smile took over my face. Her sad face turned hopeful.

“I like you too P” i said “You couldve just asked me out and this wouldn’t have had to happen”

“Don’t even try to turn this on me ma” she started ranting, you just laughed and stood there watching. Okay so you weren’t delusional.

✰

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 6

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.3K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, no smut, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, b*tch, etc.), fluff, dirty talk, choking, Dom/Sub(brat)~relationship established

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“So, where yo’ man at? He still ain't back yet?” asked Monica. We had been on the phone chatting all morning. “I guess on the lake. He's still probably fishing,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Oh, so he out fishing, and you at home being all domestic and shit. Okay, housewife!” Monica laughed. “Shut the hell up,” I laughed.

I had been cooking all morning since Terry left. I packed his lunch in a cooler before making breakfast earlier that morning. “So, we cooking three meals a day now?” she said being messy. “Listen, you messy whore. Stop picking on me,” I said, smacking my lips. I turned back to the stove and stirred the pot of collard greens. “You right! I'll leave you alone,” Monnie said.

I walked to the fridge and pulled out the variety of shredded cheeses I bought. I poured all of them into a glass bowl I placed on the counter. Since it was too soon to cook it, I only wanted to start preparing the macaroni and cheese for now.

“We both know you're lyin’!” I said into the phone. “Girl, it's just crazy seein’ you like this. It's so fuckin' cute. You all soft and shit,” she said giggling. “Whatever!” I yelled back while rolling my eyes. “You and I both know you ain't never did no shit like this. I'm used to Big Mama who be pressin’ niggas. Now, yo’ ass in the house cookin’ for one,” she hollered. I scoffed at her remark. Was I really that down bad?

I opened the oven and checked on the cornbread. The sweet smell of honey wafted through the air. I lightly pressed the top of the bread checking the firmness. I put on an oven mitt and pulled it from the oven. I sat it on a towel on the counter. “Girl, I wish you could see this cornbread. It's beautiful,” I said smiling. “Only you would call cornbread beautiful. Keep teasing me, and imma pull up, bitch. I'll bring my own Tupperware, so don't worry!” she cackled. “So, you just gone show up to eat, then leave?” I asked. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? Y'all too busy playin’ house and shit!” Monnie stated.

“You know what? Fuck you! I'm getting off the phone,” I snorted. “That's right! You betta have Mister’s plate on that table by the time he make it home. Oh, and bring me back a niece or nephew while you at it,” she giggled. “Bye, and it's still fuck you!” I said, hanging up the phone.

At this point, I was floating through the kitchen— mixing Mac and cheese, stirring collard greens, frying and flipping chicken, and whipping up a banana pudding. It felt so good to be in my happy place.

4 hours later ~ around 7 p.m.

Rinsing off the day, Terry was upstairs taking a shower, and I was finishing the final touches for dinner. The mac and cheese was browned to perfection. The collard greens were flavorful and savory. The fried chicken was chef’s kiss. The cornbread smelled like heaven. The banana pudding was just waiting in the fridge. I had outdone myself. Maybe Monnie was right. Was I in my housewife era? Had Terry put me in soft girl mode? Ah, shit!

As I reached to retrieve the plates from the cabinet, I felt something press against my back. “I got it, mama. Let me,” Terry said, reaching over me. “Thank you,” I said, kissing his cheek. He put the plates down on the counter in front of me. “Shit, I didn't realize you had done all this. You really weren't playin’, huh?” Terry asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. He leaned over and started planting small kisses on my neck.

“If you wanna eat, you gotta leave me alone. The plates haven't even hit the table,” I giggled while shrugging my shoulder to get him to stop. “It’s a shame that a man can't have dessert before dinner,” he said, turning me around to face him. He pressed his body against mine and trapped me against the counter. “Terry, you promised to behave. Come on!” I said, pushing my hip towards him. “No, I promised to try. I did. I swear, but you look so damn good,” he said, placing his arms on the counter beside me. I whined and scrunched my face. Did I want to fuck Terry’s brains out? Yes! However, I had also spent all day cooking his favorite meal and dessert.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Ah, mama! Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I asked you to cook for me, and you did just that. Thank you, love,” he said pulling me into him. His lips crashed into mine. He held my face in his hands and tilted my head to look him in the eyes. “Forgive me?” he asked flashing that devious smile. This sneaky bastard knew how to get me. “Yes, now move!” I said nudging him away from me.

Terry reached for the plate in front of me. “I said move. Didn't I? That means sit down, Terry!” I said rolling my eyes and laughing. I turned towards the counter, blocking him. “My bad. I don’t know what it is, but you knowin’ yo’ way around a kitchen like this makes me wanna…,” he said backing away from me. “Makes you wanna what?” I questioned as I turned around to look at him. Terry’s eyes lingered on my face and slowly dropped to my abdomen. A smile so sinister spread over his face. “I know damn well you aren’t suggestin’ that. A baby, Terry?” I scoffed while smiling. “I mean… You love me, right?” he asked while sitting at the table.

“First, it was Monnie talkin’ about bring her back a niece or nephew. Now, you! I can't deal with this. Why does everybody want me to get pregnant?” I laughed. “I don't know Monnie’s reasons because I wouldn't trust her to watch a pot of boiling water. However, I know mine, and I have… well,… many,” he said leaning back against the kitchen chair. He raised his arms so that they rested across the back. “And what might those be? Hm? I really wanna know, sir. Tell me,” I said as I turned to the food waiting on the stove.

“Don't worry about it, Mama. Just know I haven't found a reason not to. I'm just waitin' on you,” he said smiling. “Yo’ ass gone be waitin' a long ass time, too. A baby? Terry, you can't be serious!” I squealed. “A long ass time, huh? That's what you think. Imma get one out of you, ‘Vana. Best believe, I'm not gone have to trap you to do it either,” he cackled. “You know what? I'm not doin' this with you!” I said beginning to plate the food.

20 minutes later

“Done, baby?” I asked Terry while standing with my plate in my hand. “Uh,… Yeah,’’ Terry said. “You sound unsure. Baby, I ain't gone ever tell you you can't have more,” I said placing my plate in the sink. Terry’s eyes rose to meet my backside. His eyes lingered on my ass since my back was still turned. “More of what?” Terry asked biting his lip. I could sense a hint of something in his voice. I peeked over my shoulder to see him watching me. I giggled at his antics. “Terry? You know I can see you, right?” I said walking back to the table. I leaned over so that my face was close to his. If this was the game he wanted to play, let’s do it!

“Mmm. Why you playin’ wit’ me, ‘Vana?” he said shifting in his seat. “It’s easy,” I responded. “Oh, really?” he said licking his lips. I could feel his breath on my face. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. I could tell he was becoming more aroused by the second. “You never answered my question, honey. Do you want more?” I asked squatting down in front of him. “And you never answered mine. More of what?’” Terry asked as he leaned up to gently grab my chin. “You want my honest answer?” I asked placing my hands on his knees.

