#so. that's a win even if my legs hurt so so much and i'm barely on this plane of existence :P

[b-blushes]

Very much experiencing disability/chronic illness as a tightening spiral at the moment and not loving it. Like, trying to gently expand your activity, the circle is briefly larger, you have a larger radius of living outside your home, then you cross an invisible line and fatigue and pain get worse. You still have chores to do outside your house but more local, so the radius is smaller again but you're still going out and doing things, just fewer and less regularly. But because you've already overdrawn your capability, pain and fatigue aren't getting any better, and any overstepping of that ever-tightening radius means it gets smaller again. Then you're staying home and trying to rest, walking in the garden and the radius is smaller but you're outside and still moving, but it still hurts and you're still exhausted and it's still not letting up! It's harder to sleep and harder to move until I'm just circling within my house, then mainly just within a chair, trying to get comfortable. Then after a while, something breaks, it's a relief and you can push outwards again and start to do more, always being careful and wishing you could be carefree with fewer consequences, but more free than you were! On one hand it's not all inevitable but on the other hand it feels like I can't do enough to truly affect it! I will continue to try to keep gently expanding and weathering the contracting, but I don't love the cycle.

[wileys-russo]

don't look back II l.williamson

don't look back II l.williamson

your body clock putting in a shift lately you weren't surprised to see it was hours later than you thought you'd be up, leah of course still very much dead asleep beside you, back turned and you could see her shoulders rising and falling a little the only sign of life.

you turned and attached your body to the defenders, slotting your leg in between hers and placing a tender kiss to her bare shoulder blade, the blonde not even stirring as you called her name softly a few times.

when a gentle approach didn't work, leah's eyes still shut and not even a grunt sounding, you sat up and shook her a few times, a tired exhale and some mumbled gibberish in response.

"lee, baby come on, wakey wakey." you cooed, poking at her cheek as the older girl scrunched her nose and grumbled something, pushing your hand away and scooting across the bed right to the very edge, clearly trying to move away from you making you scoff.

"leah how often do we both have the whole day off? it's like midday, we're running out of sun. please get up!" you groaned, shoving your girlfriends limp body as she sighed heavily, once again pushing your hands away.

"cmon don't be a pest babe, just let me sleep for a couple more minutes." the blonde mumbled tiredly, arms snaking around her pillow as she pulled it closer, eyes not even flickering open.

"you can sleep when you're dead leah. come on lets go for breakfast, coffee on me?" you scooted over from your side of the bed and ducked down to kiss her cheek a few times, getting nothing but silence in return.

"leah catherine!" with a huff you grabbed the extra pillow from the floor, sitting up and repeatedly whacking the older girl in an attempt to get her to stir.

you knew she'd been out late with the team last night after a big win, but mid season it was rare she'd drink enough to have this bad of a hangover, though you also couldn't quite remember what time it was she even joined you in bed.

"you're so annoying man. just fuck off and let me sleep if you can't lay here with me!" the defender snapped harshly, finally opening her eyes and snatching the pillow off you, hauling it to the other side of the room and turning onto her stomach with a grun.

"seriously? you're in this much of a mood? what did you do drink the bar dry last night?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes down at her, rolling them at the singular middle finger which popped out in response to your question.

"m'not hungover, m'tired."

"leah you haven't even let me sleep in the same bed as you without a pillow wall for the last couple of weeks. i'm gone of a morning when you get up and you're gone of an afternoon when i get home. we both have the day off, and isn't the point of a relationship that you want to actually spend quality time together occasionally?" you accused, glaring down at her where her eyes remained firmly shut.

"need i remind you love the pillow fort is because we made a pact no more sex till the end of the season because it tires me out. and cause you've been on a weird sleep schedule with switching out from working nights. if you get in here with me and even so much as touch my thigh, one of us will crack and then it's no stopping from there, its a few more weeks babe you'll live." leah sighed, arm extending out and smacking around blindly until she found your leg, giving it a little squeeze in what she likely assumed was supportive, but really you were more than a little hurt by her blunt honesty.

"right. so I'm basically only here to fulfill your needs when you're horny, run to and from collecting your shit when you leave it laying around and can't find what you need, cook your meals, do your laundry and clean the place up when you trash it because you can't keep it tidy enough to find anything?" you started in disbelief.

"so basically i'm a glorified maid? yeah perfect enjoy your sleep in leah, maybe i can find someone else to give me a kiss every now and then, wish me good morning and grab a coffee with me like i'm not some chore." you spat, swinging out of bed and making a beeline for the door as your girlfriend hurried to sit up.

"no no hey babe wait you know that's not what i meant-" the girl started with a sigh, running a hand through her hair and pausing for a moment, blinking with a wince as her eyes adjusted making yours roll.

"actually no you know what? i don't need to explain myself you know i love you and just because i want a lie in on my day off doesn't mean i don't. stop being so sensitive!" the defender blew it off, flopping back down and turning her back to you.

even further in disbelief at how little this seemed to bother her and that she'd seem to only hear half of what you were saying your mouth was open and ready to really let her have it, all the two of you seemed to be doing together lately was to argue anyway.

but not bothered for the sharp tongued comeback which leah wouldn't mean but would no doubt hurt your feelings even more you decided to leave it.

pulling on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, grabbing the first shoes in reach you left, making sure to slam the door behind you to really send a message.

the winter chill settling in you looked back at the front door, contemplating going back for a jacket or a vest of some kind but with a sigh you decided against it and ran a hand through your rather disheveled hair.

really the only person first and foremost you wanted to talk to right now was leah, and when you'd first started seeing one another it seemed that all the pair of you did was talk.

for hours and hours you covered every topic big and small, you'd often even fall asleep on the phone together, playful teasing following the next day about whose fault it was you were both so exhausted after staying up much later than needed.

you were a paramedic so you were much more well adjusted to a lack of sleep than leah, in fact you weren't sure if leah actually could survive without eight hours a day, well warned by the blonde herself that she was not a morning person and incredibly grumpy.

though you seemed to be the exception to that, leah waking up purposefully early to meet you after your night shift for breakfast, bringing you flowers and showering you with compliments that had your ears turning red and her face painted with a victorious grin at the sight.

you'd always heard of the 'spark' of a relationship dimming, especially from older married coworkers who complained about a lack of romance and spontaneity, feeding this back to leah who would always reassure you with a soft kiss that only happened to 'boring old people'.

yet here you were drowning in the same reality your girlfriend had always gone above and beyond to assure you would never be so, quelling your fears and anxieties with her undivided attention and unconditional love as much as she could spare it.

sometimes you'd think back toward the first year of dating leah and your chest would hurt, all of the romance and the dates and the late nights and the flowers, and you found yourself wanting to scream for taking it all for granted.

nowadays it seemed you and leah were no longer dating, merely...co-existing perhaps? you couldn't quite pinpoint when the 'spark' had begun to dim but what was once a fully lit bonfire was now barely a smoldering ember and the worst part of it was how blind leah was to that even happening.

so though you craved your girlfriend, there was really only one person you felt like going to talk to now.

~

"so you're hanging out with me on a day off." your best friend commented as she sipped at her coffee seemingly amused.

"meaning?" you raised an eyebrow curiously, the blonde smiling with a small shrug. "i love you, but i am not normally your first call for a friday coffee anymore." alessia chuckled as you flushed pink with embarrassment.

"hey i'm just joking, unclench." the striker teased, kicking you under the table seeing the apology about to be hurled her way and the obvious worry in your eyes that she was actually upset.

"i've had years of coffee's with you, you know i've quite enjoyed the break really." the blonde hummed as you now kicked her and rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

"so not that i don't like seeing you, but i'm guessing there's a reason you called? you don't seem yourself." alessia guessed, tone softening and laced with concern as you sighed heavily. "oh its that bad? right come on then." the girl stood, nodding for you to follow her into the living room.

you wasted no time leaving your coffee on the side table and flopping down on the couch you'd slept on a few times now after other arguments with leah, though back then they'd usually blow over by the morning where she'd pick you up with flowers in the front seat and a hundred texts apologising.

but lately your arguments had been different, more personal, more hurtful, you knew one another like the back of your hand and as beautiful a connection that could be, it also meant that leah knew every little insecurity and doubt to pick at in order to hit you where it really mattered.

"okay. let it out!" alessia made herself comfortable in the armchair she'd dragged to sit across from you, legs crossed and somewhat resembling a therapist as you laid down on the couch and exhaled, taking a pause before word vomiting what you'd been holding in for weeks now.

"-and now its like she doesn't even care if i'm there or not, so why am i even there?" you finished, throwing your hands up as the room fell silent and alessia seemed to take a moment to process everything.

"oh my god she's your captain and your team mate and your friend less shit this wasn't appropriate!" you had a sudden realization as you sat up panicked and the blonde hurried to sit down next to you.

"hey hey no, it's fine, breathe." alessia inhaled and exhaled deeply as you copied her, nodding once you'd managed to slow your heart rate a little.

"yes leah is all of those things, but you've been my best friend since you cried at the school gate on the first day of school and my mum made me come over and ask if you were okay." alessia teased as you groaned and covered your face with a pillow.

"less that is not how it happened!" "that is absolutely how it happened."

"but meaning, leah is also my best friends girlfriend, and besides who was it that introduced the two of you anyway?" alessia reminded as you exhaled and she yanked the throw pillow from your grip, tossing it to the floor.

"i love leah yes, but the way she's treating you isn't okay. you're way more than just something warm she comes home to or someone who pairs up her socks and does her laundry." alessia squeezed your knee as you puffed out air in an attempt at a chuckle.

"she really is terrible at keeping her socks in pairs."

"you're also the girl in the stands she looks at every time we do the post game lap, and who makes her smile at her phone like an idiot, who she is always proudly boasting about and why she lies about needing to leave training ten minutes early so she can pick you up food before you get home from work." alessia smiled sadly which you returned, sighing when you realized you couldn't actually remember the last time those things had happened.

"but, i really think you need to tell her all of this though. i love you but you do sometimes think people can read your mind and know how you're feeling without you expressing it in the slightest." alessia poked your forehead as you huffed.

"thats not to excuse how she's been acting, but i think she needs the wake up call of hearing from you how she's been acting is actually making you feel." alessia promised as you nodded, the blonde pulling you in for a hug as you sighed and rested your head on her shoulder.

"i love you less." "i love you too, even if my mum forced me to be your friend." "that is not how it happened!"

~

pulling into the driveway you cut your car off and took a moment to collect your thoughts, having been driving around rehearsing what you wanted to say for awhile now until you'd charged up the courage to go through with it.

letting yourself inside you were surprised to see leah had actually moved from the bed, head turning to look at you from where she was sat on the lounge watching something, draped in a vintage arsenal tracksuit.

"you're back! babe where'd you go? i texted you, no reply." the blonde shook her phone at you, clearly having paid no mind to the argument you'd had this morning or else her first words may have been an apology, but you on the other hand weren't letting it go that easily.

"oh sorry i went to go and learn how not to be so sensitive." you pouted sarcastically as her once happy expression dropped, but you ignored it and walked off to the bathroom.

"christ i look a mess." you mumbled, wincing at the bags under your eyes and looking around for your brush to pull through your semi knotted hair.

"hey love come on don't be like this, i didn't mean what i said." leah rasped, arms encircling your waist from behind and resting her forehead against your back with a hum. "you know how i am in the mornings. how about we go for lunch yeah?" leah suggested as you rummaged through the vanity cupboard.

"fuck off leah." you muttered, pulling her arms off of you and finally grabbing your hairbrush, trying to walk off but her hand grabbed your wrist tugging you back toward her.

"babe i'm really sorry, you know i love you more than anything." the defender husked quietly, grabbing your other hand and interlacing your fingers, bringing your palm to her mouth with a kiss and a soft smile that normally would melt you like butter.

but today, all it did was make you angry.

"of course you do. i do whatever you want, whenever you want it. we fuck when it suits you, i go to your games, go out with your friends, come home from working a twelve hour shift and do your washing so you have a clean uniform for training." you wrenched your hands from hers and poked at her chest with every accusation.

"but when i want to actually spend a night sleeping with my girlfriend and have her touch me in a way thats filled with love and not just lust. thats not okay because you're like some horny teenage cretin who gets a metaphorical boner when i touch your thigh? we're both in our twenties and sleeping with a pillow wall between us, do you know how ridiculous that sounds leah?" you laughed but it was one of desperation and panic, not a drop of humor to be found.

"so i'm here for what? moral support? to look at? to play with when you're bored?" you questioned rhetorically, shaking your head and throwing your brush to the floor, making a beeline for the bedroom as you heard her scoff behind you.

"i am trying to make up for this morning and trying to show you that you're so much more to me and you won't even look me in the eye. if you don't want an apology then what the fuck do you want?" leah called out, tugging at her hair in frustration as you paused.

"what do i want? how about my girlfriend back i'd fucking love that leah, because whoever this is-" you spun around and paused to gesture at her. "-sure as shit isn't my girlfriend, or at least the one i remember falling head over heels in love with." your tone dropped in those last few words, pausing to squeeze your eyes shut and take a breath.

"baby i'm still here. i'm still me. i'm still your girlfriend and last time I checked you were still mine." leah replied with an air of confidence that made your stomach drop, really solidifying for you that she may have been listening to you but she wasn't hearing you.

"really? because last time i checked when you have a girlfriend you go on dates with them, you make time for them and you actually enjoy that time with them." you shook your head and threw your hands up.

"and you hold their hand, and you talk to them about anything and everything because you want to. you kiss them out of love and not obligation, you say good morning and goodnight and when you lay in bed with them you can hold one another without it turning into sex. and when it does turn into sex it's supposed to be filled with intimacy not just a quick fuck with no feelings attached and where you ignore the person afterwards and put up a pathetic pillow wall leah!" you spat, wiping a single angry tear that escaped.

