#ill probably post this to ao3 soon

[sunnyyflowerrs]

hey guys from ao3!

so. no new "fire extinguishers" chapter for itafushi friday :( sorry guys, i've been swamped with work and stuff and didn't have the time to finish out the chapter, hopefully ill be able to get it out by next friday. BUT!! instead. i present to you a lil snippet of next chapter <3

[battleslippers]

Going through Outsiders FFN is such a weird experience because I'll be looking through authors and fics and usually find a lot of people mentioned in eachother's works, giving the impression of an incredibly tight-nit community, yet today I don't think it's nearly as active. This likely sounds melodramatic, but it really does make me a little sad when I think about it, even though I wasn't around for a majority of FFN. If an author's catalogue went on for long enough you'd see people go from college student, to graduate, to mother of two, etc, etc. These glimpses turn out to be so jarring to me because then I remember they last posted years, maybe more than a decade ago. It's a massive time capsule that sort of feels you're walking alongside these people as you go through their writing when in reality you're only walking alongside some sort of apparition of the past.

[morangoowada]

The first chapter of my fanfic is officially here! Yippie! (Art to commemorate that I finally posted this damn thing)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52555021

[gingerpeachtea]

🦆 Anything from a MR! wip pls!! (If you are still doing this game)

YIPPIEEEE gladly!!! here is a quote from the wip that's closest to being done :) it doesn't have a title yet (none of them do oops)

“Oh, you truly don’t have to—” “I don’t mind. I want to,” Christian said, looking up at her with an adoration she couldn’t understand. He placed her shoes neatly beside each other beneath her vanity, where she always kept them. He was being awfully kind; she was almost afraid she didn’t deserve it.

(wip game of birds!!)

[chronickey-luka]

maybe i should just make a yakuza sideblog... i feel like ive kinda comitted to keeping it on main though w/ the amount of tag and post rambles I've done already. hmmm

[feralghxuls]

50 for the top songs playlist, any character!

hiiii thank you for sending this!! unfortunately, it is angst >:3

the song was Fake by I Prevail, and these are the lines that inspired this:

Dew storms out of yet another rehearsal, after snapping yet another set of strings. The strings for the Hagström just aren't as durable as his bass's had been. Particularly not under the extreme temperatures his fingers creep up to without his noticing. Barely a wisp of smoke and a few notes going flat as the strings heat and stretch, that's all the warning he gets before one more hard strum snaps them all in one go. 

Dew remembers snarling and shaking his hand out against the sting of six strings whipping all their tension into his skin; he remembers flinging the guitar somewhere, hearing something crash and a hot feeling of satisfaction; he remembers someone calling his name; he remembers raising a bleeding middle finger. 

He doesn't remember how he got here, to the roof beside the bell tower. He never used to go for heights like this, when he'd been a water ghoul. But after the transformation ritual, when emotions boil over, he just has this urge to go up and up and up. As high as he can get. Usually he ends up in a tree in the woods, which at first had been extremely disorienting. Coming out of a blurry haze of fury and finding himself swaying in the uppermost branches of a tree had been, to put it lightly, fucking terrifying. But at least the wood was good for sinking his claws into for a good grip, and if he scorched a few branches the clergy didn't dock it from his pay. 

Read the rest under the cut or on Ao3!

Here on the roof, though, the shingles are slick under his toes, and his claws scrape uselessly for purchase; he'd lost his shoes somewhere between the rehearsal room and here, which is a thought that makes his blood boil because it's just one more fucking thing.

He can't control his stupid element, he can't control his emotions, and the fucking clergy expects him to play nice with the Cardinal and all these new ghouls who seem intent on befriending him and he can't for the life of him fathom why. And then there's Aether, constantly trying to defend him and pick up his messes and Dew never asked him to do that and it just makes him feel worse, that someone else feels the need to apologize for him. 

And there's that stupid fucking water ghoul–

Rain's scent floods his senses a split second before he hears the scrape of a shoe on roof tiles. Dew snaps his teeth in Rain's direction and scrambles back, away, feeling a few shingles kick loose but he can't be bothered to care. He hasn't cooled off enough yet and the last ghoul he wants to see is Rain. 

When Dew is calm, he understands that Rain is only a pawn. He was summoned to the Ghost project just the same as everyone else, just following instructions; it's not Rain's fault that Dew's element was changed. 

Dew is not fucking calm. 

Rain can tell. He hangs back by the window, sitting on the ledge with one foot on the roof and the other still inside, head tilted slightly. Watching. Dew snarls louder. Rain lifts a hand, shows Dew's shoes dangling from his fingers. He tosses them across the roof at him, and Dew instinctually darts forward to catch them as they bounce and clatter across the slanted surface of the roof, knowing deep in his bones that it will feel like a horrible punch to the gut if he has to watch one of those shoes tumble over the edge of the roof. 

Both shoes safely in hand, Dew skitters back several feet, crouched with his weight on his heels and the shoes cradled against his chest. He glares ferociously at Rain, who's got both feet on the roof now, still sitting in the windowsill. Dew doesn't ask before he slams into Rain's thoughts, demanding, What the fuck do you want?

Rain doesn't even blink. He just looks at Dew, and that stupid head tilt is infuriating. Wanted to check on you, he says finally. 

Dew scoffs, huffing a puff of steam from his nose and baring his teeth at rain, ears pinned. I didn't ask you to do that, he snaps, tail lashing behind him. Rain's own tail hangs down from the window ledge, relaxed except for a slow, thoughtful flick of the end of it. 

No, he muses, standing and taking a step towards Dew. I wanted to.

Dew doesn't move. He refuses to give any more ground. Rain has a way of getting under his skin, even when he's riled up like this, of digging his claws into the cracks of his soul, but instead of breaking him open, he just…sits. And waits for Dew to put himself back together, and then Rain melts away. It's fucking infuriating. 

Do you like what you see? Dew snarls, unable to stand the silence or the way Rain is looking at him, his stupid face all calm and quiet. He hates that it's a little contagious. Are you having fun watching me fucking lose it?

No, Rain says again, brows drawing together. There's a very slight edge of distaste to his voice this time he says the word, and again he takes a step forward. And this time he keeps talking. I don't like when you're like this.

Then go. Go back to the pit, for all I care. Dew's voice is still harsh, but it's losing its edge. Despite his stubbornness, his insistence on staying in his black mood, Rain is rubbing off on him. 

No. The word is firm this time, accompanying another step. I'm helping you. I know you don't like it, but someone has to. And Aether–

Aether /what./ Dew snarls, cutting him off, furious and rising to his feet. Watch your fucking mouth, or I will crack your horns and send you back myself.

Rain just blinks at him, tail flicking mildly. Aether is exhausting himself.

Anger flares, then fades into sickening guilt that drops Dew's stomach into his toes, and then he doesn't know how to handle that so it boils right back into rage and he stalks across the roof towards Rain. I didn't ask him to do that either. That's not my fucking problem, and I'm sick of both of you, of your self-righteous shit. Neither of you really give a shit, do you? Just trying to keep the shitty peace. Fuck that fake shit.

By now, Dew is level with Rain, jabbing a claw into his chest as he rages at him, teeth bared and snarling and Rain just…absorbs it. Unbothered. Just like he always is. 

Yes, Dewdrop. Keeping the peace. That's all it is, Rain says, and an awful feeling spreads through Dew. Yes, he'd been saying hateful things, but a confirmation that they're true makes his lips part in shock and he actually takes a step back, ears relaxing slightly from pinned flat to a more hurt angle. And then Rain's tone sinks in, and he realizes there was sarcasm there, and bitter spite rises and he jerks forward, right back into Rain's space. Rain speaks before he can, though: Of course we care about you. If it was simply about keeping the peace, we would find a new fire ghoul. You're pack, Dew. I shouldn't have to tell you that we care.

Dew doesn't know what to do with that. It feels like the entire range of emotions he's capable of feeling are whirling through him at break-neck speed, and he's frozen, staring at Rain. Dew watches him tip his head two degrees to the side, dark eyes watching him, observing. He always knows just the right moment to go in for the kill, and he does it so swiftly that Dew doesn't have time to defend himself, and suddenly he finds himself bundled up in Rain's arms wound tightly around him. He goes stiff for a second, but he's weak to the way Rain holds him, with surprising strength in those arms, compressing him with enough force that he comes undone every time. He melts, all his emotions seeping out of him and leaving him trembling in Rain's arms, his face pressed into the crook of his neck. He hates this. He needs it. He doesn't understand it. 

Rain seems to, though, and he always somehow knows the exact moment he needs to ease up and let Dew stand on his own before he gets restless and the whole process has to start over. Rain steps back, eyes on Dew, who feels impossibly raw, but he nods at Rain and averts his gaze. It's as close as he can stand to expressing gratitude, to telling Rain he's no longer on the brink of completely losing his shit. So Rain gives him this secret little smile and turns to head back across the roof, trusting that Dew will follow him. 

And he does.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream &lt;;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams &lt;;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[chopprface]

dinobots design is basically finished i gotta make one for depth charge too though... luckily i have a few days cause i dont have an ao3 account for some reason, then ill probably start posting segments of the story (AS SOON AS I FIGURE OUT HOW THE FUCK POSTING ON AO3 WORKS.......)

extra stuff below here like doodles and design notes incase that interests anyone (also yapfest i apologize)

heres the sidequests btw... incase anyone wanted to see those... theyre mildly silly i feel goofy making such an edgy au like this lmfao

also the notes i added!! transcribed cause my handwriting is AWFUL - grimlock esque faceplate (also kinda reminds me of cybershark!) - utahraptor altmode to match how utterly huge he is (i did NOT reference utahraptors very hard i apologize to the dinosaur lovers out there) im imagining his size is around normal human size in regular show universe but hes like comfortably over 10ft i could go into a LONG tangent about bw heights but thats for another post.

extra stuff cause idk if ive posted it here! essentially the au im working on is one where dinobot takes on rampage's role. his relationship with depthcharge is something ill get into in the fic im writing but it goes deeper than purely omicron. oh yeah to clarify dinobot ISNT protoform X. dinobots spark is fused with rampages spark (which is why hes so big in this au, cause his body has to manage the energy of two sparks one of which is highly volatile) unfortunately i must stop myself before i spoil the entire au.. i hope this is vague enough to keep anyone reading intrigued enough to follow me for info on the fic...

[wrathofrats]

That posts just got me thinking about Swiss going into heat with Phantom in his bed. They're still new to the sexual side to their relationship but Phantom would do anything to help the pathetic whining ghoul next to him, even if it means trying out a lot of new kinks he's never even thought about

I got carried away as usual are we surprised.

Sorry this took like … 6 months HAHAH

Forgive My Reasons And What I Can’t Disguise.

Swiss/phantom, 2k, explicit

Read below or on ao3!

Warnings for: dubious consent, dollification, objectification, heat, knotting, sensory deprivation, i made it fucking weird as usual.

Or swiss goes into heat, phantom gets himself in more hot water than he can probably handle.

Phantoms shirt was soaked. The body underneath him radiating heat he only thought possible by a fire ghoul.

Swiss still hadn’t woken up, his skin was shiny with his own sweat, likely the cause for the dark splotches on phantoms shirt. His breathing was heavier than usual, the up and down motion of his chest likely the cause of phantom waking up at an hour he is sure is supposed to be illegal. Oh, and the heat. The waves of heat that are almost suffocating.

“Swiss, swiss” phantom grabbed his shoulders and shook. Swiss was never one to wake up easily, he was sure that they could downright bomb the building and swiss would be none the wiser. It was useless, and considering the state he’s in phantom doesn’t know if he truly has time to mess around with trying to wake him gently.

Could he be sick? Did they catch some human illness at mass? The siblings were cesspools of diseases unknown to the ghouls, they would come in to the infirmary constantly with things that truly sounded demonic in nature. Bronchitis, gonorrhea, hell he’s surprised they didn’t just start naming the common cold asmodeus.

That wasn’t the point though. Phantoms finger sparked with a small purple bolt of electricity before placing it against Swiss’ temple. An old quintessence trick, nothing to hurt whoever it was, but it was enough to jump them out of their sleep.

Swiss shook, eyes flying open while his breathing only got heavier, he gave phantom a confused look before taking in the state they were both in. Phantoms shirt clinging to him with sweat and swiss practically dripping with his own. He felt a sharp tug in his stomach, before throwing his arm over his face with a groan.

“Are you ok? Are you sick? I can call aeth-“

“I’m in heat bug” swiss sighed. “Thought I had more time but clearly I was very wrong, otherwise I would’ve locked myself in mountains room for the night”

The pit of worry in phantoms chest melted into a feeling of arousal, something needy. He’d never been able to help another ghoul with their heat, only really knowing that it’s happening when he asks where someone is just to hear banging on the walls and growling from another ghouls room. Locked away to do who knows what in order to quell the animalistic need.

Swiss started to get up, throwing the suffocating blankets to the side in order to stand in the middle of the room instead of in the bed, which seemed to only make the warmth worse.

“Sorry about this phantom, I’m going to head to dews room and see if I can get it to go away anytime soon” swiss threw on a shirt that was laying on the floor, shaking out his locs and throwing them up into a loose bun in an attempt to cool down his face and neck.

“Wait” phantom scrambled out of bed “you don’t have to go, I can help you”

“Bug it’s a lot more intense than you’re thinking, it’s hard to control myself, I don’t want to hurt you or scare you off” swiss was practically panting by now, his sweatpants tented obscenely and were slung low around his hips. His hands clenched at his sides, he was getting desperate, about to snap if he couldn’t fuck out his heat as soon as possible.