Terry's eyes watched my hands. “Of course, I want honesty, mama. Talk to me,” he said letting his thumb stroke my cheek. “If Daddy wants more, he can have whatever the fuck he wants,” I said trailing my hands up his thighs. Terry’s movements stilled, and his eyes shot up to my face. His eyes clouded with lust and darkened with desire.

Terry’s grip on my chin tightened as he used it to pull me forward. My knees hit the floor so I was kneeling in front of him. I leaned over and let my cheek rest on his growing erection. “Mamas, don't start something you can't finish. If you aren't ready for this, find you something safe to do,” he said. “The fuck is that supposed to mean,” I snapped as I looked up at him. “Aye, watch yourself. You heard me, little girl. I meant what I said,” he said grabbing my chin again. “Me? A little girl? Does someone need a reminder of who the fuck I am?” I asked leaning back on my calves and folding my arms across my chest. “You got one more cuss word before I…,” he said lowering his eyes into slants.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was initiating “playtime”. The excitement of the unknown pulsed through my veins. I was about to allow Terry to fully indulge in his needs and wants. I calmed my breathing before looking up at Terry again. “Before you what? You ain't gonna do shit, and we both know it. There ain't shit you can give that I can’t take,” I said fully committing to brat mode.

“You sure you wanna take this route? Once we begin, there's no turning back. You know that, right?” Terry asked leaning over me. His posture had changed and so had his energy. His shoulders were stiff and squared. It was as if his body was blanketing my entire aura and being. I sat for a minute contemplating my next move. How could I outdo myself?

I smiled as a thought crept into my head. I pulled my hands away and placed them in my lap. With the confidence of a goddess, I said, “You created this monster. Deal with it.” Terry's breathing halted before a smirk spread across his face. His hands instantly grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head. “You got a lotta mouth, lil mama. I don't like that. I don't like it all,” he said tightening his grip. I moaned loudly. I could feel a puddle growing in my panties.

I was fully committed to my role as a brat. I laughed at Terry in an attempt to piss him off. That was having little to no effect on him. I knew I had to make him execute his fantasy to the fullest. I took a deep breath before speaking. “Fuck all that! What you trying to do, huh?” I asked biting my lip and cocking my head to the side.

All sentiments of expression left Terry’s face, and his body grew in anger. His hand quickly left my hair and found my throat. He squeezed tight enough for my breathing to stop. Ironically, all I could think about was how good this felt. My pussy quivered and ached as I released what felt like a mini orgasm. It soaked through my panties as he loosened the grip he had on my throat. “Look at you. Daddy’s little slut. You just couldn't help yourself, huh? That’s fine, mama. Just know this— when we get in that room, I’m gone turn yo thick ass every which way but loose. Don't run. Don't speak. Don't touch shit. It's my turn. Got it?” he said, releasing me with a push.

I looked up at Terry with big doe eyes before speaking again. “Yes, Big Daddy. I understand,” I said while struggling to hide my excitement. “Oh, you think those pretty brown eyes gone help you, huh? Ha! Too late for that. I’m trying to see the monster I created. Bring her out. Fuck all that cute shit!” he said leaning back into the chair. “But…” I started. “Aye, I don't remember asking you to speak. The only thing I want you to do with that there pretty mouth of yours is to suck, lick, slob, swallow, and do it again. You nasty, bitch!” Terry demanded.

As if activated on cue, I could feel the heat between my legs. I wanted this man’s hands all over me. RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! It was Terry’s turn to indulge in his fantasy as a dom. I loved the idea since he would show hints of it sometimes. His only request was not to be easy. He didn't want me to fully submit without any pushback. He liked the idea of me talking shit and provoking him. Terry’s plan involved leaning into a darker side of himself that he had never completely let out, and I trusted him enough to agree to do it. I felt he deserved this moment especially since he didn't judge me about mine.

So, let’s see where tonight takes us.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @insidefeelingofanadult @creartivefairy @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo

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@onherereading @blyffe @beenathembo @helloncrocs @thiccc-c @persethegawd

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie was sitting by Robin, who was sitting by Steve and was currently watching a romance movie with them. It had been Robin's turn to pick, and Eddie pretended loudly that he wasn't into this shit. He did like it, and he watched as the woman thanked the man for saving her life by giving him a kiss. How come it's never the other way around?

"Is that how you thank someone for saving their life? Shit, sorry, Steve," Eddie said.

He leaned over Robin and planted a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before leaning back. They both stared at him.

"Thanks, man."

"You just kissed my platonic Steve," Robin said.

"Yeah. I was there," Eddie scoffed.

"Well, I saved your life too. Why didn't I get a kiss?" Robin asked.

"You're a lesbian," Eddie said.

"Yes, I'm aware. Honestly, I'm offended that you didn't even try," Robin said. "Sounds a bit homophobic to me."

"How can I be homophobic? I'm not exactly straight myself!" Eddie exclaimed.

"You're not?!" Robin and Steve exclaimed.

"I just kissed Steve!" Eddie exclaimed. "I haven't been thinking straight since Steve threw his goddamn sweater at me!"

"Oh, so because I'm not Steve, I don't get a thank you kiss?" Robin asked, and Eddie sighed, knowing she was full of shit. "Not even a kiss on the cheek."

"Robin. . .do you want me to give you a platonic kiss on the cheek as a thank you for saving my life?" Eddie asked.

"Wouldn't hurt," Robin said. "And would definitely help me put in a good word for you with my platonic soulmate."

Eddie cackled and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Okay, I love you again," Robin grinned.

"Love you too, birdie," Eddie grinned.

"Hey, Steve, I think you might have a chance with Eddie," Robin whispered to him. "He seems like a good guy. His kissing skills leave little to be desired for but then again, I am a lesbian so maybe you shouldn't take my word on that."

"I was there! I've been here this whole time!" Steve exclaimed.

"Stevie! The movie's still playing! Shh!"

"You're going to have to kiss me again to shut me up," Steve hissed.

"Ugh! Fine!" Eddie rolled his eyes.

He climbed over Robin and into Steve’s lap. He pressed a hard kiss to Steve’s lips before settling in against him. Eddie sighed in contentment as he missed the end of the movie as all he could think about was Steve.

[motherloads]

Meet Me in the Pale Moonlight

Disclaimer: I absolutely love Jenny in the film! Too bad I like writing miscommunication. No bashing of Jenny!

The reader was supposed to be brooding and menacing? But she’s a wreck with a symbiote lol.

My spanish is also pretty meh in writing despite being Mexican myself. I speak better than I write! Pls keep that in mind ◡̈

Summary: The reader watches on the sidelines as Jenny and her longtime crush, Jaime Reyes become close to one another. Being Milagro's closest friend, she dreads when she has to come over and see the lovebirds.

