#they can't just be content seething in silence

[dilf-docs]

Foul Promises, Forbidden Games

harry castillo x younger fem!reader

summary: finally, harry and you seem to have found temporary truce. a small step. but what it's not, if a big dangerous leap?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, (eventual) smut, foes to hoes, (one sided) enemies to lovers, angst, rich ppl (yes that's a warning), slowburn, reader may be a bit of a cunt (sorry if this x reader fic is mischaracterizing u), ft. dbf!harry (love this trope so much and had to squeeze it in, my bad)

word count: 1,840 words

side note: hi hello thank u for ur support my citizens!!!!!!! new spot just dropped a few days ago UGH i'm so excited for this movie can't wait to meet our smitten billionare istg if he gets dumped for cevans' poor ass but in celine god song we trust,, NOW brat summer is over it's time for dilf summer and pedro pascal is the star!

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Come in"

The door opens, and the familiar click of shoes and wooden musk invades the place. You don't dare pronounce his name.

"This office is for married people only"

He chuckles at your dry tone. Petty even.

"Thought you were allergic to 'em"

"I am, but they bring money to the table"

"Thought it was your daddy's" he's quick to retort.

You try to keep neutral, your view busy on the same file you've had open since he entered the room.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not offended by the trust-fund baby calling" you reply, nonchalant. He takes a sit without you allowing it, that stupid soft smile on his face while crossing his legs. You finally look at him. "What do you want, Harry?"

Because, why was he, the last person you'd like to see, inside your office on a weekday, let alone, almost at closing hours?

"I want a truce"

His words fall into the silence of your office, partly iluminated by the moonlight. It isn't your worst wednesday night but it sure deserves a spot on the list.

You arch an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware we were at war"

"With you, honey" he leans in closer, his shadow hovering over your desk, "there's always a fight"

"Then why take the trouble to come?"

"See what I mean?" he's quick to smile like he knows something you don't. "Anyway, I came because it's urgent. Wouldn't, otherwise"

"Huh. I've heard that before"

Harry stands up, looking at your condecorated wall, seemingly impressed by the papers hanging inside frames, a testament to your intelligence.

"Well?"

"Do you know why people come to you?" he asks, still facing the wall.

"Because I'm the best"

He turns around, smiling in amusement. "So humble, aren't you?"

"I take you didn't come to compliment me. Tell me, Mr. Castillo, why is it you're here?"

Harry faces you. "Drop the formalities, we're not strangers"

"I don't know you"

It's sharp, but he doesn't flinch.

"You could if you wanted to"

Your heart picks up a faster beat. It's starting again, like the two times before, this new off-putting feeling you hate and can't stop.

"You came here for bussiness, I pressume. Not comradeship, Harry"

To talk with you is to wrestle with a seething tongue.

"We can always have tea or a nice dinner other day. I know this pasta place downtown; I'm friend's with the owner" at your narrowed eyes and lack of response, he clears his throat and continues. "Alright, not the talker. I'll go straight to the point"

"Finally"

He contains the urge to roll his eyes.

"Nevermind. You do talk the talk" he sighs. "But I'm here for a favor"

Now it's your turn to sigh. "Could've said that first. Time's money and you've wasted me enough. This is a law firn, not a charity"

His lips quirk into a smirk. "I don't want your alms. Just you"

Two simple words shouldn't affect you this much.

"Besides, haven't you got plenty?" he continues, tone joking, at your lack of response.

"It's never enough"

His eyes shine with an inexplicable anticipation.

"I can always try"

You cross your arms, leaning against your leather chair. Maybe he won't notice the slight tremble to them.

"You said you needed me"

"Precisely" Harry seems content. "Now we're talking"

"Speak"

"So bossy" you roll your eyes. "Do you know Paul Lauder?"

"If you're rich and leave in New York, it's impossible you haven't"

"He's a friend of mine" he offers.

You scoff. "Would be weird if he wasn't"

"I don't have as many friends as you think I do"

"Who you befriend isn't my problem. Or what I think isn't yours" Harry looks about to correct you, but you don't allow him. You place your elbows on your desk, assesing, in that pose he thinks you use to intimidate. You ressemble a hunter, ready to bounce over it's prey. It sends shivers down his spine, despite mantaining his natural facade. "Continue"

"I need your help"

You grin like a cat. "If you need my help, as you say, and they only way I can help you is the only way I know, you could've sent an e-mail"

"But that's the problem" he smiles, albeit a bit sad. "He doesn't want to get a divorce"

His shoulders slump, face frowned and a serious glint over his eyes that makes him look like he carries the world's whole weight within them. You're taken back by how used you're to his usual happy and confident self. For a moment, you think you want to do everything in your power to make him smile again. The treacherous thought is pushed down as quick as it came.

"Then why are you here?" you ask, this time curious above anything else. "I thought you believed in marriage"

He doesn't take your little bait. "No. I believe in love"

You push back a smile. "Right, how could I be so dumb?"

"You're not, which is why I came to you. Do you think I would put up with your charming personality for nothing? There are tons of other divorce lawyers out there"

"Yet here you are" you interrupt, harsh.

"Yet here I am" he repeats, softly.

"Harry..."

"I know this is sudden, and I know it's late. That you don't care for me, or my friend"

"I don't"

His gaze turns hard for a second, maybe as a warning, expecting less judging and more sympathy.

"Don't expect anything from me"

"I don't expect you to understand what you don't know, y/n" he replies, tone patient yet condescending. "But know this: love tends to bring the strongest down"

"Love" you savour the word, rolling off your tongue like a snake who seethes. "You speak a lot about it. Tell me, Harry, have you ever been in love?"

A pin could drop and be heard.

"I think you'll know when I do"

You decide to serve yourself some coffee, and when the cup spills, filled to the brim with shaky movements, he doesn't say anything. You don't offer him a cup either.

"Listen, I pride myself in reading people. Wonder how I ever got so far in this industry? I know what people want, and that's the key. The rest is sweet talk and paper. So, when I tell you it took me less than two seconds to figure her, I'm serious. Paul may have married this girl out of love, but she obviously hasn't. As Lauder is charmed by her heart, she's by the numbers of his bank account"

A true player, you think cynically.

"You expect me to fill sorry for the poor filthy rich?" you tilt your head, the annoyance palpable.

"That's funny coming from you"

The roughness of his tone surprises you. You don't reply anything.

"He's self-made"

"And I'm supposed to assign bonus pity points for that?" you find your voice again.

He rolls his eyes, composed demeanor faltering a bit. You smile, delighted.

"I wouldn't want all his hard work to go to waste for a fairy tale he's deluded himself with"

"Now you're speaking my language"

"Don't confuse yourself. True love is still out there" he counters.

"You're a believer, Harry. I'm still deciding if that's heroic or stupid"

"You may think I'm being selfish, but I know my friend. This isn't Paul. He's gone in her cold smile he perceives as warm, and his pockets keeps emptying as his love into the place her heart is supposed to be, but he's just pouring worship into a hollow pit with a hole in the bottom that leaks with indifference. Apathy. Aversion even" he makes a pause, seemingly pained by just recalling. "I believe love makes you grow, so does devotion. But devotion isn't servitude. Surrendering, in flesh and bone, to another soul isn't the same as losing yourself"

"Poetic" you drop with a bitter tone. Almost humiliating.

He shrugs, not affected. "I'm not a poet, just a friend who wants to help"

"By seeking out a divorce" you reply, entertained.

"No" sharp. "I'm helping my good friend before he makes the biggest mistake of his life"

"You will break his heart" you add, not knowing why.

"A heart only breaks once. The rest are just scratches"

You can't help but wonder about your father and mother. If he loved her; if she's the only woman he ever loved. Maybe that's why he was so fucked up now. You still remember the weeks after her departure, how he'd drunkenly call her name after shots of tears. In the following morning, he wouldn't recall, and you wouldn't tell him either. Out of empathy or pity, you don't know. He never did again after he married his second, neither when she left. Nor with the next one, and so on. His polite smile when arriving to your office to finalize each never faltered, so maybe Harry was right, at least in that. You won't give him that much credit though, let alone tell him.

You sigh. "If he doesn't want a divorce, there's nothing I can do. What I do, is the legal procedures. Not magic"

"I think you're underestimating yourself" like a nurturing father. You don't know how much you need those words, the forbidden warmth in your chest rather embarrassing. "You could change anyone's mind"

"Right. I'm not a witch"

"Pretty sure I heard a few of your employees call you Wicked Witch of the East Coast as I walked by" he smirks.

"Well, Broadway isn't that far. I'm glad you appreciate their wit" but your gaze is cold. "When you keep them close, they're pretty much the same, but I know I've got both admirers and enemies" a breath goes by. "I'm curious, though. Which are you?"

He's as surprised by your boldness as yourself. Maybe it's the late hour or the bitter adrenaline of caffeine in your veins.

"I'm whatever you want me to be" in that infuriating tone you've yet to decipher; you hate the unknown.

"Always the gentleman" you concede, icy. "Now be the one who tells me why the hell I'm supposed to help your fallen friend"

"Because I'm asking you to"

The tension could be cut with kid scissors.

"Are you paying in advance?" you ask, throat dry.

The billionare smiles.

"A true business woman. Your dad was right"

You give him a tight smile. "He mocks me"

"I don't"

He raises from his seat, an indentation in the shape of him where he just sat. More of Harry in your life, in guarded spaces previously only your own.

"Good. Do we have a deal?"

You extend your hand. When he takes it in his, something clicks.

Harry smiles. "We do"

Your hand burns as if you've just made a deal with the devil.

"Goodnight" he exits your office, voice as soft as only Harry Castillo can.

For a moment, your hand still in the air as his back loses in the dark shadows of your closed office, you can't help but think you've made the worst mistake of your life by agreeing.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas / 🏷: @io12n @dowscal @oscar-isaac @joelscowgirl @jxvipike @klarkapascal @lostinmyownmaze @folklore-barnes @alinacecee @sukitruqui @youusunshineyoutemptress @hermionelove @noisynightmarepoetry @ann-gell @suzysface @joelmillerpascal @ennvsco (comment if u wanna be added!)

[softlypaintedseafoam]

orpheus

synopsis. he looked back.

pairing. portgas d. ace x f!reader (afab)

word count. 7.1k | masterlist

content warning. marineford/post-war arc spoilers, reader is coded black (written ambiguously. anyone can read), character study, childhood friends to lovers, open-ended

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

my premiere fic on this acc! as someone who was watching op back when it aired on 4kids, ace has been my favorite character for over a decade. so come to my inbox and let's talk about how much we love him! the 'poem' the reader recites is actually a quote from this short film you should definitely watch

Dadan is doing your hair before bed when you learn of this story.

The night is late on Mt. Corvo, baths taken and house cleaned after the chaos of dinner. Much too late for you to trek down to your home in Windmill Village, ensuring that for the fifth night in the row you'd be spending the night at your friends' house. ("You're going home tomorrow," Dadan insisted, hands on her hips sternly. "This a base for bandits, not a daycare!")

The one who mentions the story is Leif.

The man is a strange case among Dadan's brood with his glasses and delicate mannerisms. Someone who seems like he should be a normal person in society rather a bandit. Perhaps that's what makes him so useful to Dadan's team; he looks like a normal person. He seldom swears, seldom drinks himself tired. Most evenings, like now, it isn't strange to see him reading a book in the living room among his friends by the window. Suddenly, he shudders, setting his book aside and closing the window firmly with a click of his tongue. "Orpheus must have looked at Eurydice," he mutters.

"Who- hey!" Luffy cries belligerently when the brief moment of distraction leads to Sabo smacking his hands. They're playing some sort of hand game where you're supposed to move your hands before your opponent hits them. 'Reflex training' Ace called it. "No fair!"

Sabo grins with a victorious laugh, ignoring Luffy's demands for a rematch. "You snooze you lose, Luffy!"

Ace's expression is just as smug, "your reflexes suck."

Amusing as their antics are, you wave an arm to regain Leif's attention. "Who's Orpheus and Eurydice?"

"Ohoho," Leif perks up, pleased. "They're characters from an old story."

Luffy cocks his head, "how old?"

"Older than Dadan probably," Sabo surmises without a second thought.

"Brat," Dadan seethes under her breath. She turns your head to an angle, beginning the first of your french breads.

Eyes wide with intrigue, you lean forward eagerly before Dadan's grip on your hair reminds you your actions are limited. Dadan picks carefully through the accumulated naps and tangles. The woman's only solace is that you're not tender-headed. You can't afford to be when most of your daytime activities lead to your hair being filled with sticks and leaves. ("What on earth are you brats doing for your hair to get like this?" You and Luffy share a look, snickering mischievously. It's no secret to anyone in this house that the woman's exasperation is worse than her bite.) "I wanna hear the story!"

Leif is more than happy to recount the tale of two lovers.

You liken the story to the life and death of spring.

The new life of spring is in their love as their dance causes petal after petal to bloom in the wake of their steps. But spring's death is in Orpheus’ turn and the sorrow that follows. In that stillness of spring that one seldom notices.

Orpheus’ delight in seeing the sun.

Eurydice's stumble.

Her silence.

Maybe he thinks he’s been tricked.

Regardless the variety of the tale, it all ends the same Leif tells you gravely. Dramatically, as if singing a song. Orpheus looks back and his beloved disappears.

The death of spring itself.

It's the most beautiful story you've ever heard.

"Well that's dumb," Ace crosses his arms, thoroughly unimpressed. "The exit was right there. He couldn't wait five minutes?" It doesn't take long for Luffy to agree with the eldest of his brothers, arms crossed with a matching expression.

Sabo rests a hand on his chin thoughtfully, "and if he heard her stumble in one version, he should have known she was actually there and not a trick."

Ericht, a hardy man with a throaty voice chuckles, raising a tankard at the boys' words. "See, Leif? Even the kids think it's ridiculous!"

"I don't think it's dumb," it's hard to be taken seriously when your head is at 45 degree angle, however. "It's sad and pretty."

"At least one of you lot have taste," Leif huffs, index finger raised indignantly to the air. "The rest of you are completely missing the point! It’s human nature to look! That’s what makes the story beautiful! It’s human to love. Love is why Orpheus looks back. He wants to tell Eurydice the sun is right around the corner! He’s worried for her safety. He’s afraid he’s been tricked-”

Luffy stands firmly, hand resting on his puffed out chest, "I wouldn't have looked back!"

"Me neither!" Ericht proclaims.

"Hear, hear!"

A clank of mugs and a chorus of cheers ensue and his audience is lost. Leif plops down beside yourself and Dadan in annoyed defeat. "This is what happens when you try to bring classics to criminals."

"You're a criminal," Dadan reminds the man with a snort.

It's a comment that causes the mild bandit to laugh. "I suppose you have a point there," he chortles. Moments like this makes you wonder once more why he turned to crime instead of academics. In another life, perhaps Leif becomes a teacher. Leif gives you with a small smile, sparing a glance the rest in the room. "They would have looked," he says just quiet enough for you to hear and you giggle as if you've been told a funny secret.

The rest of the night is uneventful as Dadan finishes your hair. She rushes the four of you to bed as soon as possible and even then, you rowdily have one final round of sparring before settling down. (At least Luffy doesn't fall through the floorboards this time!) Sleep doesn't find you as easily, your mind full as Sabo and Luffy snore around you. Turning onto your side, you stare at Ace's back.

"Ace," your whisper is just barely audible over the cacophony of sleep. "You awake?"

There's enough beat of silence before Ace shuffles, turning around to face you. You blink, unsure if its surprise you feel or otherwise. You'd suspected he hadn't been sleeping when you noticed how quiet he'd been. Yet you're taken aback he turned around anyway. It's strange. ���What?”

