#just don’t tag the ships like c’mon

[smiles-rambles]

Ok I’m just gonna say this but people have every right to make a post on why they don’t like a ship on their own blog

However to me, it’s polite to not tag it as that ship because people don’t want to scroll through that tag and see hate.

If you see something you don’t like, idk, be a grown adult and move on with your life. Block and move on. What is wrong with you people

[irisintheafterglow]

if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom

summary: the strawhats are summoned back to baratie so sanji can cook for a high-class diner. they can't figure out why zoro is so nervous. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of food and eating, established relationship, pet names (sweetheart, doll, lover, pretty), spoilers if you squint, sanji being himself and zoro having absolutely none of it

note: this was requested by an anon a few weeks ago and i finally got around to writing it!! every time i write for zoro, i have a new favorite fic i've made because he's just so fun to write for. hope you enjoy!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“You know, they’re a lot hotter in person.”

“Shut your mouth, waiter, or I’ll skewer it closed,” he mutters with palpable distaste. Another swig of rum burns down his throat and, for the first time that the crew can remember, Zoro seemed nervous. It wasn’t obvious, but they’d sailed long enough to know that he never stopped surveying a room for threats, no matter how familiar he was with it. Today, though, the only thing that took his attention was the rim of his glass and he was subtly avoiding the eyes of the crew’s target. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve had in a long time.” 

“Thank you for your input, Zoro. I will, however, be belaying it,” his captain replies brightly, unfazed by the blank expression of his first mate. The uneasy faces of his crew only makes him beam more, giddily excited for the anticipated challenge. “C’mon, guys. We’ll be fine. They just need to see how awesome we are and they’ll totally give us a new sail!”

“Loud, loud, too loud,” Zoro warns in response to the increasing volume of Luffy’s voice. They were already causing enough of a scene, as is, and he damn sure didn’t want other guests looking in their direction. To make matters worse, the amount of alcohol in the table’s bottle was dwindling too quickly for comfort. 

“Hey, if we’re lucky,” Usopp offers, “we might just get a whole ship. You know, maybe one that Captain Usopp can command as the second ship in the Straw Hat fleet.”

“You think we’ll get a whole fleet?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe, we can all captain our own ships–”

“Alright, let’s get our heads out of the clouds,” Nami cuts in. “We still need to figure out how we’re going to get over there, in the first place. And just for the record, I’m with Zoro on this one.” 

“First time for everything,” he deadpans. She smartly elects to ignore his sarcasm and continues to argue why the plan is a bad idea. The call from Zeff came at an opportune time and during an unfortunate situation when the Merry sailed straight into a torrential thunderstorm that ripped the main sail clean down the middle. Despite their best efforts to patch it up, it was beyond repair; with the Marines constantly on their tail, having a working sail was a matter of survival. Zeff’s reluctant summons for Sanji to cook for a special guest provided a means to buy a new sail and have a little extra spending money. But, in his wildest dreams, Zoro could not have predicted that the special guest was you. The smug look on the chef’s face snaps him out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, waiter?”

“Shouldn’t you be downing the rest of this bottle, drunk?”

“I’ll smash this damn bottle on your head, I swear–”

“No, no. Zoro has a point,” Luffy agrees. Sanji gives him an odd look and he quickly realizes what his statement insinuated. “Not about smashing the bottle on your head. We need you to bring them your food so then I can go over and talk with them.”

“You don’t think I can charm them on my own?” 

“Don’t look so aghast, blondie,” Zoro answers and receives a knife-sharp glare in response. “This is not someone who will entertain your theatrics.”

“How would you know anything about them, hmm? I believe you’re a little too dead inside for their liking,” Sanji baits and Zoro’s on the verge of biting before Nami steps in again. 

“Sanji, get in the kitchen. Let’s just get the money and get out of here.” Zoro silently thanks her in his head for effectively ridding the chef of the table for the time being. His gratitude turns into a grimace when she turns to him expectantly. “You’re gonna hate me for asking–”

“Then don’t ask,” he finishes. She doesn’t relent. 

“How do you know them? It seems like you’re nervous about being here, but we’ve never met them before as a crew.” Hitting the damn nail on the head. “So, you must’ve met them when you were still hunting down pirates. Am I right?” He grumbles an unreadable response, but the slightly pink shade of his face tells the table everything they need to know. “You’re terrible at covering up secrets.”

“I don’t remember asking.”

“Ah, you’ve got him on the run, now. He’s deflecting,” Usopp chuckles, immediately shutting up when Zoro shoots him a deadly scowl. He hated that all of them were right and would never admit it to save his life. After all this time, seeing you still made his heart rate skyrocket and cause his hands to clam up with boyish nervousness. You were just as beautiful as the last time he saw you, instances that were too few and far between for his own liking. Your father would have a fit if he saw you in such an unregulated environment as Baratie, but he knew that you were safe. As long as you breathed the same oxygen, he vowed no harm would come to you. 

“I met them when I first started hunting,” he admits and the words felt wrong on his tongue. Every nerve in his body was telling him to stop revealing his relationship to you. It didn’t matter if he’d almost died surrounded by his crew; his connection to you was sacred and something he was going to take to his grave. It was mostly for your safety, the late-night sneaking out and stolen displays of affection. In another life, he wouldn’t have to hide you from other hunters that wanted to see him fall. “Their father is a captain in the Marines. When I first met them, they were training with Mihawk. Their father wanted them to be the most feared Marine in the seas.” The jaws of his friends fell to the table and he knew how wild it sounded, a legacy Marine trained by a pirate lord. “But, Mihawk taught them more tricks than just swordfighting and their father fired him on the spot.”

“He taught them sympathy for pirates,” Nami concludes and he nods. “Why are you so shifty around them?” He shrugs half-heartedly and tries to make it look like his face wasn’t on fire.

“Just haven’t seen them in a while,” he states, zeroing in on the blonde asshole waltzing to you with a plate. Your surrounding guards stiffen, hands flying to the weapons at their belts. You, however, roll your eyes and tell them to stand down. He knew you hated going out with security because they were always watching, watching, watching. “Eyes up. The waiter’s making a move.” 

A strange sense of nausea washes over him as he watches you smile politely at Sanji, laughing softly at his jokes and kindly nodding as he explains the dish to you. You trust them, Zoro keeps telling himself. That waiter doesn’t stand a fucking chance. All the reassurances don’t stop his gut from churning when Sanji does his signature lean-down-and-whisper-suggestively into your ear. To his surprise, however, you don’t immediately meet the chef’s eyes. Your attention flicks to Zoro, instead, with a look that he knows all too well. 

Please get me out of this. 

Despite the protests of the table, he’s standing in an instant and walking with his hands on his swords like your guards didn’t even exist. His sight becomes tunnel-vision on nothing but you and he bypasses your guards with ease. Your shoulders relax when he stations himself protectively behind you, much to the confusion of the chef in front of you. As subtle as he can, he rests his hand on the back of your chair, inching closer until he’s just barely touching your shoulder. It’s small, but speaks wonders for his presence. 

“Zoro,” you murmur without looking up, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles. Your touch on his skin after so much time away feels electric.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sanji stiffens at the term of endearment so easily leaving Zoro’s mouth and you can sense the boost it does for his ego. “Whatcha got there?”

“My new friend was just telling me about the dish he made. He said he crafted it especially for me, with his own hands,” you inform him with a sly sparkle in your eye. His jaw clenches unconsciously. You knew exactly what was going on in Zoro’s mind and he knew it, too. “Apparently, he can work wonders with his hands,” you remark casually and you can hear the chair crack under the force of the swordsman’s hand gripping it. To your delight, Sanji’s face has also taken on a slightly darker shade of red at how crassly you echo his suggestion. And in front of his rival, no less.

“Was he, now?” His tone is lethal and it sends goosebumps up your arms. “Well, it best be time for him to get back in the kitchen, no?”

“Mmm, but he said he had a proposal for me–”

“I had one for you too, though I did ask you in a much finer establishment than this one.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads on your face and you have to look to the side to keep from laughing aloud. Zoro’s jealousy was rearing a very indignant head; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it a little hot. “Got that stone on your left hand to prove it.” Sanji’s eyes darted to the band wrapped around your finger, a ring that looked suspiciously like the one hanging from a chain around Zoro’s neck. “Give us some time alone, yeah?” His question becomes rhetorical as he pulls out a chair next to you and tugs your seat closer until you can cross your leg across his. His palm rests possessively over your thigh and the chef gapes for a few moments more before turning back to the kitchen. 

“That goes for all of you, please,” you order your guards without looking at them, absentmindedly tracing Zoro’s jawline with the back of your pointer finger. “Take my bag and buy however many drinks you want. I’m safe,” you state with absolute certainty. Once they’re gone, all you see, feel, and know is him.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you smile just as softly. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“I can ask you the same question, pretty.” His eyes shine with nothing but adoration. You forgot just how much you missed him.

“Took a detour to prolong my time at sea. I didn’t want to go home just yet.”

“Your old man’s being an ass again?”

“You know how he is,” you reply. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, that blonde shithead is my crewmate. We’re here to get some extra Berry for a new sail.”

“Sail, hmm? I always knew you had a little pirate in you,” you tease and he sticks his tongue out immaturely. “Heard you fought my esteemed mentor. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”

“You don’t think I can beat him?”

“I don’t think I can fathom what will happen if you don’t,” you say quietly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Don’t do any dumb shit, okay?”

“You’re acting as if I’m already leaving you again.” 

“Aren’t you?” Your smile is sad and it makes his chest ache. When he beat Mihawk and killed your bastard father, he was going to give you the life that you deserved. 

“Not yet,” he promises. “I don’t wanna go yet.”

“I don’t want you to go, either. How much do you need for that sail?” He gives you a number and you don’t even blink. You just nod and reach into your coin purse, fishing around and deciding to just give him the entire pouch. “Will that cover it?”

“Doll–”

“It’s a yes or no question, husband,” you say with lighthearted sternness. He shakes his head in exasperation but can’t hide the grin painting his features. 

“Yes, lover. It’s more than enough.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum in contentment. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course. D’you mind introducing me to the rest of your crew besides the flirty waiter?”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[syoddeye]

consequence / slow

price x f!reader | 1.9k words series directory | ao3 tags: you may want to shake them, mild angst a/n: moving right along. ☕

slow means trips to the cinema and bookstore. after work drinks. long walks. accompanying her on errands.

steady means texting her more on the days he doesn’t see her and when he ships off to work. asking if she wants a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, or advice when she’s upset.

he can tell, when the conversation lulls, when they’re both content to simply coexist, that she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. for him to wash his hands of her. it’s in how she asks, usually at least three times, if he’s alright or needs anything. she stares at him when she thinks he isn’t looking, over books and in the dark of the theatre.

it’s cute. a mite worrying. 

john wants to kiss the tip of her nose, the space between her eyebrows. each cheek. and her mouth, of course. wants to impart his intentions and steadfastness since words don’t seem to do the trick.

but he won’t. slow and steady is what he promised, and he won’t break a promise made to her.

~~~~

god, you want to kiss him. you just had to go and make a little speech about taking things slow and steady.

you brush a crumb off his cheek, and his beard tickles against your fingers from his grin. you tuck his shirt tag and watch his back and shoulders tense. you grab his wrist during a horror movie marathon, and he takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

and he’s a gentleman. if only he knew. he’d think you such a hypocrite. maybe in a funny way. 

~~~~

john swears, the gleam of his car keys taunting him from inside his secure, locked, and dry car. the dying, flickering streetlamp casts enough light to shine a spot on his stupidity.

“should i call someone?” 

he squints over his shoulder through the pouring rain. she’s taken cover under an awning of some laundrette, still holding his coat over her head and shoulders. good.

“i can get us in. it’ll just be a tick.”

“you can?”

he digs through his wallet for a pick card, exhaling in frustration when he finds nothing. he swings toward the alley, heading for the nearest bin. as he passes, he gives her a tight smile. feels his shoes squishing with each step.

“if i’m lucky.” 

he’s rummaged in worse places. soaked through, rain pounding relentlessly and plastering his hair to his head, he stares into the bin. just as he’s resigned himself to rifling through discarded detergent bottles and packaging, he seizes on a bent wire hanger. absurdity grips him as he plucks it from the rubbish, water dripping down his fingertips, and he almost laughs at how desperate and ridiculous he must look.