But who says her little friend would allow this to happen? And who says what she sees is true?

->Pairings: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

-> Use of (Name).

-> Marvel/DC crossover (mentioned Eddie Brock, Peter Parker, and relations to other fic)

->Warning: So much miscommunication, murder talk, and spinal cord removal :(

Once again, please ignore grammar mistakes.

⋆｡°✩

I'm the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean? When you gonna ditch that stupid, you got? It's me you should be seeing.

"Are you just going to continue to stare?" Milagro questions her close friend, who stares at her brother with a pair of love-sick eyes. "Dude, just go talk to him."

"Can't really do that," Her friend hums in response, "Look, Kord is walking over to him. Now he's going to have the brightest smile ever and then they'll hug Then she's going to pat him on the back and start helping him with your house remodel. Look! They're doing it!"

Exactly at that point, Jaime laughs as Jenny pushes him over, grabbing the paintbrush on her own and assisting him with the cream-colored outer walls. Jaime shakes his head in response, nudging her back.

"So what? I'm his sister, and what I can tell you is that they are NOT together. They're just really good friends!" Milagro explains, quieting down when Jaime looks over. "Come on, clear it up. I don't want to see my best friend so sad."

"I'm grieving," She pouts, lowering herself into the chair, "You don't see what I see. They are definitely together."

"Si no lo preguntas, nunca vas a saber," Another voice exclaims. Both girls turn their heads to her mother who shakes her head at them. "Don't be shy! I don't want my future daughter-in-law to lose her chance."

Feeling her face heat up, she looks away from the older woman's words. "I know he's your son, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Maybe if you weren't such a pussy, you would have gotten the guy. Does the K-dramas we watch together not mean anything?

The sudden voice caused her to jump straight into her seat. Narc had been quiet since she had arrive at the Reyes’ house hold. She hadn’t expected them to speak at all since he rarely did when she was at their residence. At first, it was off putting to never hear the familiar voice, but she slowly grew used to the silence.

Born out of wedlock from the original symbiote, Narc had been the symbiote who had begun their stay before she arrived in this Universe. They were the only connection she had to the life she once had. Or was it the other being stuck here as well? She wasn’t sure, she ignored all contact to the woman connected to her in more ways than one.

"K-Dramas are not real, idiot." She hissed under her breath.

"Did you say something, Mija?" Mrs. Reyes questions, resting her hand under the woman's chin. "You often talk to yourself, just like little Jaime."

"Mama!" Jaime calls out, "I'm not little anymore! Come on, don't tell her that!"

"You are little, cabrón. Don't you remember the incident? Naked con tus chiquito huevitos." His Uncle Rudy cackles, "Don't you remember that, ama?"

Their Nana shakes her head in response, smiling broadly at the memory. Milagro begins to laugh as well while Jenny sits beside the girls with a small nod in the direction of (Name). She returns the gesture, crossing her hands as she ignored how hard her heart hammered.

"I'm lost," (Name) murmurs, "So, so lost...But anyway, I have to head out. Thank you for having me!"

"Come by anytime, (Name)." Jaime grins, walking up to her and hugging the girl tightly, "Just remember to ignore anything they say about me, okay? Don't want them ruining anything."

"They're your family, I don't think they are capable of doing so," She pats his back, looking down at Milagro who fake kisses the air in front of her. Jenny seems to notice as she raises her eyebrows at the duo still hugging.

"You can let me go now, Jaime." (Name) murmurs into his ear, "Don't want her getting the wrong idea."

Jaime pulls away, smiling at the girl in front of him. His eyes flickered down for a second before he looked back at her, "Sorry?" She smiles sadly at him as she moves towards her vehicle. She refuses to look at the family behind her as she hears the conversation pick up again.

I think we should kill her.

"Absolutely not. There is a new hero here, Narc. We can't just murder a well-known figure and expect to get away with it." She groans, buckling her seat belt. She looks back at the family once more as she shifts her gear to drive.

We've done it once. And we can do it again.

"I don't think killing the Green Goblin counts for anything! He was already crazier than us, so the headlines were thanking us!" She exclaims.

His brain was nasty anyway.

⋆｡°✩

"Do you think Blue Beetle is cool?" Milagro asks, absentmindedly moving her straw around in boredom. "Personally, I think he's a huge nerd. What do you think?"

"Who says you can bother me on my shift?" (Name) frowns, cleaning the bar top in front of her, "And how did they let you in?"

"I have my ways," Milagro grins, "Answer my question. I need to know."

"I think he's...unique? From the news I have seen of him, it's obvious he is of Hispanic Descent. His suit is otherworldly, so I'm assuming it's some kind of alien tech he is using. Definitely not Superman, though." (Name) shrugs, moving the alcoholic beverages aside as she begins assisting the bartenders alongside her.

"Do you think he's cute under his mask?" Milagro leans closer, "Would you date him?"

I would eat him.

"I wouldn't eat him," (Name) responds instead. She pauses as the conversation around her began to quiet down. Some stared at her while others whispered to their compadres nearby.

"I...didn't ask that? I asked if you think he's cute and if you would date him. Dude, where the hell is your mind thinking right now?" Milagro whispers, eyeing the men nearby, "God, I’ve always hated this bar. A bunch of chismosos who are almost always cheating on their wives here. They're always eyeing you too. How do you handle that?"

"First, I can't tell if Blue Beetle is cute based on his voice. Second, I wouldn't date him since I am sooo hung up on your brother." Milagro snorts. "Lastly, this is the only bar that offers the minimum wage. I can handle drunk men well, I've always had."

The conversation began to pick up again as most began focusing on the news displayed in front of them. Blue Beetle was shown on live television, fighting off rogue soldiers from Victoria Kord's force. Despite the woman being long gone, the impact she made had not quite disappeared.

"I knew you were still into him! I say you ask him out! You ain't a homewrecker if he isn't in a relationship!"

"Didn't you say Kord and Jaime kissed? That your whole family cheered for the couple?"

"A fluke! It's a fluke I swear, but it is complicated! Just ask Jaime, please? It would be so cool for us to be family."

"If our lives are ever in danger at this very bar, then I'll ask." (Name) turns away from Milagro's eyes, "That means it will never ha-"

Her voice gets cut off when bullets begin hitting the bar's windows, causing the occupants to duck down to safety. Many of the drunken men tried to escape but most were quickly shot down by the bullets.

Milagro screams, ducking down into a crouch as the bullets continue. (Name) ignores the danger as she maneuvers her way through the destruction. She grabs Milagro, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes. "I need you to hide behind the bar, okay? The bullets won't get you. We will protect you.”

"W-who's we?" Milagro cries as (Name) pushes her behind the bar. There was silence for a moment as screams echoed in the bar. "(Name)? Where are you going?" She pushed Milagro down, moving her way from the bar corner as she looked at the bodies around her. Many men stayed below tables, looking at her in fear as she counted the people alive.