"Would you look back if you were Orpheus?"

"That story again?" Ace whispers incredulously. You don't need a light to know his brow is furrowed in disbelief.

"I feel bad for Orpheus," you murmur as you recall Leif's words. It was a beautiful story as much as it was sad. "He just wanted to be with his wife again and now he can't ever be with her again." It's human nature to look, Leif said. It's human to love. It's what makes the story beautiful. With more quiet than noise in the room, it's not as easy seeing the beauty. But I can, you squeeze your hand into a tiny ball in quick protest. Apparently it is also human to be contradictory. I think I can see the beauty. Maybe the beauty is what makes it so sad.

There's a brief sigh that leaves the boy and you wonder if he's annoyed until he asks, "well would you look?"

The dance of spring. The death of it in Orpheus' turn.

If it was Ace or Sabo or Luffy behind me…

When you look behind you to see how far away Luffy is.

When Sabo swallows his saliva the wrong way and coughs.

The moments where Ace falls quiet and suddenly, even if he is with you and his brothers, he looks like the loneliest boy in the world.

You look back every time.

"Yeah," you curl into yourself into a small ball. A sigh escapes your lips in your admittance. "I guess we'd never see each other again, huh?"

You half-expect Ace to balk at your words. 'Why am I Eurydice, huh? I'm a guy!' Instead he's quiet and you wish you could see his face so you can try and guess what he's thinking. It's when Ace is quiet when he's the hardest to read. "Well," Ace proposes after a moment. "Maybe Hades'll be nice and Orpheus can try again some day. That time he won't mess up." He pauses, scratching the side of his head. "So stop being all sad about it."

A warmth settles in your chest at his clumsiness. "Yeah."

A particularly loud snore from Luffy makes you both snort silently. You hope the bright-hearted boy never changes. Once your amusement subsides, you yawn. "You never answered my question though," you yawn once again. Sleep will be upon you soon. "Would you look back too?"

"No, dummy," Ace replies without a second thought.

Your cheeks puff into a petulant pout, "Leif said looking is what makes us human."

There's another beat of silence.

"Maybe I'm not human then," it's a reply void of Ace's typical cocksure and defiant attitude. There's a shuffle and Ace turns around, his back facing you once more. "Night."

"… Night."

The next day, life continues as it always does. If anything, this nest of thieves in the mountains is as much a home to you as it is for the actual residents. A stray shoe of yours there, a few shirts that belong to you there. Even the rituals of the morning are your own, rushing out of the house before Dadan can wrangle your band into chores.

Hunting for your own breakfast with steel pipes and vinegar and a healthy dose of throttling thugs for your pirate savings.

Ace and Sabo with wide smiles, making sure Luffy and his tiny legs are keeping up.

Ace huffing when you trip and fall on your face, reaching out a hand for you to grab regardless of his gripes.

Orpheus and Eurydice aren't far from your thoughts.

"What are you smiling about," Ace raises an eyebrow as he tugs you onto your feet.

"Nothing," you laugh airily in return. You're human.

Ace looks back at you again another time, more concerned than his grouchiness let's on as he grumbles you're not talking as much as you always do. It's rich coming from the guy who constantly complained you talked to much your face when you were first getting to know him. "It's better when you don't shut up than when you're quiet," he barks when you point this out. "It's weird."

(You're human.)

The island is covered in snow the day you decide you'd join Ace's crew after months of indecision. Your vision of freedom is different from your friends'; you don't want to be a captain of your own crew. You don't want the worries of having to lead. So, the boys decide, you have to join one of theirs. It's hard picking between your friends. That indecision goes out the window the day you meet Old Man Naguri and you listen to his tales about his battle against Roger for all of until whenever you notice Ace leaving quietly.

"Ace," he turns around, surprised at your sudden appearance. He must have been deep in his thoughts if he didn't hear the snow crunching underfoot. "Are you okay? It's okay if you were scared of Naguri's story." Although the man had told it warmly ー fondly, even ー it's a haunting thought that they were defeated so easily when the older man was so strong.

Despite your attempts to comfort him, Ace is quick to shut down that train of thought immediately. "I wasn't scared," he retorts. "I just don't feel like hearing stories about Roger." He doesn't expand on his reasons and you decide not to ask. You only want the look on his face ー the lonely one ー to leave him. You never want to see him make that face ever again.

So you change the topic; ask him if he thinks Naguri's old crewmates would ever want to sail the seas together again as you walk back to your secret base. "I dunno," the dark-haired boy shrugs. The freckles on his face almost seem like snowflakes in the surrounding weather. "Probably not," he decides with a grumble. "Their adventures are over now so what's the point in staying together at that point?"

It crosses your mind not for the first time that Ace is the most independent kid you know. Maybe one of the loneliest. Even if it's different, you understand the feeling. You were the weird one in your group of friends in Windmill Village. The one too loud and too strange, lost in daydreams and content to play all the roles yourself if it came down to it. The kid with animal bones and dead flowers mixed into your collection along with seashells and stones. You couldn't curb those interests.

Not for any lack of trying, however.

You did try.

You just couldn't. You tried talking less, you tried being normal but you inevitably would open your mouth and your oddities rolled off as naturally as breathing.

No one on Mt. Corvo is normal, however. That's what makes you fit in. Ace's problem, whatever it is, doesn't seem like it's the same.

"Well I'd stay with you," you tell him earnestly; vehemently. It isn't enough to say it if Ace doesn't believe you. "Even if the adventure's over too. You're my friend." The adventures could be over and there could be no more treasures left to find but you'd still stay with him. "We can find another journey to go on after the first one and another one after that. And even we don't have anymore to go on, I'll still stay with you! Then you won't be alone when the journey's over because I'll still be there."

There's a pause, a blink and Ace lets out a sound of surprise. "But you said you didn't want to ch-"

"I'm choosing your crew right now, duh!" You rest your hands on your hips, nose pointed in the air. "Got it, Captain Ace?"

Ace's cheeks are cherry red from the cold but his usual frown shifts into a something as bright as the sun. "Fine, but I'll be a strict captain, you know!"

We're all Orpheus, you kick up snow with wide footsteps while you and Ace excitedly discuss all the things that would be on your ship. All the places you should go on your ship. It's because we're human. You think as much as your hands brush against one another, cold and warm at the same time.

You think as much when you both turn to Sabo and Luffy loudly returning home with a-

"Oh, hey guys! I didn't know that you were home!"

"Oh, Ace! I didn't know that your father was Roger!"

A look akin to horror blossoms across Ace's face as he looks back at you at break neck speed.

(You're human.

You knew Ace was human all the times he looked back at you before. You still know he is human when he meekly asks one week later if you still want to be part of his crew. It's the smallest you've ever seen him and the most uncertain.

"You're stuck with me forever, you dummy!")

𖤓

Orpheus and his dilemma doesn't return to the forefront of your mind again until the Burning of the Gray Terminal. You hug your knees to your chest, pressed against Ace firmly now that it's over. He doesn't make to push you away, nor does he call you a 'baby' despite how quick he was to disparage Luffy and his tears earlier.

You can still hear the fire roaring in your ears; the smoke thick, darkening the sky and Bluejam holding you at gunpoint. Sabo was gone, taken by his noble family and far from the chaos unfolding in the slums of the Goa Kingdom.

For the first time in your young life, you understood what hell on earth looked like.

The screams of the helpless drowned out in fire; a mysterious power knocking all but Bluejam himself unconscious. You were never one for believing in gods but Dadan and her band's intervention was nothing short of a miracle. Still fear had gripped you in your entirety, draped over Ericht's shoulder, when you saw Ace wasn't running behind you guys.

"I'll never run away," he proclaimed, defiant as ever. The sparks surrounding you look as if they were stars leaping from his body. A display that, in any other situation, would have looked breathtaking. He was that boy ー your boy ー in the fire. Your boy who never turned around, not even when Dadan went to stay with him.

Look back, You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream it for the whole world to hear. Look back!

He didn't.

You didn't see them again until over a week has passed and the belief they'd been reduced to nothing but ash nearly took hold of you.

You never want to experience anything like that again.

You're sure you'll love Dadan for the rest of your life. Her skin is wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages and the burnt ends of her coily hair will need to be cut off. Still she's alive. You'll take Dadan bandaged and bruised over any other possibility. She speaks for all of you when she wearily asks Ace, "why didn't you run away?"

The answer isn't immediate as Ace mulls over his answer. You're too tired to press him to hurry in divulging his secrets. "Sometimes, I get so angry," the boy begins gingerly. Tenderly, as if he doesn't want to touch a bruise too firmly. "And I feel like if I run away, I'll lose something I could never get back. And this time, Luffy and," he trails off unexpectedly. Your head dips as he shifts to scratch his head, one of his tics. "They were behind me. I don't know why but that's probably the reason."

They're words that make your lips tremble. "It's 'cause you're human," you mumble, exhausted. "You're human. Like Orpheus." You close your eyes, ready to drift asleep on Ace's shoulder. You won't cry; you've cried enough to last a lifetime. "Being Orpheus is scary."

Dadan sighs testily, "that old story again?" Her words are more amused than disgruntled. "Leif, quit teaching weird stuff to the kids."

"They're taking after my love of the classics," Leif sniffs wetly. "There's nothing weird about it at all. She's right," it must be a vindicating feeling for the both of you. "It is scary to be Orpheus."

Maybe it's why Ace didn't look back. You press into his shoulder more firmly. "You don't have to be scared next time, I'll be there too." I'll protect you.

"I wasn't scared," he protests, resting his head atop yours. "You were the scared one." There are no arguments to be had there.

(It's a few hours later Dogra comes home, news pertaining to Sabo freezing your blood.

You never see the boy with the missing tooth again.)

𖤓

You leave Dawn Island when you're 17 on a small boat sturdy enough to get you and Ace by until you get your actual ship. You're pirate savings are long gone. "What pirates having savings anyway," you said when you remembered the silly notion you had as children. "We were so dumb for that!"

That's right, we were kids.

Kids who, for the longest time, could only talk hypotheticals about your ship and your adventures. That precious promise of the forever beyond journey's end. Now you're finally on the sea, you inhale in shaky belief at the long stretch of blue surrounding the two of you. We're finally doing this.

You run your hand over the water's surface, admiring how it feels silky to the touch. The distant cries of seagulls in your ear and the briny smell of the sea breeze in the air. You sure that you're going to blink and suddenly you be back in the boys' room, groggily staring at the ceiling in puddle of your own sweat as Ace and Luffy hold you tightly. Their snores sound vaguely enough like seagulls that they could be tricking you into thinking you're sailing right now.

It's spring, you breathe.

"Where to now, first mate?" Ace's voice pulls you from thoughts and you see him smiling. Frowns are no longer commonplace on his face anymore. It suits him as much as the sun shining down on him does. A sun child, that's what you are.

"Wherever the wind takes us, captain," you salute before breaking into a laugh. You aren't sure what to do with all the giddiness swelling in your person.

Ace matches your energy tit for tat, tugging the sail in the direction the wind. "Then off we go to uncharted waters!" You whoop excitedly, water droplets following your hands as you raise your arms.

You initially think it rotten luck you shipwreck on Sixis a few weeks into your journey, following legends of bountiful treasures. After acquiring Deuce and Ace eating the Flame-Flame Fruit to boot, you're more inclined to say fate works in mysterious ways.

Deuce is nice; you like Deuce.

The start to your friendship may have been rocky with his comments about Roger's son ー as well as you subsequently throwing your shoe at the back of his head ー but things ultimately had been smoothed over. It's hard to tell there'd been any foul feelings before, at least on Deuce's part. Not with how Ace throws his arm around Deuce's shoulders as he cheerily recounts a story about Luffy for the millionth time.

It's sweet.

It makes your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You groan, palming your forehead. I'm jealous. This is so stupid. It isn't even like we're not best friends anymore. You know that is fact. It's the 'whys' behind your jealousy that you don't understand.

The Spade Pirates have grown considerably since it was just you and Ace in a rickety boat. There's Deuce, Cornelia, Pinnacle, there's even a lynx in your crew. All of whom who joined this crew because they liked Ace. Most of them liked him almost immediately; it's darling in how effortlessly he does it. There is no effort, you realize not for the first time.

Even when you were 10 and Ace found more reasons to try and keep you at arm's length, you liked him. You always wanted to be his friend; it's something you and Luffy have always had in common. Your old friends in Windmill Village were unable to see your vision, however.

In hindsight, it's objectively not hard to see why.

Ace had been an angry, belligerent child with a harsh mouth. The Ace on the deck before you is practically a different entity entirely. Polite, gentle and extroverted. It's hard believing how easy making friends comes to him now when before the only friends he was able to gain were you, Luffy and Sabo. Which it is why it's so great Ace has so many now, truly. Truly.

This is what you wanted, isn't it? You've always wanted this ever since you were able to further understand Ace's complexities.

You are happy. As such, you're unable to grasp why you feel so gross. No, you sigh. That's a lie. I do know why. You're not Ace's only confidant anymore. He'll still go to you when he needs you, of course. It's just that you're no longer the immediate choice. It's simply a period of adjustment. You hold back a huff but Wallace, your friend in the crow's nest, is quick to notice your mood.

"Everything alright over there, partner." It's not truly a question; you can tell by the lack of rising intonation. It's a prod.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you tell the fishman offhandedly. "Just thinking."

"Oh no," Wallace grins wickedly, dark eyes dancing mirthfully. Even if he worries, Wallace seldom pushes if you really don't want to talk about it. It's his best trait after his humor. "Sounds like we're in trouble."

"Oh shut up," you hiss playfully, giving him a light shove. "See if I haggle for you again the next time we go to a market." Despite your sharp words, you're both laughing. From the corner of your eye, you see a flash of black turn around into tan and freckled flesh. You ignore wishful(?) thinking in favor of reality. You're not Ace's number 1 confidant anymore and that's alright. It's an awkward feeling having to share the role with someone else after so many years in that best friend role.

It'll pass; it'll pass.

𖤓

You realize you've been in love with Ace for the better part of your life one year later after the Spadille washes up on the shores of Amigasa Village. The entire affair is an ugly thing. Tears at the weight of your emotions; tears from realizing how much weight you were carrying in your heart to begin with.

What's worse is there's no grandeur in what causes your awakening.

It came to you slowly then all at once watching your oldest friend, snoring into a bowl of tororo soba. His face was a mess, flecks of tororo smeared on his face while the locals panicked assuming he had died mid-meal.

I love you, you chuckled silently, chin propped on your palm.

Then you blinked and everything else hit you like a surge of conqueror's haki.

"How could I be so blind and stupid," you screamed into your hands, Wallace patting your back all the while. Even being around Ace was a struggle. I told him I needed to go and forage mushrooms when he asked if I wanted to learn how to weave kasas with him. Mushrooms that even locals barely were able to find themselves. It wasn't your smartest attempt to process your emotions alone and far away from the cantankerous heartbeats Ace caused. "Was it obvious? Tell me it wasn't obvious!"

"I mean," Wallace's strained, sharp-toothed smile offered zero comfort. "It isn't to Ace?"

"Kill me."

"Hey, the hard part's over now," the weedy stingfish fishman shrugged. "It isn't like it isn't reciprocated."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you grumbled.

"You know Ace is in love with you, right?"

"Wallace."

"He is, though! Not that he's noticed but- come on, now," Wallace's tone was pressing, as if he was stating a long known truth. "You have to have noticed you're special to him, right?"

'Because I'm his oldest friend,' you wanted to say. Somehow you knew it wasn't an answer Wallace would accept.

It was a trying five days of woes and sorrows; scouring your memories.

(You can pinpoint the exact day you fell in love with Portgas D. Ace.