“you’re going to jemmy it?”

he steps into her space, if only to get out of the rain for a minute. she leans closer, warm breath inadvertently fanning over his hands as she watches. he unwinds the hanger, bending it into a sharp hook, and tries not to stare at her mouth.

“precisely.”

john lets himself admire her eyelashes and then returns to the task at hand.

he wedges the hook between the rubber and glass of the window, rotating and adjusting by feel. the lock knob jiggles, it’s nearly there—only for the streetlamp to die with a dramatic pop and a flash. their stretch of street plunges into darkness, leaving nothing but the sound of rain on pavement.

neither of them speak.

john bites back a curse and reaches for his phone, flicking on the flashlight. it isn’t much, but it’s something. he returns to the issue at hand. he swears again, the hanger slippery in his slick palm. his phone nearly slides out of his other hand, and frustration boils in his gut like an unchecked pot.

it’s then her hand slides into his field of vision, grabbing the device out of his hand to angle it just so. 

he wheels, frowning. his coat drapes over her head and upper body, held open with one hand to shield his phone and the car door. 

“what are you—no, get back under the awning.”

she ignores him. “c’mon. you need to see, right?” 

“you’re going to get soaked.”

“you better hurry, then.”

through the shadows, her smile gleams. his stomach twists.

by the time he pops the lock, they’re both drenched. they plop into their respective seats with sighs of relief. a quick glance tells him his coat’s protected her hair and head from the worst of it, but everything below her shoulders clings. saturated in rainwater.

before his brain leaks out his ears, he searches for something to help dry her off.

she lays a hand on his arm, laughing softly. breathless and giddy.

“john, it’s alright. let’s just go.”

his eyes climbs from where her fingers curl over muscle, up her arm, to her face. a rogue droplet runs along the curve of her face to her chin. she’s much closer than he thought. his hand twitches, and her lips part, gaze flicking to meet his. in his chest, his heart threatens to quit. 

the sound of stomping feet and shrieks of laughter tear them both from the moment. through the windscreen, another unlucky couple darts down the walk, sheltering under a single umbrella. john watches until they disappear, and by then, she’s reclined in her seat, turning the pulldown mirror on her face.

he swallows, steals one more look, then starts the car.

>> dinner was really nice by the way >> and i am very impressed by your ability to break into your car >> should i be concerned?

> you don’t have a car, do you?

>> maybe not, but i have three locks on my front door >> feels like those would be childs play to you

> i like to think you’d invite me in.

john stares at his phone, cigar hanging from his lip. get a grip, price. 

he nearly jumps when the dots pop up.

>> yeah you know what? i would

> speaking of invitations. i’d like to host you for dinner next weekend.

the dots appear quicker.

>> i’d love that. send me details in the morning? falling asleep.

> of course. goodnight. 

> give cece my best.

>> [74968219557__d2aa9bd2.heic] >> chat in the meow-ning

~~~~

there is a spring in your step. it’s carried you all day. all week, really.

john offered to fetch you, but you insisted on taking the bus then stretching your legs. with a bottle and umbrella tucked into your bag, you decide halfway to his place that you will kiss him tonight. after a couple of months, no one can accuse you of not adhering to your policy.

slow and steady. a mantra and a reminder to remain calm. 

it’s john. he’s proven he’s no flake or phony. that he isn’t in this to rush you to his bed. he’s leagues more communicative and considerate than ben. more fun than hannah.

yeah. you’re going to kiss him and enjoy it. you’re ready.

~~~~

“yeah, understood. later.”

at the click, john immediately pinches the bridge of his nose. he sucks in a deep breath, calming the swell of anger clutching his heart, then grabs a dish towel to dab his forehead. he broke out into a sweat when he saw kate’s name on his secured phone.

he covers the stew to simmer while he packs.

there are times he well and truly hates his line of work. this is one of them. she’s due on his doorstep, and he’s due to leave.

he drops his bag at the end of his bed just as a knock echoes through his flat. with a pointed look at himself in the hall mirror, he goes to let her in, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

under the light above his door, she looks angelic but a touch sly, like always. her smile is more a natural smirk, which deepens with the presentation of the bottle of red wine.

wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder, he manages a grin. “what’s this?”

“i come bearing gifts.”

he likes wine, but he’d rather have her. pushing past the boorish thought, he takes the bottle and ushers her inside.

“thank you. didn’t need to bring anything.”

“other than myself?”

she shoots him another smile as he takes her coat, shrugging out of it. her tattoos are as tempting as ever, the short sleeves of her top leading his eyes along one arm. they hitch on a bandage. 

“and what’s this?”

“new gap filler.” she turns sheepish, taking the bottle from his hands and bypassing him, swiveling to take in his space. “i, uh, did it myself. just a measly matchstick—nice place you got here.”

he shuts the door, traipsing after her. “moved on from tattooing fruit?”

“you sound upset.”

john chuckles, checking the stove. “not at all. impressed. how’s it healing?”

“it’s pretty raw. did it this morning. idle hands and all that.”

he grins down at the dark chunks of lamb that have softened in the broth, the mix of carrots and potatoes, and stirs.

“bet it looks great.”

“that smells great.”

john glances at his work mobile. “it’s nearly finished.”

“should i open the wine?”

he shuts off the burner, nose twitching with the unpleasantness of what he must say. “if you’d like, but i can’t partake tonight.” seeing her browline quirk, he breaks the news all in one go. he can’t leave her in suspense. “i have to leave in forty minutes. work called.”

her mouth falls open, then shuts. the bottle thunks quietly onto the counter. her fingers unwrap from its neck, and she taps the cork, clearly processing.

“i see. how long?”

he considers retirement based on the look on her face alone.

“should only be a week, week and a half.” john slips his personal phone from a pocket and places it before her. worry laces the rest of his words. “kicker is, i can’t take this with me this time. about to head into a bad situation, to put it mildly.”

although the tone does not accompany it, her face promptly pulls into one he’s seen at the shop. pleasantly neutral. fuck. he should’ve known. the first unscheduled, unplanned deployment since they’ve met, and he’s hardly prepared her for it.

“okay,” she pushes the bottle further into the middle of the counter, clearly abandoning it for the meantime. “forty minutes. you better eat, then. probably not going to have a decent meal for a few days, yeah?”

“probably not.”

regret lances through his chest, but he knows his imminent departure cannot be softened no matter what he says. so he fetches two bowls and two spoons and ladles generous portions. the time passes, their conversation stilted and stifled, her wilted disposition difficult to ignore. she offers to take the rest of the stew and some other perishables from his refrigerator but refuses to let him drive her. again.

“it’s a completely different direction.”

“i don’t mind.”

“well, i mind.” it comes out stiff. barbed. her tongue swipes over her lip as she adjusts the bag on her shoulder, briefly glancing outside into the darkening sky. when she looks back, her eyes bounce from his mouth and then up. she speaks markedly softer. “be safe. see you soon.”

john thinks back to the car. that quiet slip of time and stillness. he wants to kiss her. gather her in his arms and kiss her until he can neither be argued nor doubted, but the ball’s in her court. he won’t rush it. especially if she’s second-guessing pursuing another man whose career consists of departures. he scratches his cheek. “yeah. see you soon.”

it’s disappointing when the operation bleeds into two weeks. torture when it takes three. 

but it’s a clusterfuck when they’re dismissed after week six.

[blackdollette]

I know you’re not really writing for Rory characters right now but if I could request a Clyde smut where he says “swallow, swallow” with the pill, but instead.. it’s his girlfriend or OOO maybe someone who buys stuff off him like weed, and she’s giving him head as payment but she’s got a textural problem so like, weird textures are icky, and he holds his hand over her mouth and says swallow? That may be weird, I dunno— if it is I’m so sorry 😭😭

anon you don't understand how much i've been thinking abt this ever since you sent this. i just 😩

"hand at the back of my neck." | clyde

national anthem. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999@livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist@auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @vanlisbon @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly@imoonkiss @lankysimp@nom-nommmm1@xxbl00d-cl0txx@k1ll3rh0rr0r@wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526@greenxgloss

⊹₊⋆ pairing: dealer!clyde x female!reader

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1.4k

⊹₊⋆ contents: drugs, blowjob, cum-eating, slight aftercare, fluffy if you squint

when it came to describing you, impulsive only covered the tip of the iceburg. the lines defining the story between you and clyde had gone blurry over the years but as far as you knew, he was basically the best thing that had ever happened to you. 

and both of you were fully aware of that.

your faintly shivering fist sheepishly knocked that familiar pattern on the door of his apartment room. the hallway outside of his room always smelled faintly of green and stale fast food. before you could bring your hand back to your side, the doorknob turned allowing the stained wooden door to creak open, bringing his warm, sleepy eyes and that smile into view.

“well, if it isn’t my favourite customer…” clyde flipped his hair out of his face, allowing his gaze to run up and down you shamelessly. “...you look good. as usual.”

he was shirtless, only clad in a pair of gray sweatpants that rode dangerously low on his hips. all need for formality had vanished the day you had experienced your first high right there in his “workshop”.

you smiled shyly, already feeling slightly light on your feet as the psychedelic aromas from inside wafted toward you. “hi clyde. sorry for showing up unannounced…” 

considering how quickly he opened the door and the lack of that lust-filled flush that covered his cheeks whenever he was getting some action, you could safely conclude that he was alone at the moment. but you felt the need to ask anyway.

“is now a good time? i can come back later if you’re busy…”

he let out a little breathless laugh, shaking his head and dislodging a few locks from behind his ear. “there’s no better time than now. c’mon in. i just got some new stuff shipped in that you’ll love.”

he snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his cozy apartment room and shutting the door behind you.

“you got your mind on anything specific today?” he asked as he ushered you to his overstuffed couch. you sat down, scanning the various piles of boxes with long medical names and numbers on them. 

you weren’t really the adventurous type when it came to drugs. you saw how badly it could screw someone’s life over, and you didn’t know if you had the willpower to “stop whenever you wanted to”. so a little marijuana had always seemed like the safest choice.

“just the usual please.” you watched as he playfully rolled his eyes at the predictability of your request.

“that’s my girl. i don’t even know why i wonder differently…” 

he dug through a large cardboard box, retrieving two dainty bags of weed and a pack of rolling paper. he wrapped them up nicely for you, knowing that the presentation meant everything to you. 

“alright, a bag of mary jane for the pretty lady.” he handed the goods to you, the smile on your face tugging at his heartstrings. “that’ll be $50.”

you hissed, the mention of the price nearly killing the mood.

“you know i’ve never had that kind of money on me, clyde. i’m barely making it by at the restaurant. i’m out looking for my third job this month.”

clyde tossed his hair out of his face, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh. “don’t think i don’t know that times are getting hard around these parts. you know people have hardly been buying from me these days…”

you nodded, a guilt-ridden expression on your face as you cleared your throat to propose a suggestion.

“i doubt all those used-up strippers that come around here have the money. how do they pay you? blood money?”

clyde laughs heartily. “the night usually ends in some cheap sex that i regret in the morning. but a deal is a deal. you thinking of spending the night with me to cover the fee?”

you shake your head. “it’s that time of the month. i know how you are around blood.”

clyde grimaces, nodding with a chuckle. “no kidding. but you might be onto something…”

you looked up at him from your position on the couch debating whether or not to make your proposal.

“...want a blowjob..?” 

clyde’s gaze snapped to your face, looking for any hint or humour or sarcasm in your question. but you were dead serious. he looked down, a grin playing at his lips. 

