#op get a grip challenge

[cozage]

hii!! can i request for the event?? had this weird little scenario where a little kid goes up to reader, completely in love and confessing their love (even tho reader doesnt know who this little kid is) and the op men just look at what's happening with either a "😬" or "😠" reaction. any characters for this scenario would work but if you could put zoro as part of the 3 that would be great

Child Crushes Send me an event request!

Characters: fem reader x Zoro, Sanji, Shanks Total word count: 600

Zoro

“You are so beautiful!” A child screamed, slamming into you and wrapping his arms around your midrift tightly. “I love you!” 

“Hey!” Zoro shouted, reaching for the kid. “Get off her!”

“Zoro!” you chided, shielding the kid from your boyfriend's wrath. “It’s okay!”

“You are the most amazing lady I’ve ever seen! Your smile is radiant, and you are kinder than anyone I’ve ever met!”

You laughed, slowly prying the kid off of you. You were about to bend down to talk to him, but Zoro beat you to it. 

“Listen brat,” he hissed. “Go find another beautiful lady! This one is mine.”

The kid stuck his tongue at Zoro. “If you keep being so mean, she’ll leave you for a real man like me!”

“What did you-!”

“Zoro, stop!” you giggled, pulling him away. You looked back at the little boy, giving him a wink. “It was nice to meet you!”

“I’ll see you soon, lovely lady!”

You intertwined your arm with Zoro’s again, laughing at his outburst. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“He reminded me of that stupid cook,” Zoro groaned. “Besides, that kid needs to buzz off. You’re already taken.”

Sanji

“Excuse me miss,” a small voice came from behind you, and you turned around. 

He was young. Probably around 6 or 7, with caramel brown hair and clear blue eyes.

“Hi there,” you said, breaking away from Sanji’s hold so you could squat down so you were at eye level with him. 

“I just wanted to tell you are the most beautiful woman alive.” He held out a wildflower with small white petals. “Will you marry me?”

You giggled at his request. His bluntness reminded you of someone else you knew. 

“I’m flattered. How about you come find me when you’re older?” you challenged. 

He pushed the flower into your hands. “I will. I’ll never forget you! Until then, here’s something to remember me by!”

He took off, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. You laughed and stood up, your hand returning to Sanji’s. 

“You have competition,” you teased.

Sanji hummed pleasantly, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “He has good taste in women. Can’t argue with that.”

Shanks

You unfolded the note the little boy had given you and read the scribbles across the paper. 

Please make my day and kiss me. You are so beautiful and kind. I love you.

Shanks peered over your shoulder, looking at the note, and burst out into laughter. 

“Shanks!” you scolded under your breath. “Don’t laugh!”

“Look kid, only a real man gets to kiss this lady.” He planted a messy kiss on your cheek to prove his point. 

The kid looked at you and him, and then ran off. 

“Shanks!”

“He’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Shanks was right. A few hours later, the kid was standing at the end of the bar, peeking out and watching you from afar. 

“You wanna impress her?” Shanks asked, creeping up behind the boy. “Give her a rose and ask her for a kiss. To her face. Like a man.”

“Will that work?” the boy whispered, glancing back at you nervously. 

“That’s how I got her to kiss me,” he admitted. “Good news for you, I even have a spare rose.”

The little boy walked up to you, his knees visibly shaking as he gripped the rose in his hands. 

“I got this for you,” he said softly. “Will you kiss me?”

Your eyes darted to Shanks, a smile dancing across your lips. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking the flower from him and giving him a small peck on the cheek. “I’d be honored to kiss such a polite young man.”

[cloudzoro]

Kink Discovery 3 | One Piece ♡

This is part three, part one is here and part two is here

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

individual reaction/headcanon scenarios on kink discovery with op characters!

one piece masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: mihawk, perona, reiju, shanks, smoker

cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, all other warning are kinks which are outlined in the post already

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mihawk - Cockwarming

It was your idea. A stupid idea. You didn't think Mihawk would take you seriously when you issued him a challenge. You had asked him to a competition of resolve. You're sat on his cock, and whoever gives in first loses. You may have underestimated your husband's competitiveness and self-restraint.

Your husband takes the opportunity to admire you perched on his lap, completely undressed. He's more than aware of the way your pussy is pulsing around his cock, you're desperate for him to move, but he won't. He won't give in; he's having far too much fun observing your reactions. You're practically shaking above him, your lip caught between your teeth as you try your best to stop your face from expressing your true feelings.

“You can't hide from me, Darling,” he says, reaching up to pull your lip from your teeth before you bite it off. His stare is intense, as always, as he gazes into your eyes. “I quite like this game you've come up with. I get to watch your beautiful eyes fill with desperation.”

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Perona - Bondage

Perona has always been a little bit of a freak and has always encouraged you to explore your kinks with her.

When you hand her a rope and a book on shibari and other types of bondage, she's not sure what to think. When she next gets you alone, she delicately ties your wrists to your ankles and turns you over onto our back. She holds a vibrator to your clit as she kisses up and down your legs, outlining the rope with lipstick. Your restraints block every twitch of pleasure, and there's nothing to hold onto as the vibrations get more intense.

Perona watches, intrigued and impossibly wet, as you're forced to feel the full intensity of the pleasure without anything to ground you. Your arms twitch and move, your moans fill the castle walls, and your legs attempt to clamp shut around her hand. She is mesmerised by your body. She never expected to enjoy seeing you helpless like this, but there's something about the way you writhe in pleasure that has her feeling like a monster leaning in to catch its prey.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Reiju - Face Sitting

Reiju loves eating pussy; it's her favourite meal of the day. She's always wanted to try face-sitting, but you've been too nervous. You're always fretting about hurting her or just not making her feel good. Though she's been very clear that eating out is not a selfless act on her part, she derives almost as much pleasure from it as you do.

It takes a lot of sweet talk and irresistible touches, but she finally reassures you that it's going to be fine, and you agree. As soon as your pussy makes contact with her face and she gets a taste of you on her tongue, it's over for her. She is addicted, and she doesn't want to give oral any other way. Her firm grip makes it so you don't even have the option to hover. She's not satisfied until she has the steady weight of your body on top of her.

Her tongue laps at your walls as your clit bumps her nose. adding to the stimulation. You couldn't get any closer to her if you tried. She can't get enough of your taste. She is more than happy to let your thighs squish her as she gets her fill.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Shanks - Breeding

Shanks already had a kid before dating you. He never really thought much about having another one. It had never crossed his mind that he could have one with you. Your relationship was perfect as it was. He never thought about any possible changes.

That is until one day when you bring up the idea of a mini-you running around. It's like a switch flips in his brain, and it's all he can focus on. He pushes your legs up to your chest, holding you in place as he bullies his cock into you. He's dead set on filling you up as much as possible. You already have one fat load inside you and dribbling from your hole.

“You can take another load, can't you, baby?” he says, adjusting himself above you so he can hit a better angle. “gotta make sure it sticks”, He growls, burying his head in your neck as he cums for a second time. He whispers absolute filth in your ear as he empties himself inside you.

Shanks leaves zero possibility that his cum hasn't taken. He can practically smell that it's going to work and it makes him feel feral. He needs to fuck you raw as much as possible until you get a positive result from a doctor.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Smoker - Marking

You're such a pretty girl. Smoker insists that every guy who so much as glances at you is thinking about railing you six ways to Sunday, and it disgusts him. His irrational jealousy is calling, screaming, for him to do something that lets all these low lives know you're taken. Let them know he's wrapped around your finger and there's no room for anyone else.

After a long, hard day at work, Smoker likes to unwind by fucking your brains out. He pins you down, kisses every inch of skin he can possibly kiss while he stretches you out on his cock. His scent is all over you; trails of saliva glisten on your skin, but it's not enough. He needs something that won't wash away in the shower, something more permanent. That's when he feels the urge clawing at his teeth.

He leans forward, clamping his teeth over your shoulder. His cock twitches at the way you moan for him. He sucks your skin into his mouth, leaving a mark on your skin as a warning to anyone who may see it. He continues, leaving hickies and indents of his teeth in a pattern that makes it clear you are seen to. Seeing you bearing his marks makes him cum embarrassingly fast. Though when he's done, he stays sheathed inside you so he can admire his work before he shows it off to the rest of the world.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

i hope you enjoyed reading! so sorry for my inactivity recently :(

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn

[brairslair]

op monster trio x fem!reader nsfw headcanons

EVERYONE IS 18+ (minors need to scram)

a/n: remember, these are hc’s and just my opinion!

don’t forget to like, reblog, and comment to support my work! mwah <3

“just enjoy this”

luffy:

very talkative and vocal during sex

always just says whats on his mind

“wow, you’re so wet for me already”

“you look so pretty when your face scrunches up like that”

“that feels good. go faster”

not shy at all about moaning and can get really loud sometimes

like there will definitely be noise complaints

kinda a pleasure dom, but can also get really needy sometimes

wants to make sure you feel just as good as he does

“does that feel good?”

“how’s this?”

“you like it when i do that?”

loves bringing food into the bedroom (obviously)

aphrodisiacs? yes

licking whipped cream, hot fudge, caramel, etc, off your body? yuh huh

and his stamina is HIGH

he also gets really excited about trying new things, and will try pretty much anything once if it’s something you’re into

one of his favorites is mirror sex

spreading you out on his fingers or his dick and making sure you watch yourself

he just wants you to see the beautiful view that he gets to see

plus then he gets double of you, and more you is always good

loves when you get vocal, so if you’re on the shyer side he will definitely work overtime so he gets to hear you

will make it a game to see how loud he can get you

he also speaks portuguese bc it makes sense and also i said so !!!!

sometimes his language setting accidentally switches to portuguese when he’s fucked out

“vou meter em você ate você gritar meu nome”

goes crazy when you say his name

even crazier when you get so cockdrunk that you start babbling nonsense

honestly he can’t help but laugh

like full on belly laughing like a maniac while he’s breaking your brain

but he just thinks you’re the cutest and he can’t contain himself

sometimes he’ll have a conversation with you while you’re in that state, acting like he can understand anything you’re saying

“feels good huh?”

you’ll whine out something indecipherable in response

“yeah i know!”

he’s always happy if you tell him what you want and how you’re feeling

because he just loves you so much and he wants you to enjoy it too

because he thinks you deserve the world

can also get pretty dominant/demanding sometimes without even realizing it, just because he’s so blunt

he’s just a man who knows what he wants and goes for it

if he’s especially needy, he gets a little more rough with you

holding your hair as he fucks your mouth, because your eyes look so pretty when you look up at him like that

or fucking you hard and fast to chase his own release, leaving bruises on your hips from how tightly he’s gripping them

even then, he’ll always do frequent check ins to make sure you’re still enjoying it

messy kisser

loves kissing and licking and nibbling all over your body

definitely leaves marks

he’s also not shy about PDA, (mostly because he does not understand the social construct of what is and is not appropriate to do in public), so he loves when he gets to see his love marks on you the next day

thinks u look rly pretty with his love all on you

he’s really good with his mouth

could eat you out for hours, and wont stop until your whole body is shaking

big fan of face sitting

definitely more of a tits guy

always smiling into your kisses, wether he’s sweetly kissing your lips, leaving a trail down your body, or teasing your clit

loves to make you squirm, so edging you is definitely fun for him

he likes seeing you be all needy for him, especially since he’s usually the needier one (can you blame him)

definitely also challenges himself to see how many times he can make you cum in one day, and keeps track of his records

really enjoys using his devil fruit powers on you too, and laughs in excitement when it makes your eyes roll back

always gets you both water and plenty of snacks afterwards, falling into a comfortable conversation or putting on your favorite movie

zoro:

you’re the only person he feels comfortable enough to be this vulnerable with, and he trusts you with his life

you are always his number one priority, no matter what, and that naturally carries over into your sex life

he’s extremely attentive to you, in and out of the bedroom

knows your body better than he knows his own

always knows exactly what you need and just how to make your eyes roll back

he’s a “just relax and let me take care of you” kind of guy, and all he cares about is making you feel good

after all, you always make him feel good, even without doing a single thing

but of course he soaks in anything and everything you graciously give him

he quietly feels undeserving of your love, so he’s really big on being praised

your sweet words only spur him on to make you cum even harder

usually more of a soft dom

but if you ask nicely, sometimes he’ll let you take care of him when you know he needs to just relax

he’s gentle with his strength and careful not to hurt you

likes to fuck you hard but slow, wanting it to last as long as possible

he lives to hear your pretty noises of overstimulation as he makes sure to hit the right spots with every agonizing thrust

your legs held over his shoulders so you can feel every inch of him

doesn’t pick up his pace, even when you’re trembling and trying to move your hips against his

“i’ve got you. just enjoy this”

not super talkative, but definitely gets more vocal the more comfortable he gets being intimate with you

lots of grunts and groans against your neck

sometimes an occasional moan or curse will slip out

when he does talk, it’s soft and low, whispered for only your ears to hear

his voice gets a little deeper when he’s like this, and it grounds you and shakes you to your core somehow at the same time

he loves kissing you, and pouring every feeling he can’t put into words onto your lips

rly likes watching your face to see every pretty little expression you make

likes seeing how good he’s making you feel

also really big on eye contact

wether he’s fingering you, eating you out, fucking you, you’re giving him head, whatever, he wants to look into your eyes and watch them as they get all glassy

“hey, look at me. keep your eyes open”

a little bit into dacryphilia , because it feels so intimate to him

making you feel so overwhelmed with pleasure that it brings you to tears, then kissing all your tears away as you fall apart for him

he’s also really good with his fingers because of how much dexterity he’s built up in his hands from all those years of swordsmanship training

the reason he also has insane stamina ^

if you get bratty with him he’ll get bratty back (he’s a part of the sassy man apocalypse)

sometimes if you’re being particularly bratty, or when he gets cocky after a really good training session, he can get a little more riled up into being more talkative and commanding

but he still never loses that softness, because to him you’re angel on earth, and his love and adoration for you is overflowing

“if you’re that needy, just ask for it. don’t need to make a fuss”

“that’s it, keep going”

“go ahead, you can let go for me”

“tell me what you want me to do and i’ll do it, but you have to use your words”

if he’s feeling really confident, he might pin you against his surface of choice while he ruts into you, licking into your mouth to savor your taste

^ he feels guilty at first for being rough with you, but any fears of him being selfish fly out the window when he hears you moan his name all desperate and hoarse and fucked out

“you like it when im rough like this, huh?”

“what was that, honey? you gotta speak up”

“i know you’ve got one more in you, baby, don’t hold out on me”

no matter what, he always makes sure you cum at least twice before he does

he’s not super into pda, but he secretly loves when you leave marks on him

especially when you scratch up his back or his chest

they feel like battle scars and make him feel all proud and shit

he’ll “discreetly” show them off walking around topless, but he’ll still glare at anyone if they make a comment about it

he also joins the pda train anytime he sees you talking to another man that isn’t a part of the crew

or any time he’s drunk off his ass ^^

thigh/ass guy

he loves feeling your body shutter and twitch from his touch

he doesn’t smile too often, but you sometimes get lucky enough to see it

he’ll hold your jaw up and smile lazily into your sweet kisses while he fucks you deep with his fingers

constantly longs to show his devotion to you, and takes his time to make sure you feel it

lots of sleepy and lazy sex

also shower/bath sex

he lives to hear your sweet sounds

he will not stand for it if you try to hide your pretty little noises from him

“c’mon, don’t do that. let me hear you”

“don’t get all shy on me now”

“there’s my girl”

he’ll always put a pillow under your hips

he likes to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible

he also just finds it really hot when you arch your back

he’ll fuck you so good that you genuinely cannot stand after he’s finished with you

then he’ll run you both a warm bath, hold you to his chest, and wash off your body and your hair as you both relax into the comfortable silence

sanji:

worships the ground you walk on (seriously considered starting a religion)

loves to be romantic and set the mood

cooking you both a nice intimate dinner, lighting candles, peppering rose petals, giving you massages, etc etc

but once you guys actually start getting intimate, he cannot WAIT to get his hands on you

but he still respects you and treats you like a fucking queen, because to him you are

not an exaggeration by any means either, he will build you a throne

he asks permission before kissing you

won’t touch you unless you give him permissiom

will do or say genuinely anything you ask him to, no questions asked

but will also pathetically rut his hips against your clothed cunt while you make out and cum in his pants if you allow it

he can get rock hard just at the sight of you

not even in a pervy way, it’s just that you’re sooo sexy and everything you do is like his siren song

definitely a sub

loves receiving, and feels blessed with every ounce of pleasure you grant him

but making you feel good gives him just as much pleasure, because he worships you after all

knowing he’s the one making you feel good really gets him going

he’ll worship your body for HOURS with no expectations to receive anything in return

he can get off untouched just by knowing he’s making you feel good

loves eating you out, and is extremely talkative

more than willing to be on his knees for you at any time

loves praising you (of course) and is always eager to encourage you

“you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen”

“you taste so sweet, mon amour”

“want you to cum so badly, sweetheart”

“please let me help you come undone my love”

he loves when you praise him too

however, he also goes crazy when you get a little mean

likes it when you use him for your own pleasure after a restless night or a frustrating mission

or when you edge him for hours as punishment for making a flirtatious comment towards another woman (atp he only does it to get this result)

he is also not beneath begging !

sucker for romance during sex too

loves holding your hand while he makes you see stars or while you let him use your mouth

kissing all over you while you both fall apart

babbling and whining against your lips about how much he loves you

loves when you mark him up, and will proudly show them off

practically gets heart eyes every time he looks at you, but his eyes are BULGING when he sees your perfect tits

loves sucking on them while you ride him

very cheesy and dramatic lines and pet names, but they all come straight from his heart and he means every single word

really likes it when you pull his hair

definitely whimpers and whines and moans your name like a prayer

says “thank you” when you let him cum because he’s so polite

probably has a breeding kink

definitely has low stamina at the beginning of your relationship and doesn’t last very long, but builds it up over time

still makes sure you’re more than fully satisfied even if he’s already finished

would let you tie him up, blindfold him, gag him, whatever you want, and he would enjoy the fuck out of every second

he would still complain and whine about not being able to touch/see/praise you a bit though

super passionate kisser

also always extremely sensitive, because it’s you

lots of cuddles and kisses and sweet words after the two of you are done until you fall asleep with your limbs tangled

asks are open!