“Please scare me, show me how to handle your heat, use me” phantom nearly begged. Swiss didn’t need much convincing, his heat already clouding his judgment. On any other day he would’ve taken it slow, explained to phantom exactly what was going to happen. But in a state like this? After phantom told him to scare him? It’s hard to keep a calm demeanor.

Swiss just nods, not trusting himself to actually speak without biting. He backs phantom up against the bed, phantoms legs spreading for swiss to stand in between. He grabs his hips, simply staring at his thighs with small, tight boxers being the only thing covering him. He looked small in Swiss’ grip. There was a pause in their movements while swiss tried to maintain composure. With dew he could easily bend the little thing over and take as he pleased, but with phantom? Part of him still worries. New and not used to how hard some of the others play.

But his need only grows. The fire in him only getting worse as he tries to stave it off.

“Tell me again. Tell me that you want this again. Tell me to scare you phantom” swiss practically growls.

“Break me swiss, I’m yours to use”

Swiss pushes against him hard, forcing him up the bed to lay on the pillows. He doesn’t waste any time pulling the clothes off of him, ridding him of his still wet shirt and boxers, watching as his cock rapidly thickens as swiss strips him.

His hand immediately grabbed at his neck, forcing his head back. He can feel Swiss’s breath on his skin. It feels predatory, the heavy breathing and sharp teeth so close to his jugular that a part of him truly is afraid, especially after swiss warned him he couldn’t control himself.

“Don’t think you know what you’ve done bug” swiss chuckled lowly into phantoms ear. “Won’t be able to stop myself from fucking ruining you now, gonna just turn you into a sex doll”

Phantom whimpered, pulling his head further to the side to expose the skin more, invite swiss to take what he needs. As his eyes close he felt the ghoul on top of him shift, rummaging through his bedside drawer.

Before he can open his eyes they’re covered with a soft black cloth, completely shielding his vision.

“Uh, swiss?” Phantoms voice shook. It was a weird feeling, he was used to being in tune with everything at all times. Quintessence making him sensitive to any change in the air. But without his vision? It feels weird, he knows he can’t be in control but this is a different level of loss that makes him actually fearful.

“Said your mine to use right? Don’t need to see anything. Just gotta stay still”

“Yeah I- if that’s what you want” swiss didn’t want to admit how much the fear in phantoms voice turned him on, a horrible part of him relishing in the control and power he feels from it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you relax doll”

A spark of quintessence jolted through phantoms nerves. He quickly realized he could no longer move, couldn’t shake his head, couldn’t lift a finger, couldn’t even speak. could only lay still and wait.

There was a small nudge in his brain, another bit of quintessence used to communicate. Quints were known to be able to talk to each other with their magic, and although swiss had a much weaker grasp, there was still the necessary sense of safety knowing if he needed to safe word he easily could, and he knew those were Swiss’ intentions.

He trusted him. Phantom just kept having to repeat that he trusted him. The hands on his body felt tenfold what the usually do without being able to see them. His cock kicked on his stomach, a small bit of liquid dribbling onto his stomach. It was almost embarrassing how hard he was given the circumstances, he should be afraid, he shouldn’t be into this, but he’s so hard it almost hurts. Swiss still wasn’t moving, and phantom realized that being able to take away phantoms ability to see and move was arousing enough to keep swiss under control of himself, even if just for a bit. He was getting off to phantom being a doll.

“Could just keep you like forever bug, let everyone use you to fuck out their heats, do whatever depraved things I know they’ve been dying to do to you. And you’d just let them wouldn’t you?” Phantom couldn’t nod, couldn’t protest, couldn’t respond. “That’s a good doll. Knew you wanted it.” Swiss laughed at the lack of response.

Two fingers prodded at phantoms hole. They were slightly slick, likely hastily licked by swiss in order to provide just a little glide. The intrusion still burned, thick and hasty, barely even for phantom comfort, more just so swiss knows he will fit.

“Sweet little thing. You almost feel real” swiss added another finger, spreading them wide to watch as phantoms hole stretched around them.

Phantoms skin felt like it was static, like he truly may be made of plastic. The fingers in him not even trying to give him any pleasure, more just an uncomfortable intrusion than swiss trying to get him off as well.

But phantom wasn’t supposed to get off. He was a toy. Silicone and nothing more according to swiss.

He could hear the rustling of clothing, a sign Swiss was actually about to fucking him properly. The smell of need from the both invaded his senses, made his already fuzzy head even more dizzy with the need to be used.

It hurt. Swiss was too big and it hurt. He barely fit, slowing sinking into him and only waiting for it to stop being borderline uncomfortably tight.

“You’d think you’d have more give, good thing I don’t have to worry about hurting you do I?” The talking felt like swiss was mocking him. Solidifying the fact that he couldn’t do anything like this.

After a minute or two swiss pulled out slowly, before slamming back into him. “Forgot I just gotta force you to stretch out. Silly me”

Phantom truly felt like a rag doll, the only sense of stability being where swiss held his hips in place. The rest of his body simply moved as swiss pleased, shaking with the force of his thrusts instead of being able to grab something to keep him on solid ground.

Once he adjusted the burning feeling melted into pleasure, Swiss rammed into his prostate, holding his hips up against him to get as deep as he possibly could. It felt amazing, the lack of sight and movement only heightening the simulation.

He wanted to beg, sob even. Needed swiss to touch him properly. He felt so close to the edge without even the relief of knowing he will finally get off because he truly doesn’t know what swiss is going to do to him.

There was swelling at the base of Swiss’ cock as it continued to pound into him. He was going to knot him, phantom should’ve known that this is how you break a heat but it still scared him. He couldn’t see how big it was, could only hope it was at least relatively painless.

“Gonna get you stuck on me, tear you open so no one else will fit. Make you fucking mine” swiss gave a final thrust before it finally popped into him with a sickening squelch. It didn’t hurt but god he felt overwhelmingly full, like he was going to fucking bust open if swiss moved at all.

He heard panting above him, Swiss’ hands soothing up and down his hips.

The blindfold was delicately removed, and swiss slowly used his magic to bring phantom back to.

“Fuck you’re so good to me bug, are you alright?” He breathed

“Yeah, m fine” phantoms brain felt like soup, like it could leak out of his ears.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, I liked it, like that I made a good toy for you” phantom gave swiss a sleepy smile. He was worn out, the given control back making him realized how sore his muscles are.

“Can I finish you off baby bat? Let me make you feel good?” Phantom just nodded. He squirmed under Swiss’ hand on his cock, sensitive and overwhelming after being used. His fist took up most of it, cute and sticky, flushed a deep red. It didn’t take much, just a couple strokes before phantom came along his torso with a pained whimper.

“There you go baby, my sweet lovebug”

[lostloveletters]

All That Heaven Will Allow (John Brady x OC)

Summary:  We’ll fill this house with all the love / all that heaven will allow (AO3 link)

Note: This literally wouldn’t exist without @karasnonsense99, Woody and Brady’s biggest hypewoman and someone I’m so grateful to call a friend. This is the visual reference for the dad!Brady vibes that almost made me feel ill. So. Title comes from the Bruce Springsteen song which should surprise no one. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None besides some inevitable inaccuracies.

“I’m glad we skipped the parade this year, it’s too hot out for her,” Woody said. She laid the newspaper she’d been fanning herself with on the kitchen table, watching adoringly as John cradled the baby in his arms, allowing her to wrap her chubby hand around one of his fingers.

“She’s only two months old. How has she gotten so big already?”

Woody folded her arms over her sensitive chest, her lips twitching up in a smile. “Guess.”

John grinned, nuzzling his nose into their infant daughter’s squishy cheek. “She’s got a healthy appetite.”

If Woody wasn’t sure she could fall any more in love with her husband, the day their daughter was born made her feel like Cupid got her straight in the heart. 

It’d been almost a year since she told John she was finally ready to have kids. For all of his prior eagerness, she thought he was a lunatic when he suggested they plan it. ‘So he’ll be born in the summer, when I can be home with you,’ he had said earnestly. Except he was a she, and she was born at the end of April, a Taurus who had her parents’ hearts wrapped around her tiny finger the moment she wailed at the world.

Happy, healthy, nothing short of perfect, they brought her home, and Woody felt relieved that the nurturing, maternal instinct that passed over her own mother was alive and well in her. 

John wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed their first child was a girl. He’d sing to her, make up soft, sweet little songs about Samantha, bounce her in his arms with the rhythm that came so naturally to him until her cries turned into bubbling laughter. The corners of his eyes would crinkle at the sound, and he’d start laughing too. Woody might as well have been in heaven.

Her parents never sang to her as a child. Stale air and empty silence composed the soundtrack of the Woodward residence—hardly a house, certainly never a home. A place where people slept and breathed and moved around but didn’t live.

It’d taken getting used to, being in a place that felt so warm and alive, love radiating from the floral wallpaper John’s brother helped them put up one weekend, the couch his mother bought for them when Woolworth’s was having a sale, the piano they found on a curb one afternoon and spent weeks fixing up until she could hear the sound of John playing from the other side of the house.

“The fireworks are gonna start soon,” Woody said, glancing at the clock on the wall, a wedding gift from one of his cousins.

He nodded, standing up from the kitchen table and passing Sammy to her mother. “I’ll throw the blanket over Blue’s cage and get some music playing.”

Out of all the pets they could’ve gotten, a parakeet probably wouldn’t have made anyone’s list. Upon moving into their first house, John graciously agreed that pet ownership could serve as the test run to assuage Woody’s fear of motherhood, specifically whether or not she even had the emotional capacity to care for something that relied on her so heavily to survive. Blue—a temporary name which ended up being not so temporary—fit right in with their noisy household. Whistled and chirped along to John’s music, and picked up an expletive or two from Woody, which was funny until Sammy came along.

The Fourth of July marked a little over two months since she’d given birth to Samantha Brady, and Woody no longer felt like the other shoe was going to drop and motherhood would end up being some big mistake she couldn’t handle. It certainly wasn’t easy. Woody worked at the garage as long as she physically could during the pregnancy, and John taught private music lessons after school and during the summer to make up for the gap in their income. Even then, the belt tightening meant less things like going to the movies or out to dinner, hardly feasible with an infant, anyway.

Typically, the parade in town started early to avoid the worst of the heat before it settled in, but she and John would end up spending so much time talking to other couples and families, people from their parish that they’d run into, both of them would be sweating by the time they got home in the afternoon. It was one of few holidays they didn’t join his family for, despite one of his uncles hosting what Woody had heard was one hell of a barbecue. 

Fireworks were a crapshoot, generally unwelcome on the Fourth, and the odd ones New Year’s Eve. Loud music and a little alcohol ended up being the solution, a house party for two, though adding a baby into the equation made their tried and true method more uncertain.

He joined them in the living room, having successfully tricked the parakeet into thinking night had already fallen. The first few times they’d done so, Woody felt bad for the poor bird, but she supposed there would be things she’d lie to Samantha about too, like Santa Claus and transubstantiation. 

“Alright Sammy, first song of the evening’s your pick,” he said, holding up three singles from their impressive record collection. It seemed silly at first, working that into their budget, but John’s students were always bringing up new music, and he liked to be in the know, found it easier to teach them songs they were interested in learning.

Sammy vaguely kicked toward one of the singles.

“What’d she choose?” he asked.

“The Louis Prima one.”

“Interesting.”

“She probably likes it because of the sleeve,” she said. “It’s bright blue and the other two are just plain.”

“She’s developing her own taste already.”

Woody laughed. “Just put the song on, Johnny.”

He did, dropping the needle on the 45 and taking her free hand to pull her in for a kiss. 

Two hours, half a dozen singles and LPs, and a diaper change later, the only indication of the fireworks outside had been the faint flashing through the curtains, hardly noticeable among their raging party of three. 

John declared a break after finishing his second glass of whiskey and leading a tango Woody practically tripped through, but she was absolutely thrilled when he dipped her at the end of the song and gave her a kiss. The break turned into him dozing off on the couch just before the roaring Latin record ended.

Woody switched over to the radio, setting the volume loud enough to drown out any fireworks, and took Sammy into her arms.

Slipping outside, she held the baby close as they watched the night sky light up red, white, and blue from the backyard. Sammy squealed when the first firework burst, her big eyes sparkling as the falling embers faded in the distance. She threw her little hands around in excitement until tugging on a thick lock of Woody’s hair.

“I know, baby. Aren’t they pretty?” Woody cooed. Her gaze was glued to the sky as the next few fireworks went off. “That’s where you came from, straight out of the sky to save me, just like your daddy,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose into her daughter’s wispy hair.

She pressed a kiss to her cheek and nearly laughed when she saw that Sammy was asleep. After watching one more firework go off, she went back inside. Unlike their daughter, John stirred awake when the back door closed.

“There you are,” he mumbled.

“Would you believe she fell asleep out there?” Woody said, her voice carrying softly over the sound of the radio.

He yawned, sitting up as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I can believe it.”

“No, you stay. I’ll put her up and be right back.”

“Not without letting me give her a kiss goodnight.”

Woody easily conceded, a small smile on her face as John kissed Sammy’s forehead. 

She brought Sammy into her room, carefully placing her in her crib. There had been plenty of sleepless nights since the baby had been born, Woody taking on the bulk of them since she wasn’t working, but sometimes, John couldn’t sleep anyway, and the following morning she’d find him asleep in the armchair in the living room, baby in his arms and the radio playing low. When she’d wake him up to take Samantha, she tried to make sure coffee was already brewing—it was one of few things in the kitchen she could do well.