"and if you can't see that lately you haven't been acting like my friend let alone my girlfriend, then maybe I should go stay with my parents and wait for whenever my girlfriend comes back, because I miss her leah." you finished as your voice cracked and your chest heaved with shallow breaths, waiting for her to say something, anything.

but when the silence became suffocating you shook your head and made your way to the front door. throwing it open you gave one last look back and could see the blonde begging you to stay with her eyes.

but you didn't want a look, you wanted words. words you knew she'd say after you were gone, words she thought you wanted to hear and that would get you to return to her but wouldn't contain any actual substance.

words that would come through voicemails and text messages and that would kill you to ignore, but if she wasn't hearing you through words, maybe silence was the only way to get through to her.

"i'll come back for some of my stuff later, goodbye leah." you muttered dejectedly, forcing your eyes away and stepping outside.

you paused to take a breath before wrapping your arms around yourself, giving the comfort and hug you'd been after from the blonde behind you for far too long now.

maybe your girlfriend would come back to you, or maybe she wouldn't.

[miirohs]

sore wa hanabi [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: n/a an: this was inspired by hanabi by ikimonogakari and motospeed 24 by bibi, i fucking love those songs so much UGH. pls ignore the plot holes i was tired and it was like 12 when i started!!! i love writing chat

The last of the sunlight rippled across the water, a slow breeze blowing past you on the steps of the house, watching as the city seemed to come alive.

The sounds of a motorcycle in the distance distracted you, head shooting up from your knees as Professor Sato limped out of the front door, gently setting down his walking stick as he sat next to you.

“He’s coming back home then?”

It wasn’t really a question, rather a statement.

“I believe so. He was out for interviews almost all day.”

He didn’t respond, digging into the pocket of his khaki vest, pulling out a worn flyer and handing it to you.

“What is this?” You asked, gently unfolding the colorful paper.

“It was a fireworks festival. I’m sure they still hold them yearly around here, and Emiko took Kenji often when he was younger. I’ve seen it myself from the apartments sometimes, and they’re a sight to see.” He explained softly, smiling into the distance as your eyes flitted over the contents.

“I see, but what exactly-”

“I think you should go see them, you and Kenji need some alone time as well,” He didn’t let you finish, poking your leg with his walking stick, “Plus, it would be good for me and Mina because we need to get more data on Emi, and Ken won’t let us do that without breath down my shoulders about us hurting her.” 

You could barely respond as he got up, limping his way back to the door without further explanation. “But Ken is going to want to see Emi and-”

“Me and Mina can take care of her if anything happens. If the boy troubles you about that, tell him I told you he was to do so. He may be Ultraman now, but I'm still his father!” He cackled, shaking his head affectionately as he closed the door gently.

The light was gone now, but you could hear the sound of his bike getting closer, rubbing your arms to regain your warmth as you waited. Soon enough, Ken appeared against the twilight sky, silhouette illuminated by the headlights of his parked bike.

“Hey baby, what are you doing out here?” he greeted, tone filled with a mixture of exhaustion and relief upon seeing you.

“The weather was nice out, and the view was gorgeous.” You responded, turning to him as he sat down next to you. “The view is gorgeous from inside too,” He joked, intertwining a hand into yours, “I don’t get why you wanna sit out here, it’s cold and you don’t even have a jacket on.”

You clutched the paper in your other, taking a deep breath in. You had no reason not to, it could be a good surprise.

“You know, i was thinking we haven’t had a proper date night since we moved here and-”

“We had a movie night though!” Ken chimed in, staring at you, confused. It was like he couldn’t see where you were going with it. “Yes, we had a movie night honey, but it was interrupted every ten minutes by the loud baby we happen to be taking care of, remember?” You said, exasperated. 

“I would baby, but what about Emi?” 

“Your dad and Mina can take care of her. He said you’d trouble me about it, and that I should tell you that he insists.” You tilted your head towards the city.

Ken chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like him honestly, but where do you wanna go? You gotta have something planned if you’re insisting on dragging me out.”

“I was thinking we could ride through the city, I'm pretty sure the seaside looks gorgeous at night.” You could barely hold back your smile as he wrinkled his nose, it was almost like you could see the gears turning in his head.

The exhaustion almost seemed to leave his face, a smile taking its place. “Alright, you win. Go get your jacket and meet me out here in… five?” You nodded, getting up from your spot.

“Five minutes,” you repeated to yourself softly, heading inside to grab your jacket. The excitement was building as you folded up the paper, gently hiding it in your pocket as you grabbed your helmet.

He was already near the motorcycle, leaned over the dashboard as you approached him, barely able to contain the excitement.

“I think you remember how to ride a bike, right baby?” You nodded, allowing him to put your helmet on for you, securing it till you felt comfortable. “Of course. I’m ready when you are.”

Ken winked, helping you onto the bike before climbing on himself. The engine roared to life and you wrapped your arms around his waist, adrenaline running through your veins as you started down the path. The wind was fast, seawater blowing into your face as you both skirted across the water.

​​The city was a blur of nightlights as you weaved through the streets, laughs of delight leaving your mouth as you turned and sped down the straights. The neon signs and billboards created a colorful mosaic, a dazzling display of light. 

Ken glanced back at you briefly, shouting something at you, a wide smile on his face as he pressed down on the accelerator.

“This feels so familiar, what are you doing to make this happen baby?!” You pressed your face into his face, barely hiding the grin on your face as you shouted back. “A magician never tells Ji!” 

You slowed near the city limits, allowing for you to nudge him in the direction you wanted to go. The city faded into quieter roads, riding on the outskirts of the city, the smell of the sea intermingling with the scent of his perfume. The waves crashed against the seawall, spraying you with water.

You looked up, narrowed eyes growing wide as bright lights went off in the sky.

“There, look!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the distant explosions of the fireworks. You squeezed Ken’s waist, taking one hand off to point up at the sky.

He followed your hand, relaxing in awe as he watched the colorful display unfold above you. It wasn’t long until you found a place to park, Ken eagerly pulling you off the motorcycle, running down to the beach with you in hand.

“Sup- Whoa, surprise Ji!” You laughed as you both stumbled, pulling closer to the source of the lights. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath your feet as you stood on the shore, fireworks exploding in a variety of colors.

Greens, pinks and golds colored the sky, painting the dark with bangs of light, fizzling out just as quickly as they came up.

“Your mom used to bring you here before you moved, didn’t she?” You looked at him, the light reflecting in his glassy eyes, softened by nostalgia.

"Yeah, she did. How did you know?"

“I’ve heard a thing or two about your trips.” You commented to the side, allowing him to lead you aimlessly, "I thought you might like to revisit those memories." You squeezed his hand as he paused once more, turning to look at you.

“She used to call them something else- hanabi. It was the Japanese word for fireworks, I think.” He brought up a hand, wiping his eye on his free arm.

“That sounds beautiful,” You turned to him, floating closer and closer every second.

There was nothing more to be said, holding his hand with as much affection as you could, fireworks exploding somewhere in the background. The light illuminated the sharpness of his features, and you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Ken. 

His lips met yours, soft yet firm. The fireworks seemed to pause for that brief moment, allowing you to be trapped in the bubble you’d made for yourselves. Ken's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if he was never going to let go.

en rested his forehead against yours as you pulled apart. His eyes scanned yours, as if trying to capture every detail of the moment to memory.

"I've missed this," Ken murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as you pulled away.

“No kidding, we should do this more often shouldn’t we?” You giggled, running your finger down the ridges of his nose, booping the tip.

Ken nodded quietly, allowing you to lean in closer once more. "Definitely. It's moments like these that make life more bearable."

You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. The last of the embers faded into the sky, pieces of your heart drifting off with them as you watched Ken.

"Let's come back here again," Ken suggested softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "Definitely," you agreed. You could get used to it.

[bunny-jpeg]

the dnf club (vol. 4)

lance stroll

tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, mating press, car sex, breast play, hickies & bites, semi-public sex, dirty talk, mentions of children

a/n: thank you for the warm reception for the others in this little series! i'm always open to hearing about what ideas you may have. my inbox is open <3

carlos edition // franco edition // alex edition // nico edition

you know this was defeating for lance. the kind of defeating that left you feeling horrible for your boyfriend. while he wasn't going to win the wdc, it was important to have a good season. and when you watched the red flag be drawn and him hauled back to the paddock. you only knew how to be there for him.

while he seated to cool off, you pressed yourself up against him. the level he was at meant that your breasts were in his face. and while it was an innocent action. lance grabbed your ass when no one was looking. you knew what would happen tonight, to get the anger out from a shitty performance.

you two barely got to the car before lance was all over you. he practically guided you into the backseat. the car was in a far part of the parking lot and with tinted windows. it was a tad cramped back there but you two would make due. especially when lance got his hands on you.

"you really are my number one fan, huh? but i guess you're much more than that. you're everything to me." he pushed up your t-shirt to expose your bra underneath. a black lacy number that made the blood rush south for lance, "anything i want, you give. quite an admirable thing." he got the bra off of you and his mouth on your chest. he tongue grazed across your nipples. he gave them both attention before he started to leave heavy marks across your chest.

he wanted to mark you. he wanted to see pretty bruises on your chest that'll last for days on end. and when they faded, he would just add more. he felt the disappointment of such a horrible loss. he didn't even get a place in the race, he couldn't complete it. and it made emotion swirl in his gut as he rubbed your thigh. soon enough you got your jeans off and your panties. you were left naked in the backseat with your lover at the track.

"you look prettier with my marks." he said as he pressed one of the bruises on your collarbone, "the kind of pretty that makes me go crazy. thank you, thank you." he groaned, "for letting me take out all the anger."

you cupped his face and looked into his dark eyes, you said to him, "you'd never actually hurt me, lance. so i'm not worried." then kissed him square on the mouth. you helped him out of his jeans and his aston martin t-shirt. you were pressed into the back corner of the backseat with your taller boyfriend crowded in your space. he took you by the legs and pressed them into your chest.

it allowed him to hit your pussy at just the right area, exposed in the air of the car. slowly the windows started to fog up as he sank into you. his cock really did hit every right place inside of you. the blunt head rubbed up against your g-spot as he started to move his hips up against your ass.

and then like butter over popcorn, the anger melted off of his shoulders. he groaned as he rutted against you. while it wasn't the more comfortable position, it was enough to get the two of you going. you felt the fire in your gut as he moved against you.

"fuck, baby." he said as he worked his hips against you, "you feel like a dream under me." his words were tense as pleasure combed through his body. there was something about you that just got him riled up. even on his worst days, he still had you. he had all of you. he allowed himself to bask in what made you amazing and fuck you until he got his fill. he could feel the pleasure on his tongue and seep into his blood.

you whined, "please, lance. we have to be quiet." then felt him hit just the right spots that made you tense up and moan. your bruised nipples got hard and the additional feeling made the pleasure run faster through you.

the air of the car got warm as the two of you moved together. the sex was hot and with your knees to your chest the pleasure only got more intense.

"next year.' you panted, "it'll go great. you'll get them next time." you moaned as lance continued to thrust up against you in just the right way. you felt the hammer in your chest as he continued to fuck you with heavy thrusts.

"it will." he said, "and then we'll celebrate the victory. you, me and a nice hotel bed. maybe some champagne, maybe i'll even tie you up." he chuckled, "i bet you'd love that. if i took my belt and put it around those pretty wrists."

you clenched around him and he got his answer. he continued to fuck you, bully the blunt head of his cock against your most softest areas. he knew exactly how to make you feel good. let the dirty words come off his tongue. you whined and he chuckled lowly.

"ah, i bet you'd love that. even if i lost next year. you'd still let me mark up your little body. let me ruin that sweet fucking cunt." he groaned, "fuck, you feel amazing. you know i'd give you anything you needed or wanted. everything i have is yours. and everything you have in mine." he shuddered with a heavy want as he continued to fuck you achy cunt.

the sounds of sex filled the car, and the scent of sweat paired with it. the car rocked a little as he moved and you tried to meet his thrusts. his weight pressed on you as he had you in a mating press. your pussy exposed in the low light coming from the parking garage. the sight of you under him was beautiful. you were so perfect for him, you'd happily give yourself over to him at any chance. let him use that sweet cunt for stress relief.

"fuck, lance." you moaned as the pace was picked up. you knew you weren't going to last much longer. the pleasure was a thick throb in your head as he fucked you. his lips captured any skin he could find. trailed them across your cheeks and jaw. he even laid a small hickey on the curve of your jawbone. which made you grow even more wet.

he gave a few more thrusts because he slammed his entire length into your achy cunt and finished inside of you. but he wasn't going to leave you without pleasure. he continued to rut up against you. he could feel the fire in his gut as he moved against you. your noises got a bit ore higher pitched as you felt the slam of pleasure inside of your needy core.

you whimpered and whined as he continued to rut up against you. he fucked you through your orgasm, and even a second orgasm for himself. he made sure that not a drop was wasted as he slowed to a stop. he pulled out and when your hips dropped, a bit of his cum got onto the leather of the seated.

you both panted heavily. lance eyed your naked body. you looked at him and his dark eyes soon lingered on you. he pulled you in for another heated kiss and you knew this wasn't going to be the only round tonight. you just hoped that the rest of them would be somewhere a little more comfortable.

-

you watched lance pull into second place at the 2025 brazil grand prix. you stood with the rest of the team and when he crossed the finish line, everyone cheered. and you looked to the baby in your arms.

he was sound asleep despite his father's near victory. your little escapade in the backseat of the car led to the eventually birth of your son three months ago. he was asleep in your arm, ears covered with noise cancelling headphones while lance was having a stellar season.

"he did it, daddy got podium." you whispered to your son.

you kissed the baby on his round little face and heard lance over the radio. you knew this year would be better, and that was becoming fact. <3

[thehistoriangirl]

Hi!

Could you write something for Viktor in this Father's Day please??

Thank you so much, have a great day 🖤

Hi anon! For sure :3 I hope you like it

Little Genius

Viktor x Fem!Reader---1.4K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship (they're married) | Pregnancy | Fluff | Viktor would be such a great dad yall can't change my mind | Happy Father's day to all who celebrate :3 | This is not proofread at all bc Father's Day is over in less than an hour i'm sorryyyy ;---; |

Viktor felt your head nudging against his side, making him lower the book he was reading since yesterday—since you had finished it without waiting for him to read it out loud. A small betrayal Viktor washed away with your extra long session of kisses after dinner.