“well that sure would be one hell of a payment…”

you fidgeted with your thumbs. “so… do we have a deal..?”

he smiles, extending a hand to you. “indeed we do.”

he gave you a firm handshake, spinning you around and sitting down on the couch as you stood in front of him.

you slowly sank down to your knees, resting comfortably in between his partly spread legs. your gazes met briefly, yours eager and his desperate. his imprint pressed against the soft wool of his sweatpants, betraying how much he was trying to keep his composure.

you place your hands on his thighs, trailing them up until you reach the waistband. your fingers pried underneath the elastic, the feeling of your cold fingers against his skin making him shiver. it took a moment for you to navigate your way under you felt him against your palm. you pulled out his needy erection, the tip already red and angry with desire.

clyde let out a shaky exhale, tipping his head back as your soft hands massaged his girth and teased the tip. his hips rutted up into your grip, desperate for more contact.

 you swallowed hard, getting rid of the abundance of moisture in your mouth before slowly opening your jaw, your hot breath hitting the tip and you licked a long stripe up his cock. clyde groaned deeply, his hand finding the back of your head as the other went down to cup your cheek.

you began to take him in, inch by inch as you salivated around him. you went down until your chin touched his balls and your nose tapped at the base of his length. you held back a gag as the tip hit the back of your throat. once you were secure, you bobbed your head up and down, creating suction in your cheeks to maximize his pleasure.

clyde’s breathing grew laboured, a huge grin plastered on his face. “...oh man… you’re a natural, aren’t ya..?” your heart fluttered at his praise, urging you to go a little quicker.

your tongue flicked against his tip with practiced precision. 

clyde whimpered as his hips bucked upward, forcing his length into you and out just as quickly. “i-i don’t think i’m gonna last much longer…” he swallows hard, his voice coming out strained and breathy. “...hope you’re ready for a load…”

you fondled his balls with your hand, massaging hypontic patterns onto the soft flesh. the heat of your mouth, the feeling of your perfect touch, it was all doing things to his head. better than any drug around.

as his leg began to twitch and his breathing grew weary, he vigorously thrusted into your mouth as moans and dirty phrases spilled from his lips.

“...that’s it… i’m cummin’...”

before he could fully get his warning out, his seed spilled into your mouth. everytime you thought he was running empty, another load busted onto your tongue. you gagged, your eyes welling with tears as he panted heavily, pulling your mouth off his rod as he recollected himself.

his vision went hazy. “that… that was amazing…” he looked down as you, watching you struggle to swallow his excessive load.

he waited for you to get yourself steady, but it was almost as if your body was physically rejecting his cum. you gagged, a few drops spilling out of your mouth until he quickly held the bottom of your jaw. 

“hey, hey..! easy there… what’s wrong..?” he asked frantically. you couldn’t speak, but he got the message quickly. 

he tilted your head back gently. “there you go, sweetie… swallow, swallow. just like that…” he whispered, wiping away the stray drops as you finally managed to get the thick, salty solution down.

you panted heavily, gripping onto his thighs for support. “i did it…” you managed to gasp out as he gently held your face. 

clyde pushed his hair out of his face, helping you get back to your feet. he stood up as well, still reeling over the aftershocks of his orgasm. “well, a deal is a deal.” he picked up your bagged goods from the couch, tossing them to you. 

you murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ as he walked you to the door, opening it for you like the gentleman he was.

“it was a real pleasure doing business with you.”

author's note: this request took me wayyy too long :(( and how haven't I written for clyde since April?!

[in1-nutshell]

Hi!

Can I please request for a platonic buddy that is always following lost light Ratchet around trying to become an apprentice so he get annoyed asking buddy to stop but then one day after a battle Ratched doesn't see buddy until he finds them injured in a storage room.

Buddy just trying their best to show Ratchet their skills.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy trying to be Ratchet's apprentice

SFW, Platonic, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Ratchet had gotten used being viewed as a mentor figure or father figure throughout his lifetime.

It seemed to happen every couple of years or so.

But no bot had gotten such a… strong reaction.

Buddy was one of the newest additions to the crew after making a stop on Cybertron.

They were fresh from passing their nursing exam and ready to work.

It wasn’t Buddy’s seemingly unlimited optimism that bothered him.

They were realistic on the grimmer situations of life but tried to view the brighter side of things.

Buddy trying to get Tailgate to sit still: “C’mon Tailgate! One more checkup and your good to go!” Tailgate: “But is this one really necessary? I feel fine.” Buddy: “But that would mean you’d have to tell Cyclonus. Wouldn’t you like to give the news to Cyclonus that you are 100% healthy yourself? I think he’d really like that.” Tailgate sits on the med slab: “Do it.”

Ratchet could respect that.

It wasn’t their habit of trying to get everything organized in the med bay.

That was not only crucial, but a habit even he tended to lose every now and then.

Ratchet and First Aid walking into the med bay. They turn on the lights to see Buddy in the corner with several tools in their servos. Ratchet flinches a bit while First Aid jumps a bit. Ratchet: “Kid? What are you doing here in the dark?” Buddy: “Germs produce faster in light. I’m making sure these tools are properly sterilized.” First Aid: “We have a machine for that…” Buddy: “I know.” First Aid: “… Are you going to use it?” Buddy: “Nope. Now, if you don’t mind turning off the lights?” Ratchet: “… Our personal tools are clean and ready to use at a moment’s notice?” Buddy smiles and points to the tools neatly arranged in their place. Buddy: “Even alphabetized them.”

No. it wasn’t that.

It was their increased chattering that rivaled Swerve’s own chattering.

It was a bit endearing at first since most of it reminded him of the younger days when some bots used to shadow him and ask him questions.

One of the more common questions they asked was how he felt about them becoming his apprentice.

Ratchet never gave an answer to that question.

But after a couple of days the chatter began to become more and more annoying.

It was one particular day that Ratchet had gotten into a nasty spat with Drift, he snapped as soon as Buddy got on his nerve.

He nearly tore them a new one if it weren’t for First Aid, Ambulon and Velocity trying to calm him down and let Buddy slip out of the med bay.

It took a couple of hours before he calmed down and started feeling a bit bad for tearing a new one in Buddy.

But he felt like in a way it was a bit necessary, so he didn’t apologize.

Buddy on the other hand felt awful.

They had no idea Ratchet hated them talking so much.

They felt like they needed to make it up to Ratchet in some way.

They knew that the talking so much wasn’t going to go in one day.

That was unrealistic and they liked talking.

No matter how much they looked up to the senior medic, they weren’t going to give that up for him or anyone.

Instead, they thought about getting him something.

An apology gift and to stop mentioning the apprenticeship.

It was the least they could do.

The day of the incident the Lost Light had welcomed the Scavengers.

The rag tag group had decided to visit the ship again.

Spinister spots Buddy and walks up to them. Spinister: “You’re Buddy, right?” Buddy looks at the bot and smiles: “That’s me!” Spinister: “Our ship ran out of some medical equipment. Do you mind sparing—” Buddy: “You don’t need to explain, follow me!” Buddy grabs Spinister’s servo. The mech nearly grabs his blaster with the other but refrains. Spinister: “You’re a perky one, aren’t you?” Buddy just flashes him a smile as they continue to walk down the hall. CCCRRREEEAAAKKKKK!!!!!! GGGRRROOOOAAANNNNN!!!! The ship suddenly stopped and lurched forward, sending both bots into one of the storage units. The doors lock from the outside, not even bugging with Spinister ramming his shoulder into it or blasting it. Spinister hears blaster exchange outside the door. Spinister: “Blasted door! I—” Buddy: “Spinister…?” Spinister turns to see Buddy pinned by one of the columns in the room. The column covered half of their frame. They looked scared once the sight of a familiar pink hue began spreading. Spinster: “…Scrap. Why does the storage unit even have columns?!” Buddy: “I don’t know! I think someone bought them last planetary visit!

As it turned out the ship had been attacked by space pirates again.

It was a whole team effort to get the pirates off the ship.

Once the battle was done, was when the Scavenger’s noticed that Spinister was missing.

Soon enough the crew noticed they were also a medic short.

Ratchet was in the search party with some of the Scavengers when they heard the yelling.

After finally unlocking the door, the group wasn’t ready for Spinister to kick down the unlocked door.

He began yelling at them to get them both to the med bay before Buddy ran out of anymore energon.

Spinister and Buddy were treated for their wounds.

Ratchet gives a quiet apolody to Buddy, who immediately accepts and makes their apology.

It’s after a few more days of them being at their 100% that they suddenly get an opening for an apprenticeship with Ratchet.

They pounce at the opportunity immediately.

Ratchet doesn’t regret giving them the chance.

The only thing he regretted later on, was them bringing the Scavengers with them to Swerve’s during game night.

No one knows what exactly happened to Buddy and Spinister from their time in the storage room, but now they make an unstoppable team in Earth board games.

[anystalker707]

"Show me how to kiss?"

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x [gender neutral] Reader Summary: Two sets of headcanons: one in which you ask Zoro to show you what it is like to kiss and another one in which he's the one to ask. Tags: Shy Zoro / Fluffy and loving / Also sorta funny Check out (Vinsmoke Sanji's version)

MASTERLIST

If you’re the one to ask him...

• He just. He doesn’t know how to kiss either. I mean, do you think he ever had the time or mindset to do it??

• So, it’s messy. None of you really know what to do.

• Behind it all, Zoro has been kinda hoping he could kiss you and you’d been looking at him in a different way lately, so something like that was sort of bound to happen at some point

• It’s like a switch turns for you two, and it’s impossible to stop after that because, after all, you gotta practice to be perfect, right?

          “...They wouldn’t stop kissing.” You sighed, twisting your mouth a little as you thought back to the couple you saw at a bar when hanging out with the crew at an island. You and Zoro were out on the deck for the night watch; he sat back against the railing while you had your back on the ground, observing the stars above you. Once in a while, a colder breeze would make you shiver, but it wasn’t really that bad. The gentle rocking of the ship would intensify your tiredness, at times, but never enough to make your consciousness slip away into slumber, which resulted in sporadic and pointless talks. “It was obnoxious.”

Zoro hummed in agreement, shaking his head as he kept his gaze far in the horizon.

“What’s so great about it?”

He raised an eyebrow, humming again, and looked at you.

“About kissing,” you explained, sitting up and scooting closer to him with a sigh. “What’s good about it?”

...Why would he know? Zoro blushed a little as he looked away and preferred not to answer it. Maybe you’d give up on the question or talk about something else. Having to deal with always trying to find something other than the annoying couple at the bar was already stressful enough.

“Zoro.” You nudged him. “Can I ask you something?”

He blinked and looked at you for a moment. He nodded. You were a pain in the ass everyday—affectionately—, so he was mostly used to what you could come up with.

“Look, I don’t know how to say it without making it awkward, but like, I trust you, so...” You sighed, your eyes averting away for a moment. “Like, could you show me how to kiss? I never really had any time to think about it because I was always training to be strong out in the sea, y’know?” Was Zoro even paying attention? Even in the dark, you could see his red cheeks. Did you say something wrong?

“I can’t help you with that.” He kept looking forward, eyes narrowed. You knew that serious posture was just a play. It was when Robin and you ran into him taking care of babies.

You pouted. “What? C’mon, I’m just curious. We’ll just never talk about it.”

Zoro didn’t bulge, only groaning when you poked his side, squirming away more than he usually would. “I already said I can’t help you with that!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing really ever came from your mouth. Instead, you searched in your mind for some reference, however, you could only remember Zoro always in the corners of bars or celebrations or over the sake. He was never the type to be around hitting on someone like Sanji did nor pay attention to whoever approached him. Maybe...

“I think I get it.” You smirked a little. “You don’t know how to kiss either.”

The flush on Zoro’s face intensified as he gasped and widened his eyes. “Wh—What are you talking about?”

You chuckled. Of course, Zoro, the swordsman with his unbelievable focus on becoming the best ever and his whole damn shyness wouldn’t allow him to be with anyone else either. It was almost relatable.

“It’s obvious Zoro. You can tell me, though,” you continued, ignoring the stuttering mess he was in, “y’know, it all makes sense. And I’m, like, the closest one to you here, you can at least admit it to me, right?” You elbowed his side a little—you didn’t give a fuck about it, to be honest, it was just nice seeing him like that. “I’m up to helping you with it, though, hm? What do you say?” You chuckled again, but made sure to keep a serious hint. It was all a joke until he agreed. If he disagreed, you were just fucking around, right?

Zoro’s face was so red. He could feel it burning and everything felt too much. His heart already felt like it would rip off his chest, and then the way you elbowed his side and that your face was so close to his that he could feel your breath on the side of his face, he was—

“Fine!” He breathed before he could notice it himself.

You raised your eyebrows. Did you hear it right? “Fine,” huh? Your own cheeks warmed up at the thought.

“You really...”

“Don’t make me regret it.” Zoro gulped, and you almost chuckled as he shifted to face you, his eyes still not looking anywhere near yours.