When she returned to the living room, he had his pipe between his lips, smoke slowly rising above his head.

“She doing okay?” he asked.

He reached out for her, and when she put her hand in his, he pulled her onto his lap. Her laughter mixed with a shriek of shock, a joyous howl that pierced the air as she situated herself. She glanced toward the stairs, and hearing nothing from their daughter, said, ���Absolutely perfect,” and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How about you?”

“Couldn’t be better,” he said. “Beautiful wife, healthy daughter, and a bird that knows how to whistle along to ‘When the Saints Come Marching In.’”

“Really though, you’re good?”

“Yeah, I am, sweetheart.” He was silent for a few moments as he puffed on his pipe. “She was worth the wait.”

“So were you. I didn’t know I could be this happy.”

He smiled. “Me either.”

[triforce-of-mischief]

When You're Ready

Summary: A portal drops the Chain in the middle of a quarantine zone, where they are required to receive vaccinations in order to proceed. Warriors doesn't want Legend to go ahead until he's mentally prepared.

Warnings: trypanophobic character, needles

Words: 1040

AO3

Please reblog to show your support! Likes do nothing.

Legend didn’t take the news well.

When they reached the edge of what turned out to be a quarantine, the guards posted there informed them that they would not be allowed to pass until they were vaccinated against the illness that the portal had already exposed them to. Warriors flinched at Legend’s outburst, at the harsh threats shouted at the bewildered strangers. Before he could step forward, Time was there, a firm hand clasped on the teen’s shoulder.

“Legend,” Time said quietly. “Leave them be. It’s not their fault.”

Legend froze instantly, shrugging himself free and nervously backing away from the stares of the younger heroes who didn’t really understand. Warriors intercepted him, wrapping his scarf around him like a shield.

“We need time to consider it,” Warriors said. “Is there somewhere we can sit?”

They were led to a small room, sparsely decorated with a few chairs and couches. The rest of the chain were filed, one by one, through a door in the far wall. Warriors spoke privately with Time and Sky, then joined Legend on a couch where he was hugging Four. The elder heroes left, then Four with Twilight, and Warriors and Legend were alone.

Legend stared unseeing at the floor, and Warriors didn’t have to touch him to know that he was shaking. Legend reached for his hand, and Warriors took it.

“Do we have to go now?” Legend asked, his voice painfully small.

Warriors squeezed his hand. “Not if you’re not ready.”

Legend shook his head, letting his hair shroud his eyes.

“If it helps,” Warriors said, “Sky offered to learn how. If it would be easier, to have someone you know and trust…”

Like that day in the med tent, Warriors himself an island in a sea of strangers.

Legend thought for a few minutes, and Warriors patiently let him. “Y… yeah. I don’t- if Sky can-”

“He can,” Warriors gently confirmed.

“Does… does that mean we have to go now?”

“Not until you’re ready.”

They sat for a while longer, and Warriors tried to talk him through some of the breathing exercises they had practiced during calmer moments. Legend grew fidgety, but Warriors thought that was better than shock.

“W-what if we wait here too long? Won’t you get hungry?” Legend asked once, and Warriors was prepared.

“If I do, Time can sit with you instead. You can take as long as you need to, bud.”

Soon after that, Sky opened the door. Legend nearly jumped out of his skin, pressing against Warriors’ side, and Sky gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you think you’ll be ready soon…?”

Warriors expected Legend to shake his head vehemently, and prepared for another long wait. He was surprised, almost unpleasantly so, when Legend glanced at him before speaking.

“Y-yeah. I’m… ready.”

He didn’t sound ready in the slighest, but Warriors knew that the freedom of consent went both ways. He stood and waited for Legend to follow, pretending to ignore how the teen immediately leaned his full body weight against him.

“Come on then,” Sky said with a kind smile, and Warriors could hear a whine building in Legend’s throat as they walked to the next room.

He squeezed Legend’s hand, a silent question.

Legend squeezed back and didn’t stop.

Much like the med tent, the room was rudimentary and simple. Sky showed them to a low cot, probably for ill patients, that could easily fit Legend and Warriors beside each other. Legend knew what to do; he didn’t look at the medical tools and he hid his face against Warriors’ shoulder as soon as they sat down. His hands hesitantly reached out as his voice was muffled in the captain’s scarf.

“Wars, can you-”

“Yeah, bud,” Warriors breathed, and pulled him into a loose hug. Not tight enough that Legend felt restrained, but close enough that he could find comfort in his warmth. Warriors breathed, slow and steady, and felt Legend mimic him as Sky silently brought the tools closer.

Legend whined as Sky pushed his sleeve up, and Warriors hummed reassuringly. “He’s just going to clean your arm, Lege, you’re okay.”

Legend’s nails dug into Warriors’ own arm, but he didn’t ask Sky to stop.

“Keep breathing with me,” Warriors said as Sky picked up the syringe. “You’re doing so well. Deep breath in, deep breath out…”

Legend still didn’t react, right up until the needle pierced his arm. His measured exhale was interrupted by a sharp, high scream, and pleas that came too fast for Warriors to respond. “Wars- Wars, WARS!”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re all done,” Warriors said, because he already was. Sky had been fast, and he hid the syringe and bandaged Legend’s arm as Warriors continued his reassurances. “You did it, Lege, I’m so proud of you for being brave.”

Legend only sobbed harder, pressing into Warriors like he hoped he could disappear. Warriors rubbed Legend’s back, repeating his soothing words, and looked up when Sky walked to the other side of the room. The knight retrieved a glass of water and brought it over, waiting patiently for a calm in Legend’s crying.

“Here, Legend,” Sky said when the teen pulled away to gasp for breath. “Can you drink this for me?”

Legend let Sky press the glass into his hands, and Warriors held it steady as he drank. Legend’s tears slowed, and he swallowed hard as he lowered the glass from his mouth. He hiccuped, swallowing a few more times before he could speak.

“Sssorry… I- I wanted to be brave but I wasn’t…” Legend whimpered, and Warriors felt his heart break for the kid he was trying so hard to help.

“You were brave, Legend. You were so brave,” Warriors said, letting Legend collapse against him once more. “You found courage because of your fear, not despite of it. You know that better than any of us.”

“That’s right,” Sky agreed. “None of us expected this, but you still had the strength to get through it. We don’t think less of you for needing a little more time.”

Legend sniffled, his voice small against Warriors’ chest. “Do we have to go to the others now?”

“Not yet,” Warriors promised. “Not until you’re ready.”

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 35

Lady Luck by My Side

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10.2k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Luck Be a Lady (Dezio Rezio) ~ The Atomic Beat Ranchers | Feel So Numb ~ Rob Zombie

Summary: Buggy deals with your heavy words, while Crocodile and Mihawk fight for you in their own, desperate ways. You are making the best of your situation, and if you could avoid your uncle's wicked words, you might even end up enjoying yourself. If you're lucky, of course.

Ch. 34 Recap: I've decided to put the recap directly below the cut in case anyone sees this post before getting to the last chapter. It's a bit more detailed than usual, and I vehemently detest spoilers. I refuse to watch trailers for movies I plan to watch 😂 I don't even like writing summaries, so I keep them vague. Hope you don't mind!

Author's Note: I have missed y'all so very much, I can't begin to describe 😭💜 I won't get into my disappearing act here, but I'll share some details below the chapter if you're interested, and I'll probably make a life update post about it later. Now that I finally have the time, energy, and health, to write again, I just want to write Numbers Game!

Dark Content Warning: Dark Content is bracketed with ~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~ and summaries are bracketed with ~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~ directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scenes. Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness, episodes, treatment, or neglect could be triggering for you.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if mental illness treatment, doctors, or panic attacks, might be triggering for you.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Chapter 34 Recap: You struggled with your varied feelings for the hunters that fought for the chance to be your owner, surprised that you didn't hate them all. You discovered that Fukaboshi was a truly good man who knew that you'd be sending him away soon, and that Katakuri was far sweeter than he looked.

Mihawk discovered that his little rabbit's plight was being broadcast beyond the Oak Roots Estate, and his rage made him dirty his blade.

Former member's of Baroque Works, Zala and Marianne, reported back from Dr. Vorsan's asylum. Buggy fought against it at first, but Crocodile begged to watch the encrypted recordings they had found so that he could help his sweet girl. He saw her at fifteen years old, being restrained and drugged in that asylum after her father passed, and he demanded to see the next recording.

You lied to your sister about your feelings toward the Cross Guild, telling her that they were monsters, and you never wanted to see them again. You wanted to make her happy, so you'd keep up your smile, just like you had for your dad when you were little. You would pretend for her.

Chapter 35 ~ Lady Luck by My Side

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Had it been hours? Years since he’d started watching? 

There was nothing but the tears in her eyes, nothing but the futile sobs he could do nothing to stop. 

‘Let me see my sister!’

‘Sweetie, you’re not ready yet. You need to get well first.’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m not sick, mom,’ his sweet girl begged, strapped to a table while her mother stood too far back to comfort her. ‘Just let me see Kitty, please. I need to see her. ‘

‘You need to focus on getting better,’ Delaine’s voice shifted, expertly condescending with a loving tone. 

Crocodile did not fucking like this woman. 

‘Sweetie, do you remember what happened? Do you remember what you did,’ Delaine prodded. Y/N’s face crumpled, sobbing while her worthless mother stood in silence.

‘It was an accident,” the fifteen-year-old girl pleaded while she struggled against her restraints.

‘I found you with that snail, Y/N, and I’m certain you would have killed the poor thing if I hadn’t found you when I did,’ Delaine scolded. Crocodile was going to gut this bitch for making her daughter cry like this. ‘I’m just grateful that it was me, I can’t imagine how your... It’s not your fault, of course. Arbo was always selfish, and now he’s made you sick. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s just not safe for Kathryn to be around you until you get well.’

‘Please, mom. Please listen to me,’ she whimpered, her body going weak, trembling. 

‘Just listen to the doctor, alright? I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but you’re sick, honey. You need to— ‘

‘I need you to fucking LISTEN!’

Delaine froze for a moment before turning away, heading toward the door. She walked closer to the cam-snail on her way out, and her eyes looked way too fucking dry. 

Crocodile’s rage-filled thoughts were swept away by that young girl’s screams. 

‘Mom, please, don’t leave me! Don’t let them— ‘

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

~~~

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

The scene above is from Crocodile’s POV while he watched a recording of the reader in the asylum when she was fifteen. 

Her mother, Delaine, was present, and the reader stated that she wasn’t sick, and begged to see her little sister. 

Delaine replied that it wasn’t safe for Kathryn to see her until she was well again and asked if the reader recalled what she did to the snail. The reader said that it was an accident, and asked Delaine to listen. 

Delaine stated that she thought the reader would have killed the snail if Delaine hadn’t found her in time, and blamed Arbo’s selfishness for making the reader sick. She denied the reader's request again. 

The reader yelled for her mother to listen, however, Delaine walked out, and Crocodile felt rage for how dry her eyes were. The reader screamed for her mother not to leave her, not to let them– (the last line cut off).

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

~~~

Y/N’s cries were cut short, the image of her teary face going blurry before the transmission cut out completely. 

Crocodile had already destroyed all the furniture, so he crawled through the debris toward the smaller snail, answering the call before he had time to make it. 

“Sir— “

“Finish the recording,” he threatened. “It wasn’t done, send it again.”

“The white snail passed out, sir,” Zala reported, her voice shaking almost as much as his fist. “I think that was too much for it all at once. It needs time to recover before we can send any more encrypted data.”

Crocodile could hear his teeth grinding together, but he kept still enough to speak a few words.

“Make sure it’s ready tomorrow.”

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy felt somehow empty, and too full at the same time. His mind was too full of those vicious words his star had hissed, too full of fear and guilt over what to do about them. 

“Secrets keep fucking shit up,” the clown murmured, pacing again. 

It was just a lie. Star was lying to her sister.

It had been some damn good acting though, and Buggy hated the doubts it stirred in him. He couldn’t stuff them down. 

I know she loves me, but could she really hate them? I could have sworn she… 

Why ya gotta be such a good actor, baby? 

Or maybe I’m just the selfish piece of shit that didn’t listen. I was too fucking distracted by that shithead. I wasn’t paying attention to you, Star, I just—

He gave a light yelp when the snail interrupted the constant beat of her heart, grateful to be distracted now while he floated toward Crocodile’s desk. 

“Howdy,” Buggy coughed, perking up at the low chuckle that greeted him. 

“Hello, little clown.”

“What’s up, crybaby?”

Mihawk’s voice sent chills across his skin, but all the clown could think about were those hateful words.

Murderers.

Monsters.

“Is that Crocodile,” the swordsman asked after a particularly loud crash echoed down the hall. “I have some news to report.”

“He’s watching…”

“Is he watching the feed?”

Now Mihawk’s voice chilled his blood.

“What feed?”

“I’m handling it,” his new lover tried and failed to soothe him. “Why don’t you two call me in the morning? I need to find a new room for the night anyway.”

“Why do you need— “

“How is she?”

Mihawk’s voice cracked just a bit, his desperation pushing through the relaxed front he’d clearly been holding up. 

“Same. Finally sleeping,” Buggy rasped, clenching his eyes shut at the spike of a headache. “I’m gonna read my notes again, I think she said something…  Crocodile might have something too, so we’ll call you tomorrow.”