[rosiesmuts]

Muse

Le Serrafim Kazuha

4,000 Words

A/N: KazuhaSmuts?

Kazuha Nakamura. Fuck. The gorgeous idol your new muse, her beauty transcending what the camera can capture, able to take your breath away with those curves and bright smile. A consummate professional, striking poses without needing direction, a sense for it without experience, the pictures coming out flawless.

Even in basic jeans and a t-shirt, Kazuha exudes a beauty, a hotness that has nothing to do with being an idol. Her confidence is stunning and her sensuality is electrifying—not something manufactured for a photoshoot but inherent and undeniable. You're standing next to a goddess. Absolutely gorgeous face, captivating eyes, voluptuous curves, and a charm she's too comfortable with. There's no effort there, no faux coyness or intentional sultry look. Just the radiance of a stunning idol who seems almost oblivious to what she inspires, but you can tell from the heat in Kazuha's gaze and her naughty grin, a mischievous desire swirling around in her that she'll never speak out loud—she has you enthralled.

So fuck.

Fuck these lustful thoughts clouding your head and this heat building in your chest. This is supposed to be a job, but when Kazuha reaches for the hem of her shirt and the lines of muscles accentuating her abs as her t-shirt peels up, that desire inside you is more than unprofessional.

Focus.

Fuck.

This is part of the shoot, supposed to show off the 'Calvin Klein' on her sports bra, but the flexing of her body and the little curl on her smiling lips leaves the underwear an afterthought. You should've been used to this, there's been legitimate supermodels in even less clothing in these photoshoots. But there's something about Kazuha, her innocent smiles and demure laughter, this aura of untouchable and almost fragile femininity about her.

And she's fucking teasing you, those faint lip curls, the flash of teeth from her smirk. She knows her effect, she enjoys your lingering eyes and hungry looks. An arm folded up above her head, leaning against the wall as her other hand grips a rolled up shirt, an underwear ad waiting to happen. Everything about Kazuha screams confidence and sensuality, even her long toes, wiggling a bit for some reason as her smirk broadens, the look in her eyes daring you, almost like she's trying to say something she cannot voice.

Kazuha tilts her head, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it, biting into it. Seducing with the barest hints, challenging and inciting with the slightest of moves. It feels almost too intimate and that makes it all the more intoxicating, making the breath hitch in your throat and your heart race in anticipation.

"Cut!"

You have to shout out, the sexual tension overbearing and suffocating. "Let's take an hour for lunch everyone. Good work today, we got a lot of good shots." Your voice is steady, hiding your tumultuous feelings as best as possible. Kazuha beams at the praise and your façade of control crumbles as she teases and tempts you even further, giving a flirtatious wink before slipping into her dressing room.

It's a bit of a walk for you to get to your office, but it gives you space to think about what's gotten into you. This is just a photoshoot, you've dealt with plenty of sexy and beautiful models in much more scandalous poses. Kazuha was in plain clothes! There shouldn't have been anything erotic there. And yet the way the fabric hugged her body, her eyes watching your every move, and that flirty edge to her smile, it was impossible to ignore. Even now your mind's lingering on the last image of Kazuha, staring you down.

One hour to gather yourself. That's what you need—to take your mind off of those...impurities. Kazuha, even her name in your head makes your heart quicken and breath shorten. Just get a hold of yourself. No one can read your mind, and as long as you don't go acting out any of those lurid desires then this'll all just blow over...

"Hey."

You didn't even hear your door open, Kazuha's sweet voice catching you off-guard. Your eyes snap towards her, the entire reason for your break now standing in the office, Kazuha's free hand runs through her hair, this act of playing shy a fascinating dichotomy with the sultry woman you just worked with this morning.

All that build-up and time spent thinking about her left you absolutely stunned by Kazuha's entrance. For the second time she managed to catch your heart in your mouth, freezing your tongue and leaving you speechless.

"Can we go over those pictures that you took? I'd like to see them if that's okay?"

Her request is innocent enough, but you can't help but notice she locks the door behind her. A simple, innocent click of the lock, but the implication was very clear.

Kazuha leans in a bit too closely, a subtle grin as she clicks through the pictures and you're not quite sure if this was real or all your dirty imagination playing tricks on you. Did she really just touch your wrist and give it a squeeze or was she just checking the time and brushed by you accidentally?

Kazuha sits in silence, taking a cursory look at every frame before getting to the next. The silence is more than suffocating. You can barely hear anything outside the pounding in your ears. She stops the slideshow on the most salacious photo: Kazuha lifting her top, the slightest hint of her sports bra, her perfect abs captured so wonderfully on film.

"This one is good! Don't you agree?" Kazuha asks, tilting her head at you and pulling her lip in between her teeth, letting her eyes drag languidly down your figure, devouring you in the most erotic manner with just her gaze alone.

"...yeah..." is all you manage to stammer out, voice stuck in your throat and thoughts wandering in places they really shouldn't.

"Don't think I didn't catch you staring..."

Kazuha steps back, reenacting the shot that got you so worked up—her fingers reach the hem of her shirt, inching the garment up, more and more of her perfect abdomen getting revealed, tight lines that curve and ripple in a tantalizing dance, begging for someone to run their tongue across the slopes and dips of her stomach.

Fuck.

This was supposed to be an hour to gather your thoughts and recompose yourself, not go further into disarray with Kazuha standing in front of you. You lick your lips, a futile attempt to bring some moisture back into a dry mouth as your hands instinctively go into your pockets to prevent anything from going out of place.

This time it's different, Kazuha takes her shirt completely off, the gray Calvin Klein sports bra fully visible, hiding her tiny tits from view. It's a feast for the eyes—the flexing of her abs, the dip of her waist, that sensual confidence in every twitch and curl of her muscles.

"Whoops." Kazuha playfully teases, acting like the removal of the t-shirt is accidental, a casual display of carelessness. Her bottom lip between her teeth, holding it hostage and pressing it between her pearl white teeth. That stare, dark brown and chocolate eyes swallowing you whole and consuming you.

It becomes clear as day, the flirting and lustful looks were no joke, an honest come-on from this hotter-than-hot idol. And you could lose everything right here and right now, the implications and consequences could be catastrophic, but when her hand lands on yours, giving you a gentle caress, it's hard not to succumb.

"It's impolite to stare, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha coos. Your hands find her sides, fingertips digging in, unable to hold back anymore. Years of ballet, and now dancing to her own music and choreography, there is nothing less than admirable in her sculpted body, each muscle firm but toned.

The pads of your thumbs feel the ridges, tracing the defined lines, slowly climbing higher and higher.

"Such a naughty man."

Kazuha gives her own belly a featherlight caress, your hands slip underneath the elastic of her bra. Hot flesh greets your palms and her tiny tits are barely enough for a squeeze, so smooth and soft and absolutely perfect. Her nipples harden immediately, small and sensitive, crying out for attention, pinched by your fingers.

This is beyond unprofessional, absolutely irresponsible, a blight on everything a photographer should be—to have their hands under their model's clothes and get so engrossed with someone they've only known for a day. But, fuck. You could always find another job. Just touching and playing with Kazuha though—a chance of this sort of happiness would be gone forever.

The choice becomes clear the moment Kazuha kisses you, hungrily swallowing any excuses and closing any chance of leaving. The way she claims you is exhilarating, overwhelmingly powerful in that seductive passion as she claims ownership with her tongue, overtaking every bit of hesitation and apprehension in your soul and planting a seed of raw, unfiltered lust in the empty void.

Your excitement is evident, something hard is pressed against her thigh.

"Is it just a big camera down there, Mr. Photographer?" A tsk-tsk leaves Kazuha's lips, those dirty, dirty, beautiful lips, and that haughty smile plastered on her face while her fingers nimbly undo your pants. "Naughty, naughty Mr. Photographer!" Kazuha hums the words into your ear, tickling you, making your skin shiver in delight and electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

Her lips are on your neck, her hand is wrapped around your cock. It's all too much—this sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, sensual woman, taking everything with the same enthusiasm and conviction that she'd do in a song and a dance.

Each kiss on your body feels like the brush of the lips of an angel, her hands roaming your body, a subtle hint of her sharp, immaculate nails, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin.

She leaves you panting, a broken record of sighs and low moans until she releases your erection.

"Take off my pants for me Mr. Photographer."

Her words are quiet, her tone more husky than anything else, a hint of arrogance and self-indulgence. A direct command with no room for disobedience. Her back is against the wall, her hips jutted out for easy access— the baggy jeans easily fall off her legs, revealing her toned dancer's physique. Her thick thighs flexing in anticipation, the matching Calvin Klein panties the only obstacle standing in between you and heaven.

Her sexiness is something else, the shapely, sinful outline of her ass, the swell of her curves—that v-line is a mouthwatering treat, teasing with the prospect of a delight waiting to be explored. Everything on Kazuha is toned and breathtaking.

There is no thought, no plan. Pure primal instinct urges you forward, kneeling to run your tongue along that delicious path leading straight down to heaven and bliss and everything you could possibly desire. Your lips press against her stomach, her coy smile grows as you kneel before her, fingers in her elastic waistband, pulling and dragging it down.

Inch by inch, her lower half comes into view and you can't contain yourself any longer.

"Fuck..." the curse slips from you, involuntarily and inevitable, and the sight in front of you is breathtaking: her pussy is absolutely perfect, full and engorged, aching for touch, drooling in obvious desire.

Teasing kisses are planted on the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer. She gives a slight groan. That sweet taste of victory. Lips upon lips. Tongue against slit. Kazuha is an impatient one, her hands cradling your head, locking you into position, the silky lips rubbing against yours. The roughness with which her hips move excites you, how desperately she pushes her crotch against your mouth. She's not shy at all, each and every movement bold and intentional, greedy and ravenous, entirely unlike her demure, innocent persona.

It's hard not to enjoy this, enjoying her unbridled desire—getting suffocated by her muscular thighs squeezing the sides of your face, her cunt grinding against you, leaving her delicious nectar all over your lips and chin. The more she pushes, the more she suffocates, the more excited and aroused you become, fingers sinking into the flesh of her thighs. It is as if your life depended on tasting her juices, that tart ambrosia from this sultry dancer and songstress, an aphrodisiac you'll never tire of.

Kazuha puts a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle those wanton sounds but failing to completely hide those telltale grunts and moans—her toes curling just another sign. The closer she gets, the tighter her thighs squeeze and... Fuck. If you're gonna die, this is probably the best way to go.

Kazuha shudders in ecstasy, a full body spasm while a cry of pleasure slips free from those luscious pink lips. It's too tempting not to explore her with your fingers as well, the little nub throbbing and aching for stimulation, eagerly twitching whenever your fingers circle it. There is a wild and untamed ferocity to the way Kazuha's legs instinctively curl and flex, writhing in unhindered bliss.

She leans back, pushing more weight into her back, holding herself up on shaking legs and heavy breaths. A sense of victory floods you. She was putty in your hands, her beautiful legs shaking and knees wobbling. Your pride swelled—to have the otherwise impeccably poised songstress a shivering mess.

"That... Was..." Kazuha struggles to talk, the red on her cheeks running down her chest and spreading down her heaving abs. "...Fucking amazing," she pants, her adorable smile permanently fixed on her beautiful face, lips parted just slightly.

Fuck.

Absolutely beautiful.

Her appearance is entrancing. Those warm, dark brown eyes with a sly, playful expression. Plush pink lips pulled into a sultry smirk, teasing, as her hair cascades behind her shoulders. Kazuha pulls you back up, staring you directly in the eye, full of sensual promise.

"I think you deserve a reward, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha says between languid strokes of your cock. Those talented fingers tease you, squeezing and pumping with precision, hitting every one of your buttons, a cocky, knowing glint in her eyes. You're not one to stand idly by, reaching for her sides, massaging her hips and brushing along her waist.

This is not a slow and drawn-out affair. Every touch between the two of you is desperate and fiery, full of passion and an intense need to feel more and more—needing to satisfy your hunger. Her arms reach above her head and you finally toss away that pesky sports bra. Perky nipples beg to be teased and kissed.

You give her pecs a light lick before blowing cool air onto her sensitive, pointed peak. She mewls in response. Each tug on her nipple accompanied by a sultry cry from Kazuha. She's trapped, sandwiched between the wall behind her and your body, held hostage by pleasure. But one simple phrase and she takes back all control.

"Fuck me."

Two simple words. The most beautiful ones. Commanding and fierce. Kazuha doesn't beg. Kazuha doesn't ask. There's no softness in her tone, she knows what she wants and there will be no deterring her. The tip of your hard, aching cock slides across Kazuha's slick folds, smearing her juices, gliding up and down as your shaft teases her clit.

It takes all your willpower to hold back, you want this to last forever. A huge part of you doesn't believe this is actually happening and that this is all just a fever dream. But when your tip first enters her wet, hot heat, nothing feels more real and certain. There's tight, and there's this—Kazuha a woman who spends hours working out her core and performing exhaustive dance routines every single day. There's nothing tighter or better than this goddess's cunt.

Every single movement is an explosion of sensations: her inner muscles flexing and squeezing, gripping, the sensual gyrations of her hips, the shallow thrusting—this is pure perfection. Your head spins, drunk from the desire, the high of fucking this diva, being enticed by every subtle thing about Kazuha and all of it's pure insanity, almost terrifying and too unreal. You lean in, pressing against her body and giving yourself up to her.

It's a paradise that no mortal should ever be worthy of entering. That is what her cunt feels like: Heaven's gates. Something out of this world. It's like all the blood is leaving your head. That carnal desire that's been built up is now set loose in this debauchery, your primal urges taking over.

Fuck the consequences.

Nothing matters right now but this.

Each thrust into Kazuha elicits a cute, soft moan, her tongue hanging loosely from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut in bliss. Her nails dig into your back, the painful searing feeling mixes perfectly with the sweet pleasure coursing through your body. There's no gentleness or love, nothing other than lust and passion. Flesh against flesh.

Kazuha pushes you back, a naughty expression painted all over her face, pupils wide and tongue licking her lips.

"Wanna see a trick?"

There's no time to respond, her leg lifted into the air, showing off her flexibility and resting on your shoulder. This angle is unreal. You have no idea how she manages to keep her balance, especially when it allows you to slide even deeper into her cunt. The change is striking and her hands clasp over her mouth, failing to stifle a long, loud moan.

It's as impressive as it is erotic, using her ballet skills as a sexual advantage. Each pump in is pure pleasure, so hot and wet, you're drowning in her. Her walls clench and squeeze around your cock, as if she can't bear to let it leave, unwilling to relinquish your presence from her cunt.

"You're making me-" her words are cut off, Kazuha biting down hard on your shoulder in her attempt to stop the cry of passion. A hand wraps around her ankle, gripping her leg, hoisting her a little higher for even deeper thrusts. Her thighs and legs flex, locking you into place, keeping you there as she throws her head back in pleasure.

Kazuha bursts. For the second time. Shivering. Gasping. Pulsating. As if her pussy can't decide what's the best way to please the cock inside of her, an infuriating tightness and gyration around you.

Her leg leaves your shoulder, her whole body leaning against you as Kazuha's tired, labored breathing fans the back of your ear.

"That was quite the trick." Kazuha giggles at your lame attempt at a joke, pressing her finger against your lips.

"Did I say I was finished?"

Of all the things you should have expected after all the salacious behavior she exhibited during her first two orgasms, you really don't know why you should have expected anything less than what she did next: wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

Her forehead leans against yours, your tandem breaths sync up, and the calmness lasts for maybe a second before Kazuha presses a small peck against your mouth. She grinds down and starts working against your lap, her pussy bobbing up and down the hardness of your cock. You're carrying her weight now, Kazuha lifting herself up, then letting gravity guide her hips downwards to fully seat your dick.

Your fingers sink into her tight ass. She rides you, no break, not pausing once in her movements, sheathing herself repeatedly onto your girth. She's fucking you—every pent up frustration in living an idol's life is now being released into that. It dawns on you that in no moment were you ever in control, Kazuha stole every bit of agency from you.

Even so, your hips are locked in place.

Even as the room smells of sex and you're completely ensnared in a tangle of limbs. The loud clapping of flesh on flesh ringing in your ears—every bit of this situation is screaming irresponsibility and wrong. To fuck an idol whose star is on the rise would spell an end for a promising career. And yet Kazuha never fails to get her way, it's undeniably clear the moment that devious smile spreads across her face and the heated sparkles light up in her eyes, this vixen is determined to have what she wants.

Everything is burning up—your loins are on fire, Kazuha's steamy hot insides are the match.

"How do I feel, Mr. Photographer?" The sweetest, honeyed voice but with the devil's timbre. Kazuha fucks the words out of you, and your mouth feels so dry—you can't find the will or ability to speak as Kazuha smiles triumphantly.

Your life flashes before your very eyes. The decisions, the events—everything leading up until this very moment where you found yourself impossibly entangled in a gorgeous superstar, unable to get free from this spell. Everything culminates. From the time you were told you'd be working with her. From her flirty looks during the shoot.

Your hour of recess turned into this wild, irresponsible, crazy scenario. A lustful mess, as evidenced by the slick sheen that's collected around Kazuha's tight hole, glistening in the pale light. The tiniest twitches of her face, the furrowing of her brow—she's getting close again.

A handful of violent bounces is all she needed. With a stilted, violent scream and her pussy choking and gushing all over your thick rod. Everything's too hot and your toes begin curling and you can't stop fucking her, holding her perfect round ass, you start thrusting upwards—into her oversensitive cunt.

Kazuha squeals and it's too late to stop now, the sound of her pitiful cries as her body jerks and trembles and shakes—you're cumming together, perfectly synced in this debauchery. Her cunt squeezes the orgasm out of you. All over her walls. Flooding her insides, the warmth spilling out and dripping down and marking the both of you in the naughtiness of this exchange.

She collapses in your embrace, slumping against your chest and struggling to hold herself up. Both her feet rest on the ground, and the exhaustion is evident on her face—heaving breathlessly with a bright, brilliant smile as her knees threaten to give out beneath her.