Despite fooling around the whole time, a serious atmosphere fell over both of you simultaneously, having the two of you gradually fall quiet. Zoro took a deep breath while you already looked at his eyes, waiting for his gaze to meet yours, which it did, eventually, even if still a little uncertain. You wanted to smile, laugh and hide all at the same time, but still held the gaze.

The ship had never been that quiet and maybe the wind was a little colder than you thought it to be. It didn’t matter, though, because Zoro’s hand was warm against your cheek, and you held onto his wrist out of reflex, which also felt warm. A quiet exchange of gazes was enough to determine you were ready and he was leaning in.

It was slow and careful, with nervousness lacing it, but still sweet nonetheless.

Zoro’s nose tickled a little when it brushed against your own nose, as if testing the waters before you leaned in properly. The distance was miscalculated and your lips brushed together too soon, making both of you pull away at the same time as if it’d burned. It didn’t burn, no, but there was something.

Your eyes met Zoro’s and he had a similar look on his face—so he felt it too. He mirrored the small smile that showed up across your face before the two of you leaned in again, carefully and slowly letting your lips meet.

Warm. Zoro’s lips were warm, but the kiss also made you feel something inside your chest that stirred up with the “kiss”, and made you lean in for more as you’d seen other people do, which snatched a soft gasp from Zoro, but he still tried to make up for it. If anything, things were just messy. None of you really knew what to do, trying to set your own rhythm but also match with the other’s and put in practice only brief notions you only had so far.

Suddenly, Zoro had his other hand cupping the side of your neck, which made you pause for a moment, but it was more than enough for him to figure out exactly what was missing and make the kiss more of a kiss. You just followed his lead this time, letting his lips guide yours through a gentle and uncertain kiss that maybe awakened more in you that you were aware of.

Cold air replaced Zoro’s lips when he pulled away. Your mind was still a little fuzzy, so you took a moment to open your eyes, already meeting his waiting gaze when you did so.

“That...” You whispered and gulped. The small pause had Zoro holding his breath and tensing up. “Can we do it again?”

Zoro chuckled, closing his eyes as he blushed again. “I hoped you’d say that...”

The new kiss had actual synchrony, even if it was barely present. Your hands actually held onto his shoulders this time as you pressed yourself closer, allowing the kiss to be deeper.

There was a look on Zoro’s face when he pulled away this time, one you couldn’t quite read. “You taste nice.”

“I taste nice?” You chuckled. “What’s it like?”

“It’s...” Zoro sighed, blinking a couple of times as he looked at you. “Sweet. What do I taste like?”

“Sake.” You answered without missing a bit, which made his face fall a little; you chuckled.

.𓆝 ��� 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

If he asks you...

• Zoro’s been thinking about it for a while now, to be honest, trying to find an excuse to make it happen

• He genuinely didn’t think it would be that good. He had little faith in it—mostly curiosity—, but when you kiss him, he just ends up getting lost and wants more. Just wants you to show him everything. Also uses the excuse he gotta practice to get perfect

          “What’re you so grumpy about?” You raised an eyebrow, seeing Zoro walk in while grumbling under his breath. He usually didn’t come over to the aquarium bar when you were there during the afternoons messing with your own stuff just like the rest of the crew, so he certainly wanted attention that you were more than willing to give.

Zoro took a seat next to you, scowling. “That damn cook.”

“Oh.” You raised your eyebrows and sighed with a nod without looking up from the stuff you messed with. There were a few lists of what each one of the crew needed since you would soon make a stop on another island, so you needed to organize all of those and estimate how much money you’d need, and thinking wasn’t very easy with Zoro there, but it probably wasn’t anything that bad since it was just more fighting with Sanji. Not that he really cared about it, but you supposed it was a way of him gaining your attention despite how shy he tended to be. He wasn’t that shy around you, though. It was even funny when people commented about him being only cold and stoic—he could be, yeah, but he was also too shy for his own good.

“He’s spilling some stuff about kissing today, y’know?” Zoro huffed, crossing his arms. “About how he misses it and how I wouldn’t understand because I’ve never kissed!” He growled.

“Is it true, though?” You mumbled between the numbers of berries. 15 minus 7 resulted in 8, then 2 minus 1 would be 1, so 11 minus 7, so it would be...

Zoro clicked his tongue. “I’m not like him.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” you hummed. So, 15 minus 7 was 8, then the 2 turned into 1, and 11 minus—

“I don’t have time to waste around like he does, kissing and— and hell knows what.” He looked down with pursed lips then turned to you.

“Right.” You inhaled deeply and scratched out the math you were doing to start it all over again later. “It’s not really a waste of time, I mean. Depends on the person. What, you’re aromantic or something? Or just never kissed? You’re sounding a little too bitter about something so irrelevant.” Now and then, Zoro just needed you to poke him with the raw truth so he would ground himself in reality again a little.

“I—I wouldn’t think about it.” Zoro clicked his tongue, looking away again. “I got better things to do.”

You sighed, putting your pen away and sitting back on the couch. “I mean, you never tried it. I wouldn’t be so secure about it myself, in your position, but you do you, right? I'm no one to judge."

Maybe that rubbed off on Zoro the wrong way. He raised an eyebrow at you for a long moment, but all you could do was shrug and nod at him to say something already. You had work to do, after all.

"If you're so sure about it, then show me."

"What?"

"Show me how to kiss." Zoro's face had a tinge of red despite how confident he tried to seem.

Despite the surprise, a smirk still tugged on your lips as you raised your eyebrows. "Oh? You sure? Wanna give me your first kiss? Am I that special?"

He clicked his tongue and looked away once again. "Don't be annoying about it or else I'm leaving."

A chuckle erupted from your lips as you tugged a little on his haramaki when Zoro started to stand up. The way he put it all made you want to tease him more to humble him down a little, but you knew better than that; things probably wouldn't go the right way if you kept him there grumpier than he already was or even accidentally scared him away, something you absolutely didn’t want before such an opportunity.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” You scooted a little closer to Zoro on the couch, putting an arm over the backrest of the couch, behind him. “Right, seriously. You mean it?”

A little crease was still there between Zoro’s furrowed eyebrows as he glanced you up and down, with his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Okay.” You rolled your eyes. He could be just like that sometimes. Annoying.

“How do you do it? Is there any secret trick or—” Zoro shrugged and raised an eyebrow at you. His shoulders dropped a little from their jagged stance and his arms weren’t crossed so tightly anymore.

“I mean, there’s no secret, but there are a few tips I wish I knew before I did it the first time, y’know?” You shifted a little, trying to push your mind away from annoying numbers to a new setting instead. “Like, it’s not necessarily a continuous thing, and it’s sort of you kissing my upper lip while I kiss your bottom one and then vice versa, but you can also— You’re not listening, are you?”

“I’m not.” Zoro confessed with that grin that made you want to punch it right off his face. “Your lips do look nice while you talk, though.”

“...Shameless bastard.”

“What was that?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Nothing!” You mirrored his expression and clicked your tongue, holding back a chuckle. “You’re quite useless sometimes, huh? You listen to nothing.” Your hand cupped Zoro’s face gently, letting your thumb reach the corner of his lips before going down along his lip. “That’s why you’re such an empty head, got nothing but muscles...”

Zoro grinned. “You may complain, but you just never get away from me.”

“I’ll just make you shut up at once.”

His hand held onto your elbow as you leaned in and finally pressed your lips to Zoro’s. It was a simple kiss, just keeping your lips against his for a few seconds before pulling back again. A light blush dusted his cheeks and he still glanced at your lips, so you leaned in once again to give him a kiss that wasn’t just like a prolonged peck, actually moving your lips together.

Zoro wasn’t the best at it—of course not—, but he still tried, his grip against your elbow tightening a little at times while he messily kissed you back, trying to keep it up and mirroring your movements. His lips were clumsy and messy, but still something that you could guide and make the whole thing worth something. You held his cheek as you deepened the kiss a little, which made his breath get caught in his throat and his lips get a little lost for a second before they followed your lead again.

The mere seconds you had to pull away already felt like too long, with you exchanging gazes with Zoro to silently check if everything was alright, before your lips were pressed together again. Your tongue ran against his bottom lip this time, actually snatching a gasp from him.

“Is it okay?” You whispered, furrowing your eyebrows a little. Just a few inches still serpared your faces, having you both feel each other’s out of pace breathing.

Zoro nodded. “I just wasn’t waiting for that.”

“Is it okay, though?” You grinned again, seeing him grow flustered once more.

“...Do it again.”

You did kiss Zoro and lick his bottom lip once again, but this time, he opened his lips and allowed you to slip your tongue past his lips. There was a little taste of sake still, already faint. He still didn’t know what to do, but the way you held onto his jaw did ground him a little so he would calm down.

“Good?” You whispered against his lips, lips still grazing him.

Zoro’s breath hitched as he tried to catch his breath, hazy eyes observing you from close. “Do... Do it again.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[murmaiderii]

A BETTER WORLD CHAPTER ONE: NOWHERESVILLE, MAINE

Also available on ao3

MDNI, Check ao3 tags for more info

Winter and its winds are always unkind to Stan’s boat. The ship wasn’t in great shape 30 years ago when he bought it with what little money his brother gave him. But now, after decades of wear and tear, Stan is getting worried that the old girl is on her last legs. Sailing will be out of the question for the rest of the season. If he wants his boat, his home, to stay intact, he’ll have to hunker down at the nearest port in a shitty little town in Maine.

His boat pulls into the sparsely populated port. He hoists the rusty anchor into the water, grunting heavily as he does. If he had someone to help with that task, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard on his back. “Fuck…” He rubs his aching back through his thick sweatshirt. It isn’t enough to keep him warm in the cold of Maine, but he just doesn’t care enough to even bother grabbing his only coat. The thing is falling apart at the seams, anyway. He locks up his cabin and jumps onto the splintered dock, aggravating his knees in the process. He needs a drink.

Everything in this town is so gray. He’s seen more than his fair share of bleak sites, but this place is just depressing, even for him. Obnoxiously bright street lights pollute the sidewalks, illuminating cookie cutter houses. No lights are on in anyone’s windows. It isn’t even midnight yet. This town must be so dull that people have nothing better to do at night than sleep. Luckily, there’s a bar not too far from the dock, located in the perfect spot to attract the rare sailor who’s unfortunate enough to stop here.

A bell rings when he opens the door to the bar, startling the distracted bartender. The young redhead behind the counter looks up from her phone to greet Stan. “Welcome. Don’t get too many customers at this hour,” she says. “What’re you havin’?” He sits at a stool right in the middle of the counter.

“Gimme whatever will get me drunk fastest for the least amount of money,” he requests. She cracks a small smile.

“Got a real crappy whisky that’ll do the trick.” She grabs a clean glass from under the bar and fills it with an unusually dark whisky from the lowest shelf. She slides it across the bar to Stan. He throws half the glass back and shivers from the bitterness. 

“This is disgusting,” he complains. 

“Want something else?”

“This is the cheapest thing you got?”

“Yup,” she confirms. He swallows the rest of the glass and slides it back towards the woman.

“I’ll take another.” She leans over the bar and fills the glass back up to the brim. His eyes flicker to the cleavage pouring out of her black dress shirt. She sure is showing the girls off, probably in an attempt to get better tips from sad saps like him. She’ll be sorely disappointed to find that Stan is too broke to leave more than a couple bucks for her. She leaves him to his drink, focusing on cleaning up a tap.

He sips his second round more leisurely. He’s in no rush to get back to the faulty heating of his ship’s cabin, and he sure as hell can’t afford a hotel. The familiar bug of nicotine cravings crawls through his body. He pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. The bartender whips her head around when she hears the flick of the lighter.

“Ya can’t smoke in here, buddy,” she tells him.

“C’mon, kid. Ain’t no one else around.” She shakes her head at him.

“Federal law, and I don’t want this place to reek of tobacco.” He sighs and slips the contraband back into his pocket. “Hey, mind if I pour myself a drink? I’m not supposed to drink on the job, but as you said, ain’t no one else around.” He nods at her. She grabs herself a glass and fills it with cheap vodka and cranberry juice.

“Your boss ain’t gonna fire you when he sees ya drinking on the security camera?” Stan asks.