He reached to turn off the lamp, your hand brushing his before he could pull the tiny rope. Golden eyes took in your alert face, body wiggling closer to him so Viktor could rest his right leg over your hip.

His hum reverberated in your whole body due to the closeness of your cheek and his chest, heart beating content as you melted against the soft touches, the nonsensical patterns he drew against the thin, worn-out fabric of your pajamas.

“Not tired yet?” he asked, looking at the clock hung on the wall almost reaching midnight.

“I want to show you something,” you said, fiddling with the loose threads of his favorite blanket, the one he packed from his house in Zaun and kept in Piltover, even now.

He mourned the sudden loss of your warmth once you incorporated in your elbows, reaching for the nightstand on your side of the bed. Though curiosity made his golden eyes twinkle as your fingers scouted the insides of the last drawer.

“What is it?” Viktor peeked over your shoulder, seeing your hand gently cradling a small, white box tied close with a golden ribbon. “Are you going to propose, my love? Because I’m sorry to tell you this, but I beat you to it around two years ago,” he chuckled, rubbing with his thumb over the golden band decorating a finger in your left hand. Soft, slightly dry lips kissing the reverse of your palm once you glared playfully at him.

“You’re not funny,” you said, thought your curved lips testified completely the opposite.

“I hate to argue with the love of my life, but I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t have win you over.”

“Well, what if I say that you win me over with your terrible jokes?”

Viktor feigned a deep betrayal just like they were represented in the Opera House; hand clutching his shirt over his heart, closing his eyes while his face twisted in a grimace of hurt. “Your words break my heart.” His hands enveloped your waist, pulling you against his chest. “You better have a plan to wound up my poor heart. Your devote lover is very sensible.”

You beamed at him, eyes crinkled in crescents. “I do have one.” Wriggling against his tangled hug, you sat with your legs crossed, settled right in front of Viktor, putting the box on his chest. “Open it.”

The mysterious object was covered with a layer of paper, and for a few moments all that it could be heard inside your shared room was the wrinkled paper being pushed away to reveal the gift.

“Huh?” Viktor frowned, his fingers brushing the softest fabric as he raised the clothing out the box to see it against the light of the bright, golden lamp.

A vivid, burnt yellow bib made of crochet in a pattern oddly familiar for his own baby clothes kept inside a bag under his mother’s bed back in Zaun. The lettering read: Papa’s Little Genius.

He gazed at you, founding your expression of pressed lips about to burst into giggles. “My love?”

“Do you know what day is today?” you said, brushing the empty box away to straddle his hips.

“Sunday?” He could barely articulate any words with your comfortable weight pressed against him.

You lowered over his chest, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck and nibbling on his ear just for the fun to see his pale skin flush deep crimson every time. “It’s Father’s Day,” your voice sent shivers down his spine, goosebumps traveling all over his body as his body torn between your allure making pool molten desire down his stomach, and his brain scrambling around by your shushed words.

“Father’s…” he said, holding your shoulders as he looked down toward you and over the bib resting on the pillow next to him. His golden eyes opened, a gasp hitching his already quickening breath. “Are you… you… I… we…”

You burst out laughing, your vision became blurry with the halo of tears pooling in your eyes. “Yes...,” you whispered, as if it were such a delicate thing, a dream, almost, that if talking too loud about it would make it disappear. “You’re going to be a Papa very soon.”

His teary eyes matched yours as he hugged him flush against him, taking in the smell of your hair, how perfectly he feels blessed at just basking in your presence. And now, not only had you given him your whole body and soul and heart. No, you were about to give him a legacy—a future carved in his blood and flesh.

A child.

His child.

His rough fingerpads caressed your cheeks, wishing to take in every little detail about this moment so he could treasure it for eternity.

“I thought I was the luckiest person in the whole world when you accepted to be my spouse, but now?” He laughed, wiping your tears away. “Now words can’t describe how I feel knowing that you’re carrying our baby.”

Viktor chuckled, his smile that one of a child’s that had just discovered the wonders of life for the first time. His hand cradling your belly.

“Hi, little one,” he muttered, almost afraid to cause a bad impression to his unborn baby. Fingers gently caressing the soft skin under your shirt. “I’m your Papa. Hi,” Viktor repeated, finding himself in a loss of words. “I… I promise I’m going to read a lot of books about parenting, and that I’m going to come up with pretty toys for you, and I promise that I will make daily time to play with you… and sing to you… and tucking you to bed,” his voice broke, a knot straining his throat. “I don’t know anything about being a father, but I promise you I will be the best for you, little one.”

With a groan, he sat on the bed, lowering his head to kiss your belly, hands interlocked in the small of your back. “Only the best for you and your stunning mother. I hope you look just like her,” he said with a chuckle. “Though I will struggle to ground if that occurs… hmm, just be easy on me, alright?”

He looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and pure, unfiltered adoration.

“I just know about them, but I already love them so,” Viktor confessed, caressing your hair, his hands pulling down your chin so his lips could encounter yours. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He mumbled between kisses of all kind—as soft as the brush of a feather, bold ones with his teeth biting your bottom lip, his tongue exploring your mouth in a slow, sensual dance. “I love you. I love you both,” he corrected, patting your belly.

“Do you like the bib?” you hummed, and he laughed. “Your mother scold me a lot because I kept getting lost while knitting the pattern.

“I knew I recognized that style.” He scanned the bib, arching a playful eyebrow toward you. “Little Genius, eh? Pretty high standards, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, swatting his chest lightly. “You say that as if you won’t let them see all your blueprints and chalkboards full of equations the moment they’re born.”

Viktor’s heart fluttered at the thought. He would have to babyproof his studio—and for sure his child wouldn’t step inside the lab without a full-body protective uniform, but the thought of sharing with someone else besides you about his vision of the world and the place he had in it made him feel like he was inside paradise.

A personal goal to make this world much happier, and safer, and fairer.

His baby’s world.

“I love you,” he said, kissing your whole face with delicate kisses that poured out everything words could never express. His devotion. His love. Everything. “I will never be able to pay you back for this…this miracle.”

“I don’t want you to pay me back,” you said, hands resting over his quickly-beating heart. “I love you, too. And your love for both of us is more than enough.”

He smiled widely, showing you that grin you adored so much, that made you melt and wish you could, too, give him the whole world.

“How lucky I am,” he hummed, settling you against his chest. “To have my whole universe safely resting in my arms.”

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— conti cup celebrations | like mother, like daughter

Summary: the day of the conti cup is exciting for young reader.

Pairings: katie mccabe x child reader

"Mammy, Mammy, wake up!" You squeal in excitement, crawling up onto the bed as you make it your mission to wake her up, "Wake up, it's game day!"

You were smart to know that today is a very special game day, the final game in a tournament between your mammy's team and their rivals, Chelsea, but it was exciting because it meant your mammy's team was in within the chance to win the big cup, just like they did last year.

And what's even better this year is that you get to be your mammy's mascot, again!

You didn't care much for the rival team, Chelsea. You have always thought that the players on the team were big bullies, they were always mean when they pushed your mammy onto the ground and you didn't like them for that.

Your mammy is your hero and she always looks so cool when she's on the pitch, you can't wait to watch the game and shout loudly for her and the rest of the girls in the team.

Last year when your mammy won the cup with her team, she drank out of the big special cup, but you were sad that you weren't allowed to drink out of it because only the older girls were allowed to do that.

You hope that this year this year you can do that, after all it's been a whole year since your mammy said that.

"Mammy, wake up!" You continue to nudge her impatiently, still continuing to poke and prod her until she eventually does open her eyes, "You're awake!" You cheer in delight.

"I'm awake," Your mammy groans, slowly opening her eyes to reveal you sitting directly on top of her, "Its' still early, baby. What're you doing up?" she questions.

"It's game day, Mammy! You gots' to wake up!" You squeal in excitement, doing no more than to continue to jump up and down on her stomach.

"The game isn't until much later on, Rascal, remember?" Your mammy reminds you, chuckling in slight amusement as she tries to pull you into her arms with the hope that you'll lie back down and fall asleep beside her, "Why don't you come lie beside Mammy and we can try and sleep for a bit longer?" she suggests.

"No, Mammy. Up now!" Your reluctance to go back to sleep is evident, you don't want to do that and your confused why your mammy doesn't want to get up yet either, "It's game day, Mammy. Up, up!" You repeat loudly.

Your Mammy exhales a small sigh, "Alright, alright. Fine, I'll get up," She mumbles before she turns to take a brief glance at the time on her phone and her eyes almost buldge out of her sockets when she see's that its' barely even 6 yet, "Well, it looks like Mammy's gonna have a long day today then, isn't she?" she speaks aloud.

"Game day, Mammy! Game day! Watch Beff score goal, kick kick!"" You squeal in excitement about the football match before you jump of the bed and race around the carpetted bedroom floor, kicking a pretend football in the air as you throw your hands up in celebration, "Goal!" You cheer loudly.

Your Mammy laughs in amusement as she throws her duvet back, "What about Mammy's goals, huh? Or are they not good enough now?" she jokes.

"Meh, they're alright," You tell her cheekily as you shrug your shoulders, "But I prefer Beff's' instead and Lessi's too, they're so cool, Mammy!" You declare enthusiastically.

"What?" Your Mammy gasps in shock at the abrupt annoucement of your preference to the other girls in the team, "My own kid. I... I feel betrayed," she speaks dramatically, faking her hurt.

"Silly, Mammy. I still loves you the most!" You state, throwing your small arms around her legs, "But Beffs' goals are better!" You insist, trying to soften the blow.

"Your breaking my heart here, you little rascal," Your mammy chuckles, scooping you up into her arms and proceeding to unleash tickles on your stomach, "Come on, lets' go and get some breakfast in that tummy of yours, shall we?"

You let out a sudden squeal as you feel yourself being lifted up of the ground, you're not a fan of being tickled and your Mammy knows this as well, "Ah, M... Mammy! Put me... Put me down!" You shriek in demand, thrashing around in her arms.

Your Mammy laughs in amusement before she places you back down on the floor so you could run downstairs ahead of her, "Careful on the stairs, rascal!" she warns hesistantly, knowing your eagerness to rush around the house and injure yourself sometimes.

"I'm being super duper careful!" You beam a smile at her, cautious of each step on the stairs as your little hand holds onto the bannister, "It's game day! It's game day!" Your shouting is loud enough to wake the entire house, even though your auntie Ella is such a deep sleeper that your Mammy says she won't even wake up during an earthquake.

You wanted to test the theory when your Mammy told you that, so you tried to wake her up once by jumping on her but she didn't even stir.

You guess your Mammy was right after all.

"Hold on a minute, rascal," Your Mammy shouts aloud, trying to stop you rushing off once you both arrive at the training centre, however, your little legs' are already running off to try and find the rest of the girls.

More especially Beth and Viv, two of your favourite people.

You didn't really like rules sometimes, they are boring to stick to sometimes but in your defence, your Mammy let go off your hand and that's a rookie error to do.

"A-ha, I've gotcha!" You are suddenly lifted off the ground much to your disappointment, "And where do you think that you're running off to then?" The familiar voice of your Mammy's new girlfriend, Caitlin questions, curiously.

"Ah, no, no-- Put me... Put me down!" You immediately thrash about in the older girls arms, not happy at all now you had the disadvantage to run around like you wanted to do, "Put me down, Caitlin. I... I don't want you!" You whine in protest.

"Ah, what the-- Did you... Did you just bite me?" Caitlin exclaims, feeling the sudden sharp nip on her arm as she looks at you in her arms before she looks back at her skin where there's a fresh set of tiny teeth marks now.

"Maybe, but I did tell you to put me down so its' your fault," You shrug your shoulders and feign your innocence.

"There you are, little rascal," Your Mammy finally catches up to you, seeing you were in Caitlins' arms, "Hi, Cait," She fondly smiles at her girlfriend and you can't help but wrinkle your face up in disgust.

It's not like you didn't like your Mammy's new girlfriend, she was funny and she did play with you most of the time, but you still wish that your Mammy and Mama were still together and you could be a family.

Things were different now and you didn't cope well with change, you didn't like how things were now.

"Someone looks tired?" Caitlin jokes, noting the clear exhaustion in your Mammy's face.

Your Mammy chuckles slightly, "Well that's because somebody wanted to get up at 6, didn't they?" She diverts her look in your direction and you can't help but pout, you only wanted to get up and get ready for the game.

"Mammy! Caitlins' bein' mean!" You complain with wide eyes full of accusation as Caitlin finally places you back down on the floor.

"She's being mean? How so?" Your Mammy wonders curiously, kneeling down to your level before she glances up to look at her girfriend in amusement.

"She wouldn't put me down, so I bit her!" You confess almost proudly, crossing your arms defiantly.

"What?" Your Mammy furrows her eyebrows in shock, "Rascal, you don't people. We've already spoken about this before, haven't we, hm?" She scolds you gently, trying to stifle her laughter.

"I do, Mammy, but Caitlin still bein' mean picking me up!" You insist, pouting.

Your Mammy exhales a sigh and shakes her head, "What do we say?" She prompts you to apologise, raising her eyebrow.

Why is your Mammy taking her side? Now she's being mean as well.

"Mammy," You whine in frustration.

"Y/N," Your mammy chides, giving you a pointed look.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you let out a little dramatic huff in protest before begrudingly turning to Caitlin, "Sorry, I bit you... But it was your own fault cos' I did warn you," You mumble innocently, not ready to quite admit your defeat yet.

"Mammy," You tug nervously at her hand as you can hear the loud noise around the stadium from the fans.

Crouching down to your level, she looks at you, "What's the matter, rascal? Is it too loud for you?" she wonders.

"Its' loud," You mumble, clutching a hold of her hand.

You should be used to this level of noise from fans, you've been a mascot for your Mammy, your Mama and the rest of the girls plenty of times.

It still didn't make you like it though.

"Do you want me to pick you up? Its' not too late to go and sit with your Auntie Ella if you're feeling nervous about walking out with me," Your Mammy tries to figure out the solution to the problem.

"Up, please," You ask nicely, lifting your arms up in the air and without much hesitance, your Mammy does exactly that so you're now tall enough to be able to see the rest of the girls.