A day only a few months after Sabo's death and Luffy's inability to even begin the process of healing from it. When he begged Ace on that windswept cliff not to die to which Ace vehemently declared that he wouldn't.

In that moment, Ace was sparkling.)

By day five, you've gone through most of the five stages of grief. In all honesty it felt like you'd gone through ten, you truthfully believe as you recuperate by the shore.

There's not another place in the world as healing as the sea at sunset. In a world of power holders and haki, it's almost an impossible magic to perceive. How the sky becomes shades of indigo and vermilion and the sea becomes wine-dark. You close your eyes, breathing deeply as you lean your head back as if in meditation.

It's hard to tell what you notice first ー the crushed sand or the rise in heat behind you. You whip your head over your shoulder, a motion practically second nature.

"What are you sneaking around for," you smile lightly as Ace winces, brow furrowed, like he's been caught doing something wrong. His fidgeting is almost secondary to how he looks in the light of the setting sun.. It's a good look on Portgas D. Ace even before he adopted his gentle demeanor. For a second, you feel like Orpheus when he sees the light and turns, forgetting he wasn't supposed to gaze at his beloved until after they'd left Hades' domain. How Eurydice looked in his memory when bathed in its light. I get it, your eyes feel hot looking at the boy turned man behind you. I get why you looked.

"Mind if I join you," comes a hesitant reply, Ace.

"Since when do you ever have to ask to do that?" Nonplussed, you tap your fingers against the sand. He waits, as if gathering his bearings, before gingerly taking a seat to your left. Your heart flutters as your knees brush against each other and you wonder if this reaction has always been present. If you've merely been blind to it. "Your shadow isn't with you."

"Tama?" You raise your eyebrows with a questioning smirk as if to say 'who else would I be talking about?' A light chuckle falls from Ace's lips. The young girl had been attached to Ace's hip ever since you washed up on the shore. "Yeah, she's a sweet kid. But Kotatsu stole her away from me. Cats always win over over people at the end of the day."

"Tragic," your chuckle as you picture the yellow lynx allowing the girl to sleep atop him as he purrs and purrs. The thought inspires memories of Luffy, clinging to your person even as you try rolling out of the sleeping boy's grip. "Tama's lucky. It took me and Luffy three months before you could start tolerating us. It took her basically nothing."

"Aaah," Ace makes a sheepish sound at the reminder. If it were up to him, he'd be more than happy to pretend that weren't the case. In fact, that part of your knowing each other always fails to be brought up in Ace's many, many stories about Luffy and your childhood. "That… is something I don't rightly remember," he coughs out at last. "Maybe you're remembering wrong."

"Oh am I now," you snort, equal parts incredulous and entertained.

Ace nods, black tresses dancing with the movement. "Pretty sure. We've always gotten along."

"Luffy told me you punted him off a bridge his first day at Dadan's."

"I-"

"There was also that time you basically threw boulders at us for following you."

"That-that was-"

"And I'm pretty sure-"

"Okay, okay, I was a brat!" Ace throws his arms in the air, you guffawing all the while. "Stop reminding me!"

"What's funnier was your first etiquette lesson with Makino! I half expected you to call Red-Haired Shanks a bastard when we met him last month!"

Ace groans your name in embarrassment, face in his hands and the tips of his ears blazing red. Resting your arms on your knees, you lean forward against your chest in. Sitting there on the beach, ocean singing in the background, you could almost delude yourself into thinking you're the only people in the world. There is no Amigasa Village, no World Government and no concepts like Emperors and government-sanctioned pirates.

It's simply you and Ace.

What was I panicking about so much before? Watching Ace settle into himself, stardust dotting his skin and wavy hair moving in the breeze only cements the feeling. I love you; so much.

Enough that you'd traverse the realms beyond to bring him home.

Enough that you'd damn yourself right when victory is on the horizon.

And that's okay.

"What are you thinking about," brown eyes glance in your direction, lips twisted into a suspicious pout.

"Nothin'," you reply petulantly. I'll tell you one day, you vow silently. Once I get used to it. I've spent the better part of my life being in love with you without knowing. I wanna enjoy it now that I do. Treasure it like you're holding something precious because you are. "What are you thinking about?"

His eyes dart away following your question, Ace opening and closing his mouth a beat after. You shuffle your feet, shifting back and forth between the tips of your toes and your heels. Remembering your odd behavior the past few days, you don't doubt it is at the forefront of his mind. "... are you mad at me?"

You make a sound of bewilderment, leaning back and brow furrowed. "No? Where did that even come from?

"Sorry that isn't-," Ace stumbles over his next words. "It wasn't what I meant to- I just meant I knew something is bothering you but I didn't know how to bring it up but I know you talked to Wallace and I didn't want to come off as nosy or... I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Ace breathes, the deluge of words slowing down. "I'm always here to talk. But if you don't that's okay too. I just don't... It felt like… maybe you were avoiding me or something." He is mumbling by the time he finishes, abashed, after thoroughly exposing all of his cards.

Oh, I definitely was doing that. It will be a a cold day in hell before you admit that, however. Ace would only feel worse.

"I know how it must've looked but I promise that was just me making a bigger deal out of something than it actually was." Wallace will certainly agree with that sentiment. You can only imagine how he must have felt watching you be so obviously smitten. "But it wasn't you! It was just me! I didn't want to worry you and I was getting in my head and well, Wallace just kinda happened to be right there and well... it kinda just got word vomited onto him. Otherwise, I would have kept stuff to myself."

Ace rasps the back of his hand against your arm, "you're sure you're okay?"

You know Ace is in love with you, right?

"Yeah," you press yourself into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. "I'm good. I just had to freak out about it, I think. Everything's perfect." Nice isn't enough to describe how it feels, being enveloped in the warmth that flows from his body. I could die like this, you remember a poem Leif recited a long time ago. Softly; peacefully. In the middle of a dream.

𖤓

"Gimme my props."

The only response you have to your sing-song demand is a playful groan.

You nudge into Ace's arm with your whole body, "come on, flame boy! My props!"

The night is young on the seas, the Moby Dick alight with drink and song. Pirates never miss a reason to party, Ace becoming the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates is no different. He deserves the position more than anybody, in your extremely biased opinion. He's more than earned it and you're happy to see him accept it, even if it was with an uneven stride.

"Ace, we're on the ship of the world's most tolerant pirate," you told him the night before when the two of you sat alone in one of the crows nests. "If you trying to kill him a hundred times didn't get you kicked out, I don't think Roger being the cherry on top is going to do anything either."

"You don't know that," he replied quietly, shoulders to his ears. It was like you were children again and he was so sure you'd take back your promise. As if him being Roger's son would be a dealbreaker. Ace could have been the son of the devil himself and you'd still have kept your promise.

"I don't," you agreed promptly. Still, you knew Whitebeard's character. He was the father to an entire fleet of vagabonds and rejects; what was one more with a large secret?

"And what if you're wrong?"

"Well, first as your friend I would tell you that you really picked the wrong tattoo," you grinned at his snort, watching as he failed to keep his lips from curving upwards. You raise your right hand, showing off your own, smaller Whitebeard jolly roger on your inner forearm. "Alright, alright, I'll say we both picked the wrong tattoo. And that we really fucked ourselves over burning down the Spadille." The ship was long gone now, only existing in your memories. "So assuming we have to battle our way dramatically off the Mobyー we'll jump on the Striker, head to the closest island to get some cover ups and we'll start over," you wink and Ace's eyes softened, looking as if he was staring through you. "But I doubt things will go that route and I look forward to you telling me I was right."

"Okay," Ace drapes himself over you, pulling your back into his chest. You squeal as rough fingers tickle your sides. "You were right so be humble about it!" Perfect. Ace is absolutely perfect.

"Stop it already! I'll be humble!" It doesn't take much time for the tickles to stop with your ceding, Ace's arms lying lazily across your stomach. In the far distance ー as distant as distant can be on a ship so ginormous ー Binks' Sake is being sung on loop with Jozu and Haruta particularly off-key. There's something comforting in how terrible they sound, you giggle softly. "Hey," you press your back further into his chest. "I love you."

"Yeah, I love you too," Ace snickers, lips curled into a lazy half-smile. There's no deep pondering at all behind those eyes. No inclination to look deeper into your words.

Not quite, you brace yourself with a quick in-breath. "No; Ace," while not enough to pull yourself out of his hold, you lean forward enough to look over your shoulder with ease. "I love you."

There's a pause.

Panic then flashes across his face, nothing but a grunt of shock escaping his ajar mouth. You stumble at how quickly Ace is to separate from you, attempting to make his exit to Oden knows where before you grab one of his hands.

"Ace," you squeeze his hand delicately as he stands completely still, face buried in the hand he has left. "Ace," you call again and Ace looks back at you ー truly looks back at you, brow furrowed and eyes wet with conflict. "I'm in love with you. You and no one else. You, Portgas D. Ace, and you can't run away from that. And," your throat clenches. "I want you to admit that you're in love with me too."

"You shouldn't-"

"Do you love me?"

A choked sound escapes him, "you can't-"

"I can and I do," you interrupt him belligerently, both your hands wrapped his tightly. Like he's begging you to end this torment for something he can't have; that you shouldn't want. That maybe he never wanted to know he wanted in the first place. "I'm in love with you. You don't have to love me back just don't," the breath you release is shaky. "Don't run away from it. Don't run away from how you feel about me."

You know Ace is in love with you, right?

"You're in love with me," you ask with a falsetto pitch, face warm and throat tight. It takes more strength than you're prepared to admit to tug Ace into facing you directly. It takes more strength than you're prepared to admit to hold his gaze. "Aren't you?"

"I," he starts, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. It's a steadying process of half-formed words, stumbles and shaking shoulders. A steadying process of deep breaths. "Of course I love you," he chokes at last. "I've always… always," it's enough for you, those words. More than enough; you can tell from how Ace's figure suddenly becomes unclear. Whatever else he wants to tell you can wait for later when he's able to say them.

Finally, something you in whispers. Finally.

"Can we kiss?" The two of you can't help laughing at your own words. It's a clumsy affection, unsure what to do with itself. You look forward to figuring it out together. We have forever, after all. It's what you promised one, long winter ago.

"Yeah," Ace nods with a sniff. You wonder if he's remembering the same winter. His smile tells you he is. "We can kiss," the first of many, chaste with the underlying taste of salt. Warm and yours; your personal spring in the sea.

𖤓

For the second time in your life, you're seeing hell on earth.

You're battered, bruised and the ground is littered with more corpses than you can count; pirate and marine alike. Your blood roars through your ears, your breath just as loud. Breath after breath, stride after stride.

The scent of death, fire and everything in between is cloyingly thick but it doesn't matter.

None of it matters.

Ace is safe; alive.

The Moby is gone and Pops will soon be another memory along with it you acknowledge sorrowfully as you leave the strongest man in the world behind.

You'll grieve later, you decide. When you're far from Marineford, far from Garp who'll never choose his grandsons no matter the cost and far from the people who nearly took your beloved from you.

We're almost there, you pant. We're almost there, the edge of marine headquarters so close you can almost taste the sea salt.

It's surprisingly easy to pick out the sound of Ace's shoes and Luffy's sandals drumming against the pavement.

Your boys are fine, your boys are well, your boys are alive.

You'll cry all you want after you make it back to the ship.

"Well your captain is that guy so you can't help it, can you," Akainu's voice is velvet smooth. Too calm in the chaos but still so loud. "Whitebeard is just a loser from the old times, isn't he?"

Ace's footsteps come to an abrupt halt, "loser?" Why is he stopping?

"Ace," Luffy cries out, just as confused.

It's strange how Orpheus comes to mind as you nearly fall over in your attempt to stop running. Your lungs burn white-hot from exhaustion, only seeing the purple and white of Ace's tattoo. Your body stopping doesn't feel like your own, like an out of body experience.

This whole war feels like you're one of the thousands of civilians watching the broadcast from all parts of the world. All watching with bated breath to see who will claim victory; watching to see how the season will change.

You feel like your that little girl again, confined to Dadan's work on your hair as Leif tells you the most beautiful story you've ever heard.

It's new life of spring when it was all Luffy could do to cry out joyfully Ace's name, the flames of his now unextinguished powers on fully display. The chill of late winter still clings to the season with how Whitebeard has to be left behind. The stillness of spring that one seldom notices.

Orpheus’ delight in seeing the sun.

Eurydice's stumble.

Her silence.

Maybe he thinks he’s been tricked.

Regardless the variety of the tale, it all ends the same Leif told you gravely.

He looked back.

[stargirlie-sharon]

"violent for you" ♡

Characters: Yandere! Arcee VS Yandere! Wheeljack x Reader

Content: Fanfiction, yandere themes, love triangle, cybertronian reader. These two have a bone to pick with each other.

CW/TW: Violence (none shown, but mentioned), yandere themes.

A/N: i legit can't get these two off of my mind lol so take this, jsksbwiandhsjbssj just a thought I had

A rivalry that you're caught in, neither side backing down from trying to win the ultimate prize, you.

One moment, you were walking down a hallway. The next, you were pinned against the wall by a certain mech. "Hey, sweetspark. Where ya heading off to?" Wheeljack questioned, a smirk shown upon his face. "I was just heading to my quarters." You simply replied, sighing. "Now, can you please get off of me?"

"Mm..." He paused for a moment, in faux deep thought. "nah, not yet. After all, how could I, when you're the sweetest thing in the room here? I could just eat you up~.."

"Servos off, Wheeljack." Another voice said. From the darker part of the hallway came Arcee, part of her face being veiled by a shadow, but her glare was imminent. "You're pretty damn determined to win their spark, hm?" "And you don't seem to be any better, Arcee." Wheeljack bit back.

It's been a while since these two have started acting like this- from their sudden, sickly sweet obsession for you, and their hatred for each other. You've always been a caring bot, often looking out for the members of Team Prime, being considerate toward everyone and offering comfort in times of need. Perhaps your sweetness must've captured their sparks, both of them. But rather than make a compromise or backing off, they've made a competition. Not any friendly rivalry- no, it was far from friendly.

It started out small. Mysterious gifts being left around, with each one being more extravagant than the other. You thought it was charming. They'd also been spending more time with you- giving compliments and offering to do things for you. Then, it escalated to staring contests that were a bit too intense for their own good, like they were trying to murder each other with just their sight alone. Sparring sessions that involved a bit too much violence, practically holding blades and blasters to each others' throats. Bulkhead had to break up the two of them before things got worse, even Optimus got involved. You knew something was up.

And now, you were here.

"Yeah, well at least I'm not a walking safety hazard who's bound to detonate something any second. Or himself." Arcee said as she approached both of you. "Who'd want to be near a ticking time bomb like you? Right, sweetspark?" She turned to you, optics softening just by a fraction.

"Pft, says you." He taunted back. "You're just as much of a ticking time bomb as I am, darling- I bet you'd go full on explosive if you ever lost our little [Reader] after what you've been through- losing your previous partners. You'd go insane for them." Arcee's glare only intensified, seething in hatred, balling her servos into fists. "Why, you-" She held back her rage, trying not to lose it. "Playing dirty now? Quite the move."

The tension between them only heightened, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence, glaring daggers at one another, forgetting for a moment that you were caught in their crossfire.

"Ah-" Arcee snapped her head when she realised you were still in the midst of their dispute, your uneasy expression made apparent to both of them. "I am so sorry, we didn't scare you, did we?" Wheeljack noticed too. "Frag, I forgot you were still here.." His tone was laced with guilt. "Are you okay, sunshine?"