Kazuha doesn't say anything, not a word, but she's glowing—unable to wipe that gorgeous grin off her face. There's no sign of regret either, or any hint of shame or guilt. No trace of anything but unbridled happiness and pure, raw satisfaction. A mischievous, perverse happiness that a woman in her profession shouldn't exude, not with the career waiting ahead of her.

A knock on the door. Shit. It's already been an hour?! There's a short pause, and she's pressing her finger to her lips, giggling quietly while giving a cheeky wink and getting herself dressed.

"I'll be right out." You yell at the door, sounding a bit winded as the thoughts come to you. It's easy to zip up, put away, and readjust yourself but there is absolutely no way you can cover up the smell, an obvious pungent musk that'd have anyone wrinkling their nose, the smell of hot, sweaty sex.

Kazuha winks at you and struts towards the door. A deep inhale, and the moment the door opens a whoosh of cool air clears out the fog from the past hour's festivities. "Make me look good out there Mr. Photographer," and in the span of an eye-blink, the façade she's made her identity, Kazuha's the innocent, sweet idol once again, her perverted desires and lustful yearning hidden under a veil of composure and modesty...

[bullet-prooflove]

The Prettiest Damn Thing: Russell Shaw x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @claymoresofinfamy23 @mqdhvtter @bribow010 @encounterthepast

Companion piece to:

The War Correspondent - A mysterious phone call from a retired War Correspondent leads Russell on a journey he doesn't expect.

Home - Russell comes home to you after a rough day.

When Russell was working for Horizon, he used to call you from payphones on the road. He’d find an excuse to leave his team, usually a supply run and then head out to one he’d reconned earlier.

“Hey beautiful.” He’d always begin. “Just checking in.”

That feeling he’d get in his chest when he heard your voice, it gave him something to live for, especially on the darkest of nights, the ones where the job almost killed him.

After every call he’d dial a random number, usually a restaurant he’d clocked on the way through town before asking their opening hours and hanging up. It was another precaution, another way of keeping you safe because Russell, he’s never trusted Horizon and he certainly didn’t trust those assholes he worked with.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, interrupting his thoughts and Russell tilts his head towards you.

You are just the prettiest damn thing, sitting in the passenger seat of the convertible, wearing that white, lace dress. There’s flowers threaded through your hair and you’ve stolen a pair of his shades you from the glove compartment.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful bride.

“That payphone back there, it made me a little nostalgic.” He says, his gaze fixing on the road once more. The silver ring on his finger glints in the light from the sun as his grip tightens on the steering wheel, the way it always does when he thinks about his time with Horizon.

“Do you miss it?” You ask him and Russell shakes his head.

The months apart, the secrecy, the paranoia. Always looking over his shoulder, always worrying about the fall out. No, he doesn’t miss a damn thing.

“I like what we have.” He tells you, his hand reaching for yours across the gear shaft. “The security firm we’ve built, it gives me that adrenaline without the PTSD.”

After what happened with Doug he couldn’t stay with Horizon so he’d defected. The two of you had taken a trip out of the country for a while, spending a little time on a beach while he recuperated. Those few weeks had given him the space he needed to take a beat, to reevaluate his options.

“I have an idea.” You had said one evening when you were curled up on a hammock together. He’d been half asleep, listening to the sound of the ocean and you’d been draped across his chest, his fingertips combing through your hair. “Come work with me.”

“Honey, I think you get to boss me around enough as it is.” He’d mumbled against your hairline. “Besides it’s a little too domestic for me.”

The truth is, he worries about getting bored. The way he was raised, the life he’s led, cheating spouses and lost cats are not going to be enough for him. He’s an adrenaline junkie at heart, he needs something that challenges him, that gets his heart racing.

“Russell.” You say, tilting your head up towards him with that knowing smile of yours. “You have no idea the shit I get up to when you’re not around. Think less creeping in the bushes and more Magnum P.I.”

You can’t be serious he thinks, it can’t be that exciting but it is. It’s reclaiming stolen paintings, breaking into restricted spaces to detect security flaws, it’s tracking down a cult because they’ve been disappearing people and the police can’t help. The two of you work together just like one of his black ops teams and Russell enjoys every single moment of it.

Which leads him to where he is now, in the convertible with his new wife racing towards a DOD black site because his brother’s gone completely off the reservation.

“Colter’s gonna like me right?” You ask, your fingertips tapping a rhythm on the car door, your gaze fixed firmly on the road.

“Honey, we’re about to break him out of one of the most secure facilities in the country on our wedding day.” Russ tells you as he shifts gears and puts his foot down. “Trust me, he’s gonna love you.”

Love Russ? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[my-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

Fluffy Mirage x Reader

I have no more thoughts, there is only Mirage. I already posted a fic of him to my 18+ blog, but I love seeing this mech being a cute little nerd as well. Please enjoy this fic where reader wakes up at night for a drink and Mirage doesn't want to stop snuggling.

Fair warning there might be quite a lot of ROTB content incoming!

Unexpected thirst woke you from your deep sleep rather quickly, thrusting your bleary mind into an environment it didn't immediately recognize. Panic had no time to set in before you realized you were in your garage, with a thoroughly demolished couch below you and a very affectionate bot snoozing away at your back. The two of you must have fallen asleep after turning off the TV...

Mirage made a small sound at your back before curling more tightly around you, pulling the arm he had under your middle close to secure your back snugly against his front as he murmured something snarky in his dreams. Smiling at the adorableness, you realized rather swiftly that getting up for a drink without waking the sleeping bot would be a challenge. You weren't being held especially tightly, but the soldier was a light sleeper, and the smushed couch remains beneath you were rather noisy when disturbed. Were you not so thirsty, you'd have just settled back into his arms and gone to sleep.

Deciding to try your luck, you began scootching your way downwards to try and ease out of the mech's grip, moving slowly so as not to brush any part of him along the way. Mirage continued to twitch as he dreamt, snoring lightly as you tenderly pushed his arm away from your middle. Once you got free and began inching away from the warm little nest the two of you had created, it occurred to you that the mech had probably pulled you close after you'd fallen asleep but before doing so himself, as the last thing you remembered was resting your eyes while sitting on his lap.

The affection stirred by that thought compelled you to turn around for a look at him recharging in all his adorableness, and you smiled before continuing your crawl. It would be delightful to return to his arms after facing this cold open air...

A loud creak from the smushed springs and wood beneath your knees made you freeze, heart skipping as you looked back in a rush.

Mirage awoke with a start, optics onlining with a few quick blinks before he focused on you and calmed considerably, alarm fading to sleepy confusion. "Babe?"

"I'm just going to get some water, be back in a second." you explained gently, moving in to plant a quick kiss on his forehelm. To your surprise, the speedster pulled you in without a word, hugging you back against his chassis as if you were a cat. Sputtering in surprise, you allowed yourself to be smushed with only moderate flailing, so accustomed to being handled you no longer felt too off put even when caught off guard.

"Nooooo, don't go..." he whined softly, playfully tightening his grip on you as if he never intended to let go. The sleepy antics were quite in character, and you only rolled your eyes as he nuzzled his helm against yours, mussing up your hair in the process. You accepted the affection for a few moments before trying to pull yourself away once more, throat protesting yet again for a drink.

"I'm only going to the kitchen." you reminded him, the door to the room in question quite literally within sight. In just the time he'd taken for these antics you could have been halfway done with your task, thanks largely to the tiny size of the adjoining house, but logic rarely kept Mirage from doing much of anything. In fairness, you'd have been happy to go back to sleep were you not still so thirsty. The lovable bot was very good at cuddling.

"Hmmm, fine..." he conceded with dramatic disappointment, releasing you before crossing his arms and pouting. As soon as you crawled away he upped the ante, wrapping his arms about himself and shivering pathetically and putting on the most over the top puppy optics you'd ever seen. "Brrrr, so cold... hope I don't freeze out here all alone."

"You'll survive until I get back." you promised with a roll of your eyes. Certain he was pouting at the back of your head the entire way, you quickly crossed the furbished garage and slipped into the dark house, using the ample moonlight to guide you through the dark kitchen. After grabbing a much needed glass of water and finishing it with a few greedy gulps, you hurried back to the garage, eyes slightly more adjusted to the dark by the time you opened the door. You doubted the entire affair took more than two minutes.

"Oh, Y/N, is that you? It's been so long..." Mirage said with mock weakness from the far side. Curled up in a pitiful position he'd obviously posed for maximum effect, the speedster shivered as if he'd been left abandoned for hours, the mock pain in his optics barely covering the mischevious delight in their depths.

"I was gone for five minutes." you reminded him with a yawn, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the flattened couch once more. It was surprisingly comfortable for something multiple bots had reduced to a pile of stuffing, but the mech you shared it with probably had a lot to do with that.

"Nearly enough time for me to freeze to death. Now get back here, I need my little space heater." Mirage said, abandoning his act to beckon you over.

"Letting that go because I'm so tired..." you promised, rubbing your eyes as you crawled back onto the couch remains. The mech eagerly assisted you, helping to bring your back against his front just as you'd been before whilst he snagged a spare blanket to lay over your shoulders. Being pulled in close allowed you to feel the subtle warmth that radiated from his own frame, as well as the tender hum of his spark and the gentle caress of his EM field brightening at your presence. When he looped his arm around your front once more, you happily hugged it close, and his demeanor softened all around you.

"Mmm, much better." he purred, curling about you as the both of you settled in once more. Loosely holding his hand, you snuggled against him and began to drift off once more, smiling as he murmured a final goodnight after thinking you were already asleep. "Sweet dreams, bunkmate."

[miss-rum-hee]

Mfs will put down a million fucking rules on how you gotta portray black characters and then wonder why nobody wants to write/create black characters anymore.

How to write fic for Black characters: a guide for non-Black fans

Don’t characterize a Black character as sassy or thuggish, especially when the character in question is can be described in literally ten thousand other ways..

Don’t describe Black characters as chocolate, coffee, or any sort of food item.

Don’t highlight the race of Black characters (ie, “the dark man” or “the brown woman”) if you don’t highlight the race of white characters.

Think very carefully about that antebellum slavery or Jim Crow AU fic as a backdrop for your romance.

If you’re not fluent with AAVE, don’t use it to try to look cool or edgy. You look corny as hell.

Don’t use Black characters as a prop for the non-Black characters you’re actually interested in.

Keep “unpopular opinions” about racism, Black Lives Matter, and other issues pertinent to Black folks out the mouths of Black characters. We know what the fuck you’re doing with that and need to stop.

Don’t assume a Black character likes or hates a certain food, music, or piece of pop culture.

You can make a Black character’s race pertinent without doing it like this.

Be extremely careful about insinuating that one or more of a Black character’s physical features are dirty, unclean, or ugly.

Feel free to add more.

[gorebonk]

Monsterblr dashboard simulator

🥩 Sam-is-barking Follow

Some of y'all be forgetting that cur is literally a werewolf slur?? Can you stop appropriating it???

🩸 Bloodluster1226 Follow

We'll stop saying cur when you stop calling us vampire's leeches

🥩 Sam-is-barking Follow

Wow another entitled vampire getting involved in something because it's not about them for once

🧹 Witching_hour Follow

Damn I thought vamps and weres were chill

🥩 Sam-is-barking Follow

You thought wrong 😭😭

(1.2k notes)

🦴 Pansy-pup Follow

In my A/B/O breeding era rn

🐶 Certifiedpuppyboy Follow

I have a knot right here 🥵🥵

👻 Ghoulish-tendencies Follow

(36 notes)

🧛 Dracruella Follow

I feel so guilty I fully just ate one of my coworkers 😥

🧛 Dracruella Follow

Ok I think I'm gonna turn him 😓

#I know his girlfriend really well I don't wanna make it awkward #Drac.txt

(3 notes)

💀 Skelesbian Follow

Butch4Butch Vampwolf relationship end post

💀 Skelesbian Follow

Easy website

(34.6k notes)

🍖 Warriorwolf-fan6672 Follow

Just saw a post supporting Vampire/Werewolf relationships, I can't believe some people still advocate for that kinda shit

🔮 Crystalballsaysyougay Follow

You know if they're both consenting adults there is literally nothing wrong with it and you need to stop putting people down with stupid outdated ideology. I bet you're one of those monsters who think vampires can only drink virgin blood aswell

🍖 Warriorwolf-fan6672 Follow

Ok come crying back to me when your impure blood turns out to be killing you

🔮 Crystalballsaysyougay Follow

Op get a grip challenge??? You are literally proving how outdated your views are??

(351 notes)

💡 Monster-shower-thoughts Follow

Do you think you can fuck a ghost so hard they come back to life?

#Monster shower thoughts #Ghosts

(16 notes)

🐺 Moon-luver69 Follow

On this edition of todays pups are alright I saw some pups today walking out of the forest, proudly holding six dead pheasants and the shorter one said "That guy won't be calling us mongrels again." So yeah, good for those little guys for standing up for themselves and I hope that guy gets wooden staked ❤️❤️

🪦 actuallyundeadXD Follow

Aww thats so cute good for them and I hope we can move on from the idea that all of todays pups are soft and weak!!

(2.3k notes)

🌗Thatswhatshewoofed Follow

I turned last night and pissed all over the kitchen 😭😭😭

(2 notes)

[mediocre-shark-tales]

US Texas GP part 2

Masterlist

The morning air was thick with anticipation as I arrived at the Circuit of the Americas, my home paddock bustling with energy. Today was sprint day, and while the buzz of excitement usually filled me with adrenaline, an unsettling tension clung to me this morning.

Walking through the paddock, I waved at a few familiar faces—Lando, Franco, even Liam, who offered me a thumbs-up from across the way. But as I approached Aston Martin’s garage, something caught me off guard.

One of the newer engineers, a man I hadn’t interacted with much yet, stepped into my path with a broad smile. He was tall, with a polished demeanor that bordered on smug.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone overly familiar as his eyes scanned me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Looking ready to impress today.”

I forced a polite smile, nodding. “Morning. Just focused on the sprint.”

He chuckled, stepping a little closer, his presence making me instinctively take a step back. “Focused, huh? Well, I’d say you’ve already got everyone’s attention. Though... some of us are paying more attention than others.”

There was something in his tone—a low insinuation—that made my stomach twist. My pulse quickened, and I gripped the strap of my bag tightly.

“I should get going,” I said, my voice firm but neutral as I tried to sidestep him.

But he moved slightly, just enough to block my path for a split second longer. “No need to rush. Plenty of time before the sprint, isn’t there?”

Before I could respond—or react—another voice cut through the tension.

“There you are!” one of the team’s PR staff called, walking briskly toward us. “We need you for a pre-sprint briefing, now. Sorry to interrupt.”

The engineer stepped aside, his smile unfaltering but his eyes cold. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

I didn’t wait for further pleasantries, quickly walking toward the PR staffer. My chest felt tight, a swirl of unease and confusion brewing within me.

“You okay?” the staffer asked quietly as we made our way toward the media center.

“Yeah,” I said automatically, though I wasn’t sure if it was true. “Just... ready to focus on the race.”

The rest of the morning blurred by in a whirlwind of interviews, photo ops, and last-minute strategy discussions. I pushed the strange encounter to the back of my mind, burying it under layers of professionalism and focus. But every so often, the engineer’s words and lingering gaze replayed in my head, a shadow I couldn’t quite shake.

As I slipped into my race suit and helmet, I took a deep breath, forcing myself to center my thoughts. This was my moment, my chance to shine in front of a home crowd. Whatever had happened earlier could wait—I had a job to do.

The paddock buzzed with anticipation as the sprint race approached. Reporters and fans were clamoring to catch a glimpse of the helmet designs I’d teased earlier in the week. As I walked to the car, the crowd erupted in cheers, and I felt the weight of their support.

Sliding on the sprint helmet for the first time, I couldn’t help but admire the design in the reflection of the car’s side mirror. The eagle looked fierce, and the colors of the sunset practically glowed under the bright Texas sun.

“Ready to show them what America can do?” Franco teased while walking past to get in his car. 

“Always,” I replied, grinning.

The sprint race itself was a battle. The tight midfield pack made overtaking a challenge, but I managed to hold my P4. It wasn't an improvement, but it was the best placement I would be finishing this race. No one would be taking that from me. 

As the laps dwindled, the intensity on the track escalated. Every corner, every straight was a test of skill and nerve. The Circuit of the Americas was unforgiving, demanding precision and mental fortitude. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline coursing through me like electricity. The roar of the engines, the cheers of the crowd, and the sheer speed of the cars around me created a symphony of chaos and excitement.

Carlos Sainz, piloting his Ferrari, was just ahead in P3. He was pushing his car to the limit, his focus unyielding. For most of the race, he had been a formidable opponent, keeping a steady pace and maintaining his position with calculated aggression. But as we approached the penultimate laps, something shifted.

Lap 42. The grandstands were a blur of color and sound, the energy palpable. The midfield was a tangled mess of cars vying for every inch, but there was a brief moment of calm as we settled into a rhythm, each driver aware of the other’s presence.

Lap 43. Sainz began to push harder, his car responding to his aggressive inputs. I mirrored his moves, maintaining my position but feeling the strain on my tires and engine. The team’s earlier adjustments were paying off, giving me the grip and stability I needed. Every corner was a strategic decision, a balance between speed and control.

Lap 44. We were neck and neck as we entered Turn 7, the tight left-hander that often proved pivotal. Sainz took the inside line, attempting to gain an advantage, but his tire temperatures were beginning to rise under the relentless pressure. My car felt responsive, every movement precise, yet the tension was building with each passing second.

Lap 45. The final lap loomed ahead, the countdown to the podium inches away. As we approached Turn 14, Sainz’s pace faltered. I could almost see the slight hesitation in him, the subtle shift in his driving pattern. It was a small mistake, barely noticeable, but in F1, even the slightest error could be costly.

Lap 46. Turning into Turn 12, I seized the opportunity. With a deft maneuver, I edged closer, the gap narrowing. Sainz tried to compensate, but his car didn’t respond as sharply as mine. I felt a surge of determination, knowing that this was my moment. The crowd’s roar intensified, their voices blending into a singular wave of support that fueled my drive.

Lap 47. Approaching the final straight, I was within inches of Sainz’s rear wing. The speedometer was flashing, the RPMs climbing to their limits. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, every fiber of my being focused on this one decisive move. The finish line was within sight, and I could almost taste the triumph.