"That better?" Your Mammy questions, smiling at you kindly.

"Better," You shyly bury your face in her top, almost as if to try and hide from everyone else out there.

"You're not going shy now, are you, huh? Just a few more minutes and then we'll be walking out," Your Mammy explains, keeping a safe hold of you in her arms, "Then you can go and sit with your auntie to watch the game," She adds.

"No goal again," You huff in protest and slump back against your aunties' chest where you have been perched on her lap for majority of the game, waving the silly little fan that you were given to occupy yourself.

So at least that was amusing to do and you had a blast waving it around.

"Just be patient, kiddo," Your auntie, Ella, chuckles while sensing your overall frustration since the majority has been the same way.

Most of the game in your opinion wasn't that eventful nor was it pyshical enough, you had a moment when Chelsea nearly scored you wanted to jump off your aunties' lap and run onto the pitch to riot , but your auntie already was a few steps ahead and had a tight grip on the back of your shirt, already predicting the moment.

The scariest moment in the game was when Frida went down right in front of your eyes, however, being the young age that you were, you just thought she wanted to take a nap on the pitch like you did sometimes, "Silly, Frida. Why's she sleepin' now when there's a game to play?" You couldn't help but ask innocently.

"I guess... I guess she's tired," Ella makes up the excuse quickly, trying her best to shield your eyes away from what is going on, but you don't miss how eerie the silence was in the stadium followed by your Mammy's yelling.

Even though your eyes were covered by your aunties' hand, you still recognise it because you've heard it enough times, non of its' ever directed to you though unless its' when your in danger.

"Wanna see," You whine and try push your aunties' hands' away that are covering your own eyes, you don't know what's going on around you now but it seems a bit scary.

You don't really know or understand what's going on around you, but you're doing your best to be able to see what is happening. You don't like the way that your Mammy yelled that loud, but regardless of it all, your auntie refused to let up on the decision to shield you away from it until play is resumed on the field.

"Goal!" You shout in triumph as you watch Stina score the winning goal in the 116th minute of the game and the whole stadium errupts in noise straight away, "Stina scored! Stina scored-- Auntie Ella, did you see it?" Your buzzing with excitement and have to check that your Auntie witnessed it as well.

"I did see that, kid," Ella chuckles as she watches your enthusiasm.

"We've won!" You shout loudly for your auntie and everyone else around to hear, you didn't care much about the volume of your voice as the girls had won the game and you were to excited to care about everyone else's opinions. "Mammy won! The girls won!" You continue to shout, eager to already get away from your seat and in the direction of the pitch.

"They have won, you're right," Ella chuckles, not minding you jumping up and down on her lap in your excitement.

"That means they'll win the big trophy, doesn't it?" You turn your attention back to your auntie, "I can't wait to see that!" You exclaim.

"Hopefully, short stack," Ella nods at your question, although nothing is completely guaranteed as anything could happen in the final minutes of the extra time in the game.

Thankfully, you didn't have to wait all that long before the game ended and the celebrations could begin.

"They won! They won!" You cheer loudly, shifting from your spot on your aunties' lap to the empty seat beside as you jump up and down in glee, you were very excited to see them win the game in the end.

"They did win, short stack," Your auntie agrees happily, grinning and clapping her hands in celebration.

"Mammy!" You cheer and throw yourself into her arms as she walks over to you, donned with a big medal wrapped around her neck that looks super cool to you, "Mammy, you won!" You repeat excitedly.

"We did, my little rascal," Your Mammy grins and engulfs you in a hug before she sweeps you up into her arms with such ease like she hasn't just played a full blown 120 minutes on the pitch, "You like the medal?" she questions.

"Looks cool. I wear it, please?" You ask her hopeful, you didn't care if it was heavy or not.

Your Mammy luckily enough didn't think twice about it before she took it from her neck and placed it around your own, "Be careful it's a bit heavy," she chuckles before she grins and motions for you to point in the direction of the camera where your auntie doesn't hesitate to snap a quick photo of the moment.

"Bit heavy," You repeat in a whining tone as you lift it up and look at it in awe, "We go on pitch now and celebrate?" You wonder, curiously.

"Well I couldn't celebrate on my own now, could I?" Your Mammy chuckles, already thinking ahead as she carries you onto the pitch to join in with the celebration with the rest of the girls and the big fancy cup.

With that being said, you soon end up involved in the rest of the celebrations, happy enough to run in between the rest of the girls with an Ireland flag wrapped around you while you giggle your head off.

"Can I drink it?" You question innocently, looking in the direction of the big cup and watching as its' passed around the girls.

You don't miss the laughter that comes from your Mammy and a few of the other girls, "Not until you're a bit older. This drink is for the older girls only," She explains.

"But Mammy, you said that last year. I'm 4 now, I'm a big girl!" You state in protest, an adorable pout plastered on your lips, "Can I please try it?" You ask the question.

"Shes' got you there Katie," Leah pipes in, chuckling in amusement at your point that you were technically older.

"Indeed she does," Steph adds in.

"Much much older than you are now," Your Mammy clarifies, shaking her head, "You, rascal, are way too smart sometimes, huh?" She jokes.

"North London Forever!" You shout the lyrics to the familiar song at the top of your voice, safely in the arms of your Mammy as all the girls stand in a line and celebrate with the fans, "Whatever the weather, these streets are own!" You continue to belt out the lyrics and have the time of your life, living in the moment of the celebrations.

katiemccabe_11 posted.

Liked by bethmead_, viviannemiedema & 83,046 others.

katiemccabe_11: what it means to win! 🔴⚪

post celebrations with some of my favourite people, including my own little rascal ❤️

© scribblesofagoonerr

[the-bi-space-ace]

A Quick Cuddle - Part 1 - Wrecker

Hi all! Since I really needed some comfort (and it seems like many others need it right now too) this will be my first post for Echo-vember. I've decided to post one Echo-focused fic each week of November revolving around the first time Echo hugs each of the batch. If you want to be tagged when I post these fics let me know <3

Thank you @renton6echo for coming up with the concept of Echo-vember. I'm excited for it <3

Ao3 Link

Part 2 - Tech - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 3 - Hunter - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 4 - Crosshair - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Summary: The first time Echo hugs Wrecker

Word Count: 1,021

Their mission had gone off without a hitch. It was the first of many, Echo hoped, as they boarded the Marauder to embark on whatever was next for the group. He could barely keep up with how fast everything was moving. One mission after another, no planet longer than a few days, so much to learn he was racing just not to fall behind. Rest days were far and few between. He slept even less with Clones Force 99 than he did when he was a 501st ARC. Even when he did it was always surrounded by people just as he liked it, constantly listening to the sounds of snores and chatter and even breathing. That was okay with Echo. He didn’t have too much time to think in between rushing into battle and his new squad was about as chaotic as he expected. They were nearly yelling over each other in the excited rush that followed their mission. It was swift, simple, but they’d run into the need for an explosion and that got all of their blood pumping. Who would’ve thought, the squad of excitable commandos liked when things went boom. He was busy smiling at them, ignoring the need to make a plan, set a path, move on, while they pushed each other around and chattered. 

“That was awesome!” Wrecker whooped as he whipped his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor. A wide smile stretched across his face, skin flushed with excitement. He shoved Echo’s shoulder. “Who knew you could do something like that?!” Right. Echo tried to bite back the grin but he was fighting a losing battle. He’d been on top of a walker, helping plant explosives while the rest of them distracted enemies for him and the big guy. Apparently using his grappling hook to swing off the side of it, wrapping its legs together, and tucking into a roll as he dismounted wasn’t just a common method everyone used. When he’d knocked the walker over he yelled at Wrecker to run, close enough that their backs heated while the explosion went off behind them. Echo wasn’t sure why it was particularly exciting but it may have been the domino effect of explosions that detonated throughout the battlefield that made them all so giddy. 

Something about fire. It just really made all of them bouncier. 

Echo shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Had to learn something from all of that ARC training.” It was the first time he’d truly felt confident with the batch. They’d only known each other for a few weeks, spent even less time in the field, and he’d fumbled a few plays - understandable - but he’d let it hurt his ego a bit too much. All those racing thoughts and unease had wriggled its way into his mind. A win was nice. It reminded him who he was. A time when they thought he fit in was even better. The batch was so tight he started to think infiltrating their ranks was impossible. 

Maybe he just hadn’t given them enough time. 

Wrecker laughed - bright and jovial - nudging Echo again, this time hard enough that he bumped into Hunter who steadied him with a grin. “You can say that again! We make a great team.” In a move that almost knocked all the air out of his lungs Wrecker swept his arms around Echo’s waist, lifting him up into the air. The shock came first along with a surprised noise from the back of his throat - not a squeak, thank you very much - as the big guy hugged him. His feet dangled in the air while Wrecker swayed him back and forth. 

This was the first time any of them had hugged him. For a brief moment it was like being doused in freezing cold water but the warmth radiating off of Wrecker made every bone in his body relax. Hugs certainly hadn’t been at the top of his list of priorities - he hadn’t really thought about it - but he found himself smiling regardless. Wrecker was a tactile guy, mostly shoving and throwing his arm around the others, but hugs weren’t out of the question. Echo just hadn’t realized that Wrecker would ever want to hug him with his metal and attitude and newness to the squad so he’d not yet attempted to get physically closer to any of them yet. At least Wrecker was the easiest to befriend, so quick to invite Echo to join him in their down time and offer him space. It felt nice to be treated like a part of things. He couldn’t really hug him back, not with his arms pinned to the side as they were, but he did chuckle, awkwardly patting Wrecker’s side.

“Any time, big guy. Maybe next time we can make it a few more yards away from the explosion before it goes off.” The light scold was taken lightheartedly with a laugh. Wrecker squeezed him tight one last time then put him down, holding onto his shoulder to keep him steady while he regained his footing. The smile stuck to his face so bad he almost had to hide it behind his hand. Something as simple as a hug and he was taken down, reduced to silence, watching dutifully as the rest of them kept getting under each other's skin. Lucky was a word he would use, he supposed. It may seem simple but the worry that his new squad wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to be tactile with him was slowly ebbing away, flickering to the back of his mind even for the moment. His hand itched to do the same things the rest of them seemed so comfortable with - shoving, ruffling hair, hugs - but he wasn’t quite there yet. Wasn’t ready to be the initiator for tactile forms of affection. Wrecker had opened the door, allowed in some form of familiarity he hadn’t quite realized he missed so much. There was still learning, sure, but hope bloomed in his chest at the thought that this could be more than a squad, more than a team, but something closer to his heart altogether.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Hi there! I'm just popping in to say that I looove all of your fics and headcanons for the One Piece men! I'm looking forward to reading more of your ongoing projects as you share them ☺️

Would you consider, in the future, maybe doing a request for headcanons of Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, and Mihawk with a short/petite female reader?

Thank you, and keep up the superb writing!

💚🩵❤️🧡

First, thank you so much!!! So so happy you're enjoying them, I am honored.

Soo most of my female characters actually are on the shorter/more petite side. I don’t like self-inserting when writing (doesn’t bother me at ALL to read it, I just don’t like writing myself), so they’re about as different from me as possible in appearance, which means short and small.

So I’ve got PLEEEENTY of headcanons for this!!

Short Stuff

NSFW Headcanons

OPLA!Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Petite!Reader

♫♬Baby Doll — The Fratellis♬♫

Baby doll, do you believe they’ll catch you when you fall,

And when morning comes, the sun is gonna shine?

Sanji

"I've never met anyone sweeter than you in my life, love."

Honestly thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. Just wants to cuddle you forever and protect you from everything.

If you’re self-conscious about your size for any reason he definitely isn’t going to tease you about it; won’t even make mention of it, if that’s what you prefer, but he still absolutely loves it.

Loves to carry you on his back if you have to walk anywhere, you resting your chin or your cheek on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders.

Honestly so gentle, like he’s afraid of breaking you, you’re just so precious and cute and he doesn’t want to do anything that could ever even potentially hurt you.

Loves even more to carry you like a princess to bed, one arm around your back and his other under your knees, brushing his lips to yours.

Showering you with murmured praises, laying you down gently and kissing every inch of you, trailing his lips across your skin.

Just dying between your thighs while you come over and over again on his tongue.

Zoro

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, midget?”

“Midget” is a term of endearment…though he does use it to get on your nerves just a little because it’s cute seeing someone so small get so annoyed.

Like the top of your head barely comes up to his chin, seriously, what are you going to do about it?

Not being cruel by any means, just light teasing. Just enough to make your cheeks go a little red, to make you purse your lips and shove at him or punch at his arm.

You get too annoyed and he just wraps his hands around your waist and lowers his head down to kiss you, murmur against your lips that you’re just so sexy when you’re pissed off, and goddammit if you don’t forgive him every time.

Loves using you to help with his strength training, e.g. sitting cross-legged on his back while he’s doing push-ups.

Which usually results in him flipping you onto your back and fucking you senseless at some point.

Still counts as endurance training, so win-win.

Shanks

"Come on now, love. You're not short, you're just fun-sized!"

You are his babydoll and you must be protected at all costs. Doesn’t matter if you’re an adept fighter or not, you must be protected at all costs.

You’re just so tiny and fragile and adorable, he literally has no choice.

And he absolutely loves it.

Coming up behind you and resting his chin or his cheek over the crown of your hair, pulling you back against him by your waist because you just fit against him so perfectly.

Or stooping down when you least expect it to catch you around the middle and just carry you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, chuckling at your protest the whole time.

The sight of you straddling him makes him completely feral—your thighs wrapped around him, your hips rolling, your slight form on full display for him to drink in.

Gritting his teeth while you grind against his cock, clenching his hand around your hip to pull you up…and then right back down, groaning as you slowly sink down onto him, slowly filling you inch by inch.

Struggling the entire time to hold himself back, to let you set the pace, you’re so much smaller than him and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but it’s oh so hard no to just seize you by the waist and pound into you.

Loves when you lay across his chest in the serenity of the afterglow, with your head resting against his shoulder, running his fingers through your hair or resting his hand over your ass, brushing his lips to your forehead and your temple and your neck.