"Nobody get up. It’s not ove-" Her words get cut off when bullets pierce through her whole body. She is flung against the countertop as a bullet pierces too close to her heart. She hears her name being called out as Milagro tries to find her way to the woman.

She smiles at the tear-stained face in her vision. The fear in the other girl's eyes was evident as she continued to scream her name. At that moment, smoke bombs are thrown through the window. The screams had begun to mesh together, the fog covering the vision of the little who were still alive.

She feels the blood oozing out of her mouth, the familiar metallic filling up her mouth. She sputters, not being able to breathe.

It's your turn.

My turn.

Shoes stepping on glass were all everyone heard as the perpetrators stepped through the mess they caused. They held their gun up in return, moving through the fog stealthily. As they communicated with one another, they grew unnoticed by the thing they had angered.

"Find the Reyes girl. She is to be left alive." One spoke up, "Kill every survivor." The main soldier calls out. They await the confirmation of the others but they hear nothing. "I need an affirmative."

The soldier gets smacked in response, feeling themselves recoil from the weight against their body. When they look down at the unfamiliar weight, they begin to scream.

The weight crushing them was there comrade. Left unrecognizable with no head in sight. The blood wafts through their mask. They begin to gag as they try to pull the body off of them. They freeze up when a bloodied helmet rolls closer. Empty and dented, the helmet hits their shoe with a loud clank.

The fog begins to clear up, displaying the mess left behind. The soldier tensed when they noticed the bodies presented around the room. Many hung from the lights, their necks cracking from the added weight of their helmet. Others were hazardously thrown against tables. One had a table leg pierced through their helmet.

"Why must humans be so selfish? Is this fun for you, you pathetic piece of shit?" The soldier whimpers in response, turning their eyes away from the figure crouching in front of their face.

The creature, despite crouching, was still overlooking the only soldier left alive. The disarray and multi-color of the night sky reflected back to the onlookers who began to murmur about the new being. They tilt their head and leaned closer to the soldier, their bright, soulless eyes stared into the helmet. They licked the sharp smile forming from the fear they felt radiating off the soldier.

"Unlike the Blue Beetle, we do not care about the lives of our victims. What do you think happens next?"

"W-What the hell are you?"

"If you must know, my host has named us Narc. Will you beg for your life now?"

The Soldier rips their helmet off, looking at Narc with a look of fear, "Please. Please. I'm sorry. I'll never do this again, please!"

"He had once told us the same. You are just like the others. Pathetic. Unworthy. A perfect meal."

A scream is ripped through his victim's vocal cords as Narc bites down. Blood seeped through their mouth as they ripped out the spinal cord in one sharp turn. Narc stands, spitting their leftovers to the side.

"Hey, ugly!" A voice called out, "What the hell are you doing, man?"

Narc cranes their neck towards the entrance of the bar, watching as Blue Beetle floated at his place. They both stared at each other, unmoving.

"Blue Beetle!" A voice calls out, Milagro moving from her hiding spot to the blue-and-black-clad hero. "My friend is gone! She was just--where is she?" She turns her head towards Narc, who stares down at the shaking girl.

"Get away from it!" Blue Beetle yells, flying through the bar as he centers himself between Milagro and Narc. "Take it up with me and not the civilians!"

"He just--he ate all the soldiers--" Milagro gasps, stepping behind Blue Beetle, "I saw what he did--"

"You--What the hell are you?" Blue Beetle points his palms toward Narc, who continues to stare in silence.

"Does my figure scare you? I can hear your heartbeat." Narc cranes their head towards Milagro. Blue Beetle blocks her from their eyesight. “Worry not, we do not hurt the innocent.”

With those words, Narc feels their familiar bulking figure die down to their less impending figure. The duo are lost for words at the new figure presented in front of them.

"I'm so sorry I think I misgendered you--" Milagro's eyes stayed pinned to the pair of boobs Narc had.

"Where's (Name)?" Blue Beetle turns his head around, "Khaji-Da says she is still here! She was working, right?" His questions are to Milagro.

None of the three seemed to notice the survivors running out of the bar.

"She is here. With me." Narc hums, moving closer to Blue Beetle, "Is Khaji-Da your symbiote?"

"Symb--what? What do you mean (Name) is with you?"

"Jaime Reyes. You are a host are you not?"

"Stop avoiding my questions! Where is she?! How do you know my name--That is not my name! I do not know Jaime Reyes. Do you?"

"I have known of the scarab on your back since the beginning. Do not worry, (Name) remains clueless, for now."

"Why are you saying her name as if you know her?" Milagro questions.

Narc purrs, tilting their head closer to Blue Beetle who stepped back hesitantly. "We have known each other for a long time. We are bonded together until she dies. She is my key to survival in your world. She is me. I am her. We are one. We are Narc."

“Like Narcotics? Did she get you from a drug? She doesn’t seem like the type to do drugs.” Milagro questions, stepping closer to the duo, “And why are you so close? I can smell you from here!”

“We are host and symbiote. We am not from here, you see. Your alien won’t know of us.”

Milagro and Blue Beetle share a look, communicating with silent words. Blue Beetle lowers his hand, allowing Narc to step closer. The symbiote smiles, their purrs growing louder.

“I see why she likes you.”

With those words, Narc sinks into (Name)'s skin, leaving the woman defenseless from the eyes of her long-time crush and friend. She drops to the floor, her wounds patching over themselves with a familiar goo.

Blue Beetle drops to the floor, bringing (Name) close to his body. He rocks her back and forth as Milagro stumbles beside him. Her eyes were bloodshot and the tears that disappeared has formed all over again.

"Why didn't she tell us? Why didn't she tell me?" Blue Beetle, now Jaime who removed his helmet. He leans his forehead on the woman and murmurs into her hair. He kisses her temple as Milagro continues to cry.

"Why didn't she tell us her hero name is literally short for Narcotics?!"

⋆｡°✩

(Name) awakes to a horrible headache splintering her head. She groans as she shifts closer to the warmth of an unfamiliar body. She nuzzles in closer to the warmth, groaning at the light against her eyelids.

"Narc turn off the lights...I feel like I've just been shot." She moans, gripping her blanket tighter against her body, "I'm going out with Milagro later. I have to go buy cat food..."

"Milagro is taking care of Eddie, don't worry." A familiar voice whispers against her head, "Just go back to sleep. I'll block the sunlight."

"Thanks, Jaime..." Processing the name that came out, she jumps away from the warmth. She stares at Jaime, who stares back in equal shock and sleepiness. His hair was a mess, pointing in different directions. She presses her hand to her mouth, gasping behind it.

"Oh my god. We didn't have sex, did we? If so, that would be awkward because you are my best friend's brother and you literally have a girlfriend. I can't even get drunk so it's impossible for me to forget--oh my god am I in your house?"