…

“Mihawk?”

“You’ll tell me if she’s being hurt?”

“Yeah, I said I would.”

“And you’ll call me if she says she doesn’t want to be there? I don’t care if she whispers it in her sleep, Buggy, I’ll get her out. If she gives even the slightest opening, you’ll call me?”

…

“Bug— “

“Of course I will,” Buggy promised. It wasn’t a lie. 

“Thank you. Get some rest, little clown.”

“You too, crybaby.”

Buggy stared blankly at the snail after the call until the near constant crashing and yelling down the corridor got louder. And closer. 

His feet followed as fast as they could, but the rest of him charged into the banquet hall in time to see the terrifying sight of Sir Crocodile’s rage. The door to the conference room had been ripped off its hinges, and Buggy was caught in the other doorway, the urge to run held back only by the horror of what that frightening man might have seen.

Star… 

Crocodile was alternating between smashing through tables and chairs with his hook, and draining them with his hand, leaving waves of splinters and sand to spill across the gleaming floor.

Until he made it to the head table. 

“Hey boss, you really gonna wreck the best table in this shithole?” 

Buggy had floated his upper body slightly above the other man’s head. He wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in between Crocodile and his fury, no matter how many memories that table held.

The clown almost fell from the air when those frantic, silver eyes met his. 

“Is she still crying?”

“N-no… She’s sleeping.”

Crocodile fell to his knees, the tears on his scarred face slow and unsteady, as though they’d never traveled there before. Buggy brought himself together and did what he knew had to be a stupid thing. 

He hugged the raging man, embracing this villain that had destroyed so much.

“I can’t… can’t leave her there, Buggy,” Crocodile panted into the crook of his neck. He nearly brought the clown to the floor with the amount of weight he rested on him.  

“Don’t worry,” Buggy strained through his hold, “we’ve got her.”

The larger man crushed him against his chest, sucking down his tears before he started to offer comfort instead of taking it. Buggy made a show of accepting that comfort, knowing that he’d never be a better actor than his shining star. 

Can’t tell ‘em. Can’t risk it. 

The image of Crocodile and Mihawk collapsing in defeat at the party after Y/N had thrown her cruel words burned through his mind.  

I know you’re lying, baby. You’re just a good actor. 

Don’t wanna distract these idiots. They don’t know you like I do. 

He tried to let go of his guilt, but those words played on a loop. 

‘I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again.’

It wasn’t true. 

It was a lie. 

Buggy knew it was a lie.

It was a lie. Right, baby? 

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The other men pushed and shoved each other when the scavenger hunt began, but Shanks had to hold himself back from the race. This one wouldn’t win him another date, and close contact with the other suitors had been pushing his self-control to its limit.

He’d always been able to let insults slide when it came to himself, when it was only words, but Shanks couldn’t recall this suffocating feeling.

This entire hunt was an insult, a torture made just for Y/N, and everyone here was having a lovely time using her. 

Shanks could feel himself about to snap, and only his surety that it wouldn’t help her stayed his hand. 

She couldn’t show her own rage, and it would be stupid and selfish to show his.

So, the red haired pirate sat this hunt out, staring at the old man that had weaseled his way beside her.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

What was the theme today? Creating love? Finding my heart? Uncle really should have hired a showrunner for this shit. 

By gods, you were bored. And having “Gibby” at your side was only making your condition worse. 

“These young bucks sure do like to show off,” he teased, leaning his bony shoulder against yours, the scent of whiskey nearly knocking you out. “But I know what a sharp girl like you craves.”

“And what’s that, Gibby,” you flirted. 

It would be so easy to kill him, wouldn’t it? Just a good punch to the throat would probably end this old man. But that would be it. So many eyes… He’s not worth it. 

“A challenge of course,” he announced as though revealing a delightful trick. “You want to use your talents. All these little boys want is a little wife.”

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “and what do you want?”

The creep pinched your cheek. Even with your renewed determination, pretending was fucking rough. 

“I want Lady Luck by my side, of course.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

How many… Do lives or liters of blood count for more? Those lives are nothing but—

“Mihawk?”

“I’m here.”

Crocodile’s voice was off. If not for his trained sense of hearing, Mihawk would have believed that voice belonged to someone else. 

But it was him. His daddy. His brutal business partner that was too sweet on their former victims. 

“You go first, crybaby,” Buggy threatened, bringing a tiny smile to the swordsman’s lips. 

“Sylvad’s little game has an illegal broadcast,” Mihawk shared lightly, pretending it was fine. “Underground gambling rings are holding showings every night for an impressive fee. The show appears to be isolated to the surrounding island kingdoms, but that’s probably wishful thinking.”

The silence was torturous for them all, holding nothing but impotent rage. 

Mihawk stretched his neck, removing his hat to keep it from scraping against the dusty walls. He’d found a lovely, little shed to lie in wait in until his prey were all lined up. 

“I’ll be attending a showing tonight, so I should be able to watch the hunt. I’ll study the layout, and hopefully I’ll see something that you aren’t able to hear.”

“So, we’re all spying on her now,” Buggy sighed. The sound was so animated; Mihawk could see those shoulders slumping in his mind. 

He didn’t know when he’d gotten so used to these men in his life. 

“Wait,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “Crocodile, if you weren’t watching the feed last night, what were you watching?”

“He can’t tell us,” Buggy said, his voice gentle, but pained. “Recordings of Y/N at the asylum. Croc’s poky, lady agent, and the scary, little girl nicked them for us. “

Mihawk’s blood froze in his veins as the memory of her flashed in his mind. His rabbit had looked so beautiful that last day. Beautiful, but wrong. 

“Crocodile?”

…

“Can you tell us anything yet, boss? Daddy?”

“Just a kill list,” Crocodile rasped, and Mihawk realized what that tone in his voice was. 

Despair. 

“I haven’t finished watching yet. Just waiting on the snail. She wouldn't want me to hurt the snail…”

“Okie dokie,” Buggy loudly redirected, the sound of awkward pats coming through. “Star said something to her sister when she was crying last night. I think Asshole Charmer was right, she’s trying to protect Kat from something.”

“What did— “

“She said, ‘I left you,” Buggy rushed before either man finished asking, the strain in his voice ramping up. “Then she lied again. Told Kat she wanted to be there.”

“They wouldn’t let her see her sister,” Crocodile breathed, a distance in his words that had nothing to do with the ocean between them. 

“So, we have to find out what Kathryn Sylvad needs protection from,” the swordsman hummed. “When our little rabbit showed us her fangs, she mentioned the Celestial— “

“Kat said Uncle LimpDick can’t sell her anymore though. She’s too old for those creeps.” 

“But Y/N didn’t know that until she got to the estate. If that’s why she left, then we can—” 

Hope had crept into Crocodile’s voice, and it was almost more painful to hear, especially when it was killed so quickly.

“She could have gotten out with the merman yesterday,” Buggy reminded him, his usual frustration seeming muted. Anger was still present, but it was wrapped up in softer, sadder things while he caught Mihawk up on the prince’s offer. “Star’s acting like a fucking martyr.”

“It’s gotta be the doctor. Sylvad said something about the fucking doctor before she left us,” Crocodile trailed off, leaving them all to sink into the memory of that night. “That’s who she fears.”

“Then that’s who dies first.” 

That dusty, little shed became a cage, the monster within him nearly tearing through it at the thought of blood. 

“Wait,” his clown commanded. 

He obeyed. 

“You can’t just run in there and kill everyone on your own now. You have to protect both of them. We need a plan.”

This silence was full of caution, but it held the taste of possibilities. 

The swordsman wanted to sever his own tongue for dashing that new hope so soon. 

“We can’t force them. If her sister wants to keep that stifled life, then Y/N won’t forgive us for ripping her from it.” 

Mihawk sighed, remembering the rage on his darling’s face so clearly. It might be the only face of hers that he’d be worthy of seeing again. 

“So, I’m still our last resort. I’ll take her hate for you, Buggy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy groaned. “We know more than we did before, so we just need to keep looking. We’re gonna get her back. You got that, shitheads?”

How strange to recognize the sound of a hug. Buggy’s little hum of surprise, followed by a soft sigh that had to be from Crocodile’s lips, hit Mihawk with a wave of heat. The sensation built up in his throat until he shook it off.

Y/N wouldn't be the only thing he’d lose if he stole her away. The World’s Greatest Swordsman would lose this strange, little home he’d found with this strange, little guild.

“You got it, boss,” Mihawk teased. 

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. President,” Crocodile joined in.

The swordsman smiled in that dusty shed, pretending for a moment that this strange, little home he’d found would still be his. 

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson never shut the fuck up, so you hadn’t caught most of the scavenger hunt, but soon enough, Uncle Cedrick was announcing the winner.

“There are no rules against hunters helping each other win,” he teased while the Vinsmoke brothers walked toward you. Ichiji was carrying a large wooden heart, a few missing pieces of the puzzle held in the losers’ hands, but he held the most. 

Apparently, the younger brothers had given their pieces to the oldest prince, flanking him as they all knelt before you. 

“I’m looking forward to showering you with many more gifts,” he smirked, smoothing his fingers over yours when he placed that wooden heart in your lap. “Gifts worthy of a princess.”

Cheesy. Cocky. His brothers’ lecherous stares weren’t helping.

But I might as well enjoy it, you thought, gifting him with a coy smile.

 

~~~

This opulent room had always been too ridiculously large to be the family game room, especially since you’d only play with your dad, or your sister, never both. Dad always had some work to take care of when Kat asked to play, and Mom never liked board games.

At least someone’s still playing games in here. 

“Come here, sugar,” Giberson pulled you along, looking healthier than you’d seen him so far. “You ever played Blackjack?”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

“Hit me.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

Crocodile chuckled, feeling loose for a rare moment while he smirked at the woman across the table. Rain Dinners was as vibrant as ever, a stolen oasis that he planned to grow. The casino pulsed with greed, but a quiet air seemed to fall over the two of them.

“No orders at the table, sweetheart. You know that.”

Fuck. 

This woman’s silence always held an itching weight, that little smile making him narrow his eyes. He was the one that had slipped up. No time for that. 

Not until his work was done. 

“Hm, it looks like a bust for both of us, sir. I hope your orders don’t land us in a similar position,” she taunted in that airy voice of hers, as though her thoughts were merely floating through space, drifting by with no fault of her own. Yet her eyes sparkled.

Crocodile ignored how much he liked it when they did that. 

“Have a little faith, Miss All Sunday,” he grinned, the noise of the casino drowned out by her soft chuckle, her haunted eyes filling with a hard edge, a challenge. “Don’t you trust me? We’re gonna build a better world together.”

Her soft chuckle turned to outright laughter, the pretty sound bringing more eyes to their elevated table. That beautiful face tilted back, and the brim of her white hat shifted enough to let the glittering lights touch her skin. 

He paused to watch her, knowing that he was distracted. Knowing that she was an agent, that he couldn’t risk losing his balance until he’d met his goal. 

This girl is nothing but an asset. That’s all anyone is until I’m done. 

“Come, Crocodile, you and I both know that trust can be a fatal mistake. I know you didn’t bring me here for false promises, and I would leave if I thought you’d become such a sentimental fool.”

Soft hands sprouted from the table before him, lighting his cigar, and holding it to his lips while he gave a few gentle puffs. Those taunting eyes never strayed from his.

“You know me too well,” he laughed, taking a larger sip of scotch than he’d meant to. This asset of his had many uses, and interesting company was becoming too much of a favorite. “What kind of world do you wanna build when we get there?”

The way she stared at him… It was as though she was right there, seeing deep into the core of him, yet somehow distant. No matter how much time she spent by his side, they were always light years apart. 

“Are you feeling sentimental, boss?”

“Not at all,” Crocodile snorted before downing the rest of his drink. He motioned for another round but couldn’t shake off the sticky feeling of her knowing gaze. 

She’s right. What the fuck am I doing? Can’t think like this. Not yet. 

Nico Robin smirked while her many hands gathered the cards, dealing a fresh game. Crocodile found himself feeling proud of her practiced distance, but had to fight harder than he should have to keep from tugging at it. 

Trust is worthless in a world like this. 

“Well, boss?”

“Hit me.”

So, I’ll make a better world. 

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Everything was shining. Unlike most casinos, the shine in your family’s estate wasn’t just for show. 

It was another world. The glamor, the music, and the liquor seemed to hypnotize the crowd. Time was a commodity here, seconds falling away like the chips on the table. 

You might have been drawn in if you hadn’t been squeezed into this slinky, sequined dress. Viridian green sparkled under the lights, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you’d thought it would be. Still fucking distracting though. 

I wonder what his casino was like. Would he have liked this dress? He did prefer scales over—

Stop.

You almost asked why Giberson had foregone his private date for this public display but decided not to risk giving him the opening to take you somewhere else. He dragged a velvet covered stool close beside him before wrapping his frail arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to his side as possible. 

Your smile stayed pretty under the golden lights, even as the sounds of the small casino bombarded you. All the hunters, and more guests than you’d seen here before, watched your every move when they weren’t losing berry. 

“What’d ya say, darlin,” he winked, nodding toward the cards on the table. “Should I risk it?”

At least there’s something for me to focus on. 

“Hit me,” he declared when you nodded, whistling and jostling you when he hit twenty one. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

“Is this why you’re here, Gibby? I’m sure you realize that my husband won’t need to gamble to be swimming in berry.”

Those words should not have left your lips. You didn’t need the nearest cam-snail’s drooping eyes to tell you that, but you couldn’t take it back. Playing up the flirtation was all you could think of to salvage it. 

The old man raised a brow at you, chuckling at your fluttering lashes.

“You are a sweet, devilish thing, aren’t you, dear?”

Your denial died on your tongue when your eyes got caught across the room, your red-haired prey staring hard at the hand Giberson had brought to your chin. 

This old man deserved your gratitude for tilting your face away from those soft, brown eyes. 

“I am many things, Gibby,” you purred. “And I am sure that you should stand.”

“I’ve gotta listen to my Lady Luck,” he laughed, wiggling your shoulders to show you off to the leeches at the table. 

“Isn’t that cheating,” one of them mumbled, earning a sickly, sweet smile from your lips. 

“All is fair in love and war,” you teased, tapping the felt-covered table with one of Giberson’s many chips. “Besides, card counters have to watch a game for longer than I’ve been at the table. It was just a lucky guess.”

Oh, how you ached to smash that entitled asshole’s face onto the shining table.

“You’re one to talk, Linus,” Giberson leaned around you to smirk at the man. The scent of liquor on his breath hit you like a train. “I believe you’re on mistress number three, aren’t you? Or what should we call this newest one, a boy toy? I suppose if Annie knows, then it’s not cheating, but either way, I’m sure she knows now.”

Linus’ face went from annoyance to horror impressively fast when he glanced at the very not-droopy snail on the table, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. 

The man snarled, barely shifting toward you before Uncle’s security guards snatched him away. 

“Poor Linus,” you sighed while you shook your head. The satisfaction that warmed your skin only proved your self-hating thoughts, but it was more entertaining than being empty. 

Everyone here is a leech. Gorging on my blood and humiliation, eating me alive so they can feel more alive for a while. Fuck them all.

“Don’t worry about him,” your date pulled you back toward the game, “Annie’s been sleeping with his mother since their wedding night, so I’m sure she won’t be too broken up over it.”

You laughed enough that when he bought a bottle and poured you both a shot, you drank the burning whiskey. 

After he drank his first, of course. 

Then you won him lots of berry and giggled while he whispered secrets about all those shining guests in your ear. 

Maybe this old man isn’t so boring after all.

Laughing, and winning, and numbing it all down felt so good. If only you could rid yourself of those stupid, brown eyes that stuck to you more than the old man’s weak hand on your sequined thigh. 

“Do you know anything about— “

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Giberson hummed, filling your glass again. He nodded toward the red-haired pirate in the corner before shaking his head. “Afraid I can’t talk about the competition. I’d like to survive long enough to see the end of this delightful game.”