Lap 48. The final lap began, and the track seemed to stretch endlessly before me. I maintained my position, the car humming with power beneath me. Sainz made one last desperate push, attempting to reclaim his position. But the balance of my car was perfect, the setup flawless. As we surged down the back straight, his Ferrari began to wobble, the rear tires losing traction on the slick asphalt.

Lap 49. The inevitable happened. Sainz’s car fishtailed slightly as he tried to correct, the momentum carrying him past the braking zone for Turn 1. His momentum was his downfall, and as he struggled to regain control, I saw the opening. Without hesitation, I took the inside line, smoothly overtaking him in a split second of pure racing instinct.

Lap 50. Now in P3, the race surged toward its conclusion with renewed vigor. The final corners were a blur of speed and strategy, each driver pushing their limits in a desperate bid for position. I felt the car respond to every command, the tires gripping the tarmac as I navigated the final bends with precision.

As I approached the last corner, the checkered flag was in sight. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the track and bathing everything in a warm, golden hue. My heart swelled with pride and excitement—P3 was within reach, my first ever podium finish in Formula 1. The culmination of months of hard work, perseverance, and the unwavering support of my team and friends.

The final straight was a test of endurance and focus. I held my line, the car maintaining its speed and balance as I crossed the finish line, a triumphant smile breaking across my face. Landon confirmed it—P3. The realization hit me like a tidal wave, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The cheers of the crowd, the shouts of my team, and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment washed over me.

As I brought the car to a stop and climbed out, the garage erupted in celebration. Franco and Lando rushed over, their faces lit up with pride and joy. “P3, Hermosa! That was incredible!” Franco exclaimed, throwing an arm around my shoulders. Lando hugged me tightly, his eyes shining. “You are on the podium with me! You did it! We knew you could!”

Amidst the celebration, I saw Liam Lawson and Hannah approaching, their smiles genuine and filled with happiness. Liam handed me a celebratory drink, while Hannah offered a warm congratulatory hug. “You were amazing out there,” Hannah said softly. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, guys,” I replied, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you.”

As I looked around the garage, the realization that I had achieved something monumental settled in. P3 wasn’t just a personal victory—it was a milestone for Aston Martin, marking one of their best placements this season. The team’s hard work and dedication had paid off, and now, we stood on the brink of something greater.

The pride I felt was intertwined with a profound sense of belonging. This was my home race, and to podium here was the ultimate affirmation of my journey. The vibrant colors of the American flag on my sprint helmet still danced in my memory, symbolizing not just my roots but the spirit and resilience that had carried me this far.

As the podium celebrations began, I took a moment to soak it all in. The confetti flew, the fans cheered louder than ever, and the lights of the Circuit of the Americas sparkled in the twilight. Stepping into the makeshift sprint podium area, I felt a surge of emotion—joy, relief, and an unshakable sense of accomplishment. This was a dream realized, a moment that would define my career.

Franco, Liam and Hannah stood nearby, their support unwavering. As I lifted the third-place trophy, I couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning. The road ahead was still long and filled with challenges, but tonight, I was on top of the world, celebrated not just for my racing prowess but for who I truly was.

As the cheers of the crowd echoed around me, I felt a deep sense of fulfillment—this was where I belonged. Max, Lando, and I stood together for the customary podium pictures, our trophies gleaming in the Texas sun. The crowd roared with excitement, the energy electrifying. We posed with smiles, holding up our trophies, basking in the shared accomplishment of standing on this stage.

Once the photos wrapped up, we were given the signal to step away and begin preparations for the upcoming qualifying session later in the day. Before I could head toward the Aston Martin garage, Max stopped me with a light tap on the shoulder.

Turning to him, I saw a knowing smile on his face—calm and assured, with a glint of encouragement in his eyes. “You’re getting better with every race, kiddo,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “Keep this up, and it won’t be long before you and I are battling for the top step of the podium.”

His words carried weight, coming from someone who had mastered the art of dominating Formula 1. “Thanks, Max,” I replied, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. “That means a lot coming from you. I’ll give you a run for your money soon enough.”

Lando sauntered over, his cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Ah, Max, don’t go inflating her ego too much. She already thinks she’s the queen of the paddock.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Lando. Just admit you’re terrified of me overtaking you one day.”

“Oh, absolutely petrified,” Lando teased, clutching his chest dramatically. “I mean, look at you—P3 in your home sprint race. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t impressive.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “You two are impossible.”

Lando’s tone softened slightly as he added, “In all seriousness, congrats. P3 isn’t easy, and you earned it. But don’t get too comfortable—I’m still gunning for you.”

“You can try, but good luck catching me,” I shot back with a wink, feeling the lighthearted camaraderie between us.

Max smirked, crossing his arms. “Alright, enough bickering, you two. Save it for the track. Qualifying is just a few hours away, and I expect both of you to bring your A-game.”

“You’re on,” I replied, a competitive spark igniting in my chest.

Lando nodded, already shifting into a more focused demeanor. “Let’s see who ends up where on the grid. Game on.”

With that, the three of us shared a quick nod of mutual respect before heading off toward our respective garages. As I walked back to the Aston Martin side of the paddock, I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. These were the moments I had dreamed of—friendly rivalries, mutual respect, and the chance to prove myself on one of the greatest stages in the world.

It was time to focus on qualifying and take another step closer to solidifying my place in Formula 1. The hours flew past and I was once again back on track for Qualifying. 

The roar of the crowd and the high-pitched hum of engines were a constant in my ears as I navigated the tight curves of the Circuit of the Americas once again. I had just made it through Q1 and Q2, securing a place in the points for tomorrow's race. But right now, my mind isn't on my current position. It was locked on the next turn, the next gear shift, and the perfect balance of throttle and brakes.

The radio crackled to life as I powered through another corner. “You’re looking good out there,” Landon, my engineer, said. “Keep this pace up for your final push lap. Everyone else is finishing up.”

I barely registered his words, my focus laser-sharp as I prepared for the next sector. One more lap. One final chance to push the limits and see where I stood on the grid.

As the minutes ticked down, the track began to empty. Drivers were returning to the pit lane, their qualifying sessions over. I was the last one still out there, using every remaining second to squeeze out the fastest lap I could manage. My heart pounded in rhythm with the car, the adrenaline surging as I pushed the limits of my Aston Martin.

Through the high-speed turns and long straights, I felt the car responding perfectly to my inputs. The tires gripped the track with just the right amount of slip, the engine growling as I shifted gears at the optimal points. I couldn’t hear the crowd, couldn’t think about anything but the lap unfolding before me.

"Final sector," Landon called out. "You’re up on your last time—keep pushing."

I clenched my jaw and went all in. The car danced through the final corners, the chassis holding steady as I hit the apexes and powered onto the final straight. The speedometer climbed higher as the finish line approached.

The checkered flag waved above me as I crossed the line, the roar of the engine fading into a dull hum. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

“P3!” Landon’s voice erupted through the radio, his excitement infectious. “You did it, P3! That’s your best qualifying yet—amazing job!”

“P3?” I echoed, the reality of it sinking in. “No way!”

“Yes way! Right behind Lando and Max. Fantastic work—you nailed it.”

A rush of emotion hit me, equal parts disbelief and exhilaration. I’d just qualified P3. My best starting position yet, and at my home race no less.

As I pulled back into the pit lane, I could see my team cheering in the garage, their applause and wide smiles a testament to how far we’d come together. The mechanics clapped as I climbed out of the car, and my team principal gave me a firm handshake, beaming with pride.

Before I could head to the media zone, Lando sauntered over, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Look who’s creeping up the grid,” he teased, leaning against my car. “You trying to give me a heart attack or what?”

“Just keeping you on your toes,” I shot back, unable to hide my grin.

Max joined us, his expression as cool and composed as ever, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “P3 at your home race. Not bad, rookie.”

“Not bad? I’d say it’s pretty damn good,” Lando chimed in, giving me a playful nudge. “But don’t get too comfortable. You’re still behind me.”

“For now,” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him.

Max chuckled. “Alright, save the banter for the race. You both still have to deal with me.”

The three of us shared a laugh before heading off to our respective debriefs. As I walked back toward the Aston Martin garage, I felt a sense of accomplishment wash over me. Today had been a milestone, a moment that proved I belonged here.

Tomorrow will be the real test, but for now, I let myself revel in the achievement. My team had given me a competitive car, and I’d delivered. I was starting P3 at my first home Grand Prix, and I couldn’t wait to see what the race would bring.

Race day arrived, and with it, the chance to unveil the special helmet. The paddock was bustling as usual, but the moment I stepped out of the garage, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere.

The replica of Logan Sargeant’s helmet sat snugly on my head, the bright blue, red, and white design standing out against my dark racing suit. As I walked to the car, heads turned. Journalists leaned into one another, whispering and snapping photos.

By the time I strapped in, the buzz had reached social media.

“Looks like someone’s paying homage to Sargeant this weekend,” Landon said over the radio, a hint of pride in his voice.

The roar of engines reverberated through the paddock as I sat strapped into the cockpit, staring down the long straight of the Circuit of the Americas. My grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white through my gloves. The special helmet felt snug and reassuring, a symbolic reminder of what I was fighting for today—not just a good result, but to make a mark in front of my home crowd.

"Focus up. Lights will go out in thirty," Landon’s voice crackled through my radio, steady and calm.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. When they opened again, the grid lights were counting down.

Three… two… one...

The lights went out, and the race was on.

The initial getaway was clean, but the battle for position started almost immediately. Max held P1, Lando clung to P2, and I was defending P3 from a hungry Carlos Sainz, whose Ferrari loomed large in my mirrors. My tires gripped the asphalt as I pushed through the first corner, the apex perfectly clipped as I held my ground.

“Good start. Keep it steady,” Landon encouraged as I powered down the hill, weaving slightly to break the slipstream from Carlos.

The early laps were chaotic, the midfield pack threatening to swallow me whole as they jostled for position. I kept my head down, focusing on my braking zones and throttle control. Every corner was a chess move, every straight a test of nerve.

By Lap 10, the field had begun to settle, with Max, Lando, and me forming a leading pack. My Aston Martin wasn’t quite as quick in the straights, but in the corners, it was a different story. I chipped away at the gap, forcing Lando to defend harder and harder.

Lap 20 brought new challenges as Lando, battling his own struggles with tire wear, began dropping back into our clutches. Ahead of him, Max was having uncharacteristic issues with his car's balance. The two of them were locked in a duel, their aggressive defense slowing them down.

“This is your moment,” Landon urged. “Stay patient. Opportunities are coming.”

I dug deep, closing the gap lap by lap. By Lap 25, I was right on their tails. Lando went wide through Turn 12, allowing me to sneak through into P4. Now it was Max ahead of me, his car visibly struggling through the high-speed corners. On Lap 27, I dove down the inside of Turn 1, making the move stick to claim P3.

But there was no time to celebrate—Carlos and Charles were storming forward, their Ferraris surging as they switched to fresher tires. Carlos got past Max and Lando, slotting into P2, with Charles right ahead in P1 before me.

Lap 30. Three laps to go. The pressure was immense as I started closing the gap. Carlos was fighting tooth and nail to defend, but my DRS advantage was relentless. Through Turn 8, he made his move, and I was stuck in P3.

But I wasn’t done yet.

On the penultimate lap, I used the slipstream down the back straight to overtake him, braking late into Turn 12 to hold the position. Now it was just me and Charles ahead, the gap between us shrinking as we entered the final lap.

“Last lap. You’re in striking distance. Push now!” Landon’s voice was urgent but steady.

I pushed harder than I ever had before. Through Turns 2 and 3, I inched closer, my Aston Martin gripping the track with precision. Charles was defending with everything he had, but through Turn 11, he locked up slightly, giving me the opening I needed.

I floored it down the straight, activating DRS and pulling alongside him. The two of us went wheel-to-wheel into Turn 12, neither willing to back down. I braked as late as I dared, sliding through the inside and emerging ahead.

The crowd erupted as I rounded the final corners, my heart pounding in time with the engine.

“Come on, come on…” I whispered to myself as I approached the finish line.

The checkered flag waved, and I crossed the line in P1.

“P1! YOU WON!” Landon’s shout over the radio was drowned out by my own scream of triumph. Tears pricked my eyes as I slowed the car, the enormity of the moment hitting me all at once.

I’d done it. At my home race. My first podium and race win were here now.

As I parked in Parc fermé and climbed on top of the halo, the crowd’s deafening cheers washed over me and I held my arms out in a triumphant pose. My engineer was able to run over and hand me my home flag before I moved any more. I quickly removed my  helmet, balaclava, and haans device. 

I then fixed my hair a bit before unfolding the flag to hold behind me as I screamed in excitement of my first win into the lens of a camera who came closer to fully get my celebrations. I picked up and held the Logan Sargeant helmet high, a tribute not just to him but to every American driver who had dreamed of this moment.

Walking back toward the podium staging area, I could hardly believe what had just happened. My crew’s cheers still rang in my ears, and the weight of the victory felt almost surreal. Every step felt like I was floating. But the dream-like atmosphere didn’t last long as drivers approached me one by one.

The first to congratulate me was Lando, a huge grin plastered on his face as he pulled me into a quick hug. "P1 in Texas! You absolute legend! I'm going to remind you for weeks that you beat Max and me, just so you know."

I laughed, playfully shoving him. "Go ahead, I’ll let you. I’ll still have the trophy."

Max was next, offering a rare smile of approval. "Congratulations, kiddo. You didn’t just win—you fought for it. That’s how you do it." He gave me a pat on the back, adding, "Don’t get used to it, though. I’ll be back."

As I continued walking, drivers from other teams began offering their congratulations. Logan Sargeant gave me a thumbs-up and a proud smile as I passed. Oh yeah, I had invited him as a secret guest to see his special helmet from me. We had been friends before his F1 debut. I hoped that now he was free from the stress that we could rebuild our friendship. "That helmet looked great out there," he said. "Thanks for repping us Americans." I gave him a smile before I was pulled away again.

When I turned a corner, I nearly bumped into Lewis. "Hell of a race," he said with a broad smile. "That’s what we love to see—a proper fight. Enjoy the moment; you’ve earned it." His words held the weight of someone who’d been there before, and I nodded, feeling truly seen.

But the encounter I didn’t expect came next. Standing just off to the side, arms crossed, was Fernando Alonso. The firebrand Spaniard who had never missed an opportunity to critique me in the past. My smile faltered as I approached him, unsure of what to expect.

“Alonso,” I said cautiously.

He held up a hand, cutting me off before I could say anything else. "Let me talk," he said, his tone calm but firm. "You think I hate you, don't you?" He smirked faintly, shaking his head. "I don’t. I never did."

I blinked, stunned.

"You’ve got talent," he continued. "But talent alone isn’t enough. This sport doesn’t hand out respect; you have to take it. I pushed you because I wanted you to show everyone—yourself included—that you belong here." His smirk softened into something almost like a smile. "And you just did. You proved it. To me. To them. To everyone."

My throat tightened, but I managed a small, “Thank you.”

Before I could say more, he stepped forward and pulled me into a quick, firm hug. “Congratulations,” he said simply, before stepping back and gesturing toward the podium area. “Now go enjoy your moment. You earned it.”

As I turned and walked away, his words echoed in my mind, the weight of his unexpected approval settling in my chest like a warm ember.

The podium staging area was electric. I joined Carlos and Charles, both of them already teasing me.

"Finally beating us, huh?" Carlos said with a grin. "I guess we need to step up now."

Charles chimed in, "You know, you’re making us look bad getting beat by a midfield car." He winked, nudging me.

“Guess you should’ve gone faster,” I shot back, the banter easing the last of my nerves.

When it was time to step onto the podium, the moment hit me in full force. The sea of fans was roaring, flags waving, and my name being chanted. The champagne bottles were handed out, but I couldn’t resist taking a moment with the trophy. Holding it high above my head, I laughed as I pretended to "kiss" it and do a quick victory dance that had Carlos and Charles cracking up.

Of course, the silliness didn’t last long.

“Alright, time for champagne!” Carlos declared, shaking his bottle like a madman.

Before I could even prepare myself, Charles joined him, and the two absolutely drenched me in champagne. I shrieked, laughing as I tried in vain to shield myself, the bubbly liquid soaking my race suit and hair.

“Oh, it’s on now!” I yelled, uncorking my bottle and spraying them both in retaliation. Charles slipped slightly on the wet platform, and Carlos tried to duck behind him, but neither escaped my aim.

The three of us were laughing uncontrollably as the crowd cheered, the sticky-sweet scent of champagne filling the air. For those few moments, it wasn’t about teams, rivalries, or championships. It was about pure, unfiltered joy.

As I looked out over the sea of fans and felt the champagne dripping down my face, one thought crystallized in my mind: I was exactly where I was meant to be.

But also… 

Fuck everyone who thought I couldn’t do or prove much with my limited time left in the car.

[miss-rum-hee]

A good percentage of weird porn I see on sites like Twitter is created by predominantly women.

This post is a steaming pile of horseshit.

Also: Whenever I hear a guy go “Oooh, but women don’t like porn” i think of the enormous amount of porn in fandom created by women for women and all I can think is: “Well, maybe we just don’t like your porn…”

[hannahbarberra162]

Not My Monkey, Ch 1.

(Reverse Trope Isekai Reader)

I thought it would be funny to have a reverse trope -- instead of having one Isekai Reader who knows everything, too many isekai readers have already messed up the OP timeline beyond recognition.