Will likely hold you there like that all night if you have no protest over it.

Mihawk

"You're pushing your luck, my little bird."

You brat him and he will literally pick you up and put you up on a high shelf somewhere that you can’t get down from and leave you there until you get your act together.

Probably just sip a glass of wine and smirk while you protest.

Has absolutely no issue using your size against you. It makes you seem all the more like a toy, his little plaything.

It’s something of a power rush, how easy it is to pin you down, how easily he can wrap one hand around both of your wrists and pin them over your head and refuse you the pleasure of touching him while he teases you to the brink of madness.

Pinning you to a wall, shoving his hand down your panties, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time while you beg for more.

It’s so, so easy to control you, to control your pleasure or deny it entirely while he revels in your whimpering and whining and pleading.

So easy to rip away your panties, pick you up by your thighs, pin you against a wall and thrust into you, rail you until you’re breathless and screaming his name.

Your legs wrapped around his hips, his eyes occasionally scanning down your slight form before locking back onto your gaze again.

So easy to carry you to bed after, to revel in your limp and trembling form pressed against his side with your arm across his chest and his tucked under your neck and curled around your back to hold you against him and comb his fingers through your hair.

[boybeholding]

Hii! I've started reading your works and i've loved them all so far!!

I wanted to request something if you are still available and if you feel comfortable in doing. Could you do a TransMasc!Reader x 12!Leo, anything will be fine

Thank you, you're amazing!!!

got this one done pretty quick for you anon, I just started T recently myself so I was feeling inspired! & thank you so much!! I'm so glad you've enjoyed my stuff so far :)

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

2012 Leo + Transmasc Reader Content Warnings: NEEDLES & SHOTS, mild suggestive content

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Leo wished he thought this through a little more.

Seeing you floundering with that bag of prescriptions, cases of needles and vials and bandages, he knew right away that it was a job for Donnie. But he couldn’t help it. He was by your side in an instant, taking the slim paper packet from your hands and flipping through the instructions.

“Right, so you’re gonna draw up to the 5 line, right there,” You coaxed from behind him, watching him fill up the syringe. “...are you sure you don’t want me to do it?”

“Positive,” He replied coolly, trying not to let his palpitations shake the vial. He leaned in until his snout nearly touched the plastic syringe, tapping gently to check for air bubbles. What if he stuck you with it full of air and put you into cardiac arrest?? He was pretty sure Donnie said something about that while vaccinating them once. 

“Now you just-” “Switch the needle out. I read the same packet you did, smart guy.”

He went at a snail’s pace, shooting a glare at you when you opened your mouth to wisecrack about it.

“...Slow and steady, huh?” you chimed anyway.

“It did win the race.”

He glanced down at you, the gravity of the situation hitting him as he held the syringe in his hand. 

Right.

He’d been so worried about not killing you, he didn’t even consider how he’d fare, trying to hold your thigh.

“...You’re sure?”

You broke his stupor, and he looked up from where he’d been staring, brow furrowed, at your bare leg. 

“I can just ask Donnie.”

He frowned. The only thought that terrified him more than grabbing your bare thigh was Donnie doing it.

“I got it. Just grab my shoulder if it hurts, ok?”

You pulled your lips into a thin line, nodding as you chewed on your cheek. Leo watched as you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing. Your hand was already resting on his bicep, fingers flexing in anticipation.

He held you steady, ignoring the various ways he felt about your skin under his hand. He pushed the needle in. pushed the plunger. Waited a moment.

“Okay, it’s coming out now.”

Your hand finally clamped down, the pain obviously worse pulling out than going in. Leo grinned slightly to himself glancing up to your tightened expression– the way you smiled despite the hiss of pain that puffed from you. 

He dropped the syringe in the large plastic bottle next to the chair with a pronounced thunk. You cracked an eye open, grinning stupidly at the sight of the Space Heroes bandage being flattened against your skin.

“Feeling manly?”

“With the Ryan band-aid? You know it.”

You stood and stretched, shaking the lingering feeling of pins and needles out of your leg.

“...Thanks for helping, Leo. I, uh… I’m glad it was you here.”

Leo felt heat creep up on the back of his neck, and he lifted a hand to try and smooth the feeling away.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s no big deal… Same time next week?”

You chuckled, holding your hand out to help him off the floor.

“I hope so.”

[itsjaywalkers]

for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)

HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!

anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)

57. "Teach me to fight."

It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.

This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.

His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.

Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.

He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.

There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.

"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"

"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."

Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.

"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.

There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.

Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.

"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."

Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.

"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.

"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.

"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."

Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.

He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.

"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.

"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."

"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.

"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"

"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."

Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"

"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."

There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.

"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."

Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"

"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."

"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."

"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"

Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.

But this? This is new.

"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.

"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.

"Because you're job kind of forces you to."

"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."

"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."

Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.

"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."

Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."

"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.

"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"

"Teach me to fight."

Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.

"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.

"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.

Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.

"Why?"

"I told you, I like boxing."

"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"

Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.

"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.

"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."

"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"

"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."

They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.

He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.

It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.

The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.

Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.

"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."

Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.

He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.

They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.

One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.

"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.

Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."

"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."

Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."

"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"

Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.

A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.

Barty groans again.

"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.

"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."

Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.

Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.

He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.

It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.

The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.

Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.

He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.

The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.

His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.

"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"

Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.

"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.

Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."

He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—

"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.

Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.

[sericasong]

Sheepish・✦ oneshot

adjective - embarrassed or bashful, as by having done something wrong or foolish.・✦

The poor thing's never been trained on how to appear to events with a date on his arm. Or if he was, he's forgotten completely just by a glance at you.

THIS ONE GOES OUT TO @takami-takami HAPPY WAY LATE BIRTHDAY THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE AND IT GOT SO OUT OF HAND ALSKHKDGLS. I've been trying to figure out what exactly to write for it and decided you deserve a mishmash of everything we adore about the birdie. Much love always and an incredibly happy (month-after-I'm-so-sorry) 26th. 💕

For someone with such a fun-loving persona, one would think that number two pro hero Hawks would enjoy this sort of thing.

Keigo does not.

Well, he usually doesn't.

Events hosted by the Commission tend to be just like the front it puts up: bright and decorated displays of prestige with little substance under the glitter. A media staging, as usual.

In years past, he's greeted these Hero Galas with a scowl and a cynical remark in the privacy of his thoughts, the only place where he can scorn his handlers all he wants and get away with naught but a wasted evening.

But tonight? Tonight he's greeting you as he escorts you in.

You look nothing short of radiant, dressed in something he'd caught a longing glance at and convinced you to let him buy, just this once, babe, c'mon, lemme spoil you.

And god, he finds new gods to thank that you let him.

It's perfect on you, its shapes elegant and its colors gorgeous on your skin, wrapping you in what may as well be diamonds.

He pockets the thought– solitaire, halo, three-stone, vintage? Details to consider later with the question of how to ask.

For now, he shows you around the venue. Shows you off, in a way, shows his most earnest expression of pride when he introduces you to everyone he can just for the sake of doing it.

Mine, his poorly-tempered smile gloats, they're mine.

As much as he'd like to, he doesn't say that. It's "this is my partner" instead, warmth floating in his voice with the sound of your name.

He's the picture of lovesick at dinner; sliding your chair back for you, sitting right beside, he barely lets you leave the seat because he's preoccupied with rushing to do everything he can for you.

His eyes have barely left you for half a minute in total the entire night, and you get the feeling that the number won't grow by much.

It sure doesn't raise by even a single decimal when the crowd moves to the ballroom. Those golden hues are set on your features like it would hurt to look away, unapologetic in his captivation.

Except for when you step onto the dance floor together, which is when he turns into the most hopeless fool you've ever seen.

Hawks knows what to do here.

Hawks has been through years of discipline, strict regimens for how to act in every possible situation, combat and negotiation and formal gatherings alike. Taught how to present himself with the easy grace befitting of the Commission's winning prize.

But Keigo?

Keigo is forgetting how to dance.

"Uh, dove," his hands linger in the air, hesitant, "do you mind if I-?"

Even when you nod, he's uncertain of it. Not of the fact that he wants to dance- he'd keep you in his arms for the rest of his life if he could.

But for some reason he can't place, his nerves fold upon themselves until they can no longer tell his limbs to move. He looks like a deer in headlights and his legs feel like a fawn only just standing.

When you send a questioning glance his way, he can only give a sort of helpless shrug. "Sorry, babe- I just, uh-"

"You look too pretty tonight, s'just..."

He trails off with heated cheeks as you press your smile to the back of his hands, pouting with a terminal blush as he admits, "feels like 'm gonna mess it up."

"The dance?" you question, just to be sure, and he raises your hands to hide behind them in embarrassment with a mumbled, "yeah..."

You can't help but laugh at the look on his face, like a schoolboy with a love letter outstretched, and don't bother resisting the urge to tease him as you pull him towards a more secluded corner. "I thought you told me that you knew three different kinds of partnered dance. What happened to that, birdie?"

"I know," he protests weakly, burying his flush in your shoulder as he lets a groan escape him. "I know, I know. And- and I do, I promise."

When you respond with a skeptical mhm, he huffs at you, petulant indignation even while his eyes crease at the corners. "I do!"

"It's just... you're so... you look so..." A sweeping gesture at you as if he can't put the words to it; from his brief silence, you figure that's likely the case. Several moments pass, and he continues more quietly, "you look sacred, dove. Feels like it'd be a sin to treat you wrong."

He's sweet. It's probably the most romantic thing you've ever heard.

You let your lips curve upwards in something between fondness and an utterly shit-eating grin. "You're shy."

Keigo does his best to pretend to disagree, and eventually gives up, only responding with a silent nod. That softens your teasing, fingers carding through his hair and sorting the strands. "You don't have to be embarrassed, you know... I'm a little nervous too. It's not like I'm very used to elaborate things like this."

"But you're the last person who should be," he complains, melting easily into the brush of your touch. "You're too good to be here. You look better than everyone else by a million."

"I think you do," you counter, letting your hands settle around the back of his neck as his face makes a home in the crook of yours. He just hums, flustered but appreciative, allowing you to sway him gently to the music in your little dance floor for two.

His voice is quiet when he speaks next, after a song has passed in your corner. "I'm gonna marry you someday, I swear to god."

He looks up at you as if to examine your reaction, his lashes fluttering when you lean forward to kiss him. After you pull away, he's nearly beaming, and he brightens further at your next words.

"I'll be waiting for it."

[bordysbae]

the lack of jack requests is astounding!! could you please do “i need you right now” with him? fluff, angst, whole new genre, truly not picky i just love him— also love your writing!!

“bad day”

jack hughes x reader

word count: 0.6k

as you start to doze off while watching a movie on the couch, you hear the door open and a pair of keys fall into the glass bowl. you know jacks home from work but you just cant wake yourself up to greet him. you then hear the sound of a bag thump as it hits the floor and immediately jump awake. "oh sorry babe, i didn't mean to scare you" he says softly, as he walks over to the side of the couch and gives you a kiss on the top of your head. "it's alright" you smile while rubbing your eyes. "shit i'm sorry! did i wake you up?" "yeah but it's okay don't worry. how was practice?" you ask. he starts walking into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. "horrible" he says slightly louder so you can still hear him.

"what why?" you ask, scooting so that there's room for jack to come and sit down. he walks in with a glass of water and sits next to you. as he sits down he lets out a loud sigh and you can tell somethings up. “what’s wrong jack, tell me.” "we're doing horribly, it just feels like some of the guys are barely putting in any effort and we have a game in two days. i just feel unprepared, and literally my whole body hurts from practice" he sighs again, but more quietly this time. “is there anything i can do to help you?” “anything. i just need you right now.” "oh baby come here" you say as you sit up right crossing your legs on top of each other like a child. jack sits up as well and he turns facing the front door, and you begin rubbing his neck, back, and shoulders.

he immediately begins relaxing and you can feel the tension in his muscles loosening. "you are genuinely the best thing to ever happen to me" he says softly. "oh shut up" you chuckle as you kiss the back of his head and continue rubbing his back. "how's nico feeling? does he feel unprepared as well?" you ask him. "yeah, he was the first person i talked to about this whole situation. he said that tomorrow he's gonna start confronting the guys who are slacking off. we really need to win our next game" he says while sipping his water. "let me make you some tea so you can relax, and maybe we can finish this movie i fell asleep to" you say getting up and walking over to the kitchen.

you begin to heat up the water and you look around the kitchen corner to see jacks eyes shut. you turn off the stove and leave the kettle full of water in the kitchen. you quietly walk over to jack and gently poke him, "jack why don't we go to bed, you're already falling asleep and i haven't even been gone for 3 minutes" you chuckle. "ughhh” he groans and slowly gets up from the couch. you guys walk into the bedroom and jack immediately lays down on the bed, while you go into the connected bathroom to start getting ready. as you're brushing your teeth you see jack walk into the bathroom, and he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, as well as lays his head on top of yours. “hi” he says sleepily. “hi sleepy boy” you smile at him through the mirror as he very gently kisses your hair. once you both finish up in the bathroom you climb into the cold bed, not knowing just how cold the sheets are. "jesus christ the sheets are freezing!" you exclaim, quickly curling up into a ball. "well i have a solution to that.” jack says as he pulls you under his arm and into his bare chest. "any warmer?" he asks you. "very much so" you smile and shut your eyes, letting yourself fall into a calm sleep.

[purplelockscreen]

Demoted

(X finally found Cooper, and he isn't too happy)

Peeps: @oscarsgallery @doakarma @respiratory-kristem @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency @city-of-c0rpses

Somebody.........save me please....

I need help. Everything hurts. I don't know how much blood I lost but I can barely get up. I need medical attention now. Or else I might die.

I'm not ready to die. There's still much I haven't seen yet. But everything still just hurts right now. Both physically and emotionally.

It's like when I first got here everything has been down hill for me. I get shot and beat up by some kids, got my shoes stolen before having to buy new ones, thought I finally got a boyfriend only to be backstabbed, got stabbed in the ribs before getting shot in the legs as well. Nothing is going to well for me. I even got my hat stolen. All because I fell down those stupid stairs.