“Bosses are my parents. They won’t do anything besides give me a quick lecture.” She leans on the counter across from Stan. Her big breasts stare him in the face. Keeping his eyes away from them is a struggle. “The hell brought you to this wasteland? Hope you’re not staying long, for your own sake.”

“My boat ain’t doin’ too well. I gotta stay in one spot until spring.”

“Damn, you chose just about the worst spot to stay in. Might be worth the risk to sail to the next port. Drowning is a way better fate than living here,” she complains. 

“If it’s so bad, why don’t you get up and leave?” He questions.

“I’ve been plotting my escape since I was a kid, but I always end up being too lazy to run. That’s the issue of this town. Breaks your spirit so much you don’t even have it in you to escape its clutches. You should get out before it takes you, too,” she warns.

“Can’t be that terrible if it produces women as beautiful as you,” Stan flirts. Her lip briefly twitches up, just long enough for Stan to catch it.

“If only the selection of guys was as good. You’re about the most attractive man to walk into this garbage joint.” Stan chuckles at the compliment.

“I find that hard to believe.” He polishes off his second glass. She pours him another. “Kid, I don’t think I can swing another drink. I’m pretty strapped for cash here.” “On the house. I just wanna talk to someone who isn’t from here for once.” He lifts his glass in a cheers to her.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Marty. Yours?”

“Stan. Marty’s a pretty manly name for such a sweet young thing like you.”

“I’m more salty than sweet,” she jokes.

“Why don’t ya let me taste so I can see for myself?” He leans closer to her face. She leans closer to his in return.

“You’re a real dirty old man, you know that?” She pats him on the cheek.

“I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least shoot my shot. Haven’t seen a woman as gorgeous as you in forever.” He finishes his third drink. There’s enough booze in his system that he feels like his problems are a little further away. “How much do I owe ya?”

“For that swill? $10,” she tells him. He pulls a 10 and two 1s from his pocket.

“Thanks for the drink, sweetheart. I’ll get outta that pretty red hair of yours now.” Stan staggers across the bar. Being this drunk will make it a little easier to sleep in the freezing cabin of his boat tonight.

“Night, Stan. Don’t come back. You’re too good for this place.”

“So are you, kid.” She waves him off. As much as he wants to heed her warning, he doesn’t have the choice. He’s stuck here for some time. If he gets to see her again, then maybe it won’t be so bad.

The booze is not enough to keep him from shivering. Maybe he can call that rich bastard brother of his for a little financial help. He owes Stan as much after exiling him to do his dirty work. All he needs is for him to cover a few repairs and maybe get him a heavier blanket and new coat. But that would mean contacting the asshole for the first time in three decades. The man got rich and famous with his dumb science shit and never even thought to track Stan down and see if he needed help. He’ll freeze before he’ll talk to his brother again. 

He needs to get out of this cold. He can probably swing another glass of whisky at that bar if he skips a meal tomorrow. The longer he can stay in the warmth of the bar, the better. He pulls his hood over his head and power walks back to the establishment. When he gets there, the door is locked, but Marty is still inside, seated at a table and scrolling on her phone. He turns around when the door doesn’t open for him, but she unlocks it for him.

“Everything good, buddy? It’s after hours,” she calls to him. He enters the bar and she closes the door and locks it again.

“I was hoping you’d still be open. It’s damn cold on my boat. Don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight,” he explains. 

“Well, I can’t let you stay here when I leave. Can’t risk you robbing the place.” She thinks her options over. “There’s a shelter a couple of miles from here.”

“Nah, forget it. Thanks for tryin’.” He tries to leave again, but she puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“There’s a room in the back with a bed. Remember that there are cameras if you try to rob us.” She leads him past the employees only door to a small room with a single bed and a few boxes left there for storage.

“Ya ain’t gotta do this, kid,” Stan protests.

“Don’t make a mess, alright? And no helping yourself to the booze.” She ignores his pushback and starts to leave.

“Hey, Marty?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She gives him a salute and walks out, closing Stan’s door behind her. He lays down and stares at the ceiling. This simple gesture by this young girl has to be the first nice thing anyone has done for him in years.

Marty sits in her car and contemplates what she’s done. Trust has never been one of her strong suits, so she surprised herself by letting Stan stay in her bar unsupervised. There was something about him. It’s hard not to pity a man whose life is in such a state of disarray that he’s forced to spend any amount of time in her town. She feels that the effects of her one drink have worn off enough for her to drive home.

Though her family home is across the street from the bar, she doesn’t want to spend too much time with those people. The ten mile drive to her studio apartment is worth the peace it offers. She thinks about Stan through the drive. She’s almost tempted to pay for repairs to his boat in exchange for hitching a ride anywhere but here. She parks in her designated spot, next to the car of the neighbors she always hears fighting through the walls. They’re even going at it when she walks through her front door.

She rips off her work clothes and flops into bed in her bra and panties. She’s going insane here, and Stan's presence really brought those feelings to the surface. She’s sick of the human waste around her. The awful marriages and the town drug epidemic and all the teen parents throwing away their chances at college. The blinding light pollution and the abandoned structures crowding the streets because most businesses can’t survive here. She needs to get Stan out of here before the place swallows him like it does everyone else.

The yelling next door gets worse. They’ve done this nearly every day since Marty moved in almost two years ago. The thread finally snaps for her. She shoots up and starts banging on the wall she shares with the couple. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I’ve had it with you people! Get a divorce if you hate each other so much!” She screams.

“Mind your own business, bitch!” The man yells back.

“You bastards keep everyone in this damn building up every night!” She bangs harder. She hears both of them swear and barrel out of their front door. They begin banging on her door.

“Come out and say that to our faces, bitch!” The woman yells.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Marty hisses. Unless she wants her neighbors to bust her door down and lose her deposit for her, she won’t be able to keep them locked out forever. She isn’t going to be able to stay here tonight. She tosses her essentials into a duffel bag and throws an ex-boyfriend’s oversized t-shirt over her underwear. Then, she snatches a small canister from her desk. She takes a deep breath, swings the door open, and blasts the neighbors in the face with pepper spray.

“Dammit! You bitch!” The neighbors clutch at their reddened faces and stumble around blindly, trying to grab Marty. She slams her door shut and dashes past them, straight to her car, and books it out of there. She’ll have to spend a night or two at her parents’ place.

[blainesebastian]

celebrating you

words: 1,654 ship: austin x female reader summary: @whoreforbrownies requested: fluffy reader celebrating austin's fragrance campaign. more details in posted q and a :) warnings: none notes: masterlist is here! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief, @stylespresleyhearted

You’ve always been someone who likes to celebrate—not just putting up Halloween or Christmas decoration months in advance or throwing surprise birthday parties, but by having this incredibly warm aura that makes sure to praise family, friends and your partner. Admittedly, that’s come with a few downfalls in the past—more often than not, you’re always looking after other people while no one looks after you. It’s not something done on purpose, you know that, yet you sometimes find yourself in this rut of being there for others that you forget to take care of yourself.

That changes with Austin.

He reminds you how good it feels to have someone take care of you, how it should be something necessary, a balance within your relationship. He celebrates you just as often as you celebrate him—there are moments that he’s completely taken you by surprise. Not because there’s some obligation of a holiday or a birthday, but because it’s a Thursday in the middle of the month and he wants to buy you flowers and your favorite latte.

So, in turn, it makes celebrating your boyfriend a lot more organic feeling. It’s not out of responsibility or requirement, but because both of you know the value of the other.

Lately there’s been so much to be excited about when it comes to Austin’s career—first Elvis and everything that it brought with it, Bikeriders wrapping up, Masters of the Air, and now a slightly different turn with this fragrance campaign. You couldn’t be happier for him, not only does it come with a photoshoot to highlight how beautiful Austin is, but an interview to also showcase that same beauty on the inside. It’s really what you love most about him, something that drew you in in the first place. Austin’s kind, thoughtful, considerate, and a hundred other things that make you feel warm from the inside out.

Pretty much why it’s a no-brainer to put together something special for him.

You decide one morning, right before Austin leaves for the day for a handful of different meetings, that you’re going to decorate the entire apartment. It’s gonna involve baking and dinner too but one step at a time. Your friend, Carly, comes over and helps, buying extra tape that she sets on the kitchen counter.

“All this for a fragrance campaign?” She asks, but she’s amused as her eyes rest on the multiple sets of streamers and balloons that still need to be put together and hung.

“Yes,” You grin excitedly, picking up a cup of coffee to take a sip. “It’s not just about the cologne, I’m just proud of him—it’s a new step in a different direction, you know?”

“I know,” Carly smirks, moving to grab the coffee pot to pour herself some more too, “You’re in love,” Her voice is warm and teasing, “I get it. I’d celebrate him too if he was my boyfriend.”

You smile, your stomach doing that flip-flopping thing that is often associated with Austin. You know exactly how lucky you are.

“So you’ll help me with streamers?” You smile prettily at her, purposely fluttering your eyelashes in a teasing plead.

“Yeah,” She laughs, tossing a package of tape at you. It lightly hits your chest and falls back onto the counter, “Wouldn’t want him to come home with you sprawled off a ladder. Not much to celebrate in the ER.”

You gather up all the supplies to take to the living room, “C’mon then, I don’t have a ton of time before he comes home.”

Regardless that it’s the morning and you do have until early nighttime, you want to make sure you give yourself enough hours to play with to bake red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies. Dinner will be simple enough—it’s the baking that needs timed dedication.

Standing on a small stool in your living room, you take the tape from Carly’s waiting fingers and reach up to put some of the streamers into place. You’re definitely not overdoing it, just enough to make the apartment look festive.

“So…just curious,” Carly starts and you get down off the stool and move it a bit to continue the streamer line…you already know that if she’s gonna start off a conversation like that, it’s going to be something. “If Austin asked you to marry him, would you?”

A laugh startles out of your chest because, “Carly, we’ve been dating for eight months.”

“So?” She crinkles her nose, handing you another piece of tape, “My aunt and uncle were together for six before he popped the question.”

The whole concept has your stomach erupting in butterflies. You’re not saying you haven’t thought about it, because how could you not? But still…feels like something that’s a long while away. You glance back down at your friend, trying to picture what it’d look like for Austin to come home and just—

“I’d say yes,” You reply, fixing another streamer. You can’t picture something different coming out of your mouth, but before Carly gets too wound up, “But we’re far from that being a thing.”

She grins anyways and you can’t help but smile, a fond eyeroll to follow as you set up streamer on the other side of the room so it matches. Then comes the balloons and the handmade sign that goes up a little crooked but…thought that counts, right?

“Do you think I overdid it?” You ask, looking around at the living room.

Carly shakes her head, “Nah, we went through one roll of tape…two rolls would have been overdoing it.” You smirk, bumping shoulders with her for a real answer, “No,” She replies again, “I think it’s just the right amount—he’s going to love it.”

That makes something warm and golden explode in your chest and…good, you really hope so. You thank her a few more times for coming over and promise to save her some cupcakes if there are any leftover, closing the front door after she’s left. You’re hoping it doesn’t take too long to finish things up for tonight.

--

Nothing is exactly going according to plan—and you already know it’s your fault because you’ve got this concept of what ‘perfect’ is supposed to look like tonight. You should really know this by now, it’s better to land on something ‘special’ rather than ‘perfect’. It’s fine—everything is going to work out, you’re determined. So what if the cheese you bought for the chicken parm has mold on it? You can just go with pasta instead. So what if your cupcake pan has mysteriously gone missing? You can make banana bread with chocolate chips in them (a personal favorite of Austin’s).

There’s no reason to freak out over this…your boyfriend is going to love whatever you’ve put together (it only took you three times to talk yourself down off that metaphorical ledge).

Luckily, nothing else throws you off balance. Though you do wish you’d been paying closer attention to Austin’s location because you hear the front door open as you’re taking the banana bread out of the oven. Quickly setting it down on a hot pad, you tug off your oven mitts, putting your arms up and out.

“Surprise!”

Austin’s eyes are bright with surprise, a soft laugh tumbling out of his mouth as he sees the put together dinner, the banana bread, the streamers and balloons just past the kitchen in the living room. He sets down a bouquet of flowers he’s picked up for you (just because).