I'm still writing all my other works, I just needed to get this out of my system. I don't think this will float most people's boats, but that OK.

on Ao3

Platonic Strawhats | Reader / Jinbei

This chapter's plot heavy, I had to get some of the world building out of the way. The rest will be more fun and silly / some romance / angst later. Also, this is my first time writing most (all?) of the Straw hats. It’s been challenging, so please be kind <3. There’s 10 of them but only one of me.

~~~

“Robin! Another one’s here!” Some kid in a straw hat was yelling right next to you, causing you to wince. You had a massive headache, you hadn’t felt this hungover since…wait. You didn’t drink anymore. You opened your eyes to a sunny day on…a wood boat? You were definitely sailing on open water. Maybe the ocean since you smelled salt… What kind of dream was this? Sure, you had anxiety dreams of drowning but nothing so pleasant .

A disembodied hand grabbed your ankle and held on tightly. It startled you but since this was a dream there was no need to worry. You were kind of enjoying the sun and the water, so what was a hand (with beautiful nail beds, but dry cuticles) going to do? You turned your head to find a black haired boy staring at you inches from your face.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” you said to the boy. He grinned at you and laughed.

“Shishishishi, it’s me! Luffy! You made it!” 

“Made it where?” Were you supposed to know who he was?

“To the Going Merry! You’re our twentieth reader -”

“Twenty third,” said another guy you hadn’t seen. This one was napping against the mast, talking with eyes still closed. He had luscious green hair that you’d want to check out later. You didn’t see any roots showing so either he had dyed it recently or…oh wait you were in a conversation.

“Sounds good, Loogie. I’m not quite following what’s happening.” This was the most complex dream you’d ever had. You’d never been able to interact like this before in a dream. It all felt like real life. You started to wonder if maybe something else was going on.

“Shishishi it’s LUFFY! But you know that! So what was the last thing you read?” The boy was still sitting incredibly close to you and practically vibrating with energy. 

“Um, I read a biography of Catherine the Great. Why?” Luffy tilted his head at your words.

“Is she in Egghead or Wano?” 

“Um, in Russia? I don’t think she’d be called an egghead though.” The green haired guy huffed and got up.

“Gonna be a difficult one. Robin can figure it out. Nappin’ on the other side of the deck,” he said to Luffy, walking away. He looked like he was flexing his back as you watched him retreat. His three swords clacked against each other, making you wonder how practical it was to have so many.

“No, she’s gonna be a great reader!” Luffy smiled at you again. You smiled back, but were very confused. The hand gripping your ankle was still there holding on tight. A breathtakingly beautiful woman with black hair, looking to be growing out some bangs, was walking towards you with her arms crossed in front of her. Even though she exuded radiance, her intense blue eyes pinned you with a stare. She sat down in front of you, keeping her arms crossed.

“Hello,” you said. Might as well be polite in dreamland.

“Hi,” the woman said smiling. “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

Long ago, you were tired of baristas messing up your name (even though it wasn’t hard!). So when someone asked for your name, you supplied their own back to them. It usually worked out ok, and gave room for some awkward chit chat while you waited for your coffee.

“Isn’t that funny? My name is also Robin.” The woman quirked an eyebrow but kept her smile and nodded.

“Shishishishi two Robins! But what can we call you then? It’s too confusing having two Robins on board.” Luffy rubbed his chin in thought. 

“Interesting thought, Captain. For now, I have a prepared document I’d like you to read. It should answer the most common questions we get asked by Readers.” The woman handed you a scroll. What in the medieval ages was this?

“Robin TWO!” Luffy said, snapping his fingers. You untied the scroll. Might as well see what it said.

“I don’t think Robin 2 is a flattering name,” Robin told Luffy. “Let’s think of other ideas. In the meantime, let Robin read.” The hand patted your ankle. “It’s best if I keep a hold of you until the shock wears off. Saves a lot of time chasing people down.” She kept a hold of you? Whatever. Looking at the scroll, you saw an elegantly handwritten list.

~~~

Frequently Asked Questions - for Readers

Where am I?

You are on board the Going Merry . Franky has modified it so it does not bear complete resemblance to the original ship but it is also not the 1,000 Sunny .

Is this real?

Quite real. This world is as real to us as yours was to you. This is not a dream, hallucination, or simulation.

Am I dead?

We are not sure. It seems to be likely based on the anecdotes of previous Readers. However, there is no way to know conclusively.

Why was I brought here?

We do not know the criteria under which Readers are brought to our world. We believe it has to do with your intense love of “One Piece.”

What happened to my belongings?

It seems whatever you had last in your world is what came here, with a few exceptions. Cell phones, laptops, and other electronics never make it to our world. We have your belongings on the ship, if you would like to have them.

What will happen to me? Can I stay on the ship?

Readers have stayed in our world for 21 days, after which they disappear. We do not know what happens afterward. During your 21 days, you will remain with us on the ship. You may stay in the men’s quarters.

Is there a way to get back to my world?

Not that we know of. We are unsure if you are transported there once again when you disappear. 

Are there other readers?

There is only ever one Reader in our world at a time. The Strawhat Pirates have had the most Readers, though the Heart Pirates and Whitebeard Pirates have had a few as well.

What arc are we on?

The “timeline” that you know has been completely abandoned. With so much additional information and insight into future events, the events of this world have been drastically changed. We are not in recognizable “arcs” any longer.

What about Ace? Thatch? Whitebeard? Corazon? Sabo?

Thanks to the information supplied by Readers, Ace, Thatch and Whitebeard are all alive. Yamato has joined the Whitebeard crew with Ace. We had a time traveling Reader who saved Cora-san. Sabo has been made aware of Ace and Luffy and they have already reunited.

Can I fight? In our experience, Readers are quite weak and unable to fight. If you wish to try, you must first defeat Usopp in an arm wrestling contest.

Note: Please do not bring up our individual histories. We experienced them as real people and do not appreciate discussing them. Thank you.

~~~

You finished reading the scroll and re-rolled it. It addressed some of your concerns, but also had a lot of information you didn’t know what to do with. You handed the scroll back to Robin.

“You should call this the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” you told the raven haired beauty. You still had your sense of humor even when dead, it turned out. Er, maybe dead.

“That is quite an excellent suggestion, I think I shall,” Robin nodded solemnly and took the scroll with another arm sprouting from her own. You’d ask her about that later. 

“What questions do you still have?” Robin asked kindly.

“Why do I have to stay in the men’s quarters?” 

“Oh, that is not applicable to you. Nearly all of our Readers have been men, usually Torao has the female Readers. You can join Nami and myself in the women’s quarters.” 

“I’m dead then, huh?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, especially when you felt so alive. 

“Robin B!” Luffy shouted from a few feet away. He still hadn’t given up on a nickname for you.

“No, Luffy, I don’t care for that,” Robin said calmly. “That would make me Robin A, which I am not. And yes, you are likely dead.” 

“That’s a bummer.” You’d think about that and deal with your feelings later, this was all too weird to believe right now. You fiddled with the necklace you were wearing. None of this felt real at all. Besides, one of your best traits as a person was your ability to roll with things. You had always been pretty open to change, though this change was…drastic.

“Interesting - few readers express that emotion upon arriving in our world. Readers are usually thrilled to be here with us.” Robin looked like she wanted to study you in a lab.

“Um, so what’s a Reader? Or a One Piece?” You might as well learn while you were here for the next few weeks. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Robin said, the hand patting your ankle. “We aren’t going to harm you for your information. We’ve probably heard it all already. We know that we’re a comic and a show in your world. You’re not in danger.” You hadn’t considered that you might be in danger, but you were thinking about it now.

“TWO Robin!” Luffy yelled from across the deck. He’d been pacing and trying to think of a good nickname this whole time.

“Luffy, that is the worst suggestion yet.” Robin frowned. 

“Aw, you don’t like any of ‘em! This is frustrating. Maybe we can just call her Mystery Reader !” 

“Not every reader is a Mystery Reader, Luffy. You can’t say that for -” Robin was chastising Luffy.

“Myst is fine. Short for Mystery.” You didn’t really care what they called you since, you know, you’d be going to the afterlife in about three weeks.

“ Shishishishishi I knew you’d be a good reader, Misty!” Luffy stretched his arms from where he stood to wrap them around you. Misty, sure. That was similar to what you said. What the…was this kid rubber? Add one more weird thing to the pile, why not? 

“What other questions do you have?”

You were gonna put your cards on the table. “Listen Robin, I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of your handbook. I don’t know any of those people, or any of you, or what this show is. I don’t know why I’m here, I have no information to give you. I watch documentaries and sometimes HGTV. This is like a new employee orientation for a job I didn’t apply to. ” Robin nodded sagely.

“I quite like that phrase - new employee orientation. Perhaps more of a ‘new reader orientation.’ In any event, you’re here with us now, whether you know any information or not. I am going to release you, and you can get settled in.” The hand holding on to you vanished as you watched. 

“Cool party trick.” 

“Yes, they are very useful, though not always appreciated at parties.” Robin stood up and you did the same. You stretched your legs and back as you’d been sitting for a while. Robin was a tall drink of water, you thought. You were average height, nothing crazy. But she was statuesque and slim, making you think of your own body. Sure, you had some self confidence, but as you approached closer to middle age, things didn’t look quite the same as they once did. And Robin looked like a supermodel, graceful and elegant.

“Do I hear the sweet voice of a lovely Mellorine?” said a handsome waiter, holding a glass of water on a tray. He was practically swooning and you’d never met before. A little strange, but maybe he was just enthusiastic. Robin looked at the waiter, who was wearing a three piece suit.

“This is Sanji, our chef. He is also one of the Wings to the Captain.” 

“Oh, sweet Mellorine -” 

“Wait, who is the Captain?” You cut off Sanji, you realized you didn’t know who was running this show.

Sanji’s expression showed surprise. He looked at Robin for clarification, pausing in moving the tray your way to your dismay. You really wanted that water.

“Misty, as Captain calls her, does not know anything about our world. We will all have to introduce ourselves.” 

“Wait, does that mean Luffy is -”

“The Captain,” answered Robin and Sanji simultaneously. That kid?! The one who suggested they call you “Two Robin”? You didn’t say anything so as not to insult their captain or whatever but the kid didn’t look like he could be older than 18. Not your circus, not your monkey. As long as the ship didn’t sink in the next three weeks, it didn’t really matter to you.

“Right, right. That seems…good. Um, Sanji, is that water for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Sanji looked like you’d asked him to senior prom.

“Oh, dear, sweet, beautiful Misty, it would be an honor to serve you this water.” He bowed to you with a flourish. Alright, time to nip this in the bud.

“Look kid, I’m old enough to be your mother. Cut it out. But thank you for the water.” He deflated a little but not for long. 

“Like wine, most women only get better with age,” he said with a charming smile. “As Robin mentioned, I am Sanji, the chef on our crew. Do you have any dietary restrictions?” 

“Oh, I’ll eat anything you make.” 

“Is that so? Truly, no restrictions? Preferences? Allergies?” For all his attempted flirting before, he seemed serious right now. 

“Well, truthfully, I’m vegetarian. So, no meat.” Sanji nodded, smiling once again.

“Not a problem. Do you eat fish?”

“Ah, no. No animals.” You saw a rubber arm going past you as Luffy rocketed himself to your side. Rubber had its uses it seemed.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy yelled into your face, completely incredulous.

“Nope, haven’t in over 20 years.” You moved your head back away from his. Kid didn’t have much need for personal space.

“What do you eat then!?” It was like the kid couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of not eating meat. You shrugged. You’d had this conversation in various forms many, many times before.

“Vegetables, fruit, grains, legumes, things like that.” Luffy furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before it cleared into a bright smile.

“SANJI - can I have Misty’s portion of meat??” 

“No! If she doesn’t eat it, I’m not going to make more than usual.”

“But she’s our reader, you have to make her a portion! Then I can have it.” 

“But if she won’t eat it, I won’t make an extra portion,” Sanji already looked exasperated.

“But I want it!” Luffy was on the verge of a tantrum, you thought.

“No! You already eat all the food! Besides, if she doesn’t eat meat… ” The two of them seemed to be entering into an argument about meat rations, so you’d bow out of this conversation. It was only getting louder as they argued in circles. 

You drank your water and took a look around you for the first time. The ship seemed pleasant, though not very modern. There weren’t any electrical outlets or lights, and not much metal either. It was powered by wind, as you saw the giant sails. Maybe there wasn’t electricity here? You’d ask Robin later. Your eyes wandered up and you saw a giant jolly roger flag, the skeleton wearing a hat.

“So this is a pirate ship, huh?” The fighting made a little more sense now. Not that you wanted to. You’d let them handle that part of the afterlife. It made you a little nervous and you fidgeted with your necklace. A handsome young man wearing overalls and goggles locked eyes with you while holding your hair dryer. The next thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful, long, luscious natural coils you’d ever seen in your life. It took everything in you not to ask him his wash day routine before you exchanged names. “Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him. You were protective of your tools, they were like your babies. The man looked scared for a moment, then apologetic. 

“Sorry, I just got excited. I’ve never seen a machine like this before. What does it do?” He was turning it over in his hands, looking at the barrel. He was holding it like a precious treasure, touching it with care. At least he could appreciate machinery.

“It’s a hairdryer.” Your guess that they didn’t have electricity seemed to have more merit now. Which meant he air dried all that hair every time? Coily King. 

“Interesting! How does it work? Obviously the electricity feeds through the cord, other readers have had corded things before -”

“Usopp! Where’s the new reader? I wanna see if they have pens!” An unbelievably sexy young woman wearing a tiny string bikini came up from below deck, her bright orange hair blowing in the breeze. Was every person on this ship attractive? How did her boobs defy gravity like that? You looked down at your own, hopeful that whatever force was keeping hers up might be helping yours. No dice. 

“Hi, I’m the new reader?” You extended your hand, which she shook. The woman smiled back at you.

“I’m Nami, Robin told me you don’t know anything about our world. So, the way it works here is that everyone pays a daily fee to stay on the boat. It’s 100 Beri a day. That’s how we afford to maintain the ship in tip top condition.” You could smell bullshit a mile away - you’d been working customer service jobs on and off for decades. You decided to play along to see what happened.

“Oh, of course. But how will I get money? I guess I’ll have to sell some of my belongings…” You pursed your lips for dramatic effect. “I know! I have some pens, I could sell those for…what was it you said? 1,000 Beri each?” Nami smiled even wider, a classic mistake. 

“Well, what’s money among friends? And besides, it’s not like you can take anything back with you. We have a lot of reader stuff left on the ship.” You paused, pretending to consider for a moment. 

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe I’ll just drop them all in the sea. Y’know, like a, funeral. Since, I guess mine’s already happening. Maybe.” You didn’t want to think about your funeral, it had been a nightmare to figure everything out when your dad died. You felt bad for whoever was arranging it, probably your sister. You were zoned out thinking for a moment, and snapped back when Nami said something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you ask me?”

“What kind of pens do you have?” Nami had taken the bait, hook line and sinker. You doubled down.

“I’d be willing to show them to you, for a price.” She raised an eyebrow, then broke it with a sincere smile.

“Welcome aboard! I’m the navigator for the crew, it’s nice to meet you. You’ll be staying with me and Robin, I hope you’ll have a fun time with us. Now about those pens…” You smiled at her introduction.

“Thank you, and I’d be glad to show you what I have. I’ve always got at least a couple on me. Where’s my stuff? We can see what’s there.” 

“Follow me, it’s probably in the crows nest. That’s where reader stuff usually appears.” She started walking toward a ladder that led up to a platform high in the sky. High, high in the sky. 

“Hell no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not going up there!” Usopp and Nami looked askance at each other.

“Why not?” asked Usopp, still holding the hair dryer like it was a puppy he was cuddling.

“I’m afraid of heights.” Not that unusual of a fear, you didn’t even like diving off the 3 meter diving board at the pool. They looked at each other again. You felt like you were in middle school again, asking to sit at the cool kids table. 

“That’s OK, I’ll go get it for you.” Usopp handed you the hairdryer and climbed the ladder. Nice, you got to sit with them. Score one for you. 

~~~ 

The last thing you remembered from your regular life was walking home from work, rolling your train case with you. You always took everything home with you, even though you trusted the salon you were working for. Force of habit after so many years. You didn’t remember anything after that, though it would be ironic if you got hit by a car. 

Usopp kindly carried your things down from the crows nest. It was weird seeing your train case and purse on a wooden pirate ship, like when you saw a Timex in a historical movie. You heard a distant crash and looked over. The green haired guy was fighting Sanji, both of them looked pretty angry. The green haired guy was using his three swords against Sanji’s kicking? Must have strong legs. Maybe all the fighting was with each other. Nami and Usopp didn’t even look up.

“Ooh, what’s in here? Treasure? I’ve never seen something like this before. Most readers have backpacks or purses.” Nami was eyeing your train case greedily.

“No, it’s for my haircutting tools, makeup, manicure supplies, things like that.” You’d been an esthetician for a long time, though you’d done other jobs here and there. Nami threaded her fingers together in delight.

“You’re a hairdresser?! And you do nails?! Big sister, you’re the best reader yet! Most of our readers are in eye-tea. Would you cut my hair?” Oh, she meant IT. Information technology. Made sense, lots of people worked in IT. You’d never really gotten all that good at computers, so that wasn’t something you’d ever pursued.

“I mean, yeah, we can talk about that.” Even in the afterlife, everyone wanted a haircut when they found out you were a hairdresser. “Speaking of, Usopp, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” Usopp looked flustered, like he wasn’t used to compliments. That surprised you, he was clearly smart, well muscled, helpful…if you were 20 years younger you’d have been all over him. Or maybe even 10. But he looked like he couldn’t be older than 20 and that really didn’t do it for you. You liked your men with their prefrontal cortex fully developed. Besides, you hadn’t dated for a long time. In fact, aside from Robin, everyone looked really young. You wondered if there were any other older people on board. Even Robin looked like she couldn’t have been older than 35 at the most.

“So, what do you do here?” It seemed like everyone had a specific job on board, might as well find out. 

“Well, I’m the great Captain Usopp, and I am one of the bravest and most notorious pirates on the seas. I’ve defeated -”

“Wait, I thought Luffy was the Captain.” Usopp’s train of thought was paused.

“Oh, he’s the Captain of this crew because I felt bad for him after I single handedly defeated a pirate fleet of 5,000 men. It was easy too, let me tell you the story…” Usopp went off on a long tale about his (obviously fake) adventures on the seas. But he was funny and entertaining and a really good story teller. You touched his arm to pause his story as he was explaining how he defeated a giant with a flaming sword.

“Listen, Usopp, if you ever want, I’ll style your hair for you. Braid out, cornrows, twist out, whatever you want.” You wished you could take a before and after picture for your business Insta, but based on what Robin had told you, your phone hadn’t made it through the…portal? Er, however you got here. You didn’t offer a fade or anything that would have you cut it - it was too gorgeous to cut. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that - I’ve been wanting a new look recently,” Usopp mused. Nami was pouting, you didn’t want to upset her. “Same for you, uh, little sister, I’d gladly style your beautiful orange hair. I’ve never seen a shade like it.” You hadn’t, it was like the shade of an actual orange. Nami was appeased.