It's like this world knows I don't belong here and is trying to spit me out. I just want to go home at this point. That's if I can live for another minute. Everything is starting to fade to black.....

"There you are. Perhaps need another chance?"

That comforting voice, I know that voice. Could it be? It most certainly has to be boss.

I felt a warm and blissful feeling spread throughout my body as it heals rather quickly from his ability. I look up from where I been laying at and see my boss, X. I could almost smile for a moment and run back into his arms, but I froze when I saw that scowl on his face. My hat was dangling in his hand, the sight of it made my breathing hitched, I could only look down.

"So this is where you have been this entire time? Out here making a fool of yourself now, are we? I expected better from you, Cooper. Not for you to run around and start pointless fights that you know you can't win. What are you, a child? Not to mention the fact I little birdie told me about the rest of your behavior here. I'm disappointed in you." He glared me down before getting closer. He held up my hat close to my face.

"Do you want to know why I gave you this hat in the first place? Not because I thought it looked nice one you, though it does, but I gave it to you because I could have trusted you to be my subordinate. My right hand man. But you have lost my trust. Therefore, you will not be receiving your hat back."

My eyes widen to his words. I get up quickly to my feet to rush over him. "Boss wait-" Suddenly there was a sharp pain in my legs and I scream out in pain, collapsing back to the ground as his ability undo the healing in my legs.

X sigh and came closer, kneeling down. "I'm not done talking, Cooper." He said harshly. "What has honestly gotten into you? Do you have any clue what a fool you have been making for yourself and for the organization that you represent?"

I don't answer, just continuing to look down at the ground. Please make this stop. I don't want this to happen. But I have no way of explaining my behavior.

"Care to explain yourself? Or did you run out of bs excuses?" He asked, crossing his arms, standing there, waiting for me to answer.

"I'm sorry boss...... I let my emotions controlled me more than they should have had. There is no excuse to justify my actions. " I mumbled, looking at him with shame. Hoping that he will spare so mercy on me.

X sigh, I could hear the disappointment. I shut my eyes ready to feel a slap or a strike on the head but instead he pats me on the head. My eyes snapped open, as I felt the comfort. How much I missed the physical affection of his hand. I felt like I couldn't survive another day without a head pat. I leaned a little, not wanting to lose that comfort.

"There there, I can't stay too mad at you, now can I? At least you admitted you were in the wrong. This is what I warned you about no staying by my side at all times. You let your emotions get the best of you and people are wicked enough to use you for that. You should only stay with me. I know what's best for you, Cooper." He sighs and tilted my head up a little. "Though I cannot let you go unpunished. I'll show some of my mercy upon you though but for now......"

Boss pulled out a collar and a leash before clicking it around my neck. "You have been demoted. You will stay on this leash until I find you trustworthy to not make foolish acts without my supervision. A little discipline that's all."

I froze, rubbing my hand across the collar before giving a sad defeated nod. I could feel my legs heal once again and X giving a light tug on the leash. I get up and follow him. Back home to the universe I originally came from, thanks to a portal X created by another ability user back home.

Goodbye Yokohama city.

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

We listen to a lotta true crime- Wrio x Gn!reader- Part 3

But it's alright, she'll be fine t/w- prison, Wriothesley flirts(?) with you, kissing (consent cause consent is sexy) summary-you've been wrongly accused of trying to murder your ex-husband and wriothesleys determined to get you out

Part 1, Part 2

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The kiss that had happened the previous day had felt like a dream. The way his lips were so soft and gentle. Wriothesley was just perfect. The whole night you sat there blushing and kicking your legs like a little girl, anyone who walked in would’ve guessed what happened.

The next day Wriothesley came to your room once again. “Y/n wake up.”

His voice was stern and his face wasn’t much different. He walked right in sitting down next to you on the bed. “The Knave contacted me, She heard you were in prison.”

Your family has supported the House of Hearth for many years and Arlecchino was like a mother to you when your parents died. You grew up and eventually backed the orphanage financially, which she was very grateful for. The news had reached her ears because of Lyney.

He was one of your closest friends and you too always stuck together. Makes sense he would worry.

“She sounded terribly worried and asked what would happen. I told her about our plan and she said she can help in any way.”

“That's great! We have someone on our side.”

“Oh and also your court hearing is in a week.”

“What?”

“For the appeal.”

“Ah yes.”

You too continued to talk and figure out how you could win the court over. Over about an hour you could fell Wriothesley moving closer and closer, till you ended up in his arms. It was nice and warm, can’t say it helped you think too much but it was nice. Your ex-husband had never shown you affection the way Wriothesley does to you.

A week later

(Look I honestly have no idea how court things work, I have tried to write one before, but that story never finished.)

You and Wriothesley walked into the courtroom, but only one of you was confident. You were sweating and was almost not breathing properly. Wrio noticed this and began to help you. “Hey y/n, look at me okay? Its gonna work. And if it doesn't you can come back down to the fortress with me.”

“Wriothesley, I have a life… I need to get back to it.”

“I see.”

The judge began to silence the room and started the proceedings. She called you to the stand to present your brief. You felt like so many eyes were watching and almost couldn’t take it. THis was something you had to do… If you wanted out that is.

You took the stand and began to speak.

“I had an unfair trial as I barely had one at all. My ex-husband framed me for attempted murder for what reason I don't know. I was out with some friends all day and had hardly seen him, the witnesses are here. When i got home the police were already at my house and my husband was one the floor covered in what seemed to be blood. The next thing i knew i was in prison and now i am here. There is no evidence that i even tried to murder my husband, no finger prints and no other forms of DNA. Thank you for your time.”

The judge seemed to think over your statement before inviting your husband to the stand. After the proceedings, it was time for a final verdict.

“The defending party is declared not guilty.”

You and Wriothesley in happiness. You had won, you were free. You weren’t a criminal. You felt a large pair of arms pull you in for a hug.

“You won…”

You hugged him back pulling him into a tighter embrace, how could you leave him behind?

After you had recovered from the shock of winning Wriothesley took you out to dinner.

“So whatcha gonna do now?”

“Go back to my normal life.”

Wriothesley seemed slightly hurt, he wasn’t really included in your normal live, as he lived underwater. He knew he couldn’t get too hurt because he’d only met you, what a week ago?

“I’m assuming I’m not included.

“Wrio.. I really like you, I'm just not quite sure how it would work.”

“May i have this last night with you?”

“You may.”

Taglist

@pandragonsoul, @atsukawolfcat, @milkwithspicyicecubes, @pookiebearcave. @c0smouche, @with3ringh3ights, @kitsunechan707, @kpopmenace143

[aebi12]

"Resentment" - Chapter 29 [AemondxRhaena]

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

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A powerful sweet smell that barely manages to hide the stench of putrefaction greets him when he enters his brother's chambers.

“Mother? Did you send for me?”

When he finally reaches the bed, he finds Alicent accompanied by Grand Maester Orwyle watching over his brother's sleep, who seems to complain while a pained expression crosses his face.

“I assume this meeting has something to do with Aegon's health?”

His mother closes her eyes and it is the Grand Maester who speaks, “The king’s wounds and pain have worsened over the past couple of days. In addition, there are other worrying signs.”

“What kind of signs?”

“Fevers, palpitations, and the color of his skin that indicate something is not working properly, my prince.”

Aemond focuses his attention on Aegon, on his sallow skin that can be seen despite the dim lighting of the room, on the spaces on his head where his hair seems to have fallen out, on the wounds on his leg that seem darker than usual and raw. He does not remember exactly the last time he saw his brother, but he did not seem to be this bad.

“Is there something you can do?”

“Not much. I am afraid the usual remedies are not working,” the maester looks with pity at Aegon’s figure, “The king is relying more and more on milk of the poppy, and wine to numb his pain.”

“It is a divine punishment,” Alicent murmurs, but Aemond decides to ignore her comment, although an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Is this all part of the process of his illness? Couldn’t it be caused by something else?”

The Grand Maester seems to understand his concern immediately, “It does not seem to be related to any poison, Prince. At least no known poison.”

His mother gasps, clearly frightened as she looks at her two sons, “It’s not possible, they couldn’t…”

“It is unlikely,” Aemond interrupts, “But perhaps we should increase security measures. A new royal cupbearer, as well as an additional servant to taste Aegon’s food.”

“I will oversee everything personally,” Alicent lightly pats Aegon’s hand, “Your brother cannot die, the gods cannot take him away.”

“He is in constant pain, mother, he cannot even walk.”

“He doesn’t have an heir,” Alicent looks at him, frowning.

“I am next in line to the throne, I am the heir,” Aemond replies mechanically.

“Which changes nothing, you do not have a son either,” his mother shakes her head and purses her lips, “The kingdom will remain in uncertainty as long as you and your wife fail to produce an heir.”

Aemond grimaces and looks away so as not to let his mother know how much her comment bothers him.

“The prince and Lady Rhaena have been married for barely two moons, my queen, usually these matters take a little longer. Or perhaps, if the gods are merciful, Lady Rhaena might already be expecting.”

“But she is not, her moonblood arrived without delay.”

Aemond can't contain the displeasure in his voice, "Have you been spying on my wife?"

"Don't take it so personally, Aemond, the life of a royal couple is in the interest of the realm. Especially when said couple has such an important task to fulfill."

There is a moment of tense silence in which the prince tries to contain his temper, and mask his expression in his usual indifference. Once again it is the maester who intervenes.

"Time will tell, Your Grace, surely Lady Rhaena will give us positive news soon."

"I am afraid we do not have much time, Grand Maester," Alicent replies, turning once more to look at Aegon. A sigh escapes her lips before she speaks again, "Perhaps it would be a good idea to rush Daeron's wedding. Lady Westerling could be the answer to our prayers."

Her mother's words burn inside him like acid, causing a bitter feeling of jealousy and anger to mix. Glaring at her, he clenches his hands into fists, and speaks to the maester, “Let me know if there is any change in the king’s health.”

Orwyle bows, and Aemond gives a last resentful look to a seemingly unfazed Alicent, who has returned to sit near Aegon, before leaving the royal chambers.

The cold night air that seeps through the corridors of the Keep is a welcome change and gradually clears his mind. Although he should be used to his mother's comments by now, having grown up hearing her be dismissive and harsh towards anyone who does not behave or act as she expects or considers appropriate, he cannot avoid the pain and bitterness that being the center of such comments produces in him.

As he crosses one of the inner courtyards, he cannot help but look up at the sky. The full moon shines brightly overhead, bathing everything around him in a ghostly glow. A sad smile crosses his lips as he thinks of similar nights on the back of Vhagar. His dragon, so huge that it could cover the silhouette of the moon. If only he could fly through the skies with her again…

A shadow crossing the courtyard, seen out of the corner of his good eye, snaps him out of his thoughts. Aemond turns to where he noticed the movement and brings his hands to his knife, suddenly feeling anxious. Moving forward silently, he examines the hallway where he thinks the shadow disappeared, but finds nothing but silence.

An owl sings, breaking the stillness of the night, and Aemond puts the knife back in his belt.

It was probably nothing, he tells himself as he resumes his walk to the tower. Yes, it must have been nothing. The Keep is well guarded, and his mind is most likely playing tricks on him.

Still, he cannot shake the anxiety he feels as he climbs the stairs of the Tower. The guards greet him, and the stillness of the place fails to comfort him. Aemond first examines Rhaena's drawing room, but finds it empty. For a moment he considers calling a servant and asking for his wife, but when a sharp pain appears in the scar on his eye, he desists. Perhaps it would be best to spend the night alone. The discomfort of his scar usually prevents him from sleeping, so it is best not to condemn Rhaena to a sleepless night as well.

The prince undoes the buttons of his doublet and pulls it off as he enters his room, the pressure on his eye increasing. Cursing under his breath, he tosses the garment carelessly onto one of the pieces of furniture, wanting to get under the covers. But when he reaches the bed, he finds Rhaena quietly reading one of his books.

“You are here!” A smile lights up her face. Aemond simply nods, the pain causing him to close his eye. His expression must discourage her, because when she speaks again, there is hesitation in her voice, “I can… I can leave if you’d rather be alone tonight.”

“No, no,” his response is immediate despite his previous intentions of not having her by his side tonight, “I want you to stay.”

Relief is clear on his wife’s face, as she pushes back the covers and approaches him. Aemond can’t help but glance at her despite the pain, taking in the way the silk of her nightgown flatters her curves.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper as she helps him place the knife on the nightstand and hands him a long nightgown.

“It is just an old pain on the scar,” the prince nods.

Rhaena’s worried gaze immediately shifts to the wound and the patch. Aemond steps away from her, escaping her scrutiny.

“Should I call Maester Orwyle?”

“I know what he is going to tell me,” he replies, shaking his head as he pulls on his nightclothes, “I have an ointment for nights like this.”

“And where is it?”

Aemond hesitates for a moment before moving his head to the nightstand, “In the drawer.”

Rhaena goes to the drawer and opens it, finding a small glass bottle that fills the room with an herbal scent as soon as she removes the cork that seals it, “Smells nice,” she comments as she climbs onto the bed and extends her arm to Aemond, “Come here.”

The prince watches her for a few long seconds. Despite the smile on her face, Aemond can tell how nervous Rhaena is as she waits for him to do as she asks.

“I just want to apply the ointment,” Rhaena’s voice is a thread of indecision as he does nothing but observe her, still standing at the end of the bed.

Aemond does not want to make her feel bad, but the idea of ​​closing the distance between them and allowing her to tend to him seems too intimate. And unfamiliar. When was the last time he had allowed someone to take care of him? He did not even like being examined by the maester. And then there was the matter of the scar. He does not want to get close to her and watch her eyes fill with pity or disgust as she looks closer.

Rhaena sighs and lowers her hand with a defeated expression. And it’s that hint of pain that she can’t seem to diminish and that appears on her face that makes him discard his worries from a few moments ago, and simply climb into bed.

Aemond moves to stand beside her and frowns, “It is not a pretty scar.”

“I have seen it before.”

“The patch hides the most grotesque part of the wound, but without it…”

“I have seen you with your sapphire too,” she assures as her hand tentatively caresses his cheek. Aemond nods against her touch, “Come, lie here.”