“It’s uh, it’s not my birthday.” He says teasingly.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you move to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Austin leans down to hug you back, squeezing, pressing his face into your hair to breathe you in,

“I know that,” You huff playfully, shaking your head, “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You pull back out of the hug a little bit, Austin’s arms still around your waist. He presses a kiss to your lips, your hand lingering on his cheek. Your stomach does that familiar fluttering that you’ve easily associated with being around him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

“For the fragrance campaign?” You offer, as if it’s obvious.

Then his face kinda does that handsome thing where he flushes, his cheeks kissing pink. Apparently it wasn’t so obvious and he’s genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

You crinkle your nose, taking a look at the decorations, the dinner, the dessert—feels fairly apparent to you because what better way to celebrate him? This is actually pretty low caliber compared to what you could have done but…the key was really not to overdo it.

“Are you saying you don’t want the banana bread?” You ask, taking a playful step back from him, “Because I’ve been known to eat an entire loaf in bed before, so—”

You act like you’re about to reach for the pan but Austin doesn’t let you get very far, lifting you up and gracefully setting you down on the kitchen counter. A soft laugh leaves your lips, your arms resting on his shoulders as he takes a step forward and settles between your legs. One of your favorite positions with him because you’re nearly eye level now.

“I mean, there’s chocolate chips,” You grin, “I really don’t need to share any part of it with you—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to cup your cheek. You lean into it, can’t help it, would gladly fumble off the kitchen counter if it meant keeping your lips locked. Eventually though, oxygen wins out. He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, pulling back a little,

“Thank you,” He whispers.

You hum a soft reply, wrapping your fingers in his shirt and tugging him forward—definitely worth celebrating with another kiss.

[plooto]

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⊳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

synopsis . colonel miles quaritch—respected, feared, a machine . now, only bluer and younger the recom was near perfect. that is, until he catches the scent of a younger, field trained scientist. a distraction..but maybe that’s just what this programed machine needs.

warnings . pretty simple chapter , reader hasn’t met quaritch , pinky is reader nickname ,

words . 1.3k

notes . tag lists now open , js shoot me a pm or an ask and i’ll get you added.

you were the last recom to wake. it was.. different. you felt as if you haven’t moved, like you were in a coma. you tried to make your movements as fluid as possible, the tail behind you making things wayy more difficult than it needed to be. curling itself when it shouldn’t have, obnoxiously wrapping itself around your arm, after a bit of time, you grew fond of it, like a little you that couldn’t hold a secret.

they dropped you off at a computer to have you watch a video of you. wait what? you didn’t get much time to process before the video was playing in front of you. you pulled your brows together, confused. it really was you—well, human you.

“ hi! so i’m not sure if you’ve caught on yet, but.. you’re me! surprise ! ” you giggle to the camera, you look around for something to talk about, biting down on your bottom lip.

“ let’s see.. i’m a field trained researcher, and i worked with grace, eywa rest her soul, so..i know quite a bit about the na’vi and their ecological systemm. i know i said i’m field trained, but i only got that because zdog double dared me.. we do not back down from double dares and we don’t break pinkie promises. ” you smile, shaking your head and covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle your laugh. commotion in the background made your head turned, only for you to be engulfed in a headlock by your close friend, zdinarsik, but everyone calls her zdog. “ zee! get offf! ” you huffed, trying your hardest to get out of her grip. “ this is all-hmph! recorded y’know. ” zee paused her antics to wave to the camera before messing up your hair sone more before the colonel called her.

“ that’s my closest friend, she knows everything about me.. the things i wouldn’t dare say out loud, she already knows. ” you begin to ramble, you could go on and on about the people in your life, your new life here on pandora. it was absolutely breathtaking—aside from the animals who wanted you to never see the light of day once they get their teeth in you.

“ pinky! pinky, c’mon there’s a time limit on these things! ” you rolled your eyes at parker, calling you by the nickname grace so lovingly bestowed upon you. all because of one pinky promise bet you made to jake! it was simple really..you bet jake that he wouldn’t be able to get his own banshee, and he came back saying if he did, you’d have to go by pinkie around base till the end of time, or pandora is safe for humans. whichever came last that is.

“ wish i could tell you more! take good care of yourself, okay? zee too.. she acts like she doesn’t care, but she does. ” you stood up, holding your little finger to the camera, curling it as if the person on the other side looped it with yours. you blinked a few times before smiling and waving bye to the camera.

you looked around you, watching as more human-na’vi hybrids are pulled from what you assume were incubation tanks. you watched for a little, before you were directed out and onto a ship, headed for pandora. your ears perked up, blindly taking the breathing machine as you looked at the people floating in front of you. they didn’t look much smaller, at least not from your perspective. you strapped the mask over your face as you got on the ship. pulling at the straps securely, you made sure the mask was on tight enough one last time before you dazed off, wondering how much it has changed since you were last there, thankfully, it was a long way down to pandora.

the shift of the ship landing woke you. looking around slightly confused. you’re on pandora. you removed the straps, standing up and stepping out. feeling the heat of the sun against my skin, you stretched your limbs, your tail joining in on the fun.

“ this way, ” you follow behind the humans, leading you to wherever they needed you to go. you didn’t pay attention, you were too busy looking around, eyes landing and scanning everything around you.

“ the general, ” they state, snapping you out of your dazed state, you looked down, seeing a lady already engaged in conversation.

“ general ardmore? ” you spoke softly, not trying to stop their conversation, but just let her know you were here. she turned, bidding farewell to her colleague before fully turning to you.

“ y’n l’n, good to see you. ” you sat down on your knees before saluting. looking down so far hurt your neck..

“ we’ve brought you back to continue the avatar program. we want better avatars. with your research and you being the one to work under the late grace, you’ll be overseeing and ensuring our avatars are in the best shape. ” i nod once,

“ great. where can i set up? ” you say, pulling yourself to stand, gripping the straps of your backpack.

“ easy there, you’ve gotta learn your own avatar body first. ” your face turned a little darker, embarrassed that you missed that after working with the previous avatars.

“ right, thank you, general. ” you nod once, excusing yourself to find your room. getting in, you took a moment to look around. it wasn’t much, a bed, table and a bathroom. talking a breath, you settled, dropping your bag at the foot of the bed and plopping on the bed which was surprisingly soft. you groan, your lower back thanking you for giving it a rest. a soft chime rang through your room, confused you sit up. another chime. inwardly whining, you got up, opening the door only to be tackled in a bone crushing grip.

“ oh it’s really you! dude, took ya long enough! ” the much taller avatar pulled away from you, grin on their face, chewing gum. your brows pulled together, your mind putting together the puzzle pieces. your face lit up, jaw dropping and voice raising a pitch,

“ zee? ” she nods, bringing her hand to mess up your unruly hair. grinning, you threw your arms around her middle, tail swishing excitedly behind you. she laughed,

“ heard you had to go do some motor tests, so i opted to help ya, took the colonel forever to a king request though. ” she shrugged. you pulled back, telling her you needed to change, you turned, opting for some shorts and a cropped shirt they had for you in a bag.

“ ready? ” you turned to her, pulling your hair and kuru out of your shirt. she nods, gesturing for you to follow her. walking next to her, you jogged every now and again to keep up with her long strides. passing other avatars you concluded you were definitely irregular height. at 8 feet tall, you definitely we’re definitely an anomaly..

“ pinky! ” you jumped, head snapping up to zee, who just shook her head, pressing a flat hand to your forehead, you closed an eye, ears falling flat against your head, “ get outta ya head, you’re short, no biggie. just means you’ll be able to move faster. ” she smirked at you, looping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you reached a large room with various numbers of equipment and obstacles.

“ hope you’re ready cos ‘m not going to go easy on you, ” you huffed, pulling your hair into a makeshift bun before following her to the first piece of equipment.

published . september 28 , 2023

[cherryblossom-chopper]

ღ Lingerie ღ

Suggestive Content with Ace, Buggy, Shanks, and Luffy.

————— ୨୧ —————

Ace’s normally sun-tanned skin reddened as when you dropped your robe. Sweat prickled all over him as his body temperature rose. He only took two long strides to move from the bed toward the bathroom. “Damn baby,” he purred, his firm burning hands grasping your waist, “Where did you get this little number?”

At your giggle, Ace pressed chaste kisses from your cheek down to your collarbone. His teeth and tongue latched onto your skin seeking out a sensitive spot. Each lash of his steaming tongue made your body shiver.

“Do you like it?” you asked as your fingers tenderly touched his hot freckled shoulders. You whimpered when your partner yanked you closer. Your laced breasts pressed flush against Ace’s bare sweaty chest.

“How is that even a question?” Ace groaned, grinding his bulge into your stomach, “You look so fucking good, so sexy. You’re going to break me.”

・‥…━━━☆

Buggy choked on his ale when you strode into his cabin. “What are you doing here?” he sputtered, “Did you walk all the way here in that?”

With your arms crossed over your chest, you glared at him. “It’s late, so no one saw me,” you grumbled, “If you don’t like it, I can leave.”

“Leave? No-no-no, it’s not like that,” he protested, getting out of his seat. Buggy quickly slipped a hand onto the small of your back, “I’m just not keen on sharing my prize with all the fools that loiter on my ship.”

You let him guide you into the heart of his cabin, and a slightly devious grin found its way onto your face. “Isn’t it cute?” you ask, posing for him.

Buggy grinned at you, “It could use a little more glitz.” He pulled you into a kiss. His lipstick stained your skin. He smiled into the kiss when you tugged on the end of his ponytail.

“Don’t be an dick, and enjoy the show,” you teased and playfully slapped his ass.

・‥…━━━☆

Luffy watched you quizzically. “I guess it’s cute,” he replied, resting his chin on his hand. He watched you pout, registering that he made a mistake.

“What’s wrong with it?” you fretted, examining yourself, “Does it not fit right? Is the color wrong?”

He pursed his lips. “It fits great, and I always think you look pretty in any color,” Luffy explained, going over to you, “Don’t be sad, treasure.”

You cover your chest with your arms, feeling exposed. “I bought it ‘cause I thought you’d like it,” you murmured, not looking at your captain.

In a rare show of gentleness, Luffy cupped your cheek, turning your face to look at him. “I prefer when you’re not wearing anything at all. I don’t have the patience for all this,” Luffy insisted, gesturing to your lingerie.

An “Oh” was all you could muster before Luffy peppered your skin with kisses. His hands frantically tried to pull your top off.

“Treasure, I can't stand it when I can’t look at your body,” he grunted, his lips brushing against your ear, “You’re cute with clothes, but I need you naked.”

・‥…━━━☆

Shanks leaned back in his seat, a wide smirk touching his cheeks. “Go on, sugar, give me a little spin,” he snickered, twirling his finger in a circle. The captain’s hungry eyes devoured every inch of your skin as it was wrapped in silk and lace.

“Thank you for buying it for me,” you cooed, smiling over your shoulder. Your lowered lids met Shanks’ while finishing your twirl. The expensive lingerie fit like a glove as it was lovingly and meticulously picked out for you by Shanks.

He patted his thigh. “C’mon, pretty girl, get comfortable,” Shanks encouraged, shifting in his seat. A groan left his lips when you straddled his lap. Grasping your chin, Shanks pulled you down to kiss with a hungry open mouth.

“You’re all mine tonight, sugar.”

————— ୨୧ —————

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[steddie-island]

Stevie Week Masterlist 💅

Wallpaper (transfem Steve pt 1) Day 1: Stobin | Rating: G | WC: 1,144 | Tags: MTF Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Robin Buckley's POV

“C’mon. We’re sitting on your bathroom floor. I know this is important.” Steve pulls his thumb away from his mouth and crosses both arms across his chest. It’s then that Robin notices his hands are shaking a little. “I…” Steve clears his throat. His jaw works, and then he swallows hard. “I’ve been thinking, and… I…” He has to swallow again, so Robin tightens her grip and closes her other hand around his fingers, too. She’s not going anywhere. “I don’t think… I’m a boy?”

Long Haul (transfem Steve pt 2) Rating: G | WC: 1,150 | Tags: Eddie Munson POV, Coming out, MTF Steve Harrington

"Stevie… sweetheart, I can't read your mind. If this is bad news, I'd really rather you just tell me." Eddie shifts uncomfortably. The fingers of his right hand fidget with one of the rings on his left, spinning it around and around. "I can take it, whatever it is." The look Steve gives Robin drops a bowling ball right into the center of Eddie's chest. Steve has tears in his eyes, and he's shaking, and fuck. This is very fucking bad. or With Robin's help, it's time for Steve to come out to Eddie. Eddie, of course, spirals about it before he knows what's really going on.