You hesitantly nodded, still shaken up by their tense dispute. Wheeljack's mouth opened to speak, but Arcee was one step ahead, immediately speaking up. "Would you like me to guide you to your quarters?" She offered kindly. It seemed like all the previous tension and antagonism the two had against each other faded away the moment their optics laid on you. Well, not all...

"Sure." You responded with a small smile, a bit more relaxed by Arcee's softened tone. Wheeljack looked at her, hit with a pang of jealousy. The femme simply smirked at him, gloating over her own victory with pride. If it weren't for [Reader] being in the room, they would've had another shouting match. He let out a muffled scoff, muttering something under his breath. "I'll let you get away with it just this once..."

Once you and Arcee had reached your quarters, you could feel the tiredness seeping in the moment you made contact with the berth. She sat near you at the edge of the berth. "It's been a long day, hasn't it? Don't worry, just close your optics. You need to recharge so that you'll be awake and alert for tommorow." She soothed you, affectionately cupping your cheek. She stayed there for a couple of minutes, until she could confirm that you were deep in slumber. "Sweet dreams, love." She pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, before quietly leaving the room.

Back in the hallway, she saw none other than Wheeljack, leaning against the wall across from your quarters.

"Lucky bastard, huh?" The tone in his voice was playful, but it was only a facade to cover up his utter envy. Not that it did much to really hide it... "You're just jealous that I got to spend more time with them than you did. I told you just pinning them to the wall by complete surprise wasn't a good tactic."

Wheeljack simply chuckled, "Minor fluke. But you know that you're not gonna win their affection that easily." "I know." Said Arcee.

...

"But before I do, I'll end you first." "Not if I beat you to it, you won't."

edit, 16/4/25: thank you all for the support for this lil fic! but something needs to be said, and i need to say it

NSFW ACCOUNTS DO NOT INTERACT. or anyone who falls under my dni list. yes, that includes if you reblog posts related to it. i am a minor and would rather not have nsfw blogs following me. but if you can add things like "read more" breaks (whatever they're called) and warning before your posts, i can tolerate an interaction or two. i prioritize my internet safety as a minor and will block you if you ignore my boundaries.

i really do appreciate it if you like my stuff, but for my safety and your preference (since most of y'all have mdni/minors do not interact written on your blogs), please do not interact (like, reblog, etc). please respect my boundaries! thank you.

[seaslugfanclub]

Hi! I really love your Disney Villains x reader content! Especially the "Scaredy Villain", "Time in the Spotlight", and the "No, I'm their favorite" one. Speaking of that, I remember Hades mentioned that he was one of the first to meet Y/N, which got me wondering, what were Y/N's first interactions with each of the villains like? 🤔

Once again, I love all of your works! And I can't wait to see you do more in the future at your own pace and time! 😊 💕

So I’ve actually gotten a couple asks about this, so decided to answer all of them with this! Since all the Villains meeting (Y/N) would take way too long to write in one post, I’ve decided to make this a series of one shots, so stay tuned!

I, of course have to start with Hades. (Since his introduction is my most fleshed out) but I’m slowly but surely getting all the Villains interactions in order! Hope you enjoy 💙

Meeting the Villains: Prt. 1

Hades

TW: panic attack

—————————————

It was (Y/N)s first day working at the Disney Parks, and they were on the verge of the panic attack of the century

The crying babies, excited children, sickly smell of sweat mixed with the food stands, multicolored rides, and the unrelenting heat all melted together to create the perfect sensory overload

They felt like they’re about to throw up. Or pass out. Or throw up and then pass out. Screw employee training, they needed to get out of here.

Near hyperventilation, (Y/N) quickly stumbled to the quietest location they could find, leading them to a skinny alleyway between two buildings. Immediately they got on the ground, putting their head between their legs and taking deep breaths

Slowly (Y/N) began to calm down, the relative silence of the alleyway a balm to their ears, and the nostalgic scent of cigar smoke really helped ground them— wait….

Lifting their head up to make a spare glance to their left made (Y/N) scramble onto their feet. There — hidden in the shadows of the alleyway was the lord of the dead himself, his most lugubriousness, Hades, smoking a lengthy cigar and staring down at (Y/N) with a sardonic grin.

(Y/N)’s heard about these “holograms” Disney released into their parks, hell, it’s all they’ve heard about since they’ve been hired. And sure, (Y/N)’s seen a couple characters from afar as their employment trainer toured them around the park. But to see an actual one up close? This was a first.

Hades looked so… real. The blue flames atop his head flickered into the air, fanned by the light breeze of the afternoon. His skin was chipped and pitted, a similar texture to granite. Even his chiton looked like something spun from the finest silks, his whole body too detailed to be a simple projection of light.

…..

“So are you just gonna stare at me like an idiot, or…?” Hades took a drag of his cigar, blowing the smoke in (Y/N)’s face, causing them to hack in response.

“ *cough*—Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just—“

“Ya first time seeing one of us?” Hades interrupted, “yeah, I figured. And lemme guess, it’s your first day at the circus, huh? Don’t think you’ll last long if you abandon your post because your a little nervous~”

(Y/N) grimaced at Hades jab, retreating into this alleyway was supposed to be a brief respite. Their brain was too fried to think about the consequences of talking back to one of Disneys prized characters, the only thing (Y/N) felt looking up at Hades was indignation

“Oh please, I’m not the only one here who’s supposed to be somewhere else. And smoking??? At THE Disney parks??? It’s my first day, I’ll get off easy, but you? If we’re caught, I’m only gonna get chewed out once.”

A multitude of expressions passed over Hades face. Surprise, anger, disgust, amusement, before finally settling into one of forced resignation. It was a hard pill to swallow knowing he wasn’t the one in charge here. The fucking mouse was.

“Ohoho, I bet. I’m sure any consequence of yours will be dropped if you go off and tattle on me~” Hades seethed, finishing the cigar off in one drag as his flames sparked red.

(Y/N) huffed, going to lean against the wall again, “Are you kidding me? I’m not a narc.” They waved off the imaginary scenario, “I’m here the same reason you are, so why not make a deal. You like those don’t you? If you won’t say anything, I won’t either. Let’s just enjoy what little privacy we can in peace.”

Hades stood in silence for a bit, he didn’t want to sound stereotypical, but this newbie wasn’t like the other park employees he’s had to deal with.

Usually the park members would act one of three ways; either they’d cower in fear, submissive towards his biting remarks (his favorite), they’d fail to see his sentience and pass him off as a lifeless hologram (his least favorite), or act all high and mighty always admonishing anything he enjoys.

But to have someone talk back to him, but not follow the parks rules to a T? Well, Hades had to see where this went.

“Y’know what, kid? It’s a deal.”

————————————————————————

I can’t wait to share with you all what I have planned, I’m so excited!!! I also want to thank you all for your continued support of my work, I seriously didn’t expect so many people to like my silly writing, but here you are!!!

I see all of your asks and I promise I’m working on them! Just expect turnout rate to slow down with my college’s spring semester rolling around❤️

[preciousbarnes]

Always

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Tensions rise as Bucky continuously seems to throw caution to the wind during missions. Your heart breaks when you learn his true motivations.

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort-ish, arguments, injuries, illusions to violence, anger

Content Warning: Discussions of mental health, depression, and suicidality.

Word Count: 1.8k

There was an eerie silence between you and the man in front of you. You sniffled and hugged yourself as Bucky stood across from you, his chest heaving with residual anger. You feared it was more than just anger, but instead resentment, hatred, rage; All of these all-consuming emotions taking the forefront of Bucky’s mind as he looked at you now, instead of the love and compassion you were once used to. You both stood there, in your pajamas, but feeling anything but comfortable.

The fight had been building up for a while. For the last month, things had been rocky. Bucky had been coming home later and later, missions were longer and increasingly more dangerous, and Bucky’s feelings of self-preservation was severely lacking in your opinion. Tonight he had come home with a collection of injuries; two broken ribs, three gunshot wounds in various states of healing, and gashes on his knuckles and face. His response to your concern? They’ll all be healed up by tomorrow afternoon, probably. That was the phrase that cut to the bone and made you finally say something. Ugly things were said. Accusations were made.

The living room was now in disarray. Things were thrown in frustration and anger, Bucky’s pent-up adrenaline needing an outlet other than just his voice climbing in volume. The room seemed lifeless and colorless, the tealight candles you had set up with the goal of a cozy night in having burned themselves out over the last hour. There was shattered glasses on the floor. A picture of you and Bucky hung crocked on the wall after being shifted by Bucky’s fist. The tv laying face down on the floor after being shoved off the tv stand.

“Just make me understand, James,” You plead, voice broken and barely above a whisper.

“Understand what?” He asks, voice bland and dry. Resigned. It was a tone of voice you weren’t used to hearing directed at you by him. The tone cut through your core like a dull blade.

“Everything, James. You can't win every time, some time it's going to be too close of a call,” You say seething, angered further by his lack of understanding when it came to your concern.

“You have that little faith in me? Think I can't get the job done?” He says with a scoff, followed by a humorless laugh.

“It’s not about the damn job, James. I know you can do your job. It's about you. Your health. Mental, physical, emotional, everything. You put yourself on the line the way the others don’t. You jump into fire without a thought,” You tell him, choking up again, reaching out to him and pleading with your eyes for him to understand. It hurts as he takes a step back from you.

“That’s what I’m paid to do,” Bucky says, shaking his head with a lack of understanding that angers you further.

“No it’s not. You’re paid to help, to advise; not to be a fucking human shield and practically go on suicide missions,” You spit out, full of unbridled rage at his lack of care for himself.

“Tell me this doll,” He begins, running a tired hand over his face, “what do I do when a fellow agent dies on my watch when I could have taken the hit and lived?” He asks with a new softness. Of course, he wants to protect others. It's one of his most noble traits, but it fills you with frustration this time.

You shake your head, muttering that he still doesn't understand the point.

“I might have abnormally good hearing, but I don’t know what you just said,” He says blandly, looking at you imploringly.

“I said, what will I do when you don’t survive? What do I do when the haul your body off the jet in a fucking body bag? What do I do when I have to bury you? When I don’t have you anymore? What do I do then, Bucky?” You ask, heart in your throat, feeling like vomiting just from stating your worst fears out loud.

Bucky blinks at you, jaw slightly open.

“What will I do then, James? Because with your lack of self-preservation, it is not an ‘if’, it is a when.” You ask him softly.

“Doll, I-“ He starts, before you hold up a hand, silently asking him to not continue with what you are sure is another faulty reasoning for his actions.

“Please, James. Just answer this, what if roles were reversed, and you were in my shoes. Waiting for the day I wound up dead because I didn’t care about my own safety?” You ask him.

You watch as he looks down at his hands. He swallows dryly and thinks before he looks up and meets your eyes again.

“I’d be terrified,” He says softly, unspoken apologies in his eyes.

“Exactly. I am filled with dread and fear nearly every day.” Honesty is now pouring out of you without stopping, the flood gates now wide open.

There's another pause. You reach up to wipe away the leftover tears on your cheek. Bucky gingerly steps forward, hands reaching out to you and softly landing on your hips as he holds you at arms length.

“I can’t quit,” He says quietly.

You immediately shake your head hard, hands reaching up to hold his face.

“Bucky, you love what you do, and I love that for you. I’m not asking that of you. I'm just asking that you take more precautions. Think before just running into situations. Bring more back up with you when possible. Keep yourself safe. And come home to me.” You explain, as you gently stroke his jaw.

“Doll, I- well, no, nevermind,” He trails off, closing his eyes and stepping back from you as his arms fall to his side dejectedly. His quick withdraw confuses you.

“What, Buck? What's going on in that mind of yours?” You ask him, a slight fear of the answer you may receive.

“Maybe this should be it,” He says softly, not meeting your eyes.

“What are you saying?” You ask in a whisper.

“Sometimes I have to do solo missions. That’s something I can't stop. Less people, less parts of the equation to worry about. And if something happens to me, it’s not like it's not deserved,” He explains to you, voice oddly stoic. The real reason for his recklessness was much darker than you imagined. It wasn’t ignorant carelessness, instead he truly did not care if he died. He felt it was deserved.

It feels as if the floor is crumbling beneath your feet.

“Bucky, baby, what?” You choke out.

“You’ve seen the files on me and my past, doll. I know you have,” He tells you as he sits on the couch with his back to you, like that explains everything. In a way, it does.

Anger suddenly lights all your nerve-endings on fire. Anger for the past, anger at HYDRA, anger at the abuse and torture Bucky faced, anger that he is still suffering now. You find yourself marching to the front of the couch and kneeling in front of the still broken man you love.

“James, look at me,” you order, taking his face in your hands gently.

He looks up to you, his eyes a window to his torment. There are unshed tears there, and a frown present.

“Baby, you deserve a long, healthy, and happy life. You have made your amends, despite your past actions not even being your own. That was not you. You do not have to throw yourself into the worst conditions to prove your worthiness to be alive. Please know this,” Your voice brokenly begs.

His hands rise from their place on his knees to rest on your own, pulling them from his face and holding them in his own, thumbs stroking the back of your hands.

“Let me talk to your bosses. Let me call your therapist. It isn’t good to feel this way, baby,” You suggest.

Bucky thinks for a moment, looking at your face, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“Please, Bucky, let me call them,” You beg him, tears streaming down your face again.

A moment passes, as Bucky continues to look at you.

“You know, the only reason I’ve had a shred of preservation on missions lately is for you. Guess I’m too selfish to give you up yet,” He softly tells you, breaking your heart even more.

“Bucky, I want you to want to live and survive for yourself. Not just me, baby. I’m going to call them okay? But I’ll be right here by your side the whole time. It’s going to be okay,” You tell him, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and taking a seat next to him on the couch.

You made quick work of calling the necessary people. You called his therapist, who asked you to drive him to the compound as soon as possible, where they would do intake and he would be taken in for observation and inpatient therapy and treatment. You then called into the office, explaining vaguely that Bucky needed to go in for some treatment, and would be taking a leave of absence until he was well again.

You held his hand as you lead him past the mess of the living room to your shared bedroom, sitting him on the bed before you turned and grabbed both of your suitcases from the closet, bumbling around the room as you quickly packed bags for you both.

“I’m sorry, for all of this, I don’t know how my head got so messed up again,” He tells you dejectedly, not making eye contact.

You tsk, coming to stand in front of him and wrapping your arms around him, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Brains can get unwell just like the rest of us. You have nothing to be sorry for. You let me help you help yourself, and that’s all I can ask for. I’m here with you, and were going to be okay,” You tell him, before giving him a gentle kiss and moving back to packing.

You both stay in your pajamas, loading your suitcases in the trunk of the car before quickly driving to the compound, you having one hand in Bucky’s and one hand on the steering wheel the entire drive.

Upon arriving, Bucky and you are met at the door by his therapist and a nurse Bucky knows well. They usher you both back to a private room and explain the upcoming process of how things will go as he is admitted for inpatient services to help him with the way he is feeling. As they begin to ask in depth questions, you offer to give him privacy.

He quickly grabs your hand, firmly but gently all at the same time. His eyes shine as he looks to you.

“Please stay,” He whispers.

You smile at the sweet man in front of you, leaning in to give him a kiss before whispering against his lips a promise you vow to always keep.

“Always.”

[leslutdepointedulac]

Louis getting insanely jealous over Estelle and Celeste cosying up to Armand is quality Loumand content.

And what appalled me as I watched was not their exquisite form, their delicate features and graceful hands made hard as glass by vampire nature, or their bewitching eyes which fixed on me now in a sudden silence; what appalled me was my own fierce jealousy.

Like, he met Armand only the night before. They've known each other only a few hours, they've had one conversation at this point and yet already, Louis' seething with jealousy at the idea of literally anyone else touching Armand, despite the fact that they've known him significantly longer than he has.