~~~

The corridors were endless. You’d traveled them so many times as a kid, but never quite like this.

Never drunk, in stupid, pointy heels that got caught in the plush carpet, while annoying servants tried to grab your elbows every time you swayed. 

It was fine. 

It was stupid.

But you weren’t even mad at yourself for being so reckless. Apathy could save or ruin you in a place like this. 

All you wanted was to feel nothing. There were many kinds of numb to find, but this particular buzz was wearing off too fast.

You had kept up your smile, and the bells had rung before you lost your mind to liquor. Yet now that the wall of eyes wasn’t on you, that liquor felt thick in your veins, and you needed to scream. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Sylvad, but— “

“I’ll take it from here. We wouldn’t want any more accidents now, would we, niece?”

You blinked, and the staff had already scurried away, leaving you alone with him.

“My little smarty,” Uncle Cedrick teased, digging his fingers into your arm while he guided you toward your suite. “Finally contributing to the family, after all these years. You almost had me believing that you’d like to marry that old bastard.”

“It’s too early to tell.”

Damn it…

A different kind of numb pulled you down while your gaze trailed down his face. 

His jaw is moving a lot. It’s okay. No, not the lips. Jaw. Eyes are too much. Can’t look up. Just down. Can’t look away. 

Fuck, I’m dizzy.

“He was never in the running anyway. The nuisance learned about the hunt and asked to join, and I couldn’t risk insulting the man.”

All the words were hitting your wobbly brain, a headache building behind your brow until you gasped at his sudden touch. Your uncle gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the darkened hallway. 

“You’re going to send the old man away tomorrow, and the fishman the day after that. You may be a selfish brat, but you’re still a Sylvad. It wouldn’t do to let you get stuffed full of expired seed, or guppies, now, would it?”

His eyes flared with satisfaction when you couldn’t hide the horror and disgust that twisted your features. You were trapped, gulping down your bile while he leaned over you, gripping tighter. 

“Keep up the good work, niece,” Uncle hummed while he tilted you toward your door. “Now go wash up. Whiskey isn’t a flattering scent on a blushing bride.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

There was no point in fixing the conference room. Any replacement furniture would have been shattered the second he saw those tear-filled eyes on the screen. 

A makeshift door had been propped up for privacy, although there was no one but Buggy within range of Crocodile’s rage. 

That pathetic, useless rage that left the scarred man sitting on the floor in a pile of splinters and sand again, fighting not to drink. Not yet, at least. 

“Good evening, sir.”

“Is it ready,” Crocodile rasped, not ready for the answer.

“I believe so, sir,” Zala reported, her lovely voice too somber to be soothing. “The next cam-snail’s date is a bit smudged, so I’m not certain the timing is right. We’re trying to send them in order— “

“Just send it.”

…

“Agent?”

“Of course, sir,” the deadly woman breathed, strangely soft through the line. “Do you have orders for us when we arrive? We still have over a week, but it could be two days less if we— “

“Await your orders,” Crocodile growled, more at his own powerlessness than her questioning.

“Of course,” Zala conceded, sharing her next words in a rush before ending the call. “We’ll get her back, sir. I won’t fail again.”

~~~

For a cruel moment, Crocodile’s breath caught in hope. His sweet girl looked better. 

He should have known better. 

‘How are you feeling today, Y/N?’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m feeling well, thank you, doctor,’ she hummed softly, keeping her eyes low, although the doctor was still offscreen. A nurse guided her to sit, no restraints holding her to the table this time. 

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘Yes, doctor.’

His girl was empty. Poised and polite with nothing inside. 

They made a doll out of her.

‘Just breathe, Y/N,’ Dr. Vorsan instructed, his slippery voice making Crocodile’s fingers twitch. ‘The snail won’t hurt you, and you aren’t going to hurt it.’

‘Of course, I won’t–’

‘Soft hands, Y/N,’ he warned while she unclenched her jaw and fists. 

A transponder snail was placed on the table before her, and her eyes went slow and droopy while she stared at it. 

‘We discussed this, Y/N.’ The doctor clicked his tongue while the nurse reached for the snail. Y/N shook herself but stopped before her hand got too close to the creature.

Her eyes were wide now, her panicked breaths loud enough for him to hear all these years later. 

‘I’m sorry, please,’ Y/N strained, going empty again while she pleaded. ‘I’m okay. I want to call my sister.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready,’ Vorsan needled. That voice was so perfectly kind, yet violent. It was a syringe that promised healing, but forced too much, poisoning with what seemed like a cure. ‘Take your time, Y/N. If you push yourself too far, you might have another episode, and I know you don’t want to put your family through that. You don’t want to hurt–’

‘I want to be well, doctor.’

Wrong. So, fucking wrong. 

‘Please, let me try again,’ Y/N begged, her sweet voice placating the monster out of view. ‘I’ll breathe and go slow. I want to get better.’

The nurse brought the snail back, and Crocodile couldn’t tell how much time passed while she stared at it. Her eyes were present, yet he could see the strain, her almost-smile shaking a bit. 

“What the fuck?”

The fucking snail had started ringing, and Y/N’s scream made him choke. She struggled to swallow it down, rocking in her seat until the nurse reached out to take it. She took in a breath when she reached out instead to answer, that sickening smile on her face. 

‘Hey, smarty.’

Crocodile’s hook dug deep lines along the floor. 

‘I heard you were practicing with the snail today, so I thought I’d help out. We all want you back home, safe and sound. Although, I suppose it’s not your safety we should be worrying about.’

If not for the slow shine of unspilled tears that grew in her eyes, Crocodile would have thought the recording had paused. She was frozen, until she flinched at his next words. 

‘I should probably check on little Kathryn. I told them not to sail this close to Aqua Laguna, but you know how stubborn–’

‘You’re lying,’ she screamed, spittle flying toward the snail before nurses appeared to restrain her. ‘Let me talk to my sister!’

‘Oh dear, you don’t sound very well, niece. I hope–’

‘Fuck you! Where’s Kat? Let me see my– Get your fucking hands off of me! I’m gonna kill…’

Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter creeped through the air, the transponder snail carrying that vile sound through space and time. 

Y/N had gone still, letting the nurses entangle their arms with hers, trapping her between them while they called nonsensical orders to each other in bland voices. 

She didn’t cry. 

Didn’t apologize. 

Didn’t fight. 

She looked like she’d been defeated, and Sylvad’s gloating laughter proved the point. 

‘I hope you get well soon, niece,” her uncle taunted. ‘I’ll tell your sister you’re not ready yet, once she gets back. Hopefully she makes it before the storm hits.’

Crocodile’s sweet girl slumped, her body going limp while so many others held her up. Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter ripped through the air until she was carted away, and the wall went dark. 

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above was from Crocodile’s POV as he watched another recording of Y/N at the asylum. During this recording, Crocodile noticed that the reader appeared to be “better.” However, the prodding voice of Dr. Vorsan, and the reveal of a transponder snail showed that the reader was struggling to maintain her “doll-like” emptiness. The reader expressed a desire to speak with her sister, and was cooperating with the doctor, although he scolded her and reminded her of the potential violence she may cause. The reader remained calm and requested to try speaking with the snail again. The snail rang unexpectedly, and her uncle began to speak through it, causing the reader to become afraid, then react violently when Cedrick stated that her sister was currently sailing close to the time of the Aqua Laguna storm. The reader began to yell and threaten violence, until she looked defeated while her uncle laughed. The reader went limp while nurses restrained her and carried her away before the recording ended. 

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Leave her alone, Uncle,” Kat seethed, charging into the hall to pull you from his grasp. 

“I’m just making sure she gets home safe,” he teased, clicking his tongue before releasing you. “Looks like big sis needs your help tonight. Aren’t you relieved that you won’t have to be her babysitter for much longer?”

“Fuck you— “

“It’s alright, Kitty,” you smiled, fighting your shaking muscles, and the nausea that flooded your body. “You got any snacks in your suite?”

“Ta-ta,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, thankfully walking away. 

Leaving you with her.

Fuck. I’m making her take care of me again. Selfish. Piece of shit. Stop.

“What kind of snacks do you want,” Kat frowned. Her eyes were sharp against your swaying form, but you held up your smile for her. 

“Salty. Crunchy.”

“Alright, drunky,” she rolled her eyes, “will you drink some fucking water first?”

~~~

Gods, it’s bright. Smile. Don’t forget to smile.

“Are you feeling well, niece?”

Uncle Cedrick beamed down at you, guiding you to the fallen tree in the courtyard, where the applause that greeted you made you want to chop your fucking ears off. The ungodly amount of coffee you’d inhaled during the breakfast with Giberson had been for naught, and you couldn’t recall any of the long winded stories he’d trampled you with. 

There’d be no more of his stories for you after this.

“Good afternoon, fine friends and hunters,” he addressed the crowd, and the suitors lined up along the carved bench. His practiced movements spread large across the side of the manor for all to see. You caught him glancing at his image on the projector screen enough times that you almost laughed. 

It probably would have hurt to laugh right now. 

“Before today’s hunt begins, I’m afraid that one of our contestants has missed the mark.”

Uncle pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back. He pressed the point of it to your chest, making the leeches gasp with mock fear or delight before he broke it in half.

“Go on, dear niece,” he ordered, pressing the splintered wood into your hand. “Who failed to pierce your heart?”

Don’t let it in. Nothing matters. Just her.

Fading into yourself, you put on a show, avoiding the sight of your simpering smile on the wall. Tittering noises filled the air while the wooden platform moved you from suitor to suitor, and you could hear the vultures calling out their last-minute bets.

You put on a good show, but eyes were too much. An inch below their left eye. That’s where you’d look while you paused. 

No favorites. No least favorites.

The moving platform wasn’t helping your nausea, or it might have been the scent of the Emperor whose crooked smile was almost as abhorrent to look at as his soft eyes. 

The painfully slow display finally came to a halt, the stench of whiskey still too fresh in your mind. 

The old man hadn’t been that bad though. 

“I’m sorry, Gibby. Your arrow didn’t pierce my heart.”

He took the broken arrow, before kissing your forehead, his mustache scratching along your skin. 

“Not to worry, my dear,” Giberson soothed, humming at the noises of the winners and losers in the crowd. From the sound of it, he’d been an underdog in the race anyway. “I feel lucky just to be here at all. Thank you for the lovely company.”

You needed to sit down. 

You had to keep smiling.

“Of course, Gibby,” your uncle shmoozed, gripping Giberson by the shoulder. He appeared to be speaking to the failed hunter, but his voice was too clear, his words too pointed.

Another part of the show.

“You may not be in the running to be our family, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a friend of the Sylvad’s,” Uncle Cedrick glowed as the leeches practically moaned at the implication. Everyone wanted to be in his world. “You are more than welcome to stay for the festivities as a guest, so long as you don’t act like a sore loser and ruin the fun, of course.”

The joviality in the air was too full of greed. Your future was never going to be yours, but you hadn't expected him to let so many others join in his game. 

This game that never fucking stopped.