Candles (transfem Steve pt 3) Prompt: Lingerie Rating: E | WC: 2,363 | Tags: Transfem Steve Harrington, birthday sex, lingerie, pet names

It's Stevie's birthday, and Eddie's going to make sure his girl ends her day with a bang.

🐙 Second Mate 🐙 Rating: E | WC: 4,911 | Tags: Monster fucking, tentacles, kidnapping (that sounds bad it's okay I swear there's a happy ending!) Octocreature Eddie Munson, fem Steve Harrington See ao3 for the full list of tags

The singles cruise was Robin's idea. She'd been broken up with Vicki for almost two months, and Stevie hadn't seen anyone seriously in even longer than that. They could meet people, hook up for a night or two. And worst case scenario, they would've at least gotten a vacation out of it. "What's the worst thing that can happen, a hangover?" Robin had asked. She should've known better to put that question out into the world, though, because their second night on the ship, while Stevie stood watching the waves below, something worse than a hangover did happen. Or Meeting her other soulmate was the last thing Stevie had anticipated when signing up for a single's cruise. That soulmate being half octopus was an even bigger surprise.

A rush kinda like the old times (I still cross your mind) Prompt: Rarepair | Rating: M | WC: 1,262 | Tags: Hurt/no comfort, Fem Steve Harrington, past Tommy Hagan/ Steve Harrington/ Carol Perkins (with the focus being on Tommy/Steve)

The line crackled. There was a shaky breath, then a murmur of, "Stevie?" "Tommy." Stevie's voice was just as soft, like speaking too loud would break the connection. "Are you okay?" "I'm getting married."

Cuffing Season Prompt: Sapphic | Rating: E | WC: 1,424 | Tags: Sapphic Steddie, handcuffs, squirting, PWP

Eddie fucking hated Stevie Harrington. Hated her from the soles of her expensive running shoes to the top of that head of chestnut hair. Eddie couldn't fucking stand her. She hated herself even more for falling into bed with Stevie again and again, for letting those perfectly manicured hands grab onto her wrists and her waist. Hated that she loved the way those hands felt against her bare skin. Or Eddie and Stevie are kind of sort of hate fucking only it's not that at all. Not for Eddie.

Divider credit

[soft--dragon]

Taking A Break

Words: 1,794

Warnings: None

This is my first Supernatural fic!! I started the show a few months ago and I'm on season 15 now (lord help me) Hope you guys enjoy <3

This is all entirely platonic, I do not ship wincest. Do not tag it as such. Wincest shippers do NOT interact with this post.

This was inspired by this absolutely adorable fanart by @carrie-tate . Go show her some love!! His work is incredible :D

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Now, Sam wanted to go on record to say that he was grateful for Dean being his big brother. He had looked up to him ever since he was a kid, trying to be just like Dean - having a strong heart and an even stronger sense of loyalty. Where their dad had failed in their youth, Dean had picked up the shattered pieces left behind and made Sam's childhood as good as it could be. He'd sacrificed everything for Sam, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. Hell, Dean had practically said those words himself.

Sam was lucky to have Dean. He knew that.

However, right now, he really, really wanted to be anywhere but stuck in a motel room with his big brother.

“Stay away from me, you dick!”

“C’mon Sammy, you can’t seriously still be ticklish can you?”

“I said stay away!”

Sam’s face was split into a wide, nervous grin, shifting his weight from foot to foot on his side of the dining table the motel room had. Dean was almost entirely leaning over the damn thing, a toothy smile on his face with that same spark in his eyes Sam had often seen when they were kids. He honestly didn’t know what spurred Dean into such a playful mood, and he knew what was surely coming along with it.

“We were in the middle of researching!” protests Sam, trying to divert Dean’s attention to the more important task of hunting the latest creature of carnage.

Dean merely scoffs. “Nope. You were researching and acting like you had a stick up your ass, I’m simply helping you balance work and living.”

“The work kinda is our life, Dean-”

“And there you go again.” Dean sighs impatiently. “Could you liven up at least a little? The motel room feels even sadder than usual when you get broody.”

Dean suddenly lunged around the table and advertently kicked Sam’s fight or flight into overdrive, a rather undignified squawk leaving the younger man’s mouth in fear of the speed his brother tore around the furniture. He bolted around the table to stop at the opposite side, mirroring his brother, who was grinning even wider.

“Stohop!” Sam pleads, a breathless laugh weaseling into his words and only egging Dean on more.

“Why? You’re laughing, aren’t you? That’s good!”

“Dean, I am going to kill you,” Sam swears, trying to look serious - but with his anticipatory smile and bright eyes, it was difficult to seem threatening.

Dean snorts. “Uh-huh, sure.”

Then, with the engrained speed of a trained hunter, Dean fakes out a fast step to the right and causes Sam to take off to the left around the table - straight into Dean’s awaiting trap. Realising his error immediately, Sam yelps and tries to backpedal in a panic, but Dean leaps forward and wrestles him onto the carpet before he can even hope to escape.

“Goddamnit!”

Sam’s outraged shout only made Dean laugh harder. “You gotta stop falling for that, Sammy,” he comments playfully, grabbing his little brother’s swinging arm and forcing it to the floor. In a split second, Sam’s yells of annoyance morphed into fast-paced pleads as he registered being pinned.

“No- no, Dean, listen- I’ll take a break, okay? I’ve been a stick in the mud, and whatever else you think. We’ll go out and get a drink somewhere. Sound good? Great. Fantastic. Now lemme up.”

Dean smirks in amusement as Sam bargained like a crossroads demon desperate to get a sale - paired with a nervous grin and hands held up in defense. As he pauses to take a breath between his rambled offers, Dean hums, effectively making Sam stop short.

“Tempting offer, but I think we'll both be entertained by this, bud.”

With the hand not holding his brother's wrist captive, he starts to poke along Sam's midriff, grinning when his younger sibling flinches away from it with a strangled noise.

"Dean!"

"Mhm?" Dean hums innocently, delighting in every involuntary jerk and muffled squeak Sam gave at the light prodding.

"Cut it out." Sam hisses through tightly pressed lips, eyes crinkling with his wobbly grin as he fruitlessly tried to avoid Dean's probing fingers.

Dean almost looked offended. "Cut it out? Dude, I haven't done this to you in years. Let a big brother be nostalgic."

Then, without any warning, he quickly squeezed at Sam’s sides, causing a shrill yelp to suddenly pierce the air. Sam dissolves into fits of laughter instantly, wriggling on the carpet in his mirth from childhood instinct.

“Aaaa~nd there it is," Dean snorts, his unforgiving nails digging into Sam's side and delighting in the familiar hiccuping giggles pouring from his brother's mouth. Even after all these years, his laugh hadn't changed a bit. "Always gonna be a little brother."

Sam's legs flailed wildly, shoes scuffing the floor in a repetitive motion to not kick Dean in the back. Though it was growing tempting the longer his big brother kept scratching at his damn sides.

"Dehehehean!" He protests through tumbling laughter, pressing an arm against Dean's chest to shove him away, but he hadn't grown out of his childhood habits. His strength was being sapped by the tingling sensation plaguing his body.

Dean notices and chuckles fondly. "What? Got something you wanna say, little brother?"

"Ihihim twehehenty fohohour!"

"And yet here you are on the floor giggling like a child. Something doesn't add up here, Sammy."

While his hand journeyed to squeeze up and down Sam's ribs, causing the man to be honest-to-god squeak in laughter, Dean got a rather mean idea. He lifts his hand above Sam, wiggling his fingers, and instantly, Sam curls into himself with wide eyes. The hand pressed against Dean's chest swiped out to snatch up the older man's wrist.

"Nonononono- nohoho Dehehean!" He pleads, his bright laughter unbridled in a way Dean hadn't heard in far too long. "Nohohot thahat!"

"Aww, why not? You loved this growing up."

Sam's face burns with warmth, suddenly glad he was already flushed from laughing, because he knew Dean wouldn't let him live that reaction down. "Ihihi dihidn't!"

"Liar, liar, Wendigo on fire," Dean scoffs, prodding Sam's stomach with his free hand and smirking as the man did his best impression of a folding chair, his giggles melding with snorts. With little difficulty, he tugs his wrist from Sam's grip and returns to the wiggling motion above his little brother.

Sam's nervous giggles increased as Dean kept his hand suspended, watching with wary eyes as it seemed to circle above like a vulture. Though, with Sam's eyes locked to the overhead threat, he didn't see the second wave coming until there was a sudden flurry of feather light touches ghosting over his neck.

"W-Wahahait! Crahahahap!" Sam squeaks helplessly, shoulders rocketing to his ears to block Dean's fingers from tormenting the soft spot. It had been a favorite of Jessica's when she wanted to mess with him - a delicate kiss or soft fingernails were enough to make him fold into himself in seconds. It was something she had used against him constantly when they were dating.

"Dehean!" Sam whines, pressing his head against his shoulders alternatively when his older brother starts targeting his ears.

Dean's heart melted slightly at Sam's childish noises, his smirk slipping into a fond grin without him realising. "Did you get more ticklish since you left for Stanford?" he asks, half teasing - half genuinely curious as he sneaked a few fingers into the gaps of Sam's top ribs, dangerously close to his underarms that were ridiculously sensitive.

Sam instantly jack-knifed in reflex, an embarrassing yelp pulling from his throat as he tried to protect his infamous soft spot. "Nohot thehere, Dehehehean! Uhuncle!" He cries out, half rolling onto his side and swatting at Dean's hands that place gentle pokes up and down his ribcage. As much as he was enjoying messing around with Dean, he wasn't sure he could handle that spot being tormented.

Thankfully, Dean hears the weary notes in Sam's voice from laughing so much. He chuckles fondly and pulls his hands away from the sensitive skin, observing his little brother, who is becoming one with the floor. The younger man gulps air into his worn-out body, holding his stomach that was slightly aching from laughter.

"J-Jesus," he gasps, wiping at his eyes that had gathered moisture from mirth. "That was brutal."

"Be grateful I didn't actually go for your worst spots," Dean snickers, "think we would've got a noise complaint with your screaming."

Sam kicks Dean's shin with his signature 'resting bitch face', but the lingering smile on his lips took away the effect. "Jerk," he grumbles.

"Bitch," Dean says right back with a warm grin.

He starts to get up from his crouched position on the floor, when Sam suddenly grabs his arms and yanks him straight back down, rolling Dean onto his back smoothly with practiced form. Dean's grunt of alarm was cut off by his own high-pitched shriek as it felt like electricity bolted through his hips.

"Don't think I've forgotten about your weakness too, Dean," Sam laughed, his thumbs making quick work in reducing Dean to nothing but a ball of loud laughter.

"Y-YOHOU DIHICKHEHEAD!" Dean yells out through hearty laughter, twisting on the floor for escape, but Sam wasn't giving him an out. He'd forgotten how quickly Sam could recover from these attacks.

"Sure, I'm the dickhead for getting revenge on you when you attacked me first," Sam rolls his eyes, then shifts his thumbs to massage along the tops of Dean’s hip bones. The older man throws his head back with a screech that could raise the dead, kicking his legs out and arms desperately trying to shove Sam away.

“Christ, Dean, you're the one that's gonna get us the noise complaint if you keep that up,” Sam snickers, yet he didn’t shift from that little bundle of nerves that was making Dean shriek with laughter.

Dean couldn’t formulate a snappy comeback. Instead, he just smacked Sam wherever he could reach in retaliation. Was it a well-thought-out counterattack? No, absolutely not, but it was better than doing nothing.

The motel room was filled with Dean's bright laughter for a good while, after all Sam had a retaliation mission to complete and years' worth of revenge to cash in. Though Dean didn't make it easy for him, managing to reverse their roles a few times throughout the ordeal - knowing how to take Sam down from growing up together.

The research lay abandoned on the table for the rest of the afternoon, ignored by the brothers duking it out - curses and laughter thrown around the room. The monster of the week could wait a little while longer. The boys deserved the break.