When else has Louis ever gotten this territorial over anyone, ever. And they barely know each other.

Bonus moments of Louis being weird about Armand:

Louis getting giggly over Armand literally just looking at him, like he's a teenage girl.

And my heart expanded when I saw him this way, saw that no one amongst the small throng caught his glance as I caught his glance, and no one held it from time to time as I held it.

"Omg he looked at me! He doesn't look at anyone else like he looks at me, or for as long. I hear wedding bells!"

And Louis arguing his love for Armand with Claudia.

Claudia: He draws life out of me into himself,. . . Life out of the boy who is his slave, life out of me whom he would make his slave. He loves you. He loves you. He would have you, and he would not have me stand in the way.

Louis: You don't understand him!

Louis " you just don't get him like I do. You should be happy for me that I'm getting a new man, and grateful I'm getting you a step-dad" de Pointe du Lac.

Louis ignoring Claudia's foreshadowing of her own fate.

Claudia: No, I understand him only too well,. . . It is you who don't understand him. Love's blinded you, your fascination with his knowledge, his power. If you knew how he drinks death you'd hate him more than you ever hated Lestat. Louis, you must never return to him. I tell you, I'm in danger!

Louis: Early the next night, I left her, convinced that Armand alone among the vampires of the theatre could be trusted.

Louis really said "And so I ignored my own daughter's fears of being murdered by my new boyfriend. Just because she can't get a man, doesn't mean I can't."

And finally, whatever this is.

It was an icon for me of love. The love I felt. Not physical love, you must understand. I don't speak of that at all, though Armand was beautiful and simple, and no intimacy with him would ever have been repellent.

Louis: I curse god everyday that I cannot have sex the mortal way. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could fuck Armand. Just, absolutely rail him, and let him bang me in return. I want to obliterate each other's asses, is that so much to ask 😫

Moral of the story, Louis is down incredibly bad for Armand, moreso than he's ever let on about his same feelings for anyone else. Not even Lestat got this kind of treatment from Louis. I just know Lestat is fuming about that. Lestat would be so jealous of Louis' jealousy over Armand.

[theheartofone]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Eight: The One-Eyed Marimooo

The world’s spinning. You physically can’t breathe. This boy’s whooping in your ear, screaming, “LET’S GOOOOO!” over and over again.

Fucking great. This is it. The end of your journey.

You’re being dragged upwards, a body of limbs flailing from impact. Riding the worst escalator you’ve ever been on. Going up. Up. Up. Up. And up – until, finally, you’re nearing the tip of your ascent.

The moon swallows both of your shadows whole like a voracious celestial behemoth, hungry for the spectacle it's about to witness, and there’s this one second where you and Luffy turn to each other, both flailing in the air.

Just for one second, there’s silence. No whizzing of air or the flapping of bodies, no screams of terror echoing into the abyss – there’s just silence.  

Then, you begin your descent.

As the two of you plummet towards the ship, the world speeds up in a dizzying blur of sea and stars and trees and darkness. Ice-cold fear courses through you, as you feel yourself steam in terror, and for a moment, time seems to stretch as if reluctant to witness the impending impact.

Great. This is the way you’re gonna die. Awesome. Well, thanks for everything, Gramps. You shut your eyes tightly, preparing for the sound of God to come thundering down on you.

“Here we go!” Luffy bellows, his voice fighting against the current of the wind. You snap your eyes wide open, undecided on whether to scream at Luffy or at death itself.

With a sudden twist, Luffy's rubbery limbs twang into action. He wraps his arms around you, forming a makeshift cushion against the gravitational pull – you can’t lie, it's a bizarre yet effective mid-air manoeuvre, and you can't help but marvel at the sheer fucking audacity of it.

The wind howls around you, and the world regains its chaotic symphony while Luffy's laughter cuts through the air, a mix of thrill and exhilaration.

And then, with a jarring but surprisingly gentle thud, you land on the Sunny's deck; it's as if gravity itself had a change of heart, deciding to be merciful at the last moment. The ship creaks under the sudden impact, but still, it holds firm beneath you.

Immediately disentangling yourself from Luffy's curling grasp, you stumble off into a direction, steaming with sheer terror and fury. Liquid nitrogen spreads from your feet like wildfire, chilling the Sunny into a post-apocalyptic landscape.

“Woah, woah, what’s goin’ on?” Franky exclaims, gaping at the smoke crackling across the Sunny’s body.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" Luffy cheers wildly, his arms flinging into the sky. “Did you like it, Raya? Was it fun? You wanna do it again?”

You, on the other hand, are about to throw major hands.

"What. The. Hell, Luffy? What the actual fuck?” you seethe, each word punctuated by bursts of ice shattering beneath you.

"You’re tough, Swordsy. You took it well!" he grins, slapping you on the back with gusto. You stagger forward from the impact, each unintended step leaving frozen disc-like cracks into the floor.

“Raya! Stop moving!” Franky cries out, helplessly gaping at the glacial destruction of his beloved ship.

Arching an eyebrow at Franky's evident distress, Luffy shifts his gaze down to the deck. With a sudden yelp, he exclaims, "WOAH! Why's it snowing in this kinda weather?"

"It's not the weather, Luffy," Robin calmly remarks as she and the others begin boarding the ship. She observes you with a surprised curiosity. "It's Raya."

“But you’re a fire-user…” Sanji’s questions, a curious cigarette dangling in his mouth. His eyes flicker to the floor, staring at poor Franky who’s knelt over the damage, helplessly scraping his metal fingers through the mist. “Isn’t this liquid nitrogen?”

“Yeah, um…I ate the Burn-Burn fruit…” you quickly answer before looking down at Franky. Guilt washes over you as you realise the extent of the damage to his hard work. “I’m so sorry, Franky…I’ll fix this for sure.”

“Mmmh,” Franky responds miserably.

“What’s a Burn-Burn fruit?” Usopp pipes out, squidging his face in the small gap between Zoro and Robin.

Robin smiles at you, her eyes lighting up.

“You burn things?” Chopper cocks his head, crawling all over Zoro’s shoulders.

“Yeah – I mean, I’ve been using fire for my whole life, but I’ve recently been trying to…to burn things with ice…” your voice awkwardly falters when you and everyone else diverts their attention to the snowstorm on the floor, your face heating up – and because you’re aware that your face is heating up, your face starts to grow even hotter.

Fuck. You’ve been working on ice for months, and a single fucking fright leads you to unleashing frostbite hell. You knew it’d be too risky - especially with how closely your Burn’s tied to you and your feelings – but Gramps had insisted…

Well, at least you went with ice. At least you didn’t choose electricity…or, heaven forbid, chemicals…

You want to get stronger, don’t you? Gramps’ voice rings in your head like a persistent echo, urging you forward. Fear is a blockage of spirit.

You mutter to yourself, wondering how the hell to shut this man up in your head. It's a constant nagging now, always lecturing, always trying to sound deep and wise beyond his years and he's all so Wano-esque.

Maybe that's why Gramps doesn't complain anymore; he's living rent-free in your head, and he's probably loving every minute of it.

In a heartbeat, the urgent staccato of anxious heels reverberates against the wooden boards, instantly capturing everyone's focus.

"Out of my way!" Nami's commanding cry slices through the air, prompting Usopp and Chopper to emit startled yelps. They stumble away as a streak of vibrant orange hair charges through them like a bolt of lightning. "Raya! Are you okay?!"

"Absolutely," you respond with a wry smile, your sarcasm laced with a lingering adrenaline rush pulsing in your head. “Had a fantastic flight.”

Nami immediately swivels around to Luffy, seizing his head in a firm chokehold. “Don’t ever do that to people who aren’t part of your crew – you got that?”

Luffy, garbling in her grasp, still manages to force out a pout. “Wh – gah – why not?”

“I mean, it doesn’t look that bad…it kinda suits the atmosphere of my show, if you think about it ….” Usopp thinks to himself, tapping a finger to his chin. He stares at the ice cooling over the deck, then at Zoro straight in his eye. “Cold, brittle and painful to the touch. Juuust like the one-eyed marimooo.”

"Quit that," Zoro hisses, narrowing his eye at him. "I'm not here for your one-eyed marimo exposé."

Gramps Suki amusedly sighs whilst cleaning his hands with a rag. "Enough with the theatrics, already! Don’t you all have a party to host?”

“Yes! Let us commence!” Usopp shouts in his deep, theatrical voice, jumping on the stage with an air of intrigue and mystique. “Gather, my fellow comrades, and let us begin! Jester, play your most foreshadowing tune!”

Brook grins, and with a -- “Yo-ho-ho! I shall!” -- His fingers begin to strum dramatically across his guitar.

Luffy bursts into excited cackles, dashing to take a seat in front of the stage; Chopper's eyes light up with enthusiasm, and he tugs at Zoro's hair like Ratatouille. Zoro huffs, stumbling forward to gently place them both on the unaffected floor.

Usopp gestures everyone else to sit, and as they all obey his command, he raises his arms to begin.

Brook plays the opening to an intense heavy metal riff. Angular shadows crawl up onto Usopp's face like an army of black ants, moonlight shining a thin silvery trail across his silhouette. Then, he smirks.

“Now, let us unravel the story of the One-Eyed Marimo. Possessing three swords in his reservoir, he has no other room to consider fear…

“I don’t care what society says…” Usopp rasps in a Zoro’s low voice, his marked eye shut firmly as he scowls at the audience. “I’ve never regretted doing anything...”

The crew erupts into wild cackles, caught off guard by Usopp's spot-on impersonation of Zoro. Even Luffy’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach with laughter.

Nami shoots a playful glare at Zoro. "Well, it seems Usopp has you figured out!"

Zoro grumbles in response, feigning indifference, but there's a subtle twitch of amusement playing on his lips; Sanji, puffing away on his cigarette, can't help but grin at the accuracy of it all.

Usopp, revelling in the attention, continues the act with theatrical flair. "Strive to be complete with everything you have!" he mutters coarsely, mimicking Zoro's trademark three-sword stance. "No hesitation!"

In the midst of the laughter, Luffy, still rolling on the floor, manages to gasp out, "Let me have a go!"

With a burst of energy, Luffy propels himself off the floor and somersaults onto the stage, landing next to Usopp. His grin is infectious, and the crew watches in anticipation, wondering what kind of chaos Luffy's going to unleash this time.

"Alright, alright! Watch this!" Luffy declares, mimicking Zoro's posture with exaggerated seriousness.

Luffy slaps his hand to his forehead, his eye looking as narrowed and sharp as Zoro’s, scanning across the audience with apathy. Mimicking the marimo’s slouched posture and crossed arms, he lets out a half-hearted, "Mmmm. Where are those idiots? You idiots. Bastards. Stupid idiots.”

Nami, still holding onto Luffy's earlier attack on you, can't help but burst into laughter.

"You're an idiot yourself, Luffy," she remarks between fits of giggles.

Luffy continues with the impersonation, exaggerating Zoro's stern expression. "Why are we even doing this party thing? Shouldn't we be out training and getting stronger? You guys are all a bunch of slackers."

Zoro, trying to stop himself from smirking, mutters under his breath, "Idiot captain..."

Usopp, fake gasping, his hands slapped on each side of face, joins Luffy on the stage. "Hey, marimo, look! It's your fan club!"

Luffy continues his impersonation, now adding a comically serious tone, kissing his teeth dramatically. "TCH. I don't need a fan club. I'm just here because I want to be. TCH."

Nami, still holding her laughter from Luffy's antics, suddenly spots Chopper perched on Zoro's shoulder. With a devious grin, she strides over, seizing the opportunity for her own brand of amusement.

"I'm taking over, Swordsmen!" Nami declares with a sly grin, directing a mischievous gaze at Luffy and Usopp. With a swift motion, she grabs Chopper from Zoro's shoulder and cradles him in her arms, adopting the same serious expression Zoro has.

"I'm not a caring guy," Nami says, mimicking Zoro's gruff voice with surprising accuracy. "I don't have time for this fluffy stuff."

Despite her stern words, there's a playful glint in Nami's eyes as she proceeds to pretend to wash Chopper's back, combing through his fur like a loving father-figure. The crew watches, thoroughly entertained, as Nami continues the charade.

"I'm really not!" Nami insists, patting Chopper's head sweetly like he's a child. "Shut up, Chopper! I'm a marimo, not a babysitter!"

With a flourish, Nami pretends to spoon feed Chopper imaginary food, all while maintaining the serious demeanour of the marimo she's impersonating.

"Swallow your food like a man, Chopper!" she exclaims, channelling the essence of Zoro's gruff and no-nonsense attitude.

You burst into laughter, raising your eyebrow at Nami’s interpretation. “Didn’t know you were a father, marimo?"

"More like the guy who tells brats to stay off his lawn," Zoro retorts, slightly amused by Nami's depiction of him.

Chopper, for his part, seems to be enjoying the attention, giggling between bites of fake food as Nami continues her exaggerated impersonation.

"BUT WAIT!" Usopp roars, reclaiming the spotlight at the centre of the stage. "With every move he makes, with every swing of his swords, he bears every burden without a single complaint.. The glint in his eyes mirrors the strength with which he unleashes his fury upon his enemies...While we actors may be well-refined, only the true master, the One-Eyed marimo, can reveal the elegance of his three-sword style."

He dramatically extends his arm, pointing directly at Zoro. "One-eyed Marimo, step forward and grace us with your power!"

Zoro, still feigning indifference but with a subtle hint of amusement, rises from his seat and ambles towards the stage. Everyone holds their breath, curious to see if their stoic samurai is going to play along.

Usopp, ever the storyteller, encourages the act with a flourish. "Behold, ladies and gentlemen! Witness the formidable three-sword style of our very own marimo!"

Zoro, with a smirk playing on his lips, picks up three scrap metal swords from the barrel with practiced precision. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on the blades as he assumes a battle-ready stance.

Usopp continues his narration, his voice filled with dramatic flair. "The marimo's blades move like an intricate dance, a deadly ballet choreographed by the hand of a true master. Each stroke is a testament to his skill and determination. A fearsome whirlwind of steel awaits any who dare to challenge him."

Captured by the performance, you watch as Zoro gracefully manoeuvres the swords, each movement embodying the essence of his true prowess.

Well... You lean further against the ship’s banister, folding your arms in intrigue. Maybe you underestimated his skills a little bit…

Nami, still in her Zoro persona, crosses her arms and watches with feigned indifference. "Hmph. Not bad, marimo. But you still owe me money."

Zoro, not missing a beat, retorts, "I don't owe you anything, navigator. Keep dreaming."

As Zoro continues his swordplay, the crew, now fully immersed in the theatrical atmosphere, can't help but marvel at their powerful friend.

Usopp, revelling in the success of his storytelling, raises his arms for a grand finale. "And thus concludes our tale of the one-eyed marimo and his legendary three-sword style! A round of applause for our fearless swordsman!"

☽

Luffy, having kicked up his feet, sprawls over the stage, his stomach emitting audible growls that resonate with exaggerated hunger. He moans theatrically, a performance of hunger so dramatic that even the stars seem to take notice. The sheer anticipation of food makes him twirl his fingers, mimicking a culinary dance in the air.

Beside him, Brook lies gracefully, his skeletal form seamlessly integrated with his guitar. The moonlight casts angular shadows across his bony joints as he strums, creating a hauntingly beautiful harmony that intertwines with the soft pop melodies. His fingers move with spectral precision, producing notes that linger in the night air like echoes of a distant serenade.

Gramps and Sanji, side by side at the grill, are a dynamic duo in the art of cooking. The sizzle of food on the grill mixes with their laughter as they exchange culinary wisdom. Sanji, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, moves with grace and precision, mirroring Gramps's knife techniques. The rhythmic dance of flames and the clattering of knives creates a symphony that harmonises against the rhythm of the sea.