“Our lovely doe has requested a show of love for today’s hunt,” he took your hand and spun you for the crowd, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from tripping over yourself. “Run along, hunters. In the woods you’ll find materials of all sorts, but you’re welcome to use your own. Create something to show how you’ll care for your dear wife once you catch her. Care to give them any tips, Y/N?”

Fuck you.

“The man I love will make me smile.”

Uncle Cedrick caught his frown before it fully formed, but your tiny rebellion went cold when his eyes flicked to the locket you were fidgeting with. 

“You heard the doe, hunters,” he ordered, studying your shaky hands that you dropped to your sides too fast. “Make your prey smile before you pierce her heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

He shouldn’t have been dropping his guard like this, but something about this room, this ridiculous, green couch, and that sweet girl’s flustered face, had Sir Crocodile fighting off a smile.

“But… I’ve still got work to do, and they— “

“Is my sweet girl worried about other men right now,” he threatened, patting the cushion beside him while he tried to keep his balance. 

The clown was off preparing for that gods awful show they’d have to sit through at the party, while the swordsman ran through security. Since Crocodile had already sent agents out to hunt for party favors, he had a free moment, and he chose to spend it taunting their numbers girl. 

She looked so pretty with that flash of fear in her eyes.

Especially when she gave in so quickly. 

“N-no, I…”

“You’ve been working so hard. I can help you relax. Wanna take a break, sweetheart?”

Y/N bit her lip softly, and Crocodile nearly launched himself at her. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but luckily his numbers girl got to her feet. 

“Not so fast, darlin,” he teased while she yelped in his grasp, moving through sand to carry her before she could take a step with her bare feet.

“Fuck!”

She looked so cute when he tossed her onto his desk. Y/N was shaking so much that he almost stopped, his fingers clenching against the wooden desk while he took a final puff of his cigar. The feel of smoke on his tongue only made him crave her more.

“Well, sweetheart, you’re not scared to be alone with me, are— “

“I want you, daddy,” Y/N vowed, her voice like some heavenly song, guiding him toward things he didn’t deserve. She sat up, reaching, clinging to him until he chuckled and pushed her soft fingers away. She’d tugged at his silk scarf, and he let her keep the purple fabric when he shoved her back onto the desk. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl, and relax for me,” he taunted. Crocodile stamped out his cigar before kneeling beside his desk, fighting his smile again at every desperate noise she made while he set her legs up on his shoulders. She nodded fast while he tore through her cheap panties with his hook, and her scent finally did him in. 

This ex-warlord, this wicked pirate, this bad man… was smiling. Smiling from pleasure and peace instead of cruelty and greed.

Sir Crocodile caught his smile as he pressed it against that sweet, swollen flesh, loving the way she tore at his hair. Her fingers went rough, then weak, again and again, as though she couldn’t help her need, but feared his reaction. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Let Daddy have it all,” he purred before shoving his tongue so deep. He moaned while he drank at her pleasure, proud of how she took what she needed, pulling his hair at the roots while she fell apart. 

“You’re doing so well,” Crocodile praised, fighting everything in him not to claim this sweet girl for himself, his own little dream. 

“Please, daddy.”

“My little girl’s so hungry,” he laughed while his fingers teased along all the wetness she spread before him. “You can have everything you want.”

Y/N had pushed onto her elbows to meet his eyes, but fell back, her body arching when he shoved two fingers into her pretty cunt. Her moans were so fucking precious that the ex-warlord’s mind went blank. Nothing but her.

“It’s still work hours, sugar. Try to keep it down.”

Fuck, she was gorgeous when her eyes rolled back, eagerly letting him shove that purple silk into her mouth. She was already crying when he undid his slacks, freeing himself to tease along that needy flesh.

Crocodile missed, pouring lube down the side of the desk before covering his leaking cock. She was too good of a girl for him to rush this, but the feel of his own lubed hand was nearly enough while he watched her begging beneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he guided her while he held himself back. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He tried to be gentle, but Y/N still cried and screamed, so he fucked himself into her until his scarf fell from her lips.

“It’s too— feels too good— fuck!!”

She spoke the truth until he shoved the silk back into her mouth. It felt too fucking good to fill her up, to feel her body stretching and fighting to hold him. So soft, so wet, so fucking tight around his cock with every thrust.

But she could take him. She could take all of him, and she looked beautifully wrecked while she did, that silk scarf dark with spit now when he tugged it from her lips again. 

“Where does my sweet girl— “

“Inside me, daddy,” Y/N cried out before her body milked his again, eyes going white while she came. “Come inside me, please!”

“Fuck, you take me so well, baby girl. Mm— so fucking perfect…”

Crocodile held her down, pressing his palm against her chest. He hadn’t realized that his hook had been tracing along her side until he started filling her, but she looked like she was enjoying it, so he didn’t bother to stop. 

She looked like she was enjoying getting fucked by a monster.

She looked so sweet when he met her eyes, pulling out slowly to keep from causing more harm. 

“Daddy…”

“Hey, sweet girl,” he hummed while he kissed her neck. Her squirms were enough, and he felt his scarred face smiling against her skin once more. “How— “

“You could have just said you wanted her to yourself for a while,” the swordsman taunted from the doorway that had opened too quietly. 

Or maybe Crocodile had let himself get too distracted. 

“I thought you didn’t like liars,” Mihawk smirked, moving close enough to snag the spit-soaked scarf from the desk. 

“We got some work done,” Crocodile told the truth, although it felt like a lie when he looked down at her. “My sweet girl just needed a break.”

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Their faces were easy to match up with the voices he’d planned to end while he listened in that dusty shed. This drab, little hole had been shined up so brightly, almost passing for a real casino, but Mihawk knew it could still use a fresh coat of red paint. 

“I suppose that only imbeciles would fail to recognize me when I walk through the door. I had assumed that was what all of you were, given your foolish choice in hobbies.”

“Hawkeye— Mr. Mihawk, sir, please,” the owner of the stale, little hall beckoned him toward the sticky, corner booth, “you’re an honored guest! Please, relax, and let us show you how we party in Majiastuka.”

The slim possibility of those words swaying the ex-warlord burned away when faraway voices filled the air.

‘You’re our little princess now.’

Their deaths would come later. For now, Mihawk kept his gaze away from the projector screen, and the flustered face of his little rabbit. 

“What a delightful invitation,” the world’s greatest swordsman sneered, drawing his black blade to hover over the filthy floorboards. “Unfortunately, I have already had my fill of your wretched squeals. Unless you can tell me how to reach Miss Sylvad, your worthless time on this planet is over.”

“Fuck thi— “

A coward off to the side stumbled while he cursed, fleeing toward the door. Mihawk didn’t even need to shift his eyes in that direction; Yoru simply flicked across the floor, the blade smacking into a chair that cracked the man’s neck when it hit.

Every movement, every breath was precise. 

A predator, and its prey.

“Hey man, I’m sorry, okay,” the pathetic kingpin begged while the ex-warlord stalked closer. “How can I help? Anything, please!”

“Such a well-mannered beast,” Mihawk growled while he dug his nails into the man’s jaw. “I’m taking your special snail, and I shall take your life if you don’t tell me where the fuck you got it from.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This might be the worst idea you’d ever had. 

“It’s a…”

“Graham cracker house. They’re usually gingerbread, but no one likes to eat that shit.”

Cracker beamed down at you, so proud of the sloppy, edible house that he’d dropped onto your lap. 

“That’s you,” he pointed toward the misshapen figure by the front door. “I know that you’re a good girl that wants to help your family. I’ll help you be happy and safe, and you’ll help our family grow.”

Oh. 

The misshapen clump finally took shape in your mind; that fucked up cracker was meant to be you. 

Barefoot and pregnant.

This is super fucking fun.

“Thank you, Cracker. It’s lovely.”

“It’s trash,” Cracker corrected with that menacing grin, and you almost yelped when he touched your face. You had to meet his eyes, and that basic, human intimacy, coupled with the scent of that sugary house, nearly had you spilling your disgust onto the floor. 

Nausea had you in a chokehold, but that didn’t stop your smile. 

This ridiculous man leaned down, and the sparks at the ends of his hair were too fucking close to your face when he purred in your ear.

“You’re the only lovely thing I see.”

~~~

How strange that the sight of such a light and precious thing could drag you down so far. 

In the place of a pearl, the shell opened to show a long-lasting bubble. The treasure had become a reminder of your selfishness and privilege, yet your heart still ached at the sight. 

Precious trees had helped create this little magic. Sabaody should have been treasured, protected.

Instead, it was hell: a humiliating torture for people that didn’t look like you. 

“It’s beautiful, Prince Fukaboshi,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“It is nowhere near as beautiful as your selfless heart.”

Smiling was harder when you had to swallow the burning bile on the back of your tongue.

~~~

“This is very nice,” you lied.

“It’s a poor rendition,” your prey laughed at his ugly drawing of what looked like a pile of fingers until you deciphered the shapes. “Starfish cling to their world, holding tight to their home… I could have stolen it for you, but it’s not right to take a star from where it belongs.”

“So, you left my star all alone,” you managed to pout; you were a selfish, spoiled, rich girl. 

Starfish were apparently too much for you to handle. 

~~~

“What do ya think, numbers girl?”

That deep voice made you shiver, shaking you out of your fog, but into the chaos of old desire. 

You knew you should hate him. You should be disgusted by his mere presence here, by all the details that would make your eyebrows raise if you heard them about a similar relationship. 

But you were too far gone to give a fuck. 

Mr. Iceburg was smiling at you. He was reaching out to rest his hand on yours before offering a gift he’d made with those same, lovely hands. The rough skin scraping against yours seemed to send you back in time, a teenage craving, still unfulfilled.  

“There wasn’t enough time, but I hope you like it,” Iceburg hummed when he placed a small, carved ship in your palm. The rough wood smelled incredible, and it was beautiful, rough as it was. 

All the details were vague, but your thumb traced across the redwood he’d carved onto the main sail. 

It wasn’t just his looks that had stolen your heart when you were younger. Mr. Iceburg had an air of kindness and wonderment about him that reminded you what those feelings could be like. 

Were you too far gone to feel that light? 

Was he too much of a leech for it to be real?

Who fucking cares? It’s Mr. Iceburg.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“So, you left my star all alone?”

Y/N’s pouting lips were too much; Shanks was horrified by her ability to lie with every part of her. 

“Well, I…”

That fallen star smiled while the bells called him away, and she chose another man, yet again.

~~~

The Great Red-Haired Shanks was fucking useless. 

He had fucked up so completely that his every step to fix things put miles and miles between them.

And he couldn’t fucking talk about it. 

The estate was literally crawling with snails, so Shanks couldn’t risk speaking openly to his first mate. He couldn’t relax for a second with how hyper aware he’d become of the low hum of their presence. 

How the fuck does she live like this?

Throughout the pain and hardships of his own life, this Emperor of the Sea had carried something with him that he was lacking here, and the discomfort of its loss felt like another phantom pain, an unreachable itch. 

Shanks was raised as a pirate.

He was raised to be free. 

No one was free on this wretched island, except for the tyrant that toyed with them all. 

Cedrick Sylvad hadn’t joined the group that flocked to his little casino for a second night. He didn’t need the cash. 

The red-haired pirate followed the leeches and did his best to shove his frustrations aside while he fought for her. 

“Still here, huh?”

“Why would I leave,” Giberson breathed noxious fumes into his face while he leaned over his cards. “This game’s only just begun.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat’s face pulled you into the moment, her quivering lips failing to hold back her disparaging smile.

You couldn’t blame her. 

“That’s a really nice cape,” she snorted, falling into laughter.

“I thought you wanted me to marry a Vinsmoke.” Your words were strained, although annoyance or laughter could have been the cause.

“Totally,” she managed to deadpan. “Definitely the number one choice.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was so good to see her cackle, even if you had to wear this poofy, frilly, fire-engine red gown to make it happen. 

The cape wasn’t nearly as bad as the embroidered “ones” along the hems. 

“I want you to marry one of them if…”

“Spit it out,” you ordered, holding in your own laughs while Kat fell apart. 

“If they’re your number one choice,” she squeaked again while she steadied herself with a hand on her thigh. 