"Hey, Hey," Jaime soothes her, smiling at the woman freaking out in his bed, "We didn't have sex and we were not drunk. You were...shot multiple times and some things came to light, but it's okay now, I promise."

"I'm still sleeping in your bed though! You could have left me, being shot doesn't stop me! We were holding each other?! What would Kord think if she saw this now?" She grips the unfamiliar sweater covering her body, feeling her legs shift through from under the sheets and hit against Jaime's.

"Jenny? What about Jenny? We aren't...We aren't dating if that's what you're worried about." Jaime grabbed her by the face, locking eyes with her who looked anywhere but him. "I can't just leave you when you were hurt."

"Milagro said you two kissed."

"We did once have feelings for each other. But it's long gone now, it was just a...heat of a moment kind of thing." Jaime brings her cheeks towards his chest, which she just noticed had nothing covering him from her eyes. Her hands stopped short on his stomach. She felt his stomach flutter in response.

"Besides, I like someone else. I like you."

She feels her heart stop at his confession.

Knew it.

"No shit." She exclaims, looking up at Jaime who smiles down at her doe-like look.

"I do." He whispers back. They both stared at one another until he leaned closer to her face. She felt his breath fan her face as she wrinkled her nose.

"You stink." She snorts, moving her hands to the back of his neck. He laughs at her words.

"Yours smells much worse. Now, come here--" She cuts him off, smashing her lips to his. He holds her waist, bringing her to sit on his lap. Her tongue finds his, leaning closer as her hand moves to stay on his chest. Biting his lip, she softly sucks it lightly. She opens her eyes to find his eyes half-lidded, enjoying the moment.

When she pulls away, her lips find his neck, kissing down to his collarbone. Pulling her hand back to his neck, she inhales his scent.

"Couldn't have waited until I was asleep. You are always like this. The same exact way with Peter Parker."

They both jump at the new voice, turning their heads towards Narc who floated their head around the room, reading the boxes that held different items. She turns her head to Jaime, eyes wide, waiting for him to begin screaming.

"Narc-uh. They explained more about your origins with each other. After finding them standing in a bloodbath, Milagro and I thought the worst had happened but someone--something told me to let Narc explain."

"They told you about our.... situationship?" She questions, gripping onto Jaime's bicep. "You're supposed to be running away--not making out with me!"

"And you! You aren't supposed to be out. You're grounded!" She growls, pulling Jaime's face into the crook of her neck, "You told him everything, huh? Why can't you ever keep secrets? She'll be angry our cover was blown!"

She ignored the look Narc gives, opting to continue her rant, “Asshole, is it because I’m not letting you meet Red Robin? You know it isn’t allowed!”

"The other youngling saw you get shot. Was I supposed to act as if I ate you instead?"

"Actually, yes! Nobody is supposed to know, you promised. We promised Eddie."

"You made a promise to your cat?" Jaime's muffled voice questions. Despite the situation, he bites her neck. "Who is Peter Parker?"

She glares at Narc, who innocently whistles. "No one Jaime, he is no one."

"Former boy toy." Narc responds instead, "Hell of an amateur kisser."

"You kissed him! Not me!" She turns to Jaime, pulling his head back to stare at him, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why they're acting this way. I'll go right now, seriously. I don't want you in our mess."

"Relax," Jaime comforts, grabbing her hand that stayed on his cheek. He smiles at her, "I can protect myself. Look--"

She felt him shift from under her, watching in shock as his body began to be covered by a familiar suit she had seen countlessly on television. Everything except his face was covered in armor. Whilst she analyzed the markings on his suit, Narc moved closer as well.

"Does your scarab only speak to you?" Narc asks, "It is unlike anything I have seen on my planet. Do you feed them as well?"

"They aren't really fed? They don't need sustenance. Khaji-Da only talks to me in my head so they're like a second voice...and planet?"

"This is going to be a long talk," She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "At least you don't have to feed them human brains..."

"What?" Jaime recoils, looking at the two with wide eyes, "I'm sorry? Brains? Like Zombies? The Walking Dead? Like zombies from The Last of Us?!"

"I thought you told him everything!"

"I would never tell of my eating habits! Humans are judgemental!"

[etheries1015]

I CANT STOP CACKLING AT LILIA AND THE SILLY STORIES OF HOW HE RAISED SILVER 😭😭 It made me wonder about Lilia raising a child he has with you, and how you react to his parenting tactics...

Lilias dorm card spoilers underneath <3

aldskfjal;siej the way that even sebek looks at Silver like "How..did you make it this far?" And Silver equally as confused as he is. And when he gave the bat milk directly from the jug, it sounds like the bat basically took a bath in it... Something similar happening to Silver. Ugh I love this family, they are so chaotic it's hilarious. How Silver and Sebek know more about the technicalities it's actually amusing, esspecially Silver, who grew up with Lilia's parenting skills... I like to assume MC had no clue this took place, and came in blind to his antics once they decided to have a child of their own...

MC- Lilia.

Lilia- oh isn't our darling baby the cutest?!

MC- Lilia, you cannot spoon-feed her real food yet. W...where did you get that food?

Lilia- I made it while you were bathing!

MC- ...And I see she also needed a diaper change? what's with the..paper towels?

Lilia- Oh, right. It appears we ran out of diapers! I had to improvise. I'm quite proud of myself how it turned out, really!

MC, sighing- We might have to start investing in reusable diapers if this keeps up...

Lilia- Reuseable?

MC- Yes, reus- Lilia! Put the spoon down, she is too little to feed off of solid foods! *mumbling* much less be able to stomach your cooking...

Lilia- It is not solid! It may appear that way, but I was certain to blend it into a milky consistency.

MC, eyeing the food curiously- ...Huh, you're right. Well, you can't feed her this anyway. She should be having milk right now

Lilia- I assure you it's much healthier and more nutritious than milk- ah...do not look at me like that my dear, remember I am a child-rearing veteran! ...

MC- ...

Lilia- ....

Lilia- I will go get the milk~ No need to glare at me as such. You know, raising children shouldn't be so black and white! Sometimes you need to improvise~

MC- ...Uh huh... anyways. I'm going to get changed to go out to the store and grab a few things. Can you handle her?

Lilia- Of course I can! Your questions wound me~ Do not worry your little head. I am well versed in how to raise a human child!

-moments later-

MC- Alright. Why is my baby cover head to toe in milk.

Lilia- Isn't she just the cutest sight to see? I handed her the mug and she practically poured it all over herself! What a silly little girl.

MC- ...Where's her diaper?

Lilia- Ah! The paper towel seems to have dissolved with the amount of milk soiling it... A shame. I was proud of how well It turned out.

MC, sighing and shaking their head with a smile and turning to the kitchen table- Can you keep an eye on them while I go to the store?

Silver, nodding- Of course.

MC- How...how did you manage to make it this far?