Gramps, with a twinkle in his eye, reaches into his pocket and retrieves a set of culinary knives, self-crafted with meticulous care. He hands them to Sanji, a gesture of appreciation for the true artistry that the cook brings to the crew. Sanji, looking at the knives with admiration, expresses his gratitude, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Meanwhile, Zoro lies sprawled on the deck, a bottle of sake in hand. He drinks with a contented expression, lounging beside Chopper and Franky. The trio shares a moment of loud discussion and playful arguments, their laughter blending with the distant sounds of music and fire. Zoro, with a playful glint in his eye, raises his bottle in a silent toast to the night.

Over in a quiet corner, Robin and Usopp are deep into a board game showdown. Glasses clink, and laughter breaks out as they banter back and forth. Robin, grinning with confidence, seals her fifth consecutive win. She shoots a knowing look at a defeated Usopp, signaling that he's now on the hook for three vodka shots to make up for it.

Nami, reclining on the banister beside you, holds a beer in hand as she gazes at the stars echoing across the rippling sea. The soft glow of moonlight highlights her thoughtful expression; the atmosphere is serene, a stark contrast to the energetic celebration unfolding behind you.

You turn to Nami, and a small, comforting smile plays on your lips. The distant laughter and music provide a somewhat comforting backdrop to the quiet moment between you and Nami. As you nudge your shoulder against hers, a silent understanding passes between you two.

In the tranquil embrace of the night, you speak with a gentle hush.

"You okay?" you ask, concern threading through your words.

Nami, drawn from her contemplative thoughts, manages a smile that carries a hint of melancholy. "Yeah, yeah… It’s just – I was thinking… Are you sure you don’t want to join us?"

A subtle ache tugs at your heart. It tempts you; it really does.

You avert your gaze, turning your attention back to the vast expanse of the sea. The horizon, bathed in moonlight, stretches out before you, almost too perfectly serene against the gentle lapping of the waves.

"I have so many responsibilities here…and joining you guys would just be dangerous – I don’t…" Your voice trails off, leaving the unspoken implication hanging in the air. This idea of duty, a tether to the ship and its crew, makes you worry.

Nami regards you with understanding eyes, her own gaze drifting towards the horizon. The night carries a delicate balance of joy and solitude, and in this quiet exchange, the weight of unspoken worries and unfulfilled desires lingers beneath the starlit sky.

“I know…it’s just – the offer still stands,” she says, taking a huge gulp of her beer.

As you casually lean against the banister, soaking in the excitement, joy, and life of these people, your attention is drawn to your old man. A subtle tension rests in his arms as he attempts to force a smile, scanning the surroundings with suspicion.

That can't be a good sign. It's never a good sign.

“Hey Nami, I’m gonna go refill my drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving your Gramps.

You leave Nami on the banister, the rhythmic sound of the sea and distant revelry accompanying your steps as you approach Gramps. He's standing near the edge of the ship, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a watchful intensity.

"Gramps," you call out, your voice a soft murmur, trying not to draw attention. He turns towards you, attempting to force a reassuring smile.

"What's going on?" You raise a brow. "You're on edge."

Gramps looks at you, his attempt at a smile faltering for a moment. He places a hand on your shoulder, a mixture of concern and reassurance in his eyes.

"It's nothing to worry about, Raya. Just being cautious, you know how it is," he says, his voice low and measured. "We're in unknown waters, and it doesn't hurt to keep an eye out. But trust me, everything is under control."

You glance around, still sensing an air of tension, but Gramps' words, combined with the steadiness of his gaze, makes you hesitate a little.

You cross your arms, giving him a look. “Are you lying?”

Gramps meets your gaze, and for a moment, his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty. He sighs, dropping his hand from your shoulder.

"I won't lie to you, Raya. There's... something out there. A...presence," he admits, choosing his words carefully. "But we're prepared, and I don't want you to worry. I will keep you and everyone else safe."

You narrow your eyes, the worry in your chest tightening. "What kind of presence? Gramps, be straight with me."

"I can't say for certain," he confesses, his voice a low murmur, eyes flickering to the others, then to you. "Until we have more information, I need you to trust me and enjoy the celebration. We'll deal with whatever comes our way."

Your arms remain tightly crossed, the unease settling in the pit of your stomach. You shake your head stubbornly. "I can't just ignore this. What if it's a threat?"

Gramps places a hand on your shoulder again, his eyes conveying a mix of warmth and solemnity. "Raya, we've faced countless challenges together, and we've always come out on top. I promise, if things get serious, you'll be the first to know. Right now, I need you to be with your friends. We'll handle this. Trust me."

You pause for a moment, studying him. Your eyes search his face, catching the flicker of a weary resolve in his gaze. Gramps, weathered by years of navigating both treacherous seas and the complexities of life, stands before you with a quiet strength. The lines etched on his face tell stories of battles won and challenges faced, yet in this moment, there's an acknowledgment that the current unknown carries a unique weight.

Finally, Gramps breaks the silence with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, his eyes conveying both a plea for trust and a promise of protection. The distant laughter and music from the celebration underscore the gravity of the unspoken exchange, a delicate dance between the duty to protect and the need to savour moments of joy.

"Go back and enjoy the night. I've got everything under control,” he whispers.

As Gramps' words hang in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere unsettles the night. The sea, once a serene companion, seems to murmur in a language of foreboding whispers. The distant revelry dims, and an eerie quiet blankets the ship.

You cast one last glance at Gramps, his weary but determined eyes meeting yours. The unspoken understanding between you lingers, the weight of secrets shared beneath the starlit sky.

"Then keep me updated. Please," you whisper, pursing your lips.

As you turn away, a chill crawls up your spine. The night, once full of promise, now grasps onto something else that eclipses the celebration. With a tinge of tension in your body, you walk into the chaos, the unknown presence lingering in the back of your mind, shaping the contours of the abyss that unfolds. The ship anchors itself into the heart of uncertainty, leaving you to navigate the shadows that dance on the edge of the moonlit waves – one that even Nami won’t be able to foresee.

[medicinal-doll]

Prey.

Dark!Daddy!Sherlock x little!reader

Summary: Sherlock hasn't paid you any attention. he'd rather barricade himself in his office than tend to your needs, so you act out. But when Sherlock finds your mess, you find yourself reaping the consequences of your insolence.

Warnings: degrading, master/slave dynamic,cursing, manipulation,Non-con/Dub-con,daddy kink,spanking,fingering,mind break,hair pulling,rough sex,Dom/sub dynamic,hint of ddlg,teasing,petnames,p in v sex

A/N might be admitted to the mental hospital for this one ✨

*Please don't repost without permission If you use my writing as inspiration please ask first and credit me

........

Your master had been glued to his office for hours. lasting about 10 minutes before you started to miss him badly.You started with your usual routine of whining and whimpering. gently tugging on his pant leg.

Of course he repeatedly kicked you out. but today was different. because after he kicked you out for the third time, you heard a distinct clicking of a lock.

How dare he shut you out like that! you grabbed onto the door handle grunting in frustration and disbelief, but no budge.

.........

A few hours later it was midday. Your tantrum had more than the usual running time. probably because you were bored and Sherlock wasn't there to reprimand you for your mischief.

In the few short hours, you managed to trash the entire living room. The bulk of your toybox was strewn across the room with it's contents littered on every surface imaginable.

But there was just one last thing. Sherlock's prized japanese oakwood coffee table. you threw your huge teddy bear Sherlock had won for you at the fair last Valentine's day.

And watched in horror as it collided with the hard surface. knocking it over onto the hardwood floor with a thundering crash.

Then silence...everything went completely still.

Until you hear that distinct lock sound from Sherlock's door.

"Shit!!shit- shit-" you frantically lift the table, and thank god it's not cracked. you think that would've been your last day on earth. you sigh in relief before turning back to your mess. bumping head first into something clothed and solid."Ouch" you rub your head before peering up, and your eyes go wide.

"Well....Do you have anything to say for yourself little one?" Your master towers over you. His aggravated domineering presence fills every corner of the room to the brim, as he stares you down. anger ever so present in his gaze.

Corneas Seething in anger harshly lavish your form in sheer and utter guilt as you wiggle your butt in shame.

Torn teddy bears and scattered blocks covered the area. Your gaze fixed on the bottom of your sirs deep azure robe, too afraid to look into his eyes. you hated to disappoint him. you didn't mean to be bad, you just wanted him to play with you.

Sherlock wastes no time and leaves you with no room for another reflection before he drags you by your worthless little body to his chambers.

"No!no-Master No!!" You try to kick and claw away from him but sher's grip is firm on your nappy.it threatening to tear from the sheer force of his hold.

Entering the room with haste a harsh grip forces your head against the wooden tile of his room.

Body squirming in desperation to resist.

Sherlock's eyes are cold and uncaring, analyzing your feeble form until you feel a forceful tug at your waist. Followed by a rough hand attempting to pry the diaper off of your clothed center, while the other holds you still.

"No!"

You were unbelievably wet, but the humiliation of letting him do whatever he wanted with your body made you want to revolt. You can't just let him take you in such a barbarically ungraceful way that easy.

You kick your legs at him trying to throw his grip off of you.

Sherlock says nothing dead silence.

Of all the times you've been with him, you've learned there's 2 sides to his disciplinarian ways.

The first being good sherlock.

Usually he'll just toy with you playfully. while the goal is to punish you, who said it couldn't be fun. Edging you for hours on end as you beg for him to touch you, fuck you, anything. he'd drive you insane, all while he taunts your stupidity.

Laughing at the fact that you should know by now who you belong to.

But then.....there's other Sherlock..Bad Sherlock. Needless to say Sherlock is a man of business. When he comes home to you it's a little different because he has a soft spot for you. But at work he's diligent and stoic, very much no nonsense. and his cases require the utmost concentration and precision.

But most of the time he gets a kick out of your disobedience, and enjoys correcting you. And then there's other times where he genuinely needs you to behave.

His word is law.

Disobey that and well...let's just say your mind and body will be out of commission for at least a few days.

You can tell which mood he's in by the look in his eyes.

When you were in his office he seemed fine.

But I guess as time went on the puzzle he was presented with must've taken him to a more serious state of mind.

So in short, his silence doesn't surprise you. But that's not to say It doesn't scare you shitless when he gets like this.

Cause then there's no arguing with him anymore.

He'll do as he pleases with his property.

Without another thought your nappy is violently ripped from you. Still kicking and screaming Sherlock breathes a deep sigh.

"Disobedient..." He remarks in a low grumbled tone. Before flipping your dress over your head till your little ass was shown fully on display.

You gasp as sherlock roughly groped at the exposed flesh. And there you were... Wet as a river. Sherlocks not daft. He knows when your behavior is especially bad, it's usually a result of your urges not being sated.

But Sherlock has to admit that he almost fell for your trap.

You wanted him to get upset.

He's rougher with you when you've pissed him off. The firm grabs of the tender flesh on your breasts. The way he manhandles you. toys with your body as you're powerless to stop him. How he pounds you as you beg him to stop. screaming it hurts while under your breath you're begging god that he lets Sherlock fuck you till you die.

Sherlock spreads the petals of your not to be ruined heat. you whimper at the sound of the wetness as he gazes at your gaping hole silently collecting his thoughts.

"You don't deserve my cock..." He decides to himself.

That set you off.

"No! Daddy please M'sorry I juss missed you n-"

"Enough" he says hearing no more of the show your trying to put on. Which he now realizes was just one of your big acts of foreplay for rough sex.

He glares down at you, seeming so tall from your spot on the floor. you pout at his feet wiggling your butt in guilt.

But Sherlock refuses to give into the temptation. Today you need to be reminded how unwise it is to test your masters patience.

"Is this how I taught you to behave" he repremands.

Your frame falters, sinking lower to the floor at his blunt questioning. Your silence being a good enough answer.

"Go get my box" he commands.

"T-the gold one?" You look up at him in terror.

"The red one" he corrects.

Involuntary tears leak from your eyes as you cling to his leg like a feeble lamb.

"No! Daddy please don't! M'sorry-" you plead.

"Yes I know you're sorry prey, you're going to be very.. Sorry..."

"No! Anything else!! put me in the ca-"

"Oh so now she tells me what to do" he taunts, the tamber of his tone coated in disapproval.

"N-no I didn't mean it like-.... I wasn't-..." You mumble your explanation but ween off to silence at the judgement of his commanding glare.

Sherlock bends down to your ear. brushing away stray hairs and whispering softly. Voice laced in malice and cruelty, contradicting his calm demeanor.

"Go get my box before I shove my cane all the way up that tight little pucker of yours"

Wide eyed and fearful of your master's wrath you hastily crawl away to retrieve the box from the "training room".

..............

Hesitantly you return, the box clutched nervously between your hands as you try not to make direct eye contact with your owner.

"Well the little thing managed to follow instructions"

You pout at his harshness.

"Now go pick out a belt" he says fiddling with the miscellaneous "correction tools" in the box. not even looking in your direction.

You decide to not make this harder on yourself and sulk as you leave again.

"And don't pick a small one...or I'll come choose myself"

You wince at his threats pouty and fearful what he's gonna do to you.

You come back with a thick black leather belt. you shiver from seeing the spiked and studded one he had hanging in the room.

As you enter you see sherlock pulling out a golden butt plug adorned with a jade jewel. you gulp as it looks bigger than the others he's used on you.

He comes closer to you taking notice of the way you flinch as Sher bends down to your level. holding out the buttplug to you between his middle and index finger.

An unreadable expression adorns his features as you take it quietly hoping he won't put it to use.. wishful thinking.

"I want that in your ass before I return...and no lube" he says in an oddly casual manner.

You look at him doe eyed "T-theres no way-" you think to yourself.

"Do you understand me" his dominant cadence snapping you out of your daze.

You nod reluctantly.

"lie down on the couch when you're done"

He then leaves without another word as you eye the cruel challenge your sir has bestowed upon you.

When Sherlock reappears he's clad in his disciplinarian attire. A white dress shirt rolled up to his forearms showing off his delicious spiderweb veins. complimented by a tight black vest showing off every curvature of his sculpted form. black dress pants and shoes to match. And finally an exorbitant avant garde watch adorning his wrist, along with a fresh pair of medicinal black rubber gloves.

You curse under your breath. You've really fucked up this time. And you didn't even manage to get the stupid fucking plug up your ass it just won't go in.

You begin to panic, strenuous efforts to shove the toy in become more frantic as sherlock nears you like a shark in the water. He smirks internally as he sees you tear up with both legs in the air. trying to forcefully shove it in, all to please him.

"Stop" he instructs, and you instantly halt your actions. his words like a cheat code to your body.

"Give it to me."

He holds out his palm all casual and unassuming. he doesn't look mad, but you know it's all a farce to keep you guessing.

You whimper meekly as you continue to try and jam it into your unprepared hole.

"Need I repeat myself?" sher growls with impatience.

You look away feeling shy before begrudgingly handing over the jade plug.

Sherlock hunches himself over you no mercy in sight.

"hold open your ass"

"Sher-"

His eyes demonically snap to yours. not only where you about to object and defy his orders, but you also were going to address him by the wrong title.

"Oh bunny don't make me break you" his eyes say.

"Yes Sir" you mutter defeatedly.You then snap your lips shut and pry your butt open as much as you can.

"Wider" he says plainly, feigning indifference.

You try to hide your blush. Sherlock looking at you so exposed like this, he must be getting some sick kick out of it.