You couldn’t blame her. Not with the state your hair was in. 

~~~

“Tonight, we have lifted one of our rules for the sake of fairness to our esteemed hunters,” Uncle charmed the crowd, his fingers resting on the back of your neck. 

He looked down at you with that practiced mask of a doting uncle while he gripped your skin like you were an unruly animal that he had to control.

“My dear niece must remain within the borders of the island, but the sky’s the limit now.”

He stepped away with a smirk, and you were too drained from smiling to care what he meant. It was always a game at your expense. You were just glad that he wasn’t touching you anymore. 

Resisting the urge to scratch his eyes out like the unruly animal you were took a lot of energy, and you were going to need it tonight. 

The vultures were practically squealing while Prince Ichiji walked up the path, flanked on either side by his brothers. The ruffles on their shirts looked natural on them, and their capes just reminded you that they were royalty, even if they descended from vicious conquerors who claimed that status. From all you’d gathered, these current Vinsmokes seem to carry that violent legacy.

Except for when they looked at you. 

Ichiji held out the longest, but soon the three of them were staring at you like hungry puppies. Niji and Yonji knelt at your sides to kiss your hands, thoroughly. Ichiji leaned down, the swoops in his red hair casting distracting shadows across his face beneath the lanterns. 

“Everyone’s fighting to take home the lovely prize,” he breathed against your ear before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “But they can’t have you.”

“Oh,” you tried to tease, but the kisses still peppering your hands and fingers were too distracting. “Why is that?”

The three of them laughed, and you would have fallen if they hadn’t gripped your hands in time. The three princes had all touched their belts, and the colorful raid suits they were so famous for spread over them instantly, to roaring applause. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath before Ichiji lifted you into his arms.

“You’re our little princess now.”

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.

“Don’t be scared, pretty,” he comforted, though his pleased voice didn’t stop the world from disappearing beneath you. 

“Yeah, I’ll catch you if he drops you,” Yonji flew close to your cheek. 

“I won’t drop her.”

How does their hair stay like that in the wind, you thought, giggling to yourself while you watched the trees beneath you. 

“Can I touch the top of a tree?”

“You can touch anything you– ”

“Back off, Niji,” Ichiji growled at his blue haired brother that had flown too close this time before returning to that simpering voice. “Of course, princess. We can find every tree on the island, if you like.”

“Just one is lovely, thank you.”

Touching the top of a redwood tree had never crossed your mind, but the feel of it against your fingers gave you a moment of sweetness at the thought of telling your dad about it. He would be so excited, and he’d want to know every detail, until you both were scribbling on notepads to calculate how long it would take to touch every tree on the island. 

It was stupid. How could you stay numb when you kept reminding yourself of pain, or of something far crueler than that? 

Happiness and love would tear you apart. 

~~~

If you weren’t out of breath, you might have giggled again at how well the scene fit with your last thought. 

Another clearing on another stolen hill had come into view, during one of the brief glances you’d sent toward the ground. That ground was coming too close, too fast, but the scent hit you before your feet touched the ground.

Someone had planted a circular wall of roses that was taller than you’d thought possible for the flower. You had learned that the realm of possibility was vaster than you could imagine. What were some huge rose bushes compared to everything else in your world?

Ichiji set you down beside a gorgeous table of dark wood, with large, cushioned chairs in that matching rose-red.

He poured champagne, toasting to your beauty while you waited for him to sip first.

“Are you nervous,” the red head asked, the hint of laughter in his tone. “Don’t worry, princess, you can relax here. I made sure we’d have plenty of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Yonji called while he flew down into the tower of roses. “No one’s getting in here without catching some thorns.”

“We finished the rounds,” Niji reported. He stayed floating toward the top, lazily bouncing something in his hand. “This is the only snail left in a mile radius. Now you two can have some alone time.

“DON’T HURT IT! Please… don’t…”

Niji paused with his arm pulled back, stopping before throwing the transponder snail, cocking his head as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be so cruel, brother,” Ichiji purred beside you.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“Please, don’t hurt it,” you tried to keep your voice from shaking. It was already hoarse from that scream. “I… like snails.”

“So sweet,” Yonji swooned. He flew close, with Niji and the poor snail following behind him. “You should see our— “

“It’s my turn, brothers,” the eldest prince reminded them.

Yonji kissed your cheek before he flew away, but Niji grabbed your wrist. He placed the snail in the center of your palm before tracing his fingers down the side of your face.

“Such a pretty princess,” he hummed, “I’ll make sure this thing is safe for you. We can even let some watch our date if you— “

“This is my date, Niji.”

“Right. Have fun, you two.”

Thankfully, the blue-haired brother grabbed the snail before he flew away, but another set of eyes stayed glued to your skin.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. Let’s eat, I wanna know about all the other sweet things you like.”

Still cheesy. Still cocky.

Yet somehow his guiding hand on you lower back, and his hungry eyes reminded you of another sort of numb.

Nothing matters, so I might as well enjoy this.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

“Feel good, star,” Crocodile’s little clown mumbled in his sleep, the stench of liquor on Buggy’s breath rivaling his own.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to carry Buggy to bed instead of leaving him alone on that green couch. “Come on— “

“Just feel good, baby,” his clown whined softly, the sadness in his voice tearing at the scarred man even more tonight.

“Shh, Buggy. It’s gonna be okay.”

He hoped he wasn’t lying.

“I won’t tell, star. I know it was a— What the fuck?”

“It’s just me, little clown. Let’s go to bed,” he offered his hand. Buggy shook himself but followed him down the empty corridor to that empty bed. “Bad dreams again?”

“No— I mean, just the same bullshit,” Buggy coughed while his fingers tapped along his thigh. “Ha, I really thought the booze would help… What about you?”

Crocodile pulled the man close, and kissed that tangled, blue hair as he closed his eyes against this shitty world.

“We’re gonna get her back,” he vowed ignoring the scent of lies in the air. There had never been room for trust in this world, but Crocodile realized he didn’t care if his little lovers were lying to him. He just needed them back.

He needed to make a better world for them.

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: "I've still been disappearing from the world," is how I started my last author's note from Chapter 34. So much has changed in my life.

Personal Vent below! Mostly vague, but trigger warning for toxic, demanding work environments, and their affect on physical and mental health. Mention of bipolar and adhd.

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS unless you really want to, and have the space for it! I would rather you scroll past than to take on any of my stress.

I am okay, and I want Numbers Game to be a place for us to rest and enjoy some fictional chaos instead. This will be the last time I'll discuss this on a Numbers Game post, but I felt I had to share how much I've wanted to be here with y'all. Any future updates will be posted separately on my lynna's health updates tag.

I am free from the situation that was wrecking my physical, mental, and financial health for the past five years. That chaos sent me into an episode that landed me on medical leave last year. But that fucked up time is when I started writing, and joined this wonderful community. I wouldn't have made it though the past year without y'all. I was in full on crisis mode, and it had all come to a head over these past few months. Then I got out. I was so fucking excited to tell y'all about the new changes in my life, but I was overwhelmed with everything that I had to do to get out and prepare. Plus, my fucking thumb stopped working because I was typing the first draft of this chapter on my phone since I had no time to sit down and write, and I had to rest it for the new job that seemed perfect for me. I hope that it'll get better soon, but I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire. I am okay. I am safe. I am just tired as fuck, and needing to set boundaries with a new company that is even more demanding than the last. At least they are actually paying me on time, and it's less physically demanding, (unless you count a lifelong insomniac adjusting to waking up at 6am and getting home at 6pm, five days a week 🥴). The main reason I was excited for this job, besides relieving the crisis shit I was going though, was that it would have a regular schedule; I'd be able to focus on what I really want to do. Sorry it took me so long to catch my breath, but I'm fucking back, y'all. I'm not letting another company drain my soul away. I'm not working off the clock any more.

I've got smut to write 🥰📝🔥

With so much love,

~ Lynna 💜✨

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97 | @napagent

Part 36

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[trixree]

he is RISEN baby girl

hello hello! yes i'm alive, just very mentally ill. things are on the up and up and i have mega brainrot right now so i decided to try and get back on the "being a person" horse. you may see i've just posted some poolverine smut to AO3 here.

if you've sent me messages during my year hiatus (especially regarding commissions) I love and appreciate you and will be responding SOON, i PROMISE!

long ramble about where i'm at/life update below the cut.

May of 2023, I graduated with my masters. yaaay woo but also booo because it didn't help me get a job at all! i finally landed a paying gig in September of 2023 after sending out quite literally hundreds of applications. i only had two interviews total and a mountain of auto-rejections to show for it and it took an immense toll on my mental health. It started what was (in hindsight) a year of a prolonged downward spiral.

i already really struggled with self worth and turns out riding the merry-go-round of job hunting rejection cranked my depression up to new heights. for the first time in a long time, i found myself so low as to be entertaining thoughts of suicide. my eating disorder peaked the hardest it has since high school. i had also moved out of my parents house and in with my partner May of 2023 and was readjusting to being out of a traumatic environment. i had panic attacks anytime he came into a room too quietly and surprised me for months. I found myself isolated from most of my friends (partly because of my own communication death-spiral depression paralysis) and also because i moved to a different city than all of them to live with my partner again (0 complaints there, i love the city i live in and love my home with my partner and our bird children. however i miss my fucking friends, and the loneliness compounded the Despair Arc i was having.) My fucking health insurance changed because my previous policy holder retired and i lost some medications for a period of time, stressing my body in bad ways. a really bad spell of migraines compounded things chemically for the worst.

i borrowed some money to return to my therapist and my doc recently upped my antidepressant dose, and I can tell that both of those things but ESPECIALLY that last one there has helped already. My partner, closest friends, and even some coworkers have said I seem much better, too. I'm hopeful about it. Optimistic, even!

i did get a job working for a behavioral health nonprofit that provides outpatient psychiatric services in administration. It pays in fucking sheckles and pennies (nonprofits be like) and psych is a challenging environment to say the least. it was another 6-month fight to hammer out disability accommodations with HR. my body is a machine that consumes paid leave. as any of you that have danced an accommdations dance can probably attest, it sucks so goddamn bad. i had basically round after round of requests for my doctors to fill out paperwork that amounted to "will they get better? Are you sure? Alright, please estimate how often this person will need this accommodation in hours per week." of course it took an immense mental health toll, too. i kick ass at what i do and i do it chronically understaffed but it's really hard to feel secure anywhere when you're constantly missing work due to uncontrollable Body Bad Times (migraine, explosive diarrhea, uncontrollable vomiting, my three horsemen). especially if someone has a grudge, and someone did, which added extra layers of complexity.

i'll be honest, it's good to have something to get out of bed to go do 5/7 days of the week (i was going stir crazy without employment) but i'm running myself ragged and barely making it financially. not only was this body i have NOT built for an 8-5, i have less than 15$ to my name right now to show for it and i keep having to borrow money from my family for medication. but i truly love the people i work with and feel like i get to do good for my community where i'm at, and that's something folks!

speaking of health, i kind of got my gut stuff figured out? not really. but also yes! i don't have a diagnosis of any kind but i have a treatment that's WORKING for the constant nausea i was always blogging about last year. my GI put me on domperidone before meals and oh my god, total fucking game changer. no longer am i burping up half-digested food and walking around with 24/7 debilitating nausea AND my appetite even kicks in when i take the damn pills!!! the only down side is that domperidone is not FDA approved in the USofA because of sudden cardiac failure or what the fuck ever so i have to pay out of pocket for all of it. that's a good 150$ per month on top of all my other medication, so that's a bummer. but god, to have something that works!!! it's been so nice. no sudden heart failure yet, fingers crossed.

i have really bad executive dysfunction when it comes to responding to messages (i currently have 100+ unread text messages from friends and family) but i'm challenging myself to work through my backlog of messages in the coming days, so stay tuned if you've DM'd me in the last year. thank you for thinking of me and i appreciate you endlessly.

as for commissions, my life is just too unpredictable for me to be as consistent with those as i'd wanted to be. as much as having the bonus income was really amazing, i just feel like i'm too flakey and unreliable to deliver on that regularly and that's just a shitty thing to do to someone. (please check your DMs if this describes an interaction we had with me.)

i'm sorry if this decision is disappointing to anyone, but i think i'm going to stick to having a kofi live if folks feel inclined to show appreciation for any fic i post and maybe taking a comm very very rarely, once in a blue moon when circumstances allow. I do want to honor anyone that messaged me about a comm during my year hiatus. Please check your DMs. for my casual reader: none of my current projects on AO3 are abandoned. i've never stopped working on them this past year, even if it has only been in my notes app. i really want to start posting more regularly again. i miss the outlet immensely. I think it's good for me, creatively and for a sense of community. i hope you all understand and thank you. thanks for still being here.

[arc852]

29. Sweet Tooth

Definition: a great liking for sweet-tasting foods.

Summary: Joel and Jimmy arrive at Joel's home and Jimmy tries something sweet for the first time.

G/t: Joel is normal-sized, Jimmy is a borrower

Word Count: 2027

AO3 Link

Another installment in the BBBCAU! This pretty much takes place right after Coveted. You might need to read that one or you'll be a bit confused!

Also, I can't believe GtJuly2024 is almost over! But we've got two more stories left! And I'm definietly not going to stop writing after this. There just might be a bit more time between posts after this month lol.

I hope you guys enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Joel entered his room after his reunion with his family. He’d normally spend more time talking to them and visiting first thing but he kind of rushed it, knowing Jimmy was in his pocket. He knew the poor borrower wanted out as soon as possible, the chest pocket not being nearly as comfortable as a hoodie pocket, according to Jimmy. So he hurried along the hellos to his family so he could rush to his room.

 He closed the door behind him, finally having some privacy. Despite his best efforts to rush, his family still managed to keep him downstairs for an hour. Jimmy was probably suffocating in his pocket by now. The thought made Joel more nervous and he lifted up the lip of his chest pocket. “Hey, everything alright in there?”

 Jimmy looked up at him from the pocket, looking more or less okay, if a little ruffled. He sent Joel a thumbs up. “All good but ready to come out now if possible.” Jimmy said with a chuckle and Joel snorted in turn. He then reached in carefully, using only two fingers to snag onto Jimmy’s body and pull him out. As soon as he was out of the pocket, Joel moved his other hand and released his pinched grip on Jimmy, letting him sit on his open palm.

 “Well, welcome to my room.” Joel said a bit half-heartedly. He’d be more excited but he did just drive 3 hours. “This is where I’ve spent the last 18 years of my life before going away to University.” 

 For Jimmy’s part, he did look excited. “Wow! It looks like the dorm but…more you!” Jimmy exclaimed, looking up at Joel with a grin.

 Joel snorted. “What does that even mean?” Joel walked farther into his room, setting his suitcase down at the foot of his bed and sitting on top of the bed, reaching over with his free hand to turn on his bedside lamp.