The prince settles his head on her legs, his platinum hair spreading over her thighs as he removes the patch from his eye. Rhaena gives him a sideways smirk before pouring a few drops of the ointment onto two of her fingers and delicately smearing the scar.

“How frequent are these pains?”

“I used to get them all the time after the attack,” Aemond watches her face, not wanting to miss any expression, part of his mind still hoping to see some hint of displeasure in her expression, “They became less frequent over time.”

Rhaena nods, her fingertips gently massaging the surface of the wound from top to bottom, a steady motion that relaxes him, and makes him close his good eye.

“Can’t the maester do anything to prevent them?”

“No. I do not think so,” he replies with a shrug, “They are nothing to worry about. I just get them very occasionally, usually when I cannot sleep well.”

“But you were fine this morning.”

Aemond nods and opens his eye again. Rhaena looks thoughtful as she continues her massage. Aemond reaches up, and tangles his fingers through his wife’s curls, bringing a lock of hair to his nose and breathing in her rose-like scent.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” he replies, overcome by her scent, “Thank you.”

Rhaena smiles and joins her hand with the prince’s, “If it happens again, let me know. I want to be able to help you.” Aemond nods and they look at each other for a moment before she speaks again, “Are you hungry? Or did you have dinner with your mother and brother?”

“No, but I do not think I can eat right now.” She frowns and watches him. Aemond explains, “Pain takes away my appetite.”

“Oh, I understand.”

Aemond gets up from her lap, and lies down beside her. Rhaena mimics his action, though she turns around and props herself up on her elbow so she can watch him.

“My brother’s health has taken a turn for the worse,” he finally says, knowing she must be curious about the reason for his mother’s call.

“Is it bad?”

“I don’t think he has much time left,” he admits. Because, although the maester hadn’t dared say it in front of his mother, Aemond remembers the helpless look on his face. The same one he’d had when his father was close to death.

“I am so sorry, Aemond.”

Her words surprise him. The prince turns to her, frowning, “Why?”

“Why? Because he is your brother,” Rhaena looks at him, confused, “It must be hard for you to see him so ill.”

“Mmm,” Aemond looks away, “He’s been badly wounded for many years.”

“That does not mean it gets any easier for you or your mother.”

Aemond mulls over her words, his memories returning to that fateful afternoon on Rook’s Rest. He had tried to protect his brother, had done his best to keep him and Sunfyre from taking the brunt of the battle, but Aegon had insisted on provoking Meleys. In the end, he had to take down Rhaenys, and put his brother on the back burner.

“It is funny,” he finds himself saying, “When I think of Aegon, I always imagine him with his dragon or running through the halls of the Keep. Always on the move.”

“Were you two close?”

“We are too different to be close,” he shakes his head

“Not even as children?”

“As children, his playmates were Rhaenyra’s boys,” he admits. “My brother found it fun to exert some influence over them. They formed a small group that I could not join because I did not have a dragon. That made me the frequent butt of their jokes.”

Rhaena takes his hand again, caressing the palm with her thumb, “What did you do if you weren’t with them?”

“I trained with Cole or read in the library. If I didn’t have lessons, I was usually with my mother.”

A smile appears on Rhaena’s face, “I think I can picture you as a child next to Alicent.”

Aemond smirks, “She didn’t have much free time, but she let me hang around her, except when she was tending to my father. I couldn’t enter his chambers. He was either always busy or too sick.”

The prince closes his eye and remembers afternoons spent with his mother in the sept, the sound of her dark green dresses brushing against the floor as she gave orders to the servants, her bored expression when she listened to Helaena talk about her bugs.

“Sometimes I would sneak out to the dragon pit and try to take a Dreamfyre egg, too.”

“I do not believe you!” Rhaena gasps, “You could have died!”

“I came close a couple of times,” he smiles at the memory, “They were the only times my mother ever lost her temper with me.”

“Rightly so,” she replies, “It is awfully dangerous to get close to a dragon bonded to another rider. Especially a full-grown dragon with eggs, surely you knew that. What about Helaena? Didn’t she mind your adventures?”

“Not at all. My sister was a gentle soul, not bothered by my attempts.”

Nostalgia washes over him as he thinks of Helaena. The mental image of his sister soaring through the sky alongside her dragon fills him with sadness, so he quickly changes the subject.

“What about you? What was it like growing up in Pentos?”

“Oh well, Pentos is such a vibrant, colorful city. There was always something to do, something to distract yourself with, but my favorite place was the bay. I could escape and dip my feet whenever the heat was stifling,” a wistful smile appears on her face.

“Did your family live in a palace?”

“Yes, the prince of the city showered my parents with praise and gifts, he wanted the protection of their dragons. There was almost always a party or dinner with important guests at home. My mother was very good at entertaining her visitors.”

“You learned from her, I suppose.”

“I used to follow her around whenever I could, too,” Rhaena smiles, “And, when Baela wasn’t with her dragon or at her lessons with father, we used to play around the house.”

“Mmm,” Aemond tangled his finger in her curls again.

“At night, though,” Rhaena continues, “I would take my dragon egg, the one that had been mine since the cradle, and place it by the fireplace in the hopes that it would hatch.”

“On your own?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, amazed at the unusualness of the situation.

“Yes, on my own,” she nods, “The Guardians had long since given up on my egg. My mother told me that it would be best to find a dragon to bond with when we returned to Westeros, and Baela wanted me to find another egg, but I could not just let go the one I had. It was my egg, so I would sit by the fireplace and pray to all the gods that I would have a dragon so I could be worthy of my name, and my father.”

“Including the Seven?”

“Including the Seven,” she says, “That is why I know the prayers and chants. I used to think that one of them had to listen to me and help me. I stopped doing that after my mother died.”

Aemond sees the pain in her expression and caresses her face. She smiles and continues, “In the end, it turned out that I was right about my egg, I just had to wait.”

“Your patience was rewarded.”

“And now I have Morning. And you have Vhagar.”

“In my case… I knew I had to act at the first opportunity that presented itself. When I saw Vhagar sleeping among the dunes on the beach at Driftmark, I didn’t think about it too much. The largest dragon in the world.”

“Being claimed by a small child,” Rhaena retorts. Aemond watches her expression, expecting to find bitterness or anger, but she simply sighs, “I would not have admitted it then, but you were very brave in facing Vhagar.”

“The timing was not ideal, though.”

Rhaena nods, and closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, her gaze goes to his scar, “Another thing I did not say then, I am sorry, Aemond. I never wanted that night to end so bloodily when I woke my cousins. If I hadn’t involved them, if we hadn’t waited for you in the tunnel, perhaps everything would have been different.”

“The only thing different would be that I would have kept my eye,” he replies, “War was inevitable.”

“Perhaps,” Rhaena nods.

“I… uh… regret my words that night too,” he says without much thought, “I was cruel to mention the loss of your mother.”

“You were. Although I did get a little bit of revenge while I was beating you up when you were on the ground.”

“Four against one!” Aemond growls and then asks “I seem to recall pushing you?”

“I still have a scar on my knee from your attack!” she retorts with mock indignation.

 “Unacceptable,” Aemond murmurs, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, brushing her knuckles, “Though you were the one who attacked first!”

Rhaena giggles and shakes her head, “I wish none of that had happened. Can you imagine? If we had lived in peace, without wars and family feuds.”

“I doubt that would have been possible.”

“Oh, come on, humor me,” she gently pats his shoulder, “Your sister would be with us. And her children”

“Mmm,” Aemond smiles, though he prefers not to think about it, even if it is just a fictional scenario.

“And my sister would be married to Jace. And I would marry…”

Rhaena pauses and Aemond raises his eyebrows at her, “Me. I would have needed a Targaryen wife too.”

“It’s true,” she nods and lets herself fall onto the mattress, “Maybe we would have ended up married as well in that other reality.”

Aemond doesn’t answer, but he pulls her closer to his body, holding her by the waist. Rhaena hides her face in his chest, and her hands hug the prince’s body.

“I am glad to be here with you,” he hears her say.

The prince breathes in her rose scent, and feels his body relax.

“Me too,” he admits quietly.

***

Ellyn Baratheon gracefully steps out of the carriage that has stopped in front of the Great Sept. Her presence astonishes Rhaena, who has come to the temple at Alicent’s urging.

“Your Grace,” she greets with a curtsey as she reaches her side.

“Lady Rhaena,” the young woman nods, “I did not know you would be joining us this morning.”

“The Dowager Queen was kind to invite me.”

A lopsided smile appears on her face, and Rhaena wonders if Ellyn detects the false complacency in her voice.

“Of course,” Ellyn lifts the skirts of her sky-blue dress, and begins to climb the temple stairs, “We should hurry. The service will begin shortly.”

Rhaena follows silently, wondering how to bring up the subject of her unanswered invitations.

“I am glad to find you here, Your Grace. It is good to see you in good spirits and…”

“I am sorry if I gave you the impression I was avoiding you, Lady Rhaena,” Ellyn interrupts, stopping outside the sept, “I wasn’t ready to see anyone. I am having a harder time returning to court life than I expected, I hope you can understand.”

“Of course, Your Grace, it is more than understandable,” she says quickly, “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable or make any claims, I merely wished to offer my friendship.”

Ellyn does not respond, only nods and points to the Great Sept with her head. Seeing them walk together, the courtiers and townspeople who have attended also kneel, greeting them. The queen does not stop for any of them, so Rhaena does her best to greet them with a smile before making her way to where Alicent is already seated.

The service begins punctually, and Rhaena does her best to appear interested, although inwardly she wishes she could have stayed in the Keep deciding with the royal steward what was necessary regarding the nobles’ meals now that they must enter a more austere period.

When the High Septon finally finishes his sermons and the ritual ends, he approaches her to talk. Rhaena entertains him for a few minutes, listening patiently before greeting some of the other nobles gathered there. Eventually, he goes in search of Alicent, finding her kneeling at the Mother’s altar.

“It is her custom to light candles for her relatives who are no longer here,” explains Ellyn, whom she has not heard approaching, but who is now at her side.

Rhaena wonders if the Dowager Queen will light any in memory of her cousins ​​or Rhaenyra.

“I imagine she finds comfort in it,” she replies, watching the queen murmur prayers with her eyes closed.

“I suppose, though in my experience, it did not comfort me in the least,” the young queen sighs and turns to look at Rhaena, “Queen Alicent insisted on bringing me here to pray for the babies I lost.”

“I did not know,” Rhaena admits, “I am sorry.”

Ellyn looks down and Rhaena thinks she sees her eyes watering as she faces her again, “It was not my destiny to be a mother, I hope you have better luck than me in that regard.”

Rhaena doesn’t know what to answer, so she looks back at Alicent. Is that why she has insisted for them to come to the Sept? Does Alicent hope that her gods will grant the Targaryen the long-awaited heir?”

“Will you come with me?” Ellyn asks, drawing her out of her mind, “I will go to the Father’s statue to pray for my husband. I don’t know if you are aware, but his health is not the best.”

“I know,” she nods and follows the queen to the most illuminated altar of all. Ellyn takes one of the straws and lights a candle, kneeling down and raising her eyes to the statue. Rhaena imitates her, although she does not light any candle, “I hope the king finds relief from his pain.”

Ellyn offers her a smile that seems sincere and joins her hands in prayer. Rhaena waits by her side, silent, until the queen finishes her prayers. As she watches, she can't help but wonder if Ellyn Baratheon has genuine affection for Aegon or if this is just an expected act of her position. Or perhaps a mixture of both.

“Thank you, Lady Rhaena, for waiting with me,” Ellyn replies, standing up and offering her a hand to help her up.

Rhaena walks beside her to the exit of the Great Sept. The people gathered outside call out their names. The princess goes up to them, offering them gold coins and receiving flowers from a small boy with an adorable smile.

“You are good to them,” Ellyn comments as they return to the carriage.

“It is part of our responsibility as their rulers.”

“I suppose so,” she admits, “Though I was never very good at dealing with the common people. Or with many of the nobles, if I am honest. I have heard that you are far better at it than I was.”

“I try to do my best, though the courtiers surely miss their queen at Court.”

“I doubt it, Lady Rhaena,” she sneers, “And, if we are honest, I do not miss Court either. As far as I am concerned, you should continue to handle the ladies' endless hearings and complaints."

“I would not wish to occupy a position that is not mine, my queen.”

“You are not doing so. I assure you that you are doing me a favor by taking my responsibilities under your charge.”

“Are you sure? We could perhaps divide up the duties, surely you will want to occupy your time and mind with your previous duties now that you are well again.”

Ellyn Baratheon places her blue eyes on Rhaena’s, “I do not know if you are aware, Lady Rhaena, but my last child lived in my womb for almost seven moons. When he died, while still inside me, I had to birth him and watch him come lifeless into this world. I do not know if I will ever fully recover from that experience, but I know that dealing with the problems of the kingdom again will not bring me any relief.”

Once again, Rhaena does not know what to say, although she tries to mask her expression and avoid shedding the tears that she feels stinging in her eyes.

“I do have one request, however.”

“Of course, whatever you wish, my queen,” she replies, clearing her throat.

“I heard that you are helping an orphanage in Flea Bottom. Sadly, I didn’t usually care about such causes before, but I would like to be able to visit them and see that they receive what they need. I think my heart will feel a little better surrounded by motherless children.”

“Of course,” Rhaena nods immediately, “If I am honest, I do not have much time for charity now that I have other obligations, I am relieved to know that you will take care of that matter.”

The queen smiles at her and, when the page announces that they have arrived at the Keep, they walk together to one of the courtyards.

“Thank you for the company, Lady Rhaena. I see that people were not exaggerating when they spoke of your charm.”

“Thank you, my queen. I am glad that I could have been of your pleasure and help.”

Rhaena curtsies and watches her walk away, sighing when she is finally alone.

Since she has no commitments scheduled, she decides to go up to the Tower to rest before dinner, and wait for Aemond. Still remembering her conversation with the young queen, she slowly climbs the steps, lost in her thoughts. But she is abruptly pulled away from them when she walks through the front door and is greeted by screams and the roar of her dragon.