Silver- ...often times a mystery to me as well, but I am thankful I am still here.

MC, laughing and turning back to Lilia, who is giving the second mug of milk to his daughter- Ah...what charm you have, my lovely husband. I will return soon.

Lilia gives you a kiss and you head off, with a bright smile on your lips. What a silly fae...but you know things will turn out alright.

[laneywrld]

call out my name | Lewis Hamilton

request: heyy, can we get a story with call out my name by the weeknd as the base line of the story .

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none

When you first met Lewis, you had a feeling it'd end like this.

If you could go back and change that night, you would, with no hesitation. You missed the days when Lewis was a nonfactor in your life when you didn't know he existed.

You remember that night all too well. Miami was always alive when the Grand Prix came around, your friends, like the partygoers they were enjoyed taking the opportunity to take on the vibrant nightlife and enjoy the crowds the race brought in.

It was an annual tradition, you could say, to party like tomorrow didn't exist when the lights shut down and engines roared to life.

When you first moved to Miami, you hadn't understood the essence of the sport or the crowds it brought in, until you met an overly enthusiastic Daniel Ricciardo.

You had no clue who he was when he quite literally stumbled into your path; his boyish smile and golden retriever energy made it almost impossible to be mad at him as his drink soaked your dress.

"I'm so sorry!" He calls out, stumbling over himself.

"You're not from here?" You called out as you reached down to help him stand up straight. His thick accent was a dead giveaway.

"No, I'm Australian."

"Long way from home," you shouted over the music, dragging his frame into an open seat further away from the dance floor.

"I'm working." He slurs, smiling up at you.

"Mhmm, doesn't look like you're working," you trail off, "what's your name?"

"Danny. After work fun."

"Ahh," you hum, "okay, understandable. I'm going to get you some water, okay? Did you come here with friends?"

"No. Was actually planning on making some friends." He laughs, and it makes you chortle as well.

"Miami is not the place to make friends Danny." You informed. "Stay here, I'm going to grab that water."

You saunter away, keeping an eye on the lean man as you approach the bar. You order a water, paying for the overpriced bottle with your Apple wallet, and quickly return to the drunken man. You don't know why you helped him; it was just in your nature to assist anyone you could.

Danny smiles up at you with an appreciative smile as you uncap the bottle for him, "Can you hold it, or do I have to give it to you?" You inquire.

"Give it to me, please."

You both break out into childish snickers at his words. "Easy there, buddy," you warn, tilting his chin up and directing the bottle to his mouth.

You pull it away, tightening the cap and placing it in front of him on the table. You then slide into the booth beside, "I'd feel better with myself if I stay with you for a while, just to make sure you're okay."

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, "Yeah, I get it; I'm so shitfaced right now."

It is quiet between the two of you for a while, you constantly reaching over to make sure he's hydrated and him smiling at you all dopey-like.

"You from here?" He asks as he starts to regain his sober mind.

You shake your head, "No, just moved here though."

"You can be my Miami friend." Danny grins.

"I'll probably never see you again after tonight, Mr Australia." You joke, nudging his shoulder with your own.

"I come here every year around this time." He announces. "Work."

"Work," you nod. "Right."

"Yes or no?" He prods.

"Have to see if you can hang; it doesn’t look like you can." You joke.

He scoffs, leaning away and eyeing you. "Please, I am a good time, the best time."

"Sir, I've just met you, and I'm taking care of your drunk ass." You cackle.

"How about this, stick with me for the rest of the night, and if we have a blast, every time I'm in Miami, you ride with me."

"You're going to get white girl wasted every time?" You inquire with a raised brow, and he laughs hard.

"Probably."

It was safe to say that Daniel was a blast. Even if he did party like a fratboy, you enjoyed his company. He gave you the energy of a teenage coming-of-age movie, doing whatever and saying whatever with his friends. It was a connection you hadn't experienced before.

And you enjoyed it, you liked spending time with your Australian friend. Which is how you ended up meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton six years later.

Lewis didn't know why he allowed his enthusiastic coworker to convince him to spend a night in Miami with him. The only solace he found in the situation was knowing that he wasn't the only driver there. Everyone was there, in a section booked by no one other than Daniel Ric himself.

It was nice for sure, and Lewis was curious as to how Daniel, of all people, knew so much about the lively city of Miami and their restless nightlife.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Lewis, just felt out of place a little bit, without his usual crew.

"Hey Guys, I'll be back in a second, I'm going to grab my friend."

Lewis rolls his eyes taking another sip from his glass.

He doesn't know who he was expecting, a Ken doll, a high-energy frat boy like Daniel, or even a valley girl with a high-pitched voice. This was Miami, so logically his smartest anticipation would be a surgery-riddled Kim Kardashian lookalike. But not you, Lewis would never expected you to enter the section, arm wrapped around Daniel's waist as you cackle at whatever nonsense leaves his mouth.

He is instantly intrigued, his phone being powered off and stuffed into his hoodie pocket.

You were beautiful with your rich complexion and beaming grin as he walked you down the line introducing you one by one.

His eyes never leave you as he watches you interact with everyone. You cloud his vision as you get closer. His eyes trace your hair and flow down to your brows and your alluring eyes. His view travels down your nose and lingers on your spread lips. And he physically lets out a sigh as he traces over your body.

You would drive him mad. He knows it.

-

As you take the time to introduce yourself to Danny's coworkers, you aren't surprised to see, well, to make it short, people who are not of your crowd.

But to your surprise, they're all friendly and welcoming. You're not surprised to see that you have met some of them before on your trips with Daniel or when you fly out to see him.

When you reach the end of the line you see him and your confidence falters as your eyes meet his. You should've known by the way his eyes were drinking you in that he'd be a problem.

With conviction, you approach him, bearing a sly smirk on your face.

"I'm y/n." You declared, and Lewis returned the same decency.

"I'm Lewis."

Your hands meet in the middle and he has a soft grip on you, refusing to let go.

"What's a girl like you doing with Daniel."

"He's my friend." You reply.

"Just a friend?"

"Just a friend." You confirm, and the way he looked at you through his fluffy lashes was evidence enough of what was to come between the two of you.

-

Lewis wasn't all that the media portrayed him to be. He wasn't overly confident or carefree. He actually worried a lot and was stressed a lot.

You knew that he felt like he had something to prove. You met him at his peak, and even now, when he feels like he's at the worst in his career, you're still here.

"So you're going to leave?" You hum, rubbing your fingers through his parts.

"Do you think I should?"

He looks so stressed out that is it has your heart is aching for him.

He's slumped like a kid in your lap with his face set in a frown. "I think that if you're unhappy and there are ways that you feel can change that, that you should look for something new, yes."

"Did you mean what you said last time?"

You think back to the last time you were in his presence, how he had gotten drunk for the first time in years. You wince internally as you recall how you had to nurse him back to health that night, how he cried like a baby when he mentioned how alone he felt at Mercedes. Lewis Hamilton wasn't used to being an afterthought.