“Thank you Big Sis, I’d love to do something with all this.” It looked like she was growing out a bob, and it was in that awkward transition stage. You could help style it a little better, whoever had been cutting it did a good job, just needed a few pointers.

~~~

A little while later and the sun was in its descent. You were still with Usopp, sitting on the deck. Nami had gone off to do some work, saying she’d see you later. He’d told you a few funny stories before he asked to see the electrical esthetician tools you had in your case. He was most interested in the nail drill, asking question after question. At some point, you didn’t have answers for him. You knew the basics of how it worked but your recollection of electron transfer was weak. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Sanji called. Perfect timing, you were getting hungry. Usopp helped you up and you headed to the galley. 

“How many people are on the ship?” you asked. You’d met five of them, not including the green haired man who didn’t introduce himself. 

“There’s ten of us, eleven including you. We’re a small but strong crew.” Usopp flexed his arm.

“By the way, I’m not going to arm wrestle you. I know my strengths, and fighting isn’t one of them.” Usopp looked relieved. “Not that I’d win anyway,” you continued, “you look strong. But I’ll let you handle the fighting.” Usopp smiled at your last statement. You wanted to compliment Usopp when you could, he seemed like he needed it. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve won every arm wrestling competition I’ve ever had. Let me tell you the time when I arm wrestled a giant octopus and won against every tentacle…” You smiled to yourself and walked to the galley together. Entering through the swinging door, you saw a large table filled with nine other people. Well, mostly people. There was also a skeleton, an android looking guy, and a gigantic blue man - merman? And speaking of the merman, holy shit. 

You’d spent time babysitting your nieces and had seen every Disney princess movie that had ever been released in the last 60 years. Their favorites were “Frozen,” and “Moana,” which was the better of the two. You found the polynesian demi-god to be…appealing. At least more than the white bread Cristoff. And that merman looked like Maui had decided to grow a meter and get more muscled. And turn blue. He was huge - maybe 3 meters tall - and you wanted to climb him like a tree. Did that make you a pervert? Maybe, but it was a gut reaction. You weren’t going to act on it. Besides, you weren’t blind, you could appreciate a good looking person when you saw one. He looked like he was around your age, or at least older than the group of younguns you’d met. Maybe the afterlife had its perks after all. 

[feedthepheasants]

fluff/kinktober day 3 - "pumpkin carving"

pairing: f!tav x gale

prompt: pumpkin carving [from the same list as before, have not located OP's blog :') ]

part 2 of the modern/college au from day one! [youngish] grad students, fluff, tastefully cheesy (?), pumpkins, fall campus activities!

wc: 1,318

read here on ao3!

“This looks terrible,” Tav says with a pathetic laugh, shoulders slumping and hands slimy with the pulp from the half-carved pumpkin before her. 

“I offered to help,” Gale says from across the table, focused entirely on his own pumpkin. “But you declined.” 

“Having someone else carve a pumpkin for you completely defeats the purpose of participating in the activity!” 

“It does not,” Gale retorts, looking up at her. “It just makes things a bit easier. Cleaner, too,” he says, nodding towards her hands. 

“That’s supposed to be part of the fun,” Tav says. “But it’s been a while since I’ve done this, and I forgot just how messy it gets…” 

As part of the fall festivities on campus, there’d been a pumpkin-carving event scheduled; Gale had been waiting for Tav outside Smith Hall one Thursday, ready to walk to her next destination. It had been the only time they’d really gotten to spend with one another since their night in the library. Both were swamped with work, so finding a time they both had free had been a challenge. As they crossed the quad that day, Tav saw the event flyer for the following Saturday and had gotten so giddy when she’d read it that Gale had no choice but to clear his schedule and take her. It hadn’t quite been the date he’d been planning, but any excuse to see her was well worth it. 

Even if it meant having his hands covered with pumpkin guts. 

“Well, I’m sure whatever you’ve got over there is a masterpiece in the making,” Gale says with a teasing but sweet smile. Tav’s face heats, but when she glances back at her ‘masterpiece,’ she lets out a laugh. 

“No, Gale. It’s terrible.” Tav leans back in her chair, laughing in defeat. 

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Gale sighs, putting down his carving tools and moving to stand from his seat. 

“No!” Tav says quickly, throwing her arms around her pumpkin and dragging it close to her chest, desperate to keep him from looking at it. 

“Tav,” Gale laughs incredulously. “Come on, let me–” 

“NO,” Tav says, her own giggles starting to come out as she turns in her seat, pumpkin still in her arms. 

“Give me that–” 

Gale comes around the other side of her chair, attempting to wrestle the gourd from her arms. Their commotion earns some looks from the other students, but it’s as if they’re the only two around. Plus, he can’t get enough of her laugh, and he doesn’t get to hear it nearly as often as he’d like to. 

Tav’s grip on the pumpkin slips, and Gale finally takes it from her grasp. He gives her a smug, triumphant smile before turning his gaze to the gourd. 

“Oh,” he says with a frown. 

“I told you. It’s terrible.” 

“It’s…” He tries to find something to say, but it’s all he can do to stifle his laughter. “Well, it’s certainly got character, hasn’t it?” 

“Like yours can be much better,” Tav teases, reaching across the table to turn Gale’s pumpkin around. 

“What the fuck, Gale?” Tav asks in surprise. 

“That’s my cat,” Gale answers. “Her name is Tara.” 

Across the face of the pumpkin is a cat, resting on a curling tree-branch, paw raised in the air to swat at a bat. The space around it has been etched into, making wispy, curling tendrils and a smattering of stars. 

“You’re cheating,” Tav says, staring in awe at the pumpkin. 

“Cheating?” Gale huffs a laugh, setting Tav’s pumpkin back down in front of her. “For your information, I happen to be quite skilled with my hands.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Gale and Tav go quiet for a moment, but burst into another fit of flushed laughter when they make eye contact. Gale tries to calm himself to recover, but is only partially successful. “I mean, well– you know, as far as– stop laughing–” he shakes his head, “I mean as far as those silly plastic carving tools go, of course–” 

Tav is out of breath from laughing, face completely red as she turns her attention to anything but Gale, her mind fluttering with a thousand racing thoughts – all of them concerning those hands. 

“Clearly you’ve been practicing your carving skills,” Tav tries to say as evenly as possible, a few giggles slipping out as she attempts to turn her attention back to her half-carved jack-o-lantern. “Either that, or you’re–” 

“If you insinuate that I’m cheating one more time–” 

~

By the end of the event, Tav’s jack-o-lantern certainly looks better than it had before, but only because she’d finally accepted Gale’s help. She sat with her legs crossed in her chair as he worked, reshaping the eyes and mouth to be more symmetrical and happy rather than mangled and wonky. Her eyes had remained fixated on his hands the entire time. 

“Thank you for fixing my handiwork,” Tav says as they near her car, glancing down at her pumpkin. “And for humoring me.” 

“Humoring you?” 

“I know pumpkin carving is silly– well, apparently not when you do it–” 

Gale laughs. 

“And I know I complained through a lot of it, but really,” Tav shakes her head, smiling, “thanks.” 

“You say that like it’s a chore,” Gale says, playfully nudging her shoulder with his own. “I would’ve gone to the– I don’t know, a pencil museum if you’d asked me–” 

“A pencil museum?” 

“Yeah, a pencil museum,” he replies, looking down at her. She glances up towards him, but immediately turns her focus ahead, trying not to melt under his gaze. “I’ll take advantage of any and every opportunity to spend time with you, Tav. Now, I can’t say I necessarily thought about a date where we’d be carving fruits, but–” 

“Excuse me?” 

“What?” Gale asks, immediately tracing back through his words. 

“Carving– fruits?” 

“Er– yes?” 

“Vegetables,” Tav says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Carving…vegetables.” 

“Fruits,” Gale pushes, tilting his head. 

“No,” Tav shakes her head.

“Uh, yes,” Gale laughs. 

“No–” 

“Tav, I hate to break this to you, but a pumpkin is a fruit.” 

“Gale, a pumpkin is a–” She stops. “A date?” 

“A date is also a fruit, Tav.” 

“No, you said date,” she pushes, changing the subject. 

“I did,” Gale nods matter-of-factly. 

She stares up at him. “A date?” 

It’s Gale’s turn to blush. “Yeah, Tav, a date.” 

“You’ve thought about dates?” Tav asks. She can’t help but feel a bit girlish — she’d thought about dates too, but neither of them had broached the subject. While her own insecurities had begun to bubble, she had to keep reminding herself that he’d made a habit of waiting for her on Tuesdays and Thursdays, even admitting he’d do his best to leave early when he could, so she wouldn’t have to wait on him. 

“Of course I have,” Gale nods. “I was trying to find a good time to ask you— you know, now that I know your schedule as well as you know mine—“ Tav rolls her eyes. “To officially ask you out on a date. But you know, you were so excited about this—“ he gestures towards their pumpkins, “so I moved some things around so I could— well—” he shrugs, lifting the pumpkin with a sheepish smile. 

“Yes,” Tav breathes. Gale lifts his brows. “To a date, I mean. You tell me when, and I’ll be there,” she nods. Her stomach is fluttering as his gaze shifts from flushed to enamored. “Maybe not to a pencil museum, but—“ 

“I won’t take you to a pencil museum,” Gale laughs, shaking his head. “At least, not this time. But if you can spare a night to have dinner with me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Whatever you want, I’ll make it for you. How does Wednesday sound?” 

Tav smiles. “It sounds like a date.”

taglist:

@dr-demi-bee @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @lanafofana

@marlowethebard @crimson-and-lavender @spooky-lil-bee

@lastlight-inn @waterdeep-weavemoss @amorgansgal

if you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know!

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

This gif cause Zoro looked ready for war

Chapter 30: The Palace Siege 

A/N: Another Chapter in the books! Still one of favs writing it. So much is at stake as Y/N will now be facing Doflamingo in a stipulation. Im not gonna lie Y/N is going to be put through the ringer, and secrets will be revealed. Thank you guys for everything, liking, commenting, following!. I cant wait for you guys to see what else is in store. But without further a do let the adventure begin! We will be getting some Sanji POV’s as he is just about arriving to Zou.. and we have the first set of surprises coming also (heheh) 

Word count: 5.5K

Sanji X Reader, OP x Reader, Sanji x Y/N

Y/N POV…

A few minutes passed since I made that stipulation with Doflamingo. I knew I wasn't going to win—that was certain—and I knew he would never release Law. Doflamingo is a man who cheats and manipulates to get his way. It's his game, and I was just a chess piece. Now, I found myself staring at my reflection as Baby 5 had escorted me to Doflamingo's quarters. I was still in chains, but the strings binding me were gone, which was at least a small mercy.

I looked down at my legs, where marks were starting to form from the restraints. Slowly, my gaze returned to the bruises forming on my neck, remnants of Doflamingo’s cruel grip. “Now for Phase 3,” I thought, trying to stay focused. "Cause enough damage to the palace so that once Luffy is inside, he’ll know exactly where to go."

As I continued to contemplate the next move, Baby 5 walked in with some materials in hand. "What's that?" I asked, not bothering to look away from the mirror.

"The young master requested a few changes," she replied, her tone dripping with annoyance. It was clear she wasn’t happy with me being here. "And I didn’t forget that you’re the harlot who stole my Law from me," she added with a cigarette between her lips.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, my eyes still focused on the mirror. "Harlot, huh? Funny. That’s the same thing Monet called me before I killed her." My gaze locked onto hers through the mirror, challenging her. "I suggest you find a new word or else."

Baby 5 faltered for a moment, her bravado cracking ever so slightly as she laid out the materials on the bed. The room was luxurious, with silk satin sheets adorning the king-sized bed. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a short red corset dress, its bodice sparkling with gemstones and intricate embroidery. Alongside it sat makeup, hair ties, and something that made my stomach twist—a tiara. It was silver, with a large red ruby glinting at the front.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes in disgust. “Let me guess. He wants me to look like a doll, right?”

“Something like that,” Baby 5 replied, her voice dripping with amusement. “Young Master said you need to look your best... for when the game begins.” She picked up the dress, holding it out for me to inspect. The gems glistened under the soft light of the room, but all I saw was a prison.

I stepped forward, glaring at the outfit and then at her. "And this too?" I said, pointing at the tiara. "The bastard wants me to wear a tiara?"

Baby 5’s eyes flicked to the tiara before meeting mine, her smirk widening. "It suits you, doesn't it? A pretty little ruby to match his 'precious' princess."

my eyes narrowed. "He really thinks this will break me? Dressing me up like some sort of twisted prize?"

"Why fight it?" Baby 5 said, raising an eyebrow. "You’re already in chains. He’s already won."

I leaned in closer, my voice low and dangerous. "He hasn’t won yet. This game is far from over."

Baby 5’s smirk wavered, just for a moment, and I knew my words had struck a nerve. I turned back to the mirror, my reflection staring back at me, bruised but not broken. The tiara sat there like a crown of mockery. Minutes passed, and Baby 5 had already changed my outfit, tying the strings in the back with a roughness that hurt my ribs.

“I need to figure something out, in the meantime,” I thought. “I need my blades to create a stronger impact.” Baby 5’s harshness in tying the strings caused me to wince. “Easy!” I protested.

“Oops, sorry,” Baby 5 said, smirking as she continued her task. She finished with my makeup and styled my hair into a high bun, carefully placing the tiara on my head and securing it so it wouldn’t move. “There! Don’t you look regal?” she said, laughing.

All I could see in the reflection was the hatred I had for Doflamingo. Suddenly, an idea struck me. “Baby 5 did all this because Doflamingo needed her to,” I realized. “What if...”

“Baby 5,” I said, turning to her.

“What do you want?” she sneered.

“I need you to do me a favor,” I said, watching her closely. Baby 5’s eyes widened in surprise. “You... need me?” she stammered.

“Bingo,” I thought, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Yes, Baby 5. I need you to tell me where the—” I almost spat the words, “—young master has hidden my blades. We’re playing a game of ‘find the prize,’ and the prize happens to be my blades. If the young master gets to them first, I lose. And I don’t want that. So, I need you to tell me where they are. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Baby 5, still caught up in the idea that someone needed her help, moved to one of the cabinets in Doflamingo’s room. “They are right here!” she said, opening the cabinet to reveal my blades and thigh halter, all tied together with one of Doflamingo’s strings.

“So that’s how he got them,” I thought. I reached for my blades and yanked the string off, feeling a sudden surge of power as they returned to me. Although I was still in chains, the rush of energy from my blades was unmistakable. I quickly grabbed my thigh halter and attached it to my left thigh, hiding the blades once more.

I turned to Baby 5 and said, “Thank you, Baby 5. You’ve been a real help.” I smiled, and she still looked dazed, mumbling to herself, “Someone needed me, and I helped,” clearly pleased that someone had relied on her.

Just then, the transponder snail rang. Baby 5 picked it up. “Is the princess ready for me?” Doflamingo’s voice caused my anger to flare.

“Yeah, she’s ready, young master,” Baby 5 said, her voice tight with renewed focus.

“Good. Bring her to me,” Doflamingo said before hanging up the transponder snail.

Baby 5’s demeanor changed abruptly. She grabbed my left arm with a firmness that snapped me back to reality. I couldn’t help but smirk as Phase 3 was about to commence.

Zoro POv…

“So wait! You’re a princess! Just like Y/N?!” Luffy exclaimed, smacking me across the head.

“Would you keep it down!” I hissed, rubbing the spot where Luffy hit me.

“Wait, are you implying that you are Dressrosa royalty?” Kinemon asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I used to be,” Violet said, placing her hand on a hidden stone. “I’m no longer part of the royal family, but I was once.”

“Wait! If Rebecca is the king’s granddaughter, that makes you...” Luffy’s eyes widened in realization.

“Rebecca is my niece,” Violet confirmed, as she found and revealed a secret passage leading to the palace. “She’s the daughter of my late sister, Scarlet.”

“A hidden door?! Are you a ninja?! A princess and a ninja, how remarkable!” Kinemon exclaimed, clearly amazed.

“Now… I’ve seen everything,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

As the hidden passage came to light we made our way down the dusty stairs. We’ll remain hidden and avoid detection by using this passage. It belongs to the Riku family. Not even Doflamingo knows about it.” said Violet. 

“Hmmm, it looks like this passage leads to the top,” I said, examining the narrow corridor that seemed to rise toward the palace.

“Hey Luffy, why don’t you take this boulder and shoot yourself up?” I suggested, gesturing to a large boulder nearby.

Luffy grinned. “Got it! Alright, here I go!” He stretched his arms around the boulder and began to elongate, lifting himself and the boulder up toward the top.

“Make it snappy, Luffy! Y/N needs us!” I shouted, trying to keep my voice steady despite the urgency.

“Please, climb up quickly!” Madame Ninja—Violet—pleaded, her concern evident.

“No way! What?!” Violet exclaimed, shocked at our unorthodox plan to reach the top quickly.

Sabo POV… 

I did my final stretch as the competition neared its start. A laugh escaped me, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. With my metal pipe in hand, I made my way to the arena. "Well, let's go, Marine Colosseum!" I called out, turning to the guy next to me.

"What did you say?" he asked, clearly confused.

"It’s Bartolomeo," he corrected.

As I stepped out, the crowd erupted in cheers. I raised my right hand to the sky, whispering, "I hope you are watching over me, Ace!" My mind then flickered to Y/N. "Y/N, wherever you are, I hope you're safe," I muttered, determination and concern intertwining as I headed toward the dome.

As the other four contenders entered the arena, I noticed Rebecca’s gaze lingering on me. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, as if she might be questioning whether I was really Lucy.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the Colosseum, introducing Diamante to the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers, and I adjusted my sunglasses, locking eyes with Diamante. He had a confident smirk, and his presence demanded attention.

Diamante began speaking to the crowd, his voice carrying over the noise. "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves! In the waters below, we have some special guests—the fighting fish!" His tone was dramatic, clearly enjoying the crowd's excitement. "One of these fighting fish carries a treasure chest on its back, and within that chest is none other than the Flame-Flame Fruit!"

The announcement was met with an uproar of cheers and gasps from the audience. Diamante continued, outlining the rules with a flourish. "The rules are simple: stay in the ring and retrieve the chest with the Flame-Flame Fruit to claim victory. No matter what, the chest must be secured."

With that, the bell rang, signaling the start of the match. The arena filled with a mix of tension and anticipation as the competitors readied themselves for the challenge ahead. My mind was focused, determined to navigate through the chaos and claim the prize.