[one-winged-dreams]

ship: seth delores x jack source: original content word count: 673 cw: intoxication, drugs mention (weed)

This is extremely dumb in the way that it sounds like the most saccharin, canned positivity bullshit imaginable, but when I think about an ancient love god saying it it actually feels more legit. i guess.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @kylilah @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city

@goldenworldsabound @mahitosoulmate @dear-gambler @sunstar-of-the-north

@faerie-circle-ships @heatobrienswife @tireddovahkiin

One of the perks of being the maintenance guy was having a key to any unit in the building.

That had inevitably become moot - Seth had given him a spare key anyway. 

So as Jack entered the unit like he owned the place, giving a lazy “Heyyy” as he did, he paid no mind to the fact that his arrival was utterly unannounced.

He received no answer. “Seth? Sweetheart? Are ya home?” His head tilted off to the side in that lackadaisical manner that seemed to permeate any and all of his motions. 

Still nothing.

With a frown that was only a few degrees away from a pout, he closed the door behind him and meandered the apartment, eventually finding his prize sprawled out on the couch. 

“There ya are, had me worried the jackass was stickin’ ya with overtime,” he chuckled. 

No response.

“Aw, c’mon honey, don’t tell me ya conked out here,” Jack sighed, shaking his head.

Finally, a half-hearted “No…”

“What’s the matter, darlin’, talk to ol’ Jack,” he made a circuit around the couch, lifting Seth’s legs and taking a seat.

“Exi-stenchal agonyyyy,” Seth drawled, not deigning to open his eyes quite yet. “Wanna diiieee.”

“N’awww, not that again,” Jack spoke in a comforting tone, patting the legs that were draped over his lap. “C’mon sweetheart, cheer up. Need me to help ya feel better?”

Silence.

“Ya blitzed right now?”

A nod. 

“Ah, that’s good, that’s good. Sometimes ya gotta partake in the things that ease the hurt. Long as you’re not planning on sittin’ around here gettin’ faded ALL the time. You’re my good boy, though, right? Gonna pull through for me, no matter how bad it is?” Jack gave more alternating pats, like he was playing a drum.

“But it suuuucks,” Seth groaned, and Jack was starting to get a little miffed that he wouldn’t open those pretty brown eyes. 

“I know it sucks, honey, I know. But you’ve been through worse. A defeatist attitude isn’t gonna fix nothin’. You’ll get through it, I know you will,” Jack gave him a little shake. “Look at me for a second, alright?”

Finally, Seth lifted his head and opened his eyes. They were glassy and unfocused, but that was fine by Jack. 

“There’s those pretty peepers,” Jack gave a lopsided grin. 

Seth merely stared at him. 

“You gonna… gonna say something, Jack?” he mumbled.

“Right right, I was gettin’ to that, sweetheart, don’t worry,” Jack placated him before getting a little more serious. “I just wanna say that you’re not alone, sweetheart. I know it sounds like the same ol’ performative bullshit, but you gotta remember you’ve got people that care about ya.” 

A pause and then another one of those goofy grins.

“Like me. You’ve got a god in your corner, isn’t that somethin’?” Jack chuckled. 

Seth’s staring continued for another few beats before he sighed and let his head hit the armrest again. Despite himself, and the knowledge that Jack was a menace about reading his expressions, he couldn’t help but smile a little.

He blamed it on the THC. 

“That’s a pretty cliche thing to say.” He nearly slurred his words again.

“Well it’s not canned, love is kind of my thing ya know,” Jack huffed. “So you gotta believe me when I say that you’ve got people who love you. You gotta think about the bonds that are worth living for, yeah?”

Silence.

“Yeaaahhhh?” Jack pressed, leaning to the side and arching an eyebrow.

Now it was Seth who was doing the huffing.

“Yeah,” he finally acquiesced. 

Jack laughed, a warm, wholesome sound that was impossible to not respond to in kind; even a smile was adequate at the very least. 

“That’s my good boy, my sweet boy. Don’t you worry about nothin’, darlin’, you’ll live. One way or another, you’ll come out of this wondering how the hell you ever doubted yourself,” Jack reassured before glancing at the coffee table. “Now, you got any more eddys?”

“Goddammit, Jack.”

“Hey, I can’t fight my nature!”

[tevanbuckley]

you know, I don’t really ship anything in this show or watch it other than like casual viewing but it really looks like the toxicity isn’t just limited to one side of the fandom. Buddies have their issues—they really, really do, and if I have to hear about how the karaoke scene was bait one more time, I might kill someone, (and calling Lou ugly is disgusting, c’mon, he’s wonderful) and they are extremely, extremely entitled and awful/misogynistic to basically any female love interest Buck or Eddie have ever had, and awful to Tommy — but the other side with bucktommy also has people talking about killing Eddie off so buck and Tommy can raise Chris and lording their canon superiority over buddie to make fun of them and doing stuff like making fun of them for still seeing it in canon when it’s ‘obviously’ sunk. Neither of these ships are better than the other, and neither are the communities associated with them — they’re both toxic as hell which makes the fandom a pretty depressing place to be, not to mention the terrible amounts of racism/misogyny present already. You guys might like to shit on each constantly but I don’t think you realize how damaging the whole situation is. Making one ship/side seem better than the other isn’t really the solution to a toxic fandom, but I really don’t think it’s going to become a more pleasant place to be.

Look at a certain point b*ddie stans complaining about toxicity is a bit like watching your cat piss on the couch and then blaming your roommate for daring to mention the smell because they left a few dishes in the sink. And tbf there are plenty of b*ddie shippers calling that stuff out, but that doesn’t seem to have changed the cats behaviour ya know?

I’m all for ship and let ship, but some of the takes over the hiatus bordered on misinformation, and I don’t think I should have to bite my tongue for the sake of faux positivity that’s not even being extended to me. I’m not perfect, but outside of answering unhinged asks, I’ve done my best to keep my comments constructive.

And fwiw I don’t think bucktommy is the “better” ship, that’d be ludicrous! Like 95% of ppl in this fandom I’ve liked b*ddie for years and I think they’re a really interesting fanon pairing (fr I could write an essay about how how special they are in the context of slash shipping). My criticisms have been exclusively about the behaviour of some b*ddie fans.

Like, how do you suggest I respond to some of these asks? (which have only gotten worse today btw). If ppl want to send me shit that makes them look stupid I’m gonna laugh at them, which I get not everyone wants to see, hence them being tagged with something ppl can easily filter out.

I’m sure some bucktommy shippers are acting like fools too (especially on anon) but like I said, cat piss vs dirty dishes.

[thychesters]

#wipwednesday! haven't done one in a long time lmao. me writing more zolu? omg? who is she ...

anyway, luffy and zoro sparring on the deck of the sunny because "i thought you were watching the ship." "i was watching the ship. sometimes that just so happens to entail luffy trying to roundhouse kick me in the head for attention." boys will be boys. they're flirting

i'm only mildly mostly losing my mind writing this but the rough draft is coming along nicely! coaxing myself into having a full draft done at some point eventually

“C’mon!” he wheedles, nudging Zoro’s side with his knees, and for a moment it’s any other day—any other time the two of them are relegated to ship watch and watching Zoro meditate had entertained him for all of five seconds. “Fine,” he grouses after the third kick. He climbs to his feet, back to the late morning sun. “Swords or no swords?”  “You holding back?” “Don’t know if I wanna deal with another Franky lecture about ship care.” “Oh, yeah, he got really mad about the onigiri to the foremast.” “That’s not—” “Zoro’s stalling!” Luffy hoots, and Zoro’s comeback is interrupted when he pitches forward to press a wet raspberry to his cheek before rocketing back and darting toward the prow, pivoting to turn his back to the masthead and cackling all the while. “Zoro’s probably worried he can’t land a hit so he’s staaaaalling. Boooo.” “Oi,” he grunts, scrubbing at his cheek with the heel of his palm, “quit talking shit before I beat the shit out of you.” He tosses his head back, laugh bright and loud, and the corner of his mouth curls. “I don’t think you can!” “Dumbass,” he chides, shifting from amused to affronted because Luffy asked him to spar and he isn’t taking this seriously—bounding around the ship like a moron, stretching out his too-long limbs like he’s just showing off, and Zoro will endure the peacocking for another five seconds. “Hey!” “Sounds like Zoro’s mad he can’t catch me,” Luffy says like he’s talking to himself, beaming at him even as he zips through the air to the foremast, free hand lashing out to grab onto his hat. He can see in the tilt to his body, feet planted against the mast and body silhouetted by the sun Zoro’s squinting into—can see it in the way he tenses just so, coiling in on himself, and Zoro squares his stance. He’s about to get a head butt to the gut. “You gonna tag me in or what? You wanted to spar and instead I’m watching you bounce around. I could be drinking instead of this.”

[astralisbelle]

Dead Man's Hand 1 - Peli's Apprentice

Dead Man's Hand Masterlist tags: tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu

chapter summary: Mando meets Peli's new apprentice

The Razor Crest lands with a lurch and a drop far too close for comfort, but at least he made it.

He spots the mechanic marching up to his ship, ready for a lecture that he knows is coming. With a sigh, he pulls the levers to park the ship. “Well,” he says to his little green companion. “Let’s get this over with.”

The Mandalorian steps out, holding Grogu against his hip with one arm. Peli stands with her arms crossed as the small droids scatter in the presence of the man. “What did you do to it?!” she scolds.

“Bounty hunting isn’t exactly a safe profession,” he says. Grogu coos as if he agrees. Peli can be as cross as she likes with the Mandalorian, but she softens immediately at the sight of Grogu’s black, beady eyes. Her tight frown loosens to a smile.

“Alright. Thankfully, you’re in luck. I’ve got just the person to help me out with this one.” Peli sticks two fingers in her mouth and gives a loud whistle. “Hey, Rookie, you’re up!”

“Coming!” a distant, feminine voice calls out. Emerging from the office, lugging a large box of tools in her arms is a young woman in a similar mechanic’s uniform. Dust and grime peppers her face and clothes, giving her a plain appearance. She sets down the tool box and as she straightens her back, her eyes meet his visor. “Whoa… don't tell me. You must be the Mandalorian.” She seems star-struck for a moment.

Peli pats her shoulder. “That's right! This is my best customer. And this little womp rat is Grogu!”

The girl makes eye contact with the child who raises a clawed hand in an attempt to wave. She laughs and waves back before extending her hand to Din, telling him her name. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He does not take her hand.

Peli gently pulls her back. “Don’t mind him. It’s not a personal thing. Why don’t you round up the droids and get started on the ship?”

“A-Ah. Sure.” She clears her throat and drops her hand to the side.

“I wanted you to look at the ship,” he tells Peli. “Not some kid.”

The girl puts her hands on her hips. “Now just wait a second.” She straightens her back, but even then, he eclipses her in height. “Who are you calling a kid? Do I look like I still go to school?”

“Alright, alright.” Peli pats her shoulder again. “Save your energy for the repairs. Get started.” The apprentice raises a brow, waiting for him to interject again. When he remains silent, she huffs and takes her tools.

“C’mon, guys!” she says to the droids. “Looks like we got our work cut out for us.” She storms off with the droids and once she is out of earshot, Peli gestures for him to follow her.

“I know, I know. Got more fire than the twin suns combined, but she’s brilliant.”

Din had figured with all the droids and her own intellect, Peli didn’t need the help. He sets Grogu down to give him a chance to stretch his little legs and leans against the wall, watching the apprentice as she scales the ship, connecting cables and directing the droids.

“Where’d you pick her up?”

“Wanna hear the story, Grogu?” He lifts his ears, giving a sound of affirmation. “Went to the cantina for a drink and this young woman is sitting in a corner booth with a deck of cards. She was playing with some others for spare parts and credits. But then, she gets caught cheating, is my guess. Gets about three blasters in her face, ready to fire before I step in.”

“And why’d you do that?”

“She knew her parts and components. I thought with a little refinement, she’d make a good assistant. So I sweet talked the players, offered her a job where she’s less likely to get shot at, and I have more free time! It’s a win-win.”

Din chuckles at Peli’s ever present ability to make opportunities for herself. He watches the girl act swiftly, as if she had worked on the Razor Crest a dozen times before. She is like him, he concludes, that each were scouted for their innate talent towards different abilities, taken in by people not of their blood.

“I’ll be the judge of her work.”

Peli beams, a sense of pride in her voice. “You won’t be disappointed.”