"Yes, I don't think they appreciate you, Lewis. I don't think they are valuing your feedback or honoring your talent. I think they are making you miserable." You confess. "There are so many other teams that would love to have you, who would fight for you to reclaim your eighth. I don't think you should keep going through this with that team. Look at how they have you."

"Is your favorite team still Ferrari?" He opens his eyes and stares up at you.

"Duh,"

When you first met Daniel, you had only heard of the sport, but as time went on, he fully immersed you into the world of Formula One. You quickly took a liking to the red team and its intricate history in the sport. When you met Lewis in 2018, he was shocked that you knew so much about them (and barely anything about him).

"Don't tell me you're considering Ferrari, Sir Hamilton." You grin and he only smirks up at you.

"We'll see."

-

After the eventful first night you had spent with Lewis nearly six years ago, Miami has become a frequent destination of his. And New York of yours. The two of you guys had a chemistry unlike any other, every night filled with breathless pants and chants of each other's names. It was electric and erotic all at the same time.

You were fully aware that you and Lewis weren't necessarily together.

You were fun for him and him for you.

It was a mutual agreement, a bond strictly built from the amazing sex that the two of you had together.

You were aware that when the time came for Lewis to settle down and spend the rest of his life together it probably wouldn't be with you. You had believed you'd come to terms with the fact. But the idea of you two being together in the future still lingered in the back of your mind.

But as you scroll through Twitter, images and small clips of Lewis walking hand in hand with a Brazilian model have your heart tightening.

It wasn't like Lewis hadn't given you that false hope of a relationship, because you'd like to think that all of those little small things were him giving in. Surrendering that stupid ideology of his that made him believe he was a permanent bachelor.

You'd been by his side and in his bed over and over again for the last six years. And you’d be doing the same again tonight.

You almost feel grimy, sitting and waiting for him in his hotel room as he takes another woman out on a date, but a part of you knows that you’d accept anything from Lewis. You had standards and you had morals, but for a man like him, you always seem to throw them all out of the window.

Your phone vibrates and pings as your social media erupts in a frenzy.

That was another thing that had your mind in shambles right now.

How open he was when it came to you.

How quick he was to show you to the public, none of his other flings had gotten that opportunity, well until whoever this chick was.

Before you, Lewis hadn't introduced his "fun times" to his friends or even bothered to take any of them to the track.

That was something reserved only for you, though, you feel sort of naive, watching the tan and leggy woman prance around hand in hand with Lewis as he leaves the paddock.

You feel like you're stuck at the crossroads as you wait for Lewis to return.

He'd flown you out here partly because he claimed he missed you so much and the other half because of how much of a hard time you'd been having with your life in general.

Lewis was also a sort of saving grace for you, when you were with him, none of your other problems mattered. So you were quick to accept his invitation.

You'd never have accepted if you knew that he'd be playing a cruel game with you like this.

When the door creaks open and he emerges with a happy grin on his face, and bags filled to the brim with what you know are gifts for you, you can only grimace. Your attempt at a smile seems good enough for him as he approaches you and places a sudden kiss on your head.

"Hey love," He smiles, "I've got some gifts for you, yeah, knew you'd need a pick me up."

And you can't help to wonder if you'd needed the pick me up from his actions or what had transpired within this last week which was the sole purpose of you going to see him.

"I'm going to wash up, really fast, yeah? And then it'll be me and you tonight."

You say nothing as he places the bags at your feet and rushes into the bathroom.

You don't move, but you allow your eyes to skim through the bags and sigh as you see just how much he spent on you.

You had gone and done it.

Gone and made some glorified elaborate fairytale out of a man, who'd only treasured your body and in return showered you with gifts.

You laugh at yourself as your hand comes up to palm at your forehead.

You were his goddamn sugar baby, not the kind of woman he'd settle down with.

You feel even more stupid at the realization, that all of the nights you'd lay with him and console him after giving him your body were not as you had made them out to be.

It wasn't romantic, it was transactional. Those nights where you offered Lewis emotional solace always came with a hefty reward the next morning.

And now, you feel tainted, knowing that all it took was a simple call of your name for you to come flying to him and land in his bed, wrapped around his body.

You found Lewis in his prime and stuck by his side through his decline. You comforted him throughout his entire descent down the totem pole. Helped him out of that broken place, and gave him reassurance and something to look forward to.

You treasured this man.

Put him on top, time and time again, when he would leave you feeling used after your time together. And if it was up to you, you'd probably continue this cycle. Giving him your all and getting nothing in return.

You really wanted him, you wanted him to want you, which is why you were fine with keeping his bed warm, at least he wanted you in some kind of way, craved you even if it wasn't the way you wished to be desired.

When he emerges from the steamy bathroom, body clad only in a pair of briefs and his body soft and glowing, you swallow back all of your thoughts allowing yourself to take him in.

He nestles beside you on the bed, taking one of your hands in his, "everything okay?"

You can only push out a meek "yeah."

And the night goes on as planned.

The dim light of dusk spills through the blinds of the grand hotel room, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. You sit against the headboard, The melancholic melody of the empty night mirrors the turmoil in your heart.

Six years ago, you met Lewis at a nightclub, your paths crossing in a haze of neon lights and pulsing music. He was charming and mysterious, with eyes that held secrets and a smile that promised adventure. Your connection was instantaneous, a spark that quickly grew into an all-consuming flame. You spent endless nights talking, laughing, and dreaming about a future together. Well at least on your end.

But as the years passed, you began to notice the cracks in your seemingly perfect world. Lewis' past as a bachelor was a shadow that loomed over your situationship, a constant reminder of the freeness he carried within him. He would disappear for days on end with no communication, leaving you in a state of anxious uncertainty, your mind racing with thoughts of where he might be and who he might be with. Yet, you had no right to concern yourself with these sorts of things.

As you lay in bed, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you, you find the courage to ask, "Lewis, do you love me?" His silence is deafening, and the look in his eyes speaks of a love that is nonexistent, a love that is more of a need for you than a want.

"I care about you," he finally whispers, his voice tinged with regret. "But my heart belongs to someone else. I’m sorry."

Your world shatters at that moment, the pieces of your heart shattering like broken glass. You know you have to let him go, to find a way to heal from the pain of a love that was never truly yours.

You realize that you have been holding on to a love that was destined to fade, a love that has left you feeling empty and lost.

You deserve a love that is real and true.

He’s like medicine, he makes you feel good and at the same time, he’s like poison, running through your system and finding a new part of you to sicken. Lewis is a walking contradiction, you don’t know if he’s helping you or hurting you, if he loves you, or if he hates you. Surely, he hates you, why else would he be okay with making you feel like this?

And as the city lights flicker on, you vow to never lose yourself again.