As the bell rang and the match commenced, Burgess lunged at me with a powerful strike. I quickly dodged, slipping to the side with practiced ease. I could feel the intensity of the battle heating up as I circled the ring, my eyes scanning the water for the first sign of the fighting fish.

The crowd's cheers echoed around me, but I focused solely on the task at hand. I kept moving, staying light on my feet and watching for any disturbance in the water. The fish were fast and erratic, making it hard to pinpoint which one was carrying the treasure chest.

I continued to dodge sporadic attacks from my opponents, using the movements to draw out the fish. I needed to be patient, waiting for the right moment to strike. The key was to avoid getting caught in the crossfire while I searched for the prize.

My heart raced as I kept my focus on the water, hoping that the right fish would reveal itself soon. Each second felt like an eternity as I danced around the ring, ready for whatever came next.

Y/N POV… 

"Well, well, well, look who finally showed up," Doflamingo said, his voice dripping with mockery as he sauntered towards me. "Baby 5, thank you for getting the princess ready for me. You may leave."

Baby 5 nodded and quickly exited, her footsteps fading away. Doflamingo moved into my line of sight, blocking my view of the video transponder snail. I couldn't see if Luffy had made any progress, which made my anxiety spike.

Doflamingo approached, his hand trailing suggestively across the ornate corset dress I was forced to wear. His touch was both unsettling and humiliating. He grasped my chin roughly, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I must admit, you look quite the part, princess," he said with a smirk. "But let’s see how long you can maintain this charade."

As he leaned in closer, I discreetly activated the hidden mechanism in my bracelet, loosening the chains that bound me. I kept my movements subtle, hiding my growing resolve behind a veneer of defiance and fear.

Doflamingo’s laughter was dark and taunting. "What’s the matter? Stunned into silence? Or are you plotting your escape? I must say, watching you struggle adds an extra layer of enjoyment to this whole affair."

His fingers brushed lightly over the tiara on my head, mocking the regal costume he’d forced upon me. "And this little crown," he continued, "just adds to your humiliation. It’s a sight to behold."

The chains on my wrists were somewhat secured in front of me, but with the hidden mechanism activated in my bracelet, they were now loose enough to be manageable. I met Doflamingo’s gaze with steely determination. “Are you going to talk, or are we going to compete?” I demanded, defiance clear in my tone. Stepping closer to him, I added, “Like I said before, Doffy, I will never be your toy, and I intend to win this chase.” I glanced over to where Law lay unconscious but still breathing.

Before Doflamingo could respond, an alarm blared. “This is the front entrance to the rampart tower, emergency! Strawhat Luffy has broken in!” the transponder snail announced.

"Luffy’s here!" I thought, a wave of relief washing over me. Doflamingo, visibly annoyed, turned his attention to the video transponder snail to view the fight. I managed to catch a glimpse of the screen and my eyes widened. “Wait a minute… is that…” I thought, unable to contain my surprise.

“Huh?” Doflamingo said, his confusion evident. “What the hell is going on here!” He continued to stare at the screen, his frustration mounting.

I broke away from the screen’s gaze and looked at King Riku, sending him a subtle wink and mouthing “don’t worry.” I then returned my attention to the screen to see the man before me. “So, this was your plan all along, Sabo…” I thought, feeling a surge of pride. Despite the lies and the hidden identity, seeing him in action reminded me of why I wanted to know him more. He was an excellent fighter.

“Damn Sabo, I’m supposed to be focusing on my plan and you’re out here distracting me like this.” I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips. Doflamingo’s eyes snapped back to me. “What do you know about this?!” he demanded.

“What’s wrong, Doffy? You’re not afraid, are you?” I taunted. “Besides, we have our own match to play, and it looks like you’re scared.”

Doflamingo gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on me. “Remember, princess, what’s at stake.”

“I know,” I said, smirking. “And I’m not afraid to go head-to-head.”

Just then, another voice cut through the chaos. “I can confirm it’s Strawhat Luffy! And he’s with Pirate Hunter Zoro! And wait, Lady Violet and another swordsman!”

“They made it!” I thought, excitement building. “Now to do my part.”

With renewed determination, I broke free from the chains and lifted my right leg, landing a swift tremor kick to Doflamingo’s chest. He was sent crashing into the wall, debris scattering around him. I looked at King Riku and whispered, “I’ll come back for you as well.”

“Hey Doffy!” I called out, clenching my left hand to activate its power. Doflamingo slowly began to rise. “Catch me if you can.” I smirked and, with that, I broke through the door, speeding away from Doflamingo. As I began to activate Phase 3 of the plan, I felt the weight of the moment and the urgency to ensure everything went as planned.

Zoro POV… 

With Luffy demolishing the door, we didn’t have much of a choice but to barge into the palace. An alarm blared throughout the building, and I yelled, “Luffy!”

Luffy, undeterred, continued to pummel the guards with relentless attacks. “The alarm? You don’t think that’s…” I started to say, but was cut off by a loud bang from upstairs.

Luffy laughed and shouted, “Yup, that’s Y/N!”

“Y/N,” I whispered, a sense of relief flooding over me at the sound of your name. “Fire! Don’t let them escape!” a guard ordered, blasting bullets at us. I drew my swords and swiftly took them down. After a few more punches, the guards fell.

“Kinemon, take care of the little one, okay?” I said.

“But Sir Zoro, I must find my friend Kanjuro. I need to get to the toy house!” Kinemon protested.

“That’s where Operation SOP is happening with the other Tontata,” said the little one.

“Then we must head over there at once!” Kinemon insisted. “Sir Zoro, I will be heading to the Toy Factory!”

“Fine by me. I need to find a reckless princess,” I smirked, feeling a mix of irritation and amusement.

Just then, another loud bang echoed from upstairs. “Let’s go!” I commanded. Luffy, Violet, and I raced up the stairs. “Which way?” Luffy asked.

“Left!” I replied. As we ran, we heard Luffy shout, “I’m coming, Mingo! The coast is clear!” His voice echoed with his usual bravado.

“Guess security can’t keep up!” I said, as we continued sprinting through the halls. Suddenly, a loud noise accompanied the extinguishing of all the candles. “Uh, that’s weird,” Luffy said, looking around.

The wall began to shift, revealing a giant face. “A face!” I exclaimed, looking up. “It’s huge!”

“It’s Pika!” Violet identified. “He’s a top executive!”

“Great, now we’ve got to deal with him,” I muttered.

“He ate the Stone-Stone Fruit,” Violet added. “He can manipulate stone.”

“He looks like a bunch of bricks, if you ask me,” Luffy commented, eyeing the massive stone figure.

Pika launched an attack, nearly hitting us. “We gotta try something. He’s blocking our path!” Luffy said.

Luffy then unleashed his Gomu Gomu Jet Gatling, smashing through Pika’s stone form. “That was easy! Come on!” Luffy cheered.

As we continued running, Pika morphed once more. “Damn it!” I muttered, watching the walls start to close in on us. “The palace itself is our own enemy!”

“Great,” I said, as the walls squeezed tighter. “We’ve got to find another way out.”

“The walls!” Luffy shouted, pointing out the impending danger. “They’re closing in on us fast!”

We pushed forward, fighting against the shifting walls and the chaos that seemed to be closing in around us,

Sabo POV… 

As I continued to fight and dodge, I spotted the fish carrying the treasure chest. “There you are!” I called out, leaping into the air and landing on the fish’s back, evading the other attackers. Just as the fish was about to move towards Rebecca, I grabbed its fin. “Nice, I got you now!”

“Not so fast!” Diamante shouted, rushing towards me with his sword. I laughed and swung my metal pipe, shattering his sword into pieces. “Don’t forget about me!” Burgess roared, preparing to strike.

I held my ground, ready for him. “Eat this! Dragon Claw!” I shouted, launching my attack at Burgess. His assault faltered, and I smashed through his armor, shattering it into fragments.

“Don’t want to give me the fruit? That’s what you get!” I declared, defiance ringing in my voice. “I won’t give up!”

With the fish still under my control and the treasure chest within reach, I remained focused on my goal, determined to secure the Flame-Flame Fruit and turn the tide of the battle.

Y/N POV…

As I dashed down the stairs, the echo of Doflamingo's voice followed me like a dark shadow. I could hear the amusement in his tone, and it only spurred me on, despite the exhaustion seeping into my muscles.

“Oh, Y/N,” Doflamingo called out, his voice rich with a blend of amusement and desire. “I must admit, watching you run like this is quite entertaining. The more you try to escape, the more I want to catch you. It’s almost a game for me.”

I glanced back briefly, catching sight of his smirk. “This is no game, Doflamingo. I’m not going to let you win.”

He chuckled darkly, his laughter echoing off the walls. “Is that so? But it’s exactly that defiance of yours that makes this all the more exciting. Every step you take, every breath you draw, it only intensifies my desire to catch you. You’re like a wild bird trying to escape from a cage, and I’m eager to see how long you can keep it up.”

I pushed myself harder, my heels pounding against the marble stairs. “You won’t catch me, Doflamingo. Not today.”

“Such fire,” he taunted, his voice growing closer. “But that only makes me want you more. The struggle, the chase, it’s all part of the thrill. And once I have you, oh, you’ll understand just how much I enjoy this little game we’re playing.”

My eyes darted around, searching for another way to outmaneuver him. “Keep dreaming. I’m not falling for your games.”

Doflamingo’s voice was a dark purr, filled with promise. “We’ll see about that. I plan to savor every moment of this chase. And when I finally catch you, I’ll make sure you remember this game for a long time.”

I gritted my teeth, determined to keep moving and make every moment count. His words were a constant reminder of the stakes, but they also fueled my resolve to stay one step ahead.

A string bullet whizzed past, grazing my shoulder and causing me to tumble. I barely managed to roll back onto my feet as Doflamingo's menacing figure closed in, his expression a mix of amusement and desire.

“You’re getting closer,” he said, his voice dripping with anticipation. “Just a few more steps, and I’ll have you right where I want you. You can’t escape, no matter how fast you run.”

With a desperate burst of energy, I clenched my right hand and connected it with my left palm, activating the electrical charge, hoping to buy myself some time. The crackling power illuminated the hallway, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

“What’s this?” Doflamingo sneered, his eyes widening with a mix of interest and frustration. “Trying to make things interesting? I must admit, you’ve got some fire in you. But that’s just what makes this all the more exciting.”

He advanced, his strings flickering like deadly whips. “I’ve been waiting for a challenge like this. The way you defy me—it’s almost endearing. Almost.”

Doflamingo’s gaze was fixated on me, his desire for victory palpable. “I want to see you struggle,” he continued, his voice filled with a sadistic thrill. “The more you resist, the sweeter your defeat will be. Come on, Y/N. Give me everything you’ve got. I’m savoring every moment.”

His words stung, but they also fueled my resolve. “You’ll get nothing but my defiance,” I shot back. “I’ll never give you the satisfaction of my surrender.”

I clenched my left hand and activated its power, feeling another familiar surge of energy. Stepping with my left leg, I appeared behind him in a blur. I released the electrical charge from my right hand, sending a powerful jolt through Doflamingo’s body.

“Ugh!” Doflamingo gasped, his eyes widening in shock as the electricity coursed through him. “What the—”

“This isn’t a game for me, Doflamingo,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline. “I won’t be your toy, and I won’t let you win.”

The electrical shock gave me the moment I needed. I sprinted away from him, putting as much distance between us as I could. Doflamingo’s furious shouts followed me, his frustration palpable. “You won’t get away! I’ll make you regret this, Y/N! Just wait until I catch you again!”

But I didn’t stop. I focused on my escape, knowing that every second I could delay him brought Luffy and the others one step closer. 

Zoro POV…

“Damn it!” I cursed as Pika continued to lift the entire palace floor, causing the ground to shift beneath us. The stones we’d destroyed always reformed, making it feel like a never-ending fight. “This guy’s a real pain in the ass!”

Luffy, equally frustrated, shouted, “What the hell is this?!”

“None of our attacks seem to be hitting! Luffy, we gotta think fast or we’ll be stuck here forever!” I gritted my teeth, frustrated at the situation. “108 Caliber Phoenix!” I shouted, unleashing my attack and shattering more stones. But Pika just kept coming back, his stone form regenerating with each blow. The massive stone walls surrounded us again, blocking any chance of escape.

Luffy was about to launch another attack when I stopped him. “Luffy, listen! You need to take Violet and go on ahead. Leave this stone bastard to me. You go and kick Doflamingo’s ass twice as hard for me, and get to Y/N—fast!”

The weight of my words hung in the air. I gripped my sword tighter, feeling the urgency pounding in my veins. Y/N was somewhere in this palace, and I wasn’t going to let some stone giant stop us from getting to her.

Luffy hesitated for a moment, but then he gave a determined nod. “Right, got it, Zoro! I’m counting on you!”

Without another word, he grabbed Violet and dashed off, leaving me to face Pika alone. The ground shifted underfoot again as Pika towered over me

I clenched the handle of my sword tighter, my jaw set with determination. “Hold on, Y/N. We’re almost there,” I muttered under my breath as I prepared for my next strike. 

Y/N Pov… 

I continued to run, leaving bloodied handprints on the walls as markers for Luffy and the others. My right hand was throbbing, bleeding from the strain I had put on it. I came to a stop, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. "I think... I lost him," I whispered, trying to catch my breath. But I knew better than to believe Doflamingo would give up so easily.

I glanced down at my left thigh where my swords were still secured, untouched. "Not yet," I thought, biting my lip in frustration. As much as I wanted to use them, I couldn’t—those blades were my trump card, my last resort. "This isn't the time… I need to hold out just a bit longer."

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” I muttered under my breath, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. My breathing was labored, my heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to escape. "Luffy, Zoro, Kinemon... where the hell are you guys?" I whispered, feeling a pang of desperation. "Please... hurry."

I made a sharp left and found an empty room. Without thinking twice, I rushed in, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it. My chest heaved as I tried to regain some composure, the adrenaline still coursing through me. I pressed my back against the door, sliding down until I was seated on the floor, my head leaning back as I tried to calm my breathing.

After a few moments, I forced myself to stand, pushing off the door as I slowly walked deeper into the room. The eerie silence settled around me, amplifying every step I took.

"Okay, just breathe... just think," I murmured to myself, glancing around the dimly lit room. "I need to figure out the next move."

I clenched my fists, ignoring the sharp sting in my right hand. "I can’t let him catch me, not now. Not when we’re this close."

I made my way closer to the desk, my footsteps echoing in the silence. Papers were scattered haphazardly across its surface. Curiosity getting the better of me, I began sifting through them, spreading them out further. My eyes scanned the pages, my mind racing to make sense of what I was seeing.

“What the…” I muttered under my breath, confusion turning into disbelief as I looked closer. There, laid out before me, were all of our wanted posters—Luffy, Zoro, and even mine. They were pinned down, as if meticulously studied. But next to them, something else caught my eye.

Documents. Detailed records. And at the top of one of the pages, bold letters spelled out the truth behind Dressrosa. My breath hitched in my throat as I quickly skimmed through the papers, piecing it all together.

My hands froze, my heart skipping a beat as my eyes locked onto the final few lines of text.

“No… this can’t be right,” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. “This whole time… this is what he's been hiding?”

I clenched the papers tightly, anger rising within me. “The citizens... everything that’s happened—it’s all been a lie.” I stood there, stunned, the weight of the truth crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Doflamingo… you bastard."

I made my way toward the door, desperate to leave before Doflamingo could catch up. My breath still shallow, my hand hovering over the handle—when suddenly, his voice cut through the air like a blade.

"I’ve got to hand it to you, princess," Doflamingo’s voice dripped with menace, "you’re exactly what they make you out to be."

The lights flickered on, illuminating the room in a harsh, cold glow. My heart sank as I realized the truth. I had run straight into a trap. My body tensed, my mind racing to think of a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in.

Doflamingo’s smirk deepened as he approached, his steps slow, deliberate. “But, it looks like I caught you, which means you’re mine now.”

My eyes widened in panic. His fingers moved with precision, strings shooting out from them and wrapping around my wrists and body before I could react. I struggled, but it was no use. His strings tightened, immobilizing me completely. He yanked me back effortlessly, pulling me toward him with a sadistic grin plastered across his face.

"Let's get you back where you belong," he whispered, his tone low and dangerous.

I was dragged through the hallways, my body unable to fight the pull of his Devil Fruit power. By the time we reached the familiar room where Law and I had been held before, my wrists and body were bound tightly in the same chair. I could see Law now, fully awake, his face contorted in anger and desperation.

Y/N!” Law shouted, straining against his sea prism stone handcuffs. “Damn it! Let her go!”

His voice was filled with urgency, but the situation seemed hopeless. The room was crowded with three guards, Baby 5, and Buffalo, all of them poised to act if either of us tried anything.

I forced a strained laugh, despite the pain. “Wow, Doffy, you really had to bring backup this time? Scared I’m gonna kick your ass again?”

Buffalo chuckled, but Doflamingo’s eyes were cold as ice. “Oh, Princess,” Doflamingo said, his voice dripping with mockery, “it’s not fear. It’s about ensuring you stay exactly where I want you. I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble.”

I nodded toward the wall where I’d left a dent. “I mean, if you come to think of it, that hole in the wall over there,” I said, pointing with my head, “is a pretty solid reminder of what happens when you underestimate me.”

Doflamingo’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Careful, Princess,” he warned, his tone edged with menace. “Your defiance is only going to make things worse for you. The more you provoke me, the more pleasure I’ll take in breaking you.”

He tightened his grip on the strings binding me, causing a fresh wave of pain to shoot through me. I winced but kept my gaze steady. “I’ll never give you the satisfaction,” I spat out.

Doflamingo’s lips curled into a sadistic smile. “You’re quite the little warrior, aren’t you? But bravery won’t save you here. In my domain, strength means nothing. All that matters is how well you endure.” He glanced over at Law, who was still fighting his restraints with desperate energy. “And as for Law here, his pleas are nothing but background noise. He’s powerless to help you now.”

His fingers lingered on the strings, tightening their grip with deliberate cruelty. “I have no intention of letting you go. You’re mine now, Princess, and I plan to savor every moment of your suffering.”

The room was heavy with tension as Doflamingo’s words and actions continued to taunt and torment. The guards, Baby 5, and Buffalo remained vigilant, their eyes fixed on the scene as the situation grew ever more dire.