Sherlock leans his head down and licks a singular wet strip up your hole. you hate that your walls flutter from it.but that all comes crashing down as Sherlock rams the plug deep into your ass. you scream loud enough that even the neighbors could hear your desperate cry. not that they would dare say anything.They hear you scream most nights. whether it be pleasure or pain, it's all the same to Sherlock.

You fold in on yourself crying at the rough intrusion in your body. you don't dare fight back when sher seats himself on the love sofa. manhandling your form until you're splayed over his lap. you sniffle quietly as sher massages you gently.your body quivering in fear as you hear the clink of a belt. you grip on tightly to his trousers bracing yourself for what's to co-AH!

Sherlock deals a devilish leather blow to your ass and it's already too much."Daddy! No!" You try to reach for the belt but Sher just keeps hitting you harder everytime.

"Ah! No Stop it!!"

You cover your ass as sher holds his belt in the air.Winding up for the worst blow of them all.

"Remove your han-"

"Daddy it hurts!"

"I said move your Fucking hands!!"

You take them away as the leather comes crashing down on your tender ass. you yell as the sting reverberates throughout the tender flesh.

All the strength is zapped from your body, but Sher's just getting started with you.

You cry and sob, muffling your tears and digging your manicured nails into the fabric of your master's trousers.

But then something rubbery makes an abrupt intrusion into your slicken folds. your head shoots up and you gasp at the new contact digging though your walls in search for that deep sensitive area.

You look back at Sherlock stoic as ever as if he didn't just deliver the ass beating of your life just moments ago. You manage to contain most of your moans until he finds your spot.

Now you're really in trouble.

He grinds his knuckles deep into your core making you spasm as you whimper and writhe moaning like a virgin whore.

Sherlock reaches his other hand to pull your hair.You whine and wince as Sherlock periodically takes his fingers out to smack your sore butt then entering them back into you.

It's all too much.

"Please sir can I cum-" you plead trying to wiggle your spot away from the daunting strokes of his gloved hand. moaning profanities under your breath at the mind numbing sensation.

Sherlock says nothing, but you know it's a trap. cumming without permission is a big no no. The consequences being worse than the spanking you just got.

"Master please!! I can't hold it any longer-" you whine meekly trying to wiggle your butt away the pleasure overriding your senses but sher holds you firm.

"If you cum I won't fuck you" he comments, admiring the beauty of your soaked heat clenching and coating the rubber of his the gloved fingers.

It's a little concerning how fast you started to move at his threat.you didn't even squirm that hard when Sherlock dragged your sorry ass into the room.

Wiggling profusely, Sher meets your whims and let's go of you. leading you to tumble onto the hard wooden floor.

"Ouch" you say pitifully, but your mind is quickly drawn away from that as you feel sher's hand lace itself in your hair. pushing your head to lay flat against the ground. his other hand pulling your hips up to meet something wet and bulbous prodding at your entrance.

You grin sadistically.

Yes...this is what you've been yearning for all day. this is the reward for all your efforts. annoying Sherlock, trashing the living room, and getting that violent spanking. all for Sherlock to use you as his own personal cum doll.You're just as fucked up as he is, if not more.

But you grow concerned when sher doesn't move. So you curiously look up at him from your limited view on the ground.

"Holy shit" you shudder internally.

Now he looks pissed, brows furrowed and lips pressed together into a sharp line his eyes cold and malevolent.

Ah yes, this is your master.. the bad one.And the one that makes you the wettest of them all.

He bores into you expectantly, speaking not a word. Sherlock is a man of principle and justice, so needless to say he wants you to apologize for your egregious behavior.

You swallow your shallow breath before pulling your most innocent angel face at him. And even though sher will act like he's immune and it doesn't help your case. His cock twitches noticeably against your entrance as you bat your baby doll lashes at him.His grip tightening in your hair as he grows just as impatient as you are for release.

Not that he'd admit it but he also needed this badly, some leeway from the stress of his case.

"M'sorry for being a bad girl master" you pout at him cutely.

Nothing, not a blink from him. so you keep going.

Listing every single bad thing you've done for the day as his tip distractingly glosses over your clit.

"And I'm sorry for not getting the-mmph!"

Sherlock breathes out a heavy sigh as he slowly sinks his fat cock in your needy little pussy.

"Keep Apologizing..." He grunts as his cockhead buries itself to the hilt nudging against your little baby room.

"I-i'm sorry I couldn't get the plug In ah!-" You yelp as his cock is pulled out from your hole abruptly.

"Couldn't get it where pet" Sherlock groans as he starts to plunge his cock into you.rutting against every sensitive nerve imaginable.

"I-in my ass..." you whimper writhing your butt against his hips begging for him to ruin you.

"Where!" He growls lowly pounding against a spot that makes both of your eyes roll to the back of your skulls.

"In my ass!!Please Master fuck me!fuck-"

Sherlock fucks into you recklessly. robbing you of your inhibitions and vocabulary in an instant.

"Fuck-daddy fuck pleas-! Ruin me please..."

You whimper whine and moan at his cock, it pulling embarrassing sounds from your body. You and Sherlock rock back and forth inside of each other animalisticly, as if driven by a primal urge.

You feel his big veiny cock pulse inside of you hitting your spot with every rough thrust. his balls clenching and unclenching themselves from the pleasure.

"Master!Master!Master!!!Please-.. Shit-!" You call him over and over again. begging for him to stop or keep going, your mind being too scrambled to decipher between the two.

"You gonna stop being an ungrateful wench"

"Wrecking all the expensive shit I pay for"

Sherlock growls into your ear tugging at your hair while he fucks your pussy aggressively.

"Yes! yes-"" you mewl at him completely under his spell.

"Dumb fucking baby slut, fucking up my nice table- I should fuck you on that table.. breed you till the cum drips out" Sher groans darkly in your ear. his gutteral moans sinking you deeper into the pool of bliss.

"You want me to fuck you dumb hm? Ruin and break you" he taunts.

You nod sickly, slamming your hips to fuck back into him. meeting every one of his sinful thrusts in a circadian rhythm."Is that why you won't let your master get a good day's work in dolly,Need me that badly?" Sherlock starts smacking your ass again and you forget what being human feels like.

"Yes sir!!yes sir-Please I can't help it!" A bit of drool leaks from your mouth seeping onto the floor.

"Well would you look at that, all cock drunk and addicted to my cock"

"You addicted to my cock baby hm?" He coos in a dominant tamber.

"Yes sir! I need it!! I don't know how to act right if I don't have your dick breeding up my little bitch hole-" you bark out your pussy clamping down around him tightly.

"I know prey, your just a dumb little baby princess"

"That pretty little head of yours is just filled with air, You need your master to keep you in line honey don't you"

He places a sinister kiss to your head as he delivers thrust after thrust into your dripping walls. the intense rhythm of his hips unwavering.

"Don't worry honey I'll fix you right up

You know I always do..." He whispers psychotically.

"Y-yes master!" you moan, the program of his influence playing all over your mental state.

"Bad toy....such a naughty little toy...messing up daddy's apartment" he says in between the manipulative kisses.

"Say it princess, tell me your my toy"

You revel in the sound of his voice, it pulling you deeper into the fog of your mind.

"I've.. been a bad toy master!-"

"I-i'm M-masters...Toy" you stutter the command back to him as he pounds you good and deep.

"Good girl, now tell me how bad you want me to fix you" he says, voice dropping to that low gravely octave that could make you do anything.

Sherlock's thrusts become disheveled as his pace slows him finally reaching his orgasm after the countless times you've already cum.It still leaves you spasming around him.

"I-Im a D-dumb little bitch toy master, I-i need you to fix me..." you say all mind broken and too fucked up to care.

"Of course I will sweetness" Sherlock says smirking possessively. placing a tender kiss to your lips, this embrace being the first kindness he's shown you all day.

Even though your senses are shot, you can still register the thick streams of cum coating your walls. But all you can do is lie there, you couldn't walk if you tried.

"Come here honey" the devil of a man picks you up in his arms in an all too gentle manner considering the careless roughness he's subjected your fragile body to.

You lay blank in his arms with slow shallow breaths as Sherlock carries off your form to the training room for a little "tinkering.

Then it'll be off to bed in your cage, some supper if your sir is feeling merciful.

Not like you have a say anyway, you're his after all. Sherlock's obedient little pet.So I hope you learned your lesson little bunny.But if you didn't that's fine too.Sherlock would love nothing more than to wipe the slate of you clean.Taking you apart and putting you back together again until you learn to be his perfect little angel.

His Prey.

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer (bonus chapter)

Every day was the same until it wasn't, and the fragile peace you'd grown accustomed to was shattered when a transfer student appeared a month into the start of second year. While the halls were abuzz with exaggerated tales, comments about his supposed above-average appearance seemed to dominate the discourse.

Unfortunately, for as curious as you were, you didn't cross paths with him until homeroom, when you realized the usually empty seat next to yours was occupied. A boy sat with his head down, but from his breathing, you could tell that he was awake. His uniform rose above his ankles, and his skinny wrists were on display. Indifferent to how the class fell silent, to how a dozen sets of eyes trailed after you, you stepped across the threshold.

Approaching your seat, you swallowed your apprehension and tapped on his arm. If anything, you told yourself, he had to be more nervous than you. You weren't exceptionally outgoing, but the least you could do was offer the new kid a greeting.

Peeking from between his arms, he lazily regarded you. You saw a flash of piercing blue eyes.

You stuck out your hand. "I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you."

He remained unmoving. Already feeling discomfort pool in your gut, you shook the sensation off and slid into your seat. You didn't care too much about his dismissal, figuring he'd either find a group to integrate with or wind up as one of those people who sat in the library during break and lunch. Regardless, you didn't look forward to the awkward eye contact and silence that incessantly accompanied strangers. It sucked that he was your seatmate, but you'd learn to deal with it as you did anything else unpleasant.

You ignored him, deciding to instead pour over your notes. The year had only begun, but you needed to premptively get ahead. You studied charts and statistics, comitting each to memory, muttering to yourself until the bell rang, dismissing you for the day.

Without so much as sparing another glance his way, you packed your bag in a hurry and scurried out the door. Your friends were in a class on the opposite side of the school, so you set out to join them, giddy at the thought of having someone to review notes with.

However, you didn't even make it halfway down the hall before you realized your bag was suspiciously light. Sighing, you jostled your bag around, feeling the contents shake.

Grumbling and shuffling the entire way, you returned to your classroom. The door was ajar, just enough to give you a glimpse of the group occupying the room. Studying them, you debated on turning tail and retrieving your notes tomorrow, but you heard something that caused you to halt in your tracks, frozen mid-reach, fingers skimming the cool metal doorknob. Instead of the usual lighthearted chatter, their words had you balling your hands into fists at your side.

"I can't believe he actually left the house in that."

"What house?" a girl scoffed. "Sarai said he's staying in a council house. Saw him leaving the shithole this morning on her way to school."

Pressing your palm against the door, you peered inside. You saw the new kid, still resting with his head on the desk. Face resting on his arm, he revealed the lower half of his face, pale skin and chapped, pink lips, a button of a nose, features yet to mature. His eyes were shielded by a dark curtain of hair, leaving you to wonder if they were as striking.

"Prince and the Pauper," a boy snidely said, earning snorts from the few others left in the classroom.

"Nah! With those clothes, he's just the pauper."

"Damn," you muttered, gritting your teeth. You felt a seething rage. You couldn't stand how they were treating him, but you couldn't handle becoming a target again, so you bit your tongue, swallowed the bile, and turned away. Your book would be there tomorrow, but you would not say the same about your pride.

When you awoke the next morning, a dreary grey sky peeked out from behind the curtains. Yawning, you rolled out of bed and shuffled over, recoiling from the cold that had seeped in. Throwing the curtains open, you peered down at the quiet street, then noticed a raven mop moving through the garden. Gasping, you pressed your face against the glass.

"New kid!" You exclaimed. Then, questioningly, you repeated, "Wait, the new kid?"

What was he doing at the house next to yours? You hadn't seen any moving trucks and the unit next to yours was occupied by a first year boy from your school and his family. Was he visiting?

A lady and boy who looked nothing like him stood at the door, both clad in pyjamas. Contrarily, the new kid wore a too-small sweater. You noticed him futilely tugging the sleeves down his wrist, only to hike up with each swing of his arms as he walked.

"Bye, Cillian! Have a nice day!" She patted the nest-headed child's shoulder. "Pick up Connor's work, won't you?"

The new kid—Cillian, presumably—merely stomped ahead. You saw the lady and boy exchange a glance, then shrug, as they turned back inside.

Approaching the gate, he jerked it open. The elbow of his sleeve caught: you winced as he pulled away, undoing the seams, revealing a pale, bony arm. He looked to be all bone and sinew, faded as if he wouldn't last the night. You felt a striking pang of sympathy, viewing him as he remained frozen in place, clutching his arm, listlessly staring at the ground.

Without much thought behind the action, you quickly retreated into the kitchen. In your haste, you jammed your foot against a corner. Your eyes immediately landed on a pot of leftover cocoa sitting on the stove. You poured it into a thermos, some of the warm liquid scalding you in your haste. Ignoring the painful sting, you gave it a shake and hurried outside.

Stumbling out into the garden, you tore across the yard. In your haste, you slammed into the gate surrounding the parcel of land. If the collision hadn't drawn his attention, the rusted hinges on the gate certainly had.

Wincing, you stepped out. "Hey, Cillian," you said, a hand outstretched in offering. "That's your name, isn't it? I'm in your homeroom. I don't have an extra sweater, but take this. It's getting cold out."

He stared at you, eyes gleaning. You felt like a tourist in the savanna, awaiting an ambush. He spoke beneath his breath, and you stared imploringly, smiling until you heard his words.

"Shut up."

Hand falling to your side, you incredulously stared. Your eye twitched. "Excuse me?"

"I said, what do you care?" With a defiant huff, he detached his torn sleeve and brushed himself off, smoothing down the collar of his shirt. Turning on his heel, his shoulder bumped against yours.

As he began to storm down the street, you felt warmth blossom from where he'd made contact. Yet, instead of feeling butterflies, you flushed with red hot rage.

"Shit bag!" Succumbing to impulse, your body moved without you knowing: winding back, you aimed and launched. You hit the back of his head square-on, causing him to flinch and halt in his tracks. The thermos unceremoniously clattered to the ground, where it rolled into a gutter.

Spinning on his heel, he glared. You sputtered, torn between apologizing and running, but you were frozen in place. As he stalked over, you tried to maintain an indifferent front, but when he seized your wrist, apang of anxiety struck you. Furiously thrashing, you pushed against him and swore, but his hold only tightened, painfully so until you gasped in pain.

Once muddled, his gaze cleared. Instead of malice, his eyes simmered with regret and concern.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled. Grip faltering, he stepped back. Tall and lean, he trembled like a wind-battered sapling before he crumpled to the ground.

Face ghastly, you muttered platitudes and mimed reaching for him as he settled on a curb. Knees tucked beneath his chin, he hugged his legs to his chest. You were torn between righteous indignation and pity. While it didn't give him the right to attack you, he was only lashing out.

Chewing your lip, you set aside your pride. You crouched down and joined him, shoulder brushing against his as you did. Upon settling, you scooted over, creating distance between you and him.

"You're horrible, you know?" You brightly said. "I was only trying to be nice, but now, I might hate you." A small, cruel part of you teemed with joy, but you admonished and set yourself back on track. "Who grabs someone unprompted like that?"

"An asshole." Choking back a sob, Cillian brought his arms up to rest across his knees, caging his head. "I'm no better than the rotten lot of them."