You shouldn't ask, because you know you can't bear the weight of his answer but you do.

"The woman from earlier?"

He sighs, his response weak, "Yes."

"So no more us? Right?"

"I think this is the last time." He admits and you swallow back your tears.

"Okay."

"I still want to be your friend."

"We were never friends Lewis, and we're not going to be friends after this."

Lewis swallows, sitting up to catch your gaze through the darkness.

For years, you and Lewis had maintained a delicate balance, a friends-with-benefits arrangement that allowed you both to keep things uncomplicated. You cherished the intimacy, the shared moments of laughter, the comfort of his presence. But deep down, you always knew that this arrangement had an expiration date, an inevitable end that you tried not to think about.

And now, that end has arrived. Lewis has fallen in love with someone else. You can only turn away from him.

You stand up, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. You begin to gather your clothes, each movement mechanical, your mind numb with the reality of it all. You glance around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings that now feel foreign and distant.

As you pull on your jacket, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are filled with unshed tears, your expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. You know that this is the moment you have to let go, to walk away from a love that was never truly yours.

You think it's kind of ironic.

How you'd been there for Lewis, and when you needed him most, he's leaving you behind.

"Do you love me?" Lewis' voice echoes from his place on the bed.

"No." You lie. "It was fun, was fun being a pit stop for you." You chuckle.

"It wasn't like that-"

"No, it's fine, we weren't anything, you fucked me and brought me gifts in return, I ate that up, that's all. I knew I was only here until you made up your mind, I'm happy you did."

You had a tendency to become a bitch when you were hurt and you knew that your words were low blows, but your pride was too hard for you to allow Lewis to see himself affect you in real time.

In reality, you'd hoped that if the unfortunate and impending doom would occur, that Lewis would have the decency to allow you to fall out of love with him first.

Then it wouldn't hurt.

You knew what the arrangement was, you knew that you and Lewis were technically nothing and you always thought that when the day came for him to finally leave you, you'd be fine. You'd feel nothing. But you do.

It feels like when that one character who doesn't care about dying has a sudden brush with death, how almost dying rids you of every sane thought you have, a person who fears nothing all of a sudden fears death, fears everything.

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but losing, could you even say losing Lewis? 

Being left by Lewis feels terrible, being left by him feels scary, like everything you knew before was not as it seems. 

You always thought you'd feel nothing, but you feel everything you thought you never would.

And in the end, you still wanted him to stay. You wanted him to choose you. Even if he didn't want you.

here you go babes @greedyjudge2 !! I'm sorry it took so long <3

part two in the future fs.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Forced Vacation- Part 1

Hero collapsed on the couch, not even bothering to change out of their suit. They were just drifting off when they heard the latch to their window click, then the window opening. Hero groaned. They were so tired, why did they have to deal with a break-in?

They willed themselves to move; they opened their eyes and saw a shadow looming over them. Before they could react, something sharp pierced their thigh. Hero cried out, glaring up at Villain.

“What was that for!?”

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Villain whispered.

“I most certainly will not!” Hero shouted, “I- I… I...mm…”

Hero blinked in an effort to clear their blurry vision. Villain got off of them and started looking around Hero's apartment. Hero rolled off the couch and crashed to the floor with a thud.

“Villain!” Hero slurred, “get back here!”

“Which way to your bedroom?” Villain asked, ignoring them.

“I'm not telling you!”

“Fair enough, I'll find it myself, it's not like you live in a mansion… I should really fix that.”

Villain hummed to themselves while Hero pathetically crawled after them. Villain started going through Hero's dresser, pulling out various garments like- swimwear!?

“Did you just come here to steal my wardrobe?” Hero mumbled.

“Oh please,” Villain scoffed, “who would want these? I have half a mind to call the fashion police. Hm, we'll just pick you up some things along the way.”

Hero was finding it increasingly difficult to focus. Villain stalked over to them, crouching down to inspect them.

“You're not out yet?” Villain asked, tilting their head.

“No,” Hero bit out, “I'm…not…”

Hero's eyes fluttered shut as they collapsed on their side. They distantly felt Villain scoop them up in a bridal carry, then there was nothing.

…

Hero stirred to a pressure in their ears. Their eyelids slowly lifted and they saw Villain sitting opposite them, reading a book.

“Morning,” Villain drawled, turning a page, “or afternoon. I don't keep track of the time zones up here.”

Up here? Hero ‘s head swiveled to the side. They looked out a small, round window and saw fluffy white clouds and a blue sky. Their eyes went wide. They turned back to Villain, and sprang to their feet. Well, they tried to, but something kept them in place.

“That's for your own safety,” Villain said, gesturing vaguely to the various straps pulled taut across Hero's body, “and my peace of mind.”

“Safety!? A seatbelt is safety, Villain! This is- what even is all this!? Why am I on a plane, why am I strapped down, why did you kidnap me!?”

Villain snapped their fingers, and a henchman brought over a glass of water with a straw. They held it to Hero's lips. Hero then realized how dry their mouth was, and reluctantly drank against their better judgment.

“That's drugged,” Villain said nonchalantly.

Hero froze, having already swallowed most of the water. Villain finally looked up from their book and laughed.

“Oh, your face~,” Villain cackled, “too cute! It's just spring water, Hero, with a little bit of lemon.”

Hero visibly relaxed.

“As for your other questions,” Villain continued, “I know you, Hero, and I know when you're overdoing it. As such, I've decided its in your best interest as my nemesis to arrange a vacation for you; well, for both of us, but mostly you. We're going to a tropical island far away from any cities , criminals, or corrupt justice systems.”

“Villain!” Hero protested.

“Hero!” Villain replied with a smirk.

“I can't go on vacation! I have way too much to do! I-” Hero struggled some more in the restraints “-Let me out!”

“Those are there to make sure you don't try anything reckless,” Villain stated, “so calm down, and enjoy the flight.”

A henchman pushed a button, and a TV lowered down from the ceiling. They put a remote control in Hero's hand, then nodded to Villain.

“You will let me know if you get motion sickness, won't you?” Villain asked, picking their book up again.

“UGH!”

...

When they landed, Villain set their book down and reached in their belt pocket for something. They produced another syringe.

“Oh come on!” Hero whined.

“It's not that bad,” Villain argued, “just a small pinch, look-"

Villain injected the contents into Hero's leg. Hero stifled a yelp. Two henchmen came and unstrapped Hero from their seat. Hero immediately stood, only to lurch forward. Villain caught them easily.

“Falling for me? You flatter me,” Villain teased.

“Get off,” Hero said, “I appreciate the concern, but you can't just kidnap people whenever you feel like it!”

“Of course I can, I'm doing it right now, aren't I?”

Villain lifted Hero up into their arms, walking them off the plane. Hero fought to stay awake. Villain deposited them in a luxury car, climbing in next to them. Hero dozed off a moment later.

Part 2

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