As I continued to struggle against the tight, painful bindings, my mind was focused on one thing: Luffy. I couldn’t help but think, "Luffy, where are you?"

[miss-rum-hee]

OP, grow the fuck up. God....

I genuinely don’t know how I’m supposed to cope with just. Encountering zionists.

I was in an idol server talking about girl groups I liked. And two people started talking about how scary and annoying the bombing is and how they can’t wait to go on vacation after the terrorists are killed. And saying shit like “[jpop idol] will help us beat hamas!” Hello? What world do you live in?

What world do you live in where your heart is not torn open and bleeding? How do you look at the death tolls and think about vacation? Why do you hold up a teen girl celebrity from another country as a symbol of massacre?

At work we have a customer who is notorious for being an issue. Today she emailed in asking if we could ship to Israel. We can’t, we only ship domestic. But I just couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t email back. I had to send it to my boss.

I don’t know anything about her or her politics or her beliefs. But the thought of someone casually sending a $200 gift to Israel without a second thought just kind of broke me. Genuinely what world does she live in. Who is she gifting this home goods product to? Clearly they don’t intend to leave if she’s sending them $200 worth of home decor. What are these peoples lives like?

The weight of an entire genocide is more than one person could ever bear. Are you not torn to pieces trying to carry even a fraction of it? Do you truly feel nothing?

If you feel something at reading all that, please match my $20 donation to Mohammed. He has a beautiful family that he worked so hard for.

[thekristen999]

Fuck it Friday.

@stephmcx was talking about a military AU with Eddie, Buck and Tommy and I know they got into fandom mainly for the hot pilot :-P

But it reminded me about the time I wrote and Eddie Begins AU where Buck was a Pararescue (PJ) whose unit was called to rescue Eddie's downed chopper.

See PJ's are more badass than Navy SEALs (ducks fruit) and I think more interesting. Sorry Chim! Who is a SEAL in this story.

I'm hoping @stephmcx still might enjoy it.

Repost:

Whatever It Takes To Find You

Buck stared out the window, the terrain disappearing into nothingness. Nighttime rescues had extra challenges in terms of extraction. It made it difficult to locate their patients, perform triage, and get them back safely into the chopper.

Han’s voice came over the coms. “The ops center called back. We’re flying in to save five possible patients now. The site’s still a hot combat zone.”

Even with all his gear on, Buck noticed Han’s body stiffen as he listened to his radio. He glanced at Buck. “We’ve confirmed it’s the 57th medevac unit.”

Anxiety gripped inside Buck's chest, followed by sinking dread. “Diaz’s unit?”

Eddie had been shot down?

(Eddie Begins AU with Pararescue!Buck)

[privateanxieties]

Stay?

In honor of our fallen comrade AO3, here's a 3.1K Frank Castle fic.

Summary: Frank is forced to call in a favor from an old acquaintance he hasn't seen since his second tour. What he gets is more than he bargained for, and for the first time in his life, he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.

Pair: Frank Castle x Reader (she/her); flirting, banter, Frank Castle needs a hug, fluff, NO sMut SorRy

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He shouldn't fucking be here, especially at sundown. That much was clear based on the telltale signs of trepidation in his hands and chest. No, he wasn't shaking. Frank Castle was not a pussy. But, he also was not certain she wouldn't shoot him on sight — or even through the wooden door.

Damn Curtis for being bedridden.

"Can't cover your six this time, Frank," he'd said on the end of a cough. "But I know someone who can."

Yeah. Frank knew too. He knew exactly what her skillset was and why it earned her the name full metal cunt less than four months into her first tour. He didn't particularly approve of the moniker, despite agreeing with the underlying meaning. The guys that bestowed it upon her were jackasses, but even they'd had to yield some quiet respect in the face of facts. That's what one got for being the best damn sniper of all active battalions at that time.

Frank hadn't seen her since before Kandahar. Curtis had been cagey on the details, but if his own memory served, she'd been pulled from the ranks and reassigned too — on the other side of the world. Covert ops were a dime a dozen in those days. Last Frank heard from her, they were supposed to—

The door flew open with a quiet click. Whether the click had come from the lock or his brain, he wasn't sure. She stood in front of him like a one-two punch on legs. 

"You know, the rain check for that beer expired a while ago, Castle."

Maybe he was about to expire, if he kept staring at the exposed skin of her shoulder where the black silk robe had slid off. It didn't leave a whole lot to mystery, and it worked wonders to reveal just how little of a threat she considered him. He couldn't imagine she'd have answered the door in that get-up if she expected company of a hostile nature. He cleared his throat and stood the slightest bit taller.

"That's what the flowers are for, sweetheart," he grumbled out at last, gripping the bouquet tighter and shifting subtly on his feet. Her eyes narrowed.

"Something making you nervous?"

Not subtle enough, apparently.

"Hoyle call?" he asked, deflecting her question.

"Of course he called. You'd be dead if he hadn't," she shot back plainly. The tilt of her neck drew his eyes to the damp skin for a brief moment. Freshly showered. Faint jasmine in the air.

"C'mon… I'm not that scary. Am I?" he joked, lips pulling at the edges.

"Scary? No," her voice sang ever-so-gently. She was scanning him from head to toe. "But, given that everyone you've paid a house visit to lately has wound up full of holes, the working policy ought to have been on sight."

"Not if you ain't involved in anything unsavory."

"I have a pile of catshit that needs cleaning. That unsavory enough?" she asked, right eyebrow raised delicately.

Sometimes — and he would deny it even under torture — Frank loved having his balls busted by someone as quick-witted as her. Where Lieberman nagged and sassed him without much success, she was right on target every time. He liked a challenge.

"Didn't peg you for a cat lover," he forwarded, fighting back a smirk.

A flicker of emotion came and went, but Frank thought he caught just the right amount of smugness in the second it passed over her face. She looked pleased, like his assessment of her character was correct. A moment later she was stepping back, gesturing for him to come inside and accepting the flowers with both her hands. If he'd splurged for the largest bouquet, it was in accordance with the favor he was about to ask.

"It's not my cat. If it was, I wouldn't have named it something as stupid as Chonks," she explained as he followed her down the hallway and into the living room of her surprisingly spacious apartment. The furnishings were nothing fancy, at least not in Frank's view, but the sheer square footage did catch his attention.

"Rent dry you out every month, Corporal?"

It wasn't his place to ask, and he didn't really give a shit, but he did want to rattle her chain. Just a little bit. Questioning her choice of rentals and calling her by rank was a good enough start. He watched her retrieve a vase from the open floor kitchen and fill it with water to the midpoint.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. I'm doing alright for myself. Though, I don't blame you for being suspicious, what with…" she paused, waving her hand in a vague motion. "…everything."

Frank's jaw tightened. She noticed the moment it happened.

"I meant Kandahar. You can unclench your asshole," she commented lightly, arranging the flowers to her liking and leaning forward to breathe in the scent of the gardenias.

"Heard about Wolf and Rawlins. You're right to wonder where I get my money. Not like jobs for trained killers grow on trees. No one's hiring me as a marketing executive. That master's degree was a waste of time," she said as she pulled two glass bottles out of the fridge. Beer and cider.

"Still think beer tastes like piss, do ya?" Frank taunted, though he had to admit — his asshole did unclench after her acknowledgement of recent events. He wasn't sure how he felt about her knowing, but in the end, he'd rather not have to explain the last year of his life. It was fine.

She glanced his way between popping the metal caps open.

"Yep. Worse, even."

He held her gaze.

"Got a boyfriend?"

The inkling of a sardonic smile on her lips had Frank's own trembling with mirth.

"I'm as fond of those as I am of Chonks."

"Why do you stock it, then?" he pushed. It earned him a lovely eye roll.

"I don't know, Frank. Maybe I have friends over sometimes," she sassed, walking up to him. She stopped short of handing him the drink. He measured her resolve just like he measured everything else in life. He was pleased to find that for once, things were exactly as he thought them to be. With her, what he saw was what he got.

"Bullshit," he smirked, finally allowing his amusement out in the open.

A click of her tongue and hooded eyes had his whole posture relaxing.

"Yeah, well… not like you would judge."

Sharing a brief chuckle, they touched the lips of their bottles together with a quiet clink and drank. He abstained from giving in to the urge to compete and drink more than her. Sometimes Frank could choose not to be an ass, but only for the right people.

He took her in as she led him over to the couch, or rather, took in the long-healed scar on the back of her neck, covered just so by a few wisps of hair that had fallen from her up-do. He remembered that one. A shit story, if he ever heard one. It seemed they both knew a thing or two about a comrade's betrayal. What was it with these pieces of shit not having the nerve to stab you in the front?

"I'd try my hand at small talk, if I didn't know you're not one for chit-chat," she said, plopping down on the velvet sofa. He followed shortly. "Plus, Curtis sounded like death warmed over on the phone. So, I'm assuming you needed his help with something and he couldn't provide it. And now you're here."

"Brilliant deduction skills there, Holmes," he grumbled, taking another sip of the beer.

She blinked her eyes at him all innocent.

"I remember your standards being a little higher. Hoyle's a knockout corpsman but I wouldn't trust him to hit a sitting target 300 yards out," she snorted, setting her drink down on the coffee table before them.

"Oh yeah? And what's your best number, champ?" he mocked.

"A few more than that," she shot back instantly, tone flat.

Yeah. Frank knew. He remarked that she hadn't taken on a bragging habit, but she did keep her confidence, which was refreshing. Some pricks came back from warzones feeling like they could conquer the world. Most were soon disabused of the notion. She'd never seemed the type to have a chip on her shoulder, even back then. Even if — and Frank understood better than anyone — she had good reason to return from war loosely hinged and embittered.

He looked her over once more, a deep sigh sagging his shoulders before his expression hardened. She looked back with what seemed to Frank like thinly veiled insight. Eyes like a hawk.

"Not a lot of people I can trust these days, no matter how good a shot they are. Actually, the better they are, the more I don't like 'em."

Her lips pulled back to reveal a few pearly whites.

"Should I take the insufferable route and say well, then you should really hate me?" she joked, smile widening when he snorted and rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, princess. When's the last time you were behind the scope?" he taunted, wanting to see what she'd do.

"Couple weeks ago, when I scheduled an impromptu leadership change for the Yakuza. You?"

A double take. He rarely did them these days. His amusement was rapidly fading.

"What, you're a gun for hire now?"

Maybe his tone wasn't exactly as even as it should've been, given his reason for being there. Antagonizing someone you're about to ask a favor from was rarely a good strategy. He knew why his words came out the way they did. Maybe he'd expected different from her. Yet, it seemed that his smartass comment didn't provoke much ire. It was her turn to hold his gaze, and she looked decidedly unimpressed.

"Yup. And next week I'll probably be hired to kill the guy who hired me to kill that guy. They're eating each other whether I help or not. Why shouldn't I take their money before they expire of a different cause?" she explained, and Frank didn't really like how he felt it was too simple a reason for what she did.

"As interested as I am in discussing the intricacies of my killing-scumbags-for-fun-and-profit ideology, this is actually my day off. You pulled me out of a bubble bath and I still have gunpowder under my nails. So, if you're going to ask something, either ask or—"

A prolonged, sorrowful meow hijacked their conversation from down the hall, though one could hardly tell for how loud it actually was. She looked over his shoulder to appraise the situation, and just as Frank craned his neck to look too, there it was. A black hole with eyes and pointy teeth stared them both down, tail swinging from side to side leisurely. It meowed again, seemingly just as dejected.

"Three minutes past her dinner. Heartbreaking," she deadpanned.

Frank stifled a snort into the back of his hand.

"Do you want to feed her, Castle? Because I'm inclined to ask you to clean her litter box, too. Since you find this amusing and all."

"Nah. Imma watch you do it, though," he smirked, laughing again when she got up at a glacial pace and headed towards the kitchen with all the enthusiasm of a shift worker at four a.m. He quickly swiped the ten-pound creature off the floor with one arm before it could follow after her. Surprisingly, it didn't try to bite or claw his face off.

"Tell you what— I'll take Chonks off your hands for a minute. Don't want her jumping you for food."

"Oh no. That's never happened before." Laced with sarcasm, her words brought forward a mental picture he found himself thoroughly enjoying.

"Yeah? So Chonks is a little rascal, huh? Does Chonks have a particular strategy she ambushes you with?"

"I have a feeling you just like saying Chonks, so let me stop you before it gets annoying. She," Her index finger pointed straight at Frank's chest, where the cat rested amicably. "… is a criminal. Unrepenting. Extravagant. She flaunts her ill-gotten gains. She took a shit in the sink last week and she left a mouse on my pillow two days ago. It was still twitching."

Frank Castle hadn't had a good laugh in what felt like forever. Truthfully, he didn't really think he deserved much of what regular people took for granted. There were reasons for that everywhere he looked, no matter how much people like David Lieberman and Karen Page tried to persuade him otherwise. But sometimes… sometimes there were also moments like this. Maybe it was camaraderie, maybe mutual understanding — even, perhaps, a similar disposition to the person whose company he found himself not dreading. Whatever fate or circumstance settled on, and as much as he wanted to doubt it, these moments were getting more frequent as of late. Nothing crazy — he would never be a happy-go-lucky guy just minding his business. But somewhere between the cracks in a life he was still trying to make sense of, people slipped in substances he was having a hard time getting rid of. Laughter. Support. A little ball-busting that was good for morale. Help.

He'd turned up at her door with the clear intention for ask for help, and she didn't turn him down. She invited him inside, despite not having seen him in years. Despite the news and his reputation. Despite not owing him a goddamn thing.

He startled when a gentle vibration tickled his abdomen. He looked down. Chonks lay half-asleep, head on Frank's stomach and ass hanging off the side of his thigh. He tried adjusting for comfort without disturbing the creature.

"Ever been taken prisoner, Frank?" his host asked from the kitchen. He had to twist his neck to catch her eye.

"Not unwillingly," was the answer he settled on.

"Well, now you have. Congrats on popping that cherry."

When she entered his view again, her hands were holding two plates of human food. Her gaze was fixed on the purring lump of coal in his lap.

"Oh look, she's working double time. Hope you're comfortable. Once she's out, she's out," she announced nonchalantly, taking her seat next to him once more and setting the food down. The previously hungry cat didn't even stir. Frank looked at the assortment of finger foods. Smoked salmon. He was fucked.

"Yeah. I could put bluefin tuna in front of her nose — she's not getting up. So, how are you?" she continued taunting him, the beginnings of a shit-eating grin twisting the lower half of her face.

"You think I won't move her?" he tried. It was weak, even to his own ears. The look she gave him invoked pity.

"Frank… You're tough. You can be brutal when necessary. But you're not cruel, hm?"

She blinked at him all slow. Then, reaching out to him with the same mellow movement, she brushed her hand over the cat's obsidian fur. It burrowed further into him. Of the things Frank wished he hadn't forgotten about her, it was just how much nerve she had that topped the list. When he didn't answer, her smile grew further.

"Nah. Didn't think so. On the bright side, now you can tell me what you came here for in an abundance of detail."

She didn't let his glare deter her from fully enjoying his predicament, or from trying to pretend she was a good host by handing him the plate of snacks she'd prepared. She threw another look at his lap, eyebrows raising curiously.

"She's purring up a storm. You know they do that in response to trauma sometimes?"

"I'm sure missing dinner was tough," he sassed, finally accepting the food.

"Not theirs. Yours," she replied. Curt. To the point. It gutted him most effectively. And she probably knew that.

Despite huffing and puffing the rest of the evening, and despite trying his best to seem bothered and grumpy, the noticeable absence of tension in his back muscles telegraphed otherwise, both to him and his companion. If she noticed — and he knew she did — she said nothing, only met him halfway with a steady supply of beer and ears perked up for his tactical plans. Yet, at some point, those plans turned into examples. Examples turned into anecdotes. Anecdotes became jumbled nonsense, collected from various points in his life with seemingly no thread to link them. By the time Chonks finished her dubious therapy session, she'd already handed the duty over to her temporary human guardian.

And Frank wasn't used to talking this fucking much. He didn't like it when anyone did it around him, and especially not right next to him. But every time he looked to check if he was being a pain in the ass, he only found those same eyes fixed on him and that same veiled insight resting just outside his perception. Maybe he was talking to a fucking oracle, and it would've made sense, because how else would she have known exactly what to say to his increasingly unhinged verbiage? It kept pouring out with no end in sight.

That was, until her eyes scrunched closed and a lengthy yawn fell from her lips, and guilt hit Frank Castle like the first brick to the head he'd taken on his old construction job.

"Shit, I'm s—"

He got barely anywhere with that.

"D'you know this is the first evening I've been able to relax? Usually, I'd be chewing at the drywall by now. Maybe checking the secret assassin network for another job," she said. He sensed it was said in jest, but the honesty of the words knocked him off his feet like it was a living, breathing opponent. Suddenly, his mouth couldn't form any words of its own. The same enigmatic look of the past few hours danced in her eyes. Mellowed out. Open. Yet something was just there, and he couldn't put his finger on it. A moment later, her eyes cast downward. He followed her gaze without thinking, landing on his own chest.

"I know I besmirched her reputation plenty, but maybe the little felon isn't so bad," she said. The way her voice softened didn't go unnoticed by Frank. It couldn't have — it was ripping open something raw and tender right above the spot Chonks was warming with her small body.

"Hm?" he grunted, not trusting his own voice.

For his effort, the smile he received felt undeserved. But… maybe, just maybe, a little less so than usual. It managed to extract a similar one from his own lips, ones that refused to be pried open for fear of whatever noise might've escaped.

"She got you to stay."

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-fin-

A/N: Trying to fill a gap in the market for non-smutty FC fics, it's wild out here. Also, I'll keep this up for a bit, but after it's past its "shelf life", it'll go back into my private posts, because I don't want to go back on my word (explained here ).