 “I don’t know, I can just tell this is your room, is all.” Jimmy tried to explain himself, face heating up a bit.

 “Or maybe you know it’s my room because I told you it is.” Joel quipped back and laughed as Jimmy got heated.

 “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Jimmy yelled over Joel’s laughter.

 Suddenly, there was a brief knock on Joel’s door before it began to open. In a panic, Joel clasped his hands together with Jimmy in the middle to hide him and then placed his hands in his lap to look a bit more normal. His mom peeked in, looking at the odd way Joel was sitting with a confused face but thankfully she didn’t say anything.

 “Just wanted to let you know dinner is ready. Wash your hands and come down to eat.” She said and Joel nodded, watching and waiting until the door was fully closed and he heard her footsteps walking away. He let out a sigh of relief and opened his hands up.

 He winced as he saw Jimmy looked a bit knocked around. “Sorry Jim, I wasn’t expecting her to suddenly come in here like that.” He supposed dorm life made him used to people not suddenly walking in. “Are you okay?” He raised his hand, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt him with the sudden movement.

 “Yeah, I’m okay. Just startled me is all.” Jimmy said with a smile. “I’d rather be a bit ruffled than have someone else see me though. So thanks.”

 Joel nodded seriously. “Of course. Both me and Grian know how important it is to keep you hidden from everyone else.” He didn’t want to think about someone with ill intentions getting their hands on Jimmy. The very thought made his blood boil. He shook his head. “Anyway, if I don’t start heading down, mom will come up here again.” He set Jimmy down on his nightstand and stood up.

 “I’ll bring you up some dinner afterwards but it might be a bit. Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?” Joel asked, a little nervous leaving Jimmy alone. Sure, they left him alone all the time back at the dorm but Jimmy knew that place like the back of his hand. This was all new for the borrower.

 Jimmy waved away his worries. “I’ll be fine! I’ll just explore a bit, I’ve got plenty to see after all.” he wouldn’t be bored, that was for sure.

 Joel nodded. “Okay, just be careful.” He headed toward the door, glanced at Jimmy one more time before quickly opening and closing the door behind him.

 Jimmy listened to Joel’s footsteps fade away as he realized he was now alone for the first time in, well, a while. It was kind of nice if he was being honest. He loved Grian and Joel but even now it could still feel overwhelming being around them at times. Being alone for these little bits gave him some time to reset.

 Besides, right now, he was also excited to explore Joel’s room. It had been such a long time since he had explored a new space. Back at the college, a lot of dorm rooms were exactly the same, save the things inside that people brought with them. But this was completely new and Jimmy could feel his instincts kicking in. He wanted to explore and borrow and he wanted to do it now.

 Of course, he wouldn’t be doing any actual borrowing. This was Joel’s stuff after all and there wasn’t anything that he actually needed. But acting like he was on the hunt for something settled something in him that he hadn’t realized was still there.

 He started his climb down from the nightstand, ready and eager to explore.

  ***

   Joel balanced a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other as he tried to open his door without dropping either of them. He thought about sneaking the food away at first, but there was no way he would be able to with all his family’s attention on him. So instead he lied and said he was still hungry. Thankfully it worked and he was ushered upstairs with an extra plate of food, some dessert, and water. It was honestly too much for Jimmy to eat but at least he had some variety in his options.

 He finally managed to open the door, closing it quickly behind him. He then stood there, scared to move when he realized Jimmy said he would be exploring. Which meant the borrower was currently on the ground. And without eyes on him, Joel didn’t want to move a single step. “Jimmy? It’s just me. I brought dinner.”

 His eyes scanned the floor until he saw Jimmy coming out from underneath his bed. He relaxed and made his way over to set the food and drink on his nightstand, being careful of where Jimmy was at. After making his hands free, he crouched down and scooped Jimmy up. Jimmy must have been expecting it because he didn’t so much as make a noise. He just settled into Joel’s palms. Joel smiled a bit at that, almost not wanting to put him down. But he knew Jimmy needed to eat, so he set him down on the nightstand as Joel took a seat on his bed.

 “Whoa! This looks so good!” Jimmy exclaimed, running over to the plate. 

 “Yeah, it tastes good too.” Joel forgot how Jimmy survived solely on take-out and dorm food. Which were fine but it didn’t hold a candle to a nice home-cooked meal. Was this Jimmy’s first time eating something home-cooked? “I think the chicken will be easy enough for you to eat but I’m not sure about the mashed potatoes.” Joel tried to explain.

 “I think it’ll be fine. It’s solid enough.” Jimmy said as he stuck his finger in it and licked it. He grinned at the taste. He then looked at the other thing on the plate, his eyes going wide. “What’s that?” He pointed to it.

 Joel hummed, following his finger. “Oh! My mom made us some dessert. Something special for coming back home. It’s chocolate cake.”

 “Chocolate cake?” Jimmy repeated back. He had never heard of it, at least as far as he could remember.

 Joel blinked. “Oh, I guess the dorms don’t really have desserts or sweets huh?” Not only has Jimmy been deprived of home-cooked meals but of sweets as well? He really needed to figure out a way to get these things to Jimmy more often. It just wasn’t fair.

 “Yeah, some humans bring like, chocolate bars and stuff with them, but those things are coveted. I never even hoped to get my hands on one. It would have been too much of a risk.” Jimmy explained and Joel winced. 

 “Well, you don’t have to worry about that now. Go ahead and eat as much as you want.” Joel said, leaning back on his hands to let Jimmy go at it. Jimmy for his part, nodded and started eating. He started with the actual dinner first, going for some chicken and then grabbing a scoop of mashed potatoes for himself. Joel watched fascinated. He’s seen Jimmy eat multiple times now but it was always so weird. Joel couldn’t help but stare sometimes.

 Jimmy was done with the main course pretty quickly. He couldn’t eat too much of it after all. In fact, to Joel it barely looked like he had made a dent out of it. At least it didn’t cost anything extra for Grian and Joel to keep Jimmy fed. Joel watched, excited, as Jimmy made his way to the chocolate cake.

 Jimmy himself was also excited. This would be his first time trying anything chocolate, let alone cake. He couldn’t wait to see what all the fuss was about. He grabbed himself a handful, making sure to get a bit of everything in it. It was messy though, way messier than even the mashed potatoes had been. Jimmy ignored that though and went in for a bite.

 His eyes widened.

 Joel laughed at Jimmy’s expression. “That good huh?”

 All Jimmy could do was nod as he went in for another bite. And another. And another.

 Joel blinked, laughter dying off and replaced by a bit of awe. “Oh wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat that much.”

 Jimmy couldn’t help it, it was the best thing he had ever tasted. Was this what he had been missing out on all this time? If that was the case, maybe the risk would have been worth it after all. This was delicious. 

 Joel’s awe was soon replaced by concern. “Ah, okay, yeah, I think I gotta cut you off here.” Joel said as he gently grabbed Jimmy and pulled him away from the cake. 

 “Hey!” Jimmy squirmed in his grip and Joel almost dropped him. He brought his other hand underneath to make sure nothing happened. Jimmy hadn’t squirmed in his grasp in a long time. Not since they had first met. This was different though, of course, as Jimmy very quickly settled down and just huffed at him.

 “Sorry Jimmy but if you keep it up, you’re gonna get a stomach ache.” He looked back over at the cake. Unlike the rest of the food, he could very clearly see that it had been eaten off of. “I’ll keep in mind you’ve got quite the sweet tooth though. I promise that won’t be your last chocolate cake.”

 Jimmy perked up a bit at that. “Alright. I guess I should stop for now.” Jimmy agreed and Joel laughed. He then took a better look at Jimmy and noticed how much of a mess he was. His laughter turned into playful disgust.

 “And you’re a mess. Guess it’s time for a visit to the sink.” Joel said with a shrug, grinning as Jimmy yelled. 

“No! Not the sink!”

 Joel laughed as he headed toward the bathroom in order to prepare the sink so Jimmy could clean himself up.

 The rest of this break was looking like it was going to be a lot of fun.

[velvetwyrme]

oouuouua please make a follow up on the superhero pap x reader theyre one of my favorites also im excited to see tf fic from yuo

im glad you enjoyed it!!! i got a comment on it recently while i was thinking abt how to continue it and that seemed to click my brain into action LMAO

EHEHEHE hopefully! soon!! ive got a few things in mind but im also waffling over Really Starting because i have so many things ongoing but... auauugh the IDEAS plague me!!!!

also heres a sneak peek into my brain because im in the mood to chatter, but feel free to skip it if you so desire:

for Origin Story im LOOSELY planning any continuation/s to be kinda standalone stories all centered around a superhero trope (like the Origin Story ;]) because i think that could be fun to work with. i enjoyed writing some of the larger Undertale cast, something that i WOULD have liked to do in FF, except Edge and the MC in that are both pretty reclusive socially abfjfbdjdghkf,, oh well.

anyway. i have tons of ideas for the various tropes, so its really a matter of picking a place and Writing. i really want to feature more of Alphys in this because i love her dearly <3

as for TF fic... most of them are reader inserts unsurprisingly lmaooo but ive got a few non-reader inserts floating around there too. im kinda just throwin stuff at the walls of my mind to see what sticks, but heres a few of my draft titles for your perusing pleasure:

into the fire: noble-ish au with a human reader who is supposed to be gifted to one of the members of the household. reader makes a failed escape attempt torn bedsheet style and is saved :] inspired loosely by the visual novels i used to read/play back in high school LMAO. skeletiano, i will forever be sad i could not romance you.

between you, me and soundwave: reader writes rpf abt mechs on earth LMAO. i see people mention humans writing fanfic about Cybertronians in passing but i think itd be funny to put that at the forefront. extremely silly and low stakes fic. probably.

drift compatibility: mecha! pilot! au!! exists purely because i read 1 (one) fic about plugsuits and just went "hmnngh... mecha pilots are fun to imagine interacting with Cybertronians... also there's DRIFT compatibility... i can totally do some fucked up shit with that" and now it's spiralled wildly out of control because at some point i started thinking about Governments and Social Structures and got distracted with worldbuilding lol. i have many many many ideas and i can only hope i can string some of them together so I can EXPLODE it out of my brain either through writing or art. also theres smut that happens wayyyy down the line which ill probably end up writing first and posting separately LMAO

penance is a prison: my take on Titan AU but as a fic because my brain is so so full of thoughts abt this au. i'll probably just end up drawing a lot of these scenes instead but like. its there! partially written!! im emotions abt it!!!

self explanatory long title: human/borrower au constructicons/jazz/prowl poly. i love rare not-so-pairs a lot and im particularly fond of this set. also i just like thinking abt either jazz and prowl getting menaced by a bunch of tiny guys OR the opposite where a group of construction workers have two borrower roommates. this one is more just random idea dumps instead of a fic but still fun to think about LMAO

ALSO! MINI REC. while you wait for me to (eventually maybe) write TF fic, you should check out boostergoldishh's works on ao3 for some tasty tasty TF reader insert fics. im still planning on making a rec list but they updated today and im filled w/ much love for good writing.

and as a bonus if you got this far (thank you!!): the super secret draft chapter title for the next NEXT FF chapter because its pretty silly

if my cowriter sees this hi. ill share the doc soon but its pretty much empty, its just there to remind me whats coming next LMAO 👍

[sins-cheotic-mess]

Spoilers for in stars and time act 3!!!

And sorry if my au has any cherecter odditys in the future, I havent finished isat yet, personally Im just at act 3, will update it as I go :3

So the au takes place in a very big number of loops, where Sif is stuck, not knowing what to do different anymore, theyve stopped going to loop for help.. and eventually loop stopped showing up, Siffrin got use to the predictable things in theyre every loop, he accepted that nothing would change anymore, but as the universe would have it, at the start of a tireing loop, Siffrin wished to the change god for change. Any. Change. The change god listened.. the Universe listend.. someone else listend. Siffrin felt a tug on theyre stomach and the smell of burnt sugar.. more intense then theyve ever smelled it. And the faint smell of...

They woke up on the grass, they dont understand what made them rewind this time.. they get up and may the "usual" loop start

SO THE AU, the premise of this au is simple, what if the loops were unstable? What if the loops didnt work correctly? What if. The loops didnt loop as theyre supose to? What if it ALL changed?

So yeah. You can probably imagine what type of cheos this little au will have, although this au will be heavily focused on Siffrin the party will almost always be present, Sif will have a pretty hard time, I hope you all will like to read about theyre mental state teehee

The more Siffrin loops, the more things will change the more things change, the less time Siffrin will have to find l-

One thing I havent decided yet is wether or not to make this Siffrin visit different aus(with permission), since the interactions would be intresting, for example, the Siffrin is out au, if this Siffrin joined them for one singular loop in the place of theyre Siffrin, they'd both have some comfort and Siffrin could learn some stuff they didnt know about themself, then what if they visited aus like the age swap au? Or the au where the god of change banishes Loop? So much could happon if only they were there for one sigular loop? So much pain, confusion and yet comfort and warmth from alternet versions of theyre party!

An easy way to know that the Siffrin in the au is the in stars and out of time one, would be a Star pin that they have on theyre outfit, they didnt evem notice they had it on...

Whelp, if youre intrested in the au, stay tuned as, as soon as I get my AO3 account up and running Ill be making a few chapters of the first loops before everything goes CRAZY AS CRAB!!! hehe, so if you dont want to follow(wich is ok) you can always follow this post to recive a notification when I reblog more info about the au or the AO3 story itself :]