Rhaena stops for a moment and watches the guards running, so she follows them and notices that they are heading to her room. A maid is crying in the hallway, desperate and shaking with fear.

“What happened? Why…?”

“Ma’am, your… your dragon…” the girl shudders, “She didn’t know… she shouldn’t have come in…”

Rhaena, aware that she won’t get any answers from the maid, rushes into her room when she hears Morning roar again.

A blast of dragon fire greets her, though it is not directed at her and is barely larger than the fire in the fireplace, it manages to fill the room with warmth.

“Lykirī,” she calls out as she enters the room, “Dohaeras, Morning.”

The guards advance towards the dragon, swords in hand, clearly intent on taking down the creature.

“Stop, do not go any further,” she orders, “You will not come near my dragon.”

“Princess, the creature attacked a maid.”

“What do you mean?”

Rhaena falls silent as her eyes scan the room, finding the figure of a maid, a young girl surely younger than her, bleeding profusely from wounds on her neck and arm.

“Help her!” she orders.

“It is pointless, princess,” the guard replies, “She’s dead.”

Thanks for reading :)

Next chapter maybe on sunday :)

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[gouraminnow]

Not Even a Challenge

Ace & gn reader

Goofy drabble! Ace ends up crashing with reader and their roommates bc Striker needs repairs. They rope him into an eating contest so they can all win free food. No real romance just shenanigans ig? This gets away from me but I still had fun lol

Warnings: uh none. Not proofread or edited all that much ig? Ends kind of abruptly, keep messing up past/present tense lmao

-

Ace hadn't known you long at all, meeting you on a small island while exploring on his own. Striker had been damaged during a storm, and you and your two friends had let him crash at your place while he worked on the small ship. It was a little cramped, as he was intruding on what was already a roommate situation- but it didn't bother him. He was used to bunking with crewmates, after all. Taking a couch in the living room didn't phase the young man.

It wasn't a large town, but it was big enough. He helped out here and there, did odd jobs to afford supplies for striker and... food, once you and your buddies realized just how much he ate.

It was a lazy Saturday morning when he woke up, sprawled on the soft couch, gangly limbs tangled in the knit blanket you'd given him. He sits up to see you and your roommates whispering conspiratorially around the coffee pot, a hush falling over you all when you notice him looking. "Uh... whatcha whisperin' about over there?" He drawls, voice still groggy. You share mischievous looks with your friends, before sauntering up to the couch with a grin. You lean over the back of it, one arm folded on the cushions while the other shoves his hat onto his head.

"I am so glad you asked, Ace," you tell him, barely able to contain your glee. He lifts the brim of his hat, taking in the infectiously jubilant look on your face, that little twinkle in your eyes. "So. You... kinda eat a lot, and we don't have the biggest budget," you started. His brows furrowed- he was about to say something apologetic, but you held out your hand. "Ah ah ah! Lemme finish, I'm not mad!" You steeple your fingers together. "Charlie reminded us that there's a spot in town with a real... interesting meal deal. And we all agree you might just be the perfect man for it." Oh now he was interested.

"... Meal deal, huh?" He says, lazy grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "What kinda deal are we talking?"

Charlie ran up behind you, throwing an arm around you tightly which earns a strange, strangled noise as you're awkwardly shoved against the back of the couch, no doubt feeling the wooden frame against your diaphragm. "Eating contest!" they shout, wearing a grin of their own. "There's a diner that has this thing- if you beat the last person's record, you and whoever you bring get to eat for free! You can pick a dish from the options provided and whatever drink you want! Last guy's record is 24 plates!"

Ace's eyes widened. He suddenly felt very awake, stretching his legs out and rolling forward onto his feet in one smooth motion. "And you JUST remembered?! What the fuck, that's just my kind of deal! If I didn't know better, I'd say y'all were holding out on me!"

You'd finally wriggled your way out of Charlie's grip, dramatically smacking a hand over your chest, "WHAT! We would NEVER! How could you even SUGGEST such a thing?!" you shouted, feigning hurt.

Imani makes her way to a now-standing Ace next, curly hair still in her satin sleeping bonnet. She handed him a mug of coffee. "Well, we're telling you now, aren't we? Think you can handle 25 plates of... well, whatever you order? The current record holder chose hashbrowns, I think," she mused, eyes crinkled with mirth.

"Where have you BEEN?" Charlie shouted before he could open his mouth. "Of course he can!"

"Of course I can!" Parroted Ace. "You dare question my abilities?!"

-

It isn't long before Ace finds himself in a popular brunch spot by a busy pier. It was a two-story building with some balcony seating, plain wood with some white siding. He didn't get to examine it all that much, because you had enthusiastically pulled him along by the hand- both of you flanked by Charlie and Imani. His three hosts practically buzzed in excitement, the idea of winning free food from their guest's gluttony too exciting to pass up. He couldn't deny his enthusiasm either, laughing as you yanked him after you.

The booth is comfy, he thought as he sank into the cushions. All of you huddled together over a menu, Charlie and Imani to his right and you to his left with his arm over your shoulders. Charlie was practically laying on Imani's back, face peaking over from the crook of her neck. "Okay, so the popular options for the challenge are hashbrowns, pancakes, and biscuits and gravy. I think eggs benedict is an option too..." You muse from under Ace's arm.

"Ooh..." He exclaims, brows rising. "D'you think I can pick more than one?" He asks, lifting the menu closer. "Or like, some bacon on the side, maybe..."

He doesn't miss the grins you and your friends shoot each other. "I don't think they'd refuse something that would make the challenge harder," Imani reasons, resting her face on her hand. "We can certainly ask."

"They always say you gotta foot the bill if you fail the challenge, but I like our odds," Charlie quips, hugging Imani a little tighter.

The server approached the table, brows raised at everyone's giggling. Ace cracks his knuckles with an almost sinister smile. "I could have us all eating for free for days. It's showtime, baby!"

-

"ACE! ACE! ACE! ACE! ACE!"

"C'mon man, you got this!"

"TEAR THOSE BISCUITS UP, DUDE!"

"Ten more plates! You're already more than half-way there!"

His new friends are cheering him on, and a decently sized crowd had formed around their table. He wasn't sure how long it had been. Twenty or so minutes, maybe? Imani had been right in that he had been allowed to add more to the challenge- the server saying it was their budget on the line with a smug look. The guy wasn't quite sweating yet, but Ace had time. The rest of the staff were an equal mix of troubled and giddy, taking detours on their ways to other tables to see if this ravenous stranger was still going.

And he was- burning through dense piles of biscuits and pancakes, greasy strips of bacon and even licking plates clean of sauce like it was nothing.

He was going strong, halfway through plate 21 (A massive stack of pancakes) when he started to feel it: the tell-tale wisps of drowsiness, the darkened corners of his vision... Fuck, he thinks, right before face planting right into his food.

Gasps sound out from the onlookers. Charlie swears. "Is- is he dead?" A waitress asks, voice thin and reedy.

"No, no, it's fine- he's fine he just does this sometimes!" You say, trying to placate the muttering crowd before turning to Ace, gently shaking his shoulder. "Hey man, c'mon- you gotta rally. C'mon man wake up, please! You're our meal ticket, get it together!" You whisper-shouted into the young man's ear.

He didn't stir. Shit. Shit, shit, shit- the four of you are getting close to time. He needs to win this, you believe in him, he's just gotta-

Ace shot upward, resuming his meal like nothing had happened, just as you and your friends knew he would.

"YES! RISE! RIIIISE!" Cries Charlie, pumping their fist in the air as the onlookers gasp. Ace doesn't waste any time on explanations or platitudes, instead doubling his efforts to finish his heaps of food. A few of the staff are staring in abject horror by now, but Ace slows for nothing.

Plate 21 is shoved to the side, and he starts on 22.

Then 23.

Then 24, the same number of the previous record holder, but he wasn't slowing down. Charlie and Imani have both started laughing incredulously, now, and you're cheering his name again.

He finishes 25- a platter of biscuits stacked on top of each other, and he reflexively reached for the next, nonexistent plate before he's startled by Charlie's jarring bellow of "FUCK YEEEEEAAAAAAAH!!!" followed by the rest of his little party all whooping and hollering like their lives depended on it. Ace joined in, of course- after a solid five second burp that had you laughing your ass off.

A shell-shocked waiter took the orders of you and your roommates, and once that's over... "And can I get the shakshouka and two of those little bacon quiches?" Ace pipes up again, hand raised politely. There was a beat of silence- your massive grin and the giddy, shocked faces of your friends all staring at him, before the waiter himself finally broke.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

-

You all ended up going back to that spot for the next three consecutive days- Ace eating just one more plate every time. The crowd grew as well, of course, creating an increasingly boisterous environment until finally, on the fourth day, Ace and his new friends arrive in front of the restaurant to find a crudely drawn portrait of him along with bold red letters that read "!!!BANNED!!!"

"... Aw," Ace muttered, shoulders slumping in disappointment. He had really started looking forward to those little quiches.

"What the hell? What a bunch of sore losers!" You exclaim, hands on your hips.

"I dunno... We have been bringing him here to repeatedly eat plate after plate for free," Charlie reasoned, and Imani nods along in agreement.

"We keep unleashing the beast upon them. It was bound to happen eventually," she shrugged breezily. "The best things in this world are the most fleeting."

You snort. "Okay Socrates. Where do we eat, then?"

"Do you think they'd let you bring me takeout..?" Ace piped up hopefully, looking back over his shoulder at you three before he turned back at the cartoon depiction of him with a huff. The way they drew him with a... pronounced stomach really made him look like Luffy. "... This better not end up on any on my wanted posters," he grumbled.

You end up buying him a quiche, opting to fill up properly on street food.

-

A month later, Ace has long since made it back to the Moby. He's found himself missing you all- part of him wishing you were the types for piracy... but you lot seemed pretty happy where you were.

"Aaaace~!" He hears the familiar voice of Thatch. "Hey hey, you've got a letter from someone!" Ace quirks a brow, turning from where he'd been leaning against the taffrail. "Er... someones, plural, actually. Three names on this!" The cook saunters over, handing over the large envelop with a grin.

"Is it..?" He takes it from his brother, looking at the names on the envelop. "Oh shit, it's them! Remember those three I told you about? The three I crashed with back when Striker broke down?"

Thatch settles next to him, leaning his back against the rail, legs crossed as he looks over the younger man's shoulder. "Ohoh. The food scheme trio?" He asks, leaning in closer as Ace tears open his mail.

"Eyup," He confirms, fishing the contents out. The first picture is of a small black kitten- fast asleep on a plate of pasta. On the white borders of the printing paper, he reads: We named her after you! It's like you never left!

"Awww," Thatch coos, and Ace can practically hear the taller man's teasing grin, even if he isn't facing him. He... almost feels choked up, but he reigns himself in. It is a cute cat, though... ignoring his brother, he pulls the picture away, shuffling it behind the others. The second picture is of you, lifting cat Ace by the scruff as her little front paws desperately wrap around a half-eaten burrito, face buried in the open end. Your mouth is open, eyes wide in incredulity, probably in the middle of playfully scolding the tiny beast. Him and Thatch chuckle over the picture, Ace moving onto the third- a picture of the kitten cradled in Imani's manicured hands, little eyes contentedly shut with a little orange hat perched on top of her tiny head. "Oh my god, Ace!" Thatch cries, snatching the photograph out of his hands. "That's absolutely adorable, look at the little-" he's cut short when the fourth picture is revealed to them both.

A copy of the crudely drawn "!!!BANNED!!!" poster the diner had put up.

Ace sputters, and Thatch wheezes with laughter, snatching the drawing up too before Ace can react. "H-HEY!" He shouts, but the Chef has already bounded away, calling for the attention of the others. "HEY, GIVE THAT BACK, YOU ASS!" He shouts, rushing after his brother.

"Why don't you make me?" He taunts, holding the questionable rendition of his likeness just out of the shorter man's reach. "Aw, are you mad? What's wrong? I just wanna show the family this stunning portrait of our beloved baby brother!" Ace redoubles his efforts to jump for it, memories of doing the same thing to Luffy as kids flashing through his mind- before he got the hang of his rubber powers, of course.

"IT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!" Ace yells, leaping upward, hand outstretched-

-and Vista swipes it from Thatch's hand instead, laughing heartily. "The hat and the tattoo beg to differ," he points out before handing it off to Izou, who just smirks- quirking an immaculately plucked brow as he glances between the drawing and Ace's real-life grimace.

"What a flattering picture," he teases. "They even got your freckles."

"Oh, come ON!" Ace practically whines, lunging for Izou who just steps out of the way. He steadies himself, turning to see that Marco has it now. Damned bird. "Marco." He says sternly, reaching a hand out as his body literally begins smoking. "Give me that, damnit."

"What's the problem?" He asks, lazily grinning. "I think it's a wonderful picture. Are you sure Luffy's the one with the rubber-rubber fruit?" He asks, no doubt referring to the massive, caricature-ish belly he's been drawn with.

"Shut UUUP," he groans, yanking his hat down over his face- growing redder at the playful teasing of his brothers. It all devolves into a massive game of keep-away, his siblings passing it around while running interference. He has just broken free from Thatch's headlock when he spots Banshee's sly, half-lidded smirk as she hands it off to a giggling nurse. His stomach drops. "NO!" He cries, lunging once again with an outstretched hand- only to be tackled full force by a cackling Haruta. "Get offa me, you shit!"

"Hell no! Where's the fun in that?!" He shoots back, gangly arms shoving Ace's face against the hardwood floor, wrenching a grunt from him. His own arm shoots behind him, yanking a fistful of Haruta's hair- but then he hears it.

Oyaji's distinct, booming laughter, all the way from his cabin. He lets go, slumping face down against the deck with a groan. It's over. Damn you, damn Charlie, Damn Imani- and damn his wretched siblings. Haruta slides off of his back with a snicker, rubbing his head where Ace had yanked his hair. "Don't be a sore loser, Ace," he quips, only to immediately end up in a headlock.

When all is said and done, he keeps the pictures of cat Ace- the others teasing him about when he'll take them to meet his niece. And that sea-forsaken poster? Thatch has it framed and hung up in the Galley.