You'd dealt with those types of people, the kind who needlessly scrutinized and judged others. You'd been their victim once, but you learned how to make yourself less of a target. They didn't like your tattered sweaters, so you learned to sew. They didn't like your oily hair whenever the water got shut off, so you'd fill a bucket in the garden and take it to the bathroom, where you'd crouch over the rub and rinse your hair.

Fortunately, you hadn't had to do that in a while. Your mother had just completed nursing school, so at the very least, the bills were always paid. It'd be a while until your family left the council house.

"Who said I'm weak?" You said, playfully knocking your shoulder against his. "I can be fierce. Getting upset is just too much of a bother with most. Life is easier when you're agreeable."

"So you're a door mat," he succinctly said. "Is it easier like that?"

You shrugged. "Guess so. That's just the sort of person I am."

"Yeah, you..." Huffing, Cillian trailed off. "I shouldn't have acted against you," he abruptly blurted. Trailing off, he became misty-eyed. "I just... I just got pissed. My mother gets divorced, and I'm forced to move in with my snot-nosed cousin, into a school where I'm being bullied over something I can't help."

Nodding, you furrowed your brows and pouted in lieu of offering a sympathetic word. Secretly, you were still upset with him, but you decided to set the unfavorable first impression aside. After all, you'd been in his shoes last year. All of your uniforms were purchased second hand and your shoes weren't the type built to last the entire year, only to hold together until your mother received her next paycheck.

You tilted your head to the side, jumping when you noticed Cillian was staring directly at you. You trained your gaze back ahead, heart thumping.

"Are you... Well, are you gonna go now?" He asked, voice wavering.

Humming, you moved to stand and stretch. From the corner of your eye, you saw him wilt.

Sighing, you brushed yourself off and held out a hand to him. This time, his gaze held curiosity, then warmth as you continued.

"Do you really want to mope here? Out in the open? They'll see us skipping, you idiot."

"Skipping?" His eyes were wide, glimmering.

You looked into those mesmerizing orbs for the first time. You feared you'd get lost, so you shook your head to clear your stray thoughts.

"Might as well. We're already late."

Finally, he accepted your hand, palm clapping against yours. With a huff, you tugged him upright. Still unable to view him head-on, you released him and stumbled back, tripping over yourself.

Sheepish, you grinned. Still unmoving before you, Cillian mirrored your expression, his smile gaining a few kilowatts in transmission. Coupled with his budding handsomeness, it was almost blinding, so you kept him in your periphery, where, unbeknownst to you, he would remain for years to come.

At that moment, you hadn't know what the future held, but you'd hoped that, with someone finally at your side, you'd have a tomorrow to look forward to.

a/n: A short bonus chapter from the Cillian-verse! I wrote this for @jamiesse, who wanted to see how y/n and Cillian met. (sorry if this isn't on caliber with the other chapters; i really wanted to get this out ^^;) Also, some notes: council houses are government subsidized homes for low income families. Cillian is temporarily staying with Connor following his parents' divorce. The American equivalent of the year Cillian and y/n met would be 9th grade. As you can tell, Cillian has always been rather immature, but his complex developed around this time.

[sultrydxrling]

trick or treat !!?? 👉👈

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! Sorry, it's a day latte! but I hope you enjoy it. (p.s OP if you don't like this feel free to request another trick or treat for content that's more 'you' <3

Masc man X ftm masc mlm

Predator X pray/chasing/GüN/VIOLENCE/r@pe/woods/rough.

My fox runs, as I close my eyes and count.

1

I can hear the leaves rustling beneath his shoes as he runs deeper and deeper into the wood.

2

I run as fast as it can, and I smile uncontrollably as my adrenaline kicks me into high gear. My heart thuds against my ribcage as I dodge fallen treelimbs and the trees themselves.

3

I listen hard, trying to keep up with the direction of the running. Luckily for me, I knew he's likely running in a straight line. He would only be a problem if he was trying to evade me once I was already in pursuit. We'd cross that bridge once we came to it.

4

Go. Go. Go.

I hoist myself over a log and scratch my leg, the wood splintering against my leg from the rotting log. I wince as I have to take a quick second to remove a couple of splinters out of the wound and make a shitty bandage out of my bandana.

5

I hear a loud ish snap. He must've broken a branch of some kind. The crack in the air tells me about where he is, and I can't help but smile at this.

6

Shit shit shit. Ouch, fuck.

I manage to keep moving, bouncing lightly on the wounded leg as I run, now finding it gradually harder and harder to pump oxygen to my heart and brain, but I keep pushing.

7

There are only three seconds to go, I have so much fun giving him a head start. It's going to be much more fun when I finally watch up to him.

8

Almost. He's almost done. i need to keep going, I'm almost far enough out to hide somewhere.

9

I'm seething with excitement. My smile spreads across my face, and I ready my legs to take off in the direction I guess my pet is running.

10!

I hear him call out, my legs and arms pumping now even harder, my arm and leg muscles twitching at the accelerated movement. My breaths become shallow, and I wheezed the farther i pushed myself.

I thrust foward, sprinting and feeling the breeze blast against my face as lunge over various objects, happy to smell his perfume on the air. He's mine.

I see a small divit in a tree trunk space, hollowed out beneath the roots. I dive in and shrink against one of the dirt walls, panting, but listening to the world around me closely.

I finally approach a log with a branch that's broken off of the top, and a small amount of blood is scattered across the wood. I smirk and leap over it keeping pace.

I breathe deeply, trying to control myself. Slow. In. Out. In. Out. Fuck my ribs hurt.. my side cramps and I have to put my hand over my mouth while I steady my breath into silence.

I arrive at a clearing among the trees. The scent of his perfume surrounds me, but I cant pinpoint its origin. I cautiously move away from the area, only to return when I lose the fragrance. He's nearby; I just have to focus and listen.

His footsteps are loud against the mulch and leaves scattered along the forest floor, and I feel a twist of excitement in my stomach. Should I make a run for it? I'm unsure if he'd see me, but I think he'd hear me. I look to my left and see light from the other side of the tree, so I decide to make a break for it.

I hear some movement and look toward the roots of a tree, upon closer inspection, I see the hole lead into a small cavern under the tree. I lean down to look into it, only to see dirt falling from the edge of the other side, and a shoe leaving the hole. I laugh and use the tree to force my weight forward around the trunk. I lunge at my fox and he barely evades my grasp, letting me fall into the dirt.

As he falls, I smile and giggle, running further into the woods. I turn and watch him get up, he smirks at me maniacally and uses his full strength to run at me. I feel him inching closer and closer to me, my chest throbbing as my heart works to pump blood through my aching body. The energy drains from me slowly as I pant, losing stamina.

"Run run, little fox...", I sneer at my pet. I see their willpower dwindling and I pull my Pistol from my pocket, aiming it at a tree up in front of them, I stand to take a clear shot at the tree, just enough to scare him.

A bullet flies by me, missing me by just a foot, and fear rises in my chest. I try to force my muscles to keep up their movement, but the soreness seeps into my bones, making my limbs heavier by the second.

After my pause, I kept pursuing him, slipping the gun into my pocket and reaching out again, he's almost within my grasp.

His large hands clasp my waist and lift me off of the ground, quickly pinning me to a tree. The rough bark is harsh against my cheek as he forces my pants and boxers around my ankles.

"Please! stop!", I cry, trying desperately to escape his grasp.

After I rip his pants off, I pull my pistol out of my pocket and shove the barrel flat against his pussy.

"Grind on my gun.."

I feel the wetness against my fingers as I push the gun against him.

"Shit.. you really got that wet from a chace?"

I leaned in close to his ear.

"You're such a pervert.."

I whine as I feel the cold metal. He's right, I am a pervert. During the whole Chace, I kept thinking of him ravaging me, and he's going to. I can't keep myself from grinding against his pistol. It feels so good.

"That's it bitch.. keep going. If you're good.. I'll let you sit on the barrel."

I use my elbow to shove my pet harder i to the tree as I rub the barrel against his desperate boy pussy.

"Ah!"

"Shut up. Keep quiet."

I whimper but try to cover my mouth to keep quiet. As I feel his weight and the sharp pain in my back. The pistol feels amazing, especially the small rubber ridges on the top. I'm so well stimulated that I'm dripping around it.

I adjust the barrel upright and push it deeply into his wet hole. I bury my face in his neck and take in his scent, beginning to suck softly on his soft skin.

I need the feeling so badly. It drives me crazy as the ridges rub against my Gspot. I thought I was sensitive to the rubbing, but this is the best feeling ever, and I heard a soft click.

I cock the gun and keep my hand below the trigger, just enough to make sure it doesn't really go off. I feel the resistance when his walls closed around my pistol, he's cumming almost instantly.

My hips buck and twist as I cum harshly over the gun. He forced my legs open with his boots between my legs, and I squirted against the tree

"Yeah, baby? You just came on my gun.."

I pull the gun out of his hole and press the barrel to his head,

"You want me to kill you? Sweet thing? Do you like the idea of me..putting a bullet in your pretty brain?..."

I nodded shamefully.. i did. I want him to make an art piece of me, make an example of me.

"Don't worry, sweetheart.."

I rested the gun next to his head against the tree,

"We'll get you the help you need..."

The pang of the pistol rings out in my ear, shaking me to my core. I could feel my own cum dripping down my legs.

[ghostlysable]

If not for the loss of her lover, she would never believe pain could feel this exquisite and all-consuming. The agony of black poison surging through her veins hangs like a curtain in front of her memory, and she pushes past it to remember ritual diagrams scribed in carmine upon vellum pages.

One final task. Blade for blood and vessel for soul.

The viciously curved obsidian dagger looks far too brittle, but when her fingertips touch its intricately carved handle she feels it thrum with purpose. It knows how to separate costal cartilage from ribcage. How to artfully make its wielder bloom like a rose and splatter the floor with crimson petals.

She grips the blade in both hands, mouth acrid with fear and body trembling in anticipation. She almost hesitates.

But then she remembers billhooks and pitchforks at midnight. Torchlight twisting familiar faces into grotesque mockeries of her friends and neighbors. Righteous victory seething off of their bodies like smoke off the smoldering stake where they committed their greatest sin in the name of holiness and love while she watched, helpless, from the forest's edge.

The blackened corpse of the woman they "purified", burned brittle and gnarled. Their hatred. Her love.

And she steels herself. Her shaking stills. She draws in a deep breath.

She only gets one chance. You can't remove your own heart twice...

...

A woman wakes to a memory of unbearable heat, yanked from oily darkness still clinging to her mind like film. Her eyes adjust slowly to her dim surroundings.

A few persistent thick candles still burn in the alcoves. Rust-red tendrils of blood spread across the flagstone floor of her tomb from a granite plinth adorned with a letter and an ornate gold box.

Gently, she stands. Her bare feet touch the cool floor and inferno fades further from her mind. Her first halting steps across the room take her to the letter and its contents.

She recognizes the familiar cursive script instantly and reads through a blur of tears as her pulse pounds in her ears.

I had to trade a life to bring you back, but they'd kill me for necromancy anyway. I'm so sorry for this. I'm so sorry I can't be here to wake you.

Please don't look for me. Just flee this place and never look back. I want you to remember me how I was, and I can't bear for you to see me now.

We always wanted to go back to the sea together. Go there, and live.

I ask only that you carry this box with you wherever you go, and that it should be destroyed upon your death. Hopefully at the end of a long, long life full of the happiness you deserve.

I love you. I will always love you.

...

In an ancient town of pastel houses crowding narrow streets on the sea cliffs, a woman sits at an outdoor bistro across the table from the woman who became her wife a few years after she moved here. Countless days and nights of comfort hang in the silence between them as they share a bottle of white wine and playful smiles. Their fingers interlocked, they watch as the sun sets over the water and the night unfolds in front of them like a vast, speckled velvet sheet.

At a table nearby, over the din of the small crowd, she hears a merchant regale his comrades with his recent travels. Kernels of truth embellished with encounters with saucy maidens, daring-if-drunken hijinks, and heroic acts of courage in the face of banditry.

But his tone becomes solemn when he comes to his trip through a backwater village on the edge of the Greatwood where the trees no longer bloom and the soil yields not even weeds. Where the few surviving townsfolk fled so quickly they left their doors unlocked and food still cooking in their stewpots.

Of the crypt entrance littered with splintered bones and broken bodies, where even the crows dare not pick at the desecrated corpses of clerics who tried to exorcise the place of the furious and vengeful lich that dwells within.

She continues to watch the horizon, hoping to hide the tears welling in her eyes, to protect the one secret she'll always keep for herself. Smiling warmly, she reaches into her satchel and traces her fingertips over the familiar inscription on the cover of an ornate gold box.

My heart goes with you, always.

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Azula has made no progress since she was sent back to the asylum. Ty Lee believes she can help her, with proper disciple. Tyzula.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

CH23: Limited Discretion

The next morning Ty Lee truly felt like she had been ravaged by a dragon. Her body was proof enough. Azula fretted over her bossily as she insisted on kissing every bite, bruise, and abrasion she had left.

"You're taking it easy today." Azula huffed as she pinned Ty Lee beneath her once more.

"I think that's a given considering I'm pretty sure I can't even walk straight right now." Ty Lee snorted. Azula frowned worriedly and began kissing her injuries again.

"I'll be more gentle next time." She mumbled apologetically.

"Can a dragon be gentle?" Ty Lee mused as she ran her fingers through Azula's hair. Azula closed her eyes. "I really liked it." She said, making Azula look up hopefully. "But I don't think that will be an every night kind of thing." She said, wincing as she tried to prop herself up. Azula nodded quickly.

"You can chain me up again until you're ready to set me loose." She said, cuddling into her.

"I'm beginning to think you like being chained up." Ty Lee teased, as she caressed her cheek.

"Only for you." Azula said, nuzzling into her hand. There was a moment of contented silence. "Where will we go after this?"

"Hm?" Ty Lee tilted her head to one side.

"Our home is compromised. Naturally I assume we can't go back." Azula said looking downcast.

"Oh." Ty Lee shifted uncomfortably. She was touched that Azula saw the compound off the asylum grounds as home but didn't look forward to reminding her that she was still institutionalized. "Well, unfortunately we don't have too many options."

"What are they?" Azula asked seriously. Ty Lee stared out the window.

"Mostly islands." She said with a hint of a sigh. Azula tried to read her. "Places with small populations and few visitors."

"Do you-? Do you not like that?" Azula asked, sitting back on her knees.

"What? No, it's fine." She said quickly.

"Then what's wrong?" Azula asked.

"I think-" Ty Lee shook her head. "No, I know, there will always be a target on your back." She said sitting up and leaning against the headboards. "I'm worried that we'll never be able to stay in one place permanently." Azula looked down at her hands and clenched them.

"I'll get stronger. I'll protect us." She said determinedly. Ty Lee gave a small sad laugh.

"Azula, you're still in custody." She tried to explain. "I'm the one that needs to protect you."

"But I'm getting better. You said so yourself." Azula said, frowning. "That means I will be freed eventually." She reasoned though she didn't sound so sure of herself. Ty Lee fidgeted with her hands. "I will be freed, right?"

"I… I don't know." She admitted. "There are still petitions, councils, sages, and world leaders that want to take your life or your bending."

"So you're saying I'm living on borrowed time?" Azula said as her skin prickled.

"No, I'm not saying that." Ty Lee said as she watched Azula's aura regress and darken significantly.

"I'm either a prisoner or I'm dead? That's what you're saying?" Azula said coldly.

"No." Ty Lee said, taking her hands but Azula pulled them away.

"Is that the real reason you decided to form a union with me?" Azula asked in a whisper as every worst case scenario ran through her mind. "Because you knew I'd never be free or because sooner or later I would inevitably expire?" Her eyes grew wide as she started to seeth.

"Azula, please take a minute to breathe with me." Ty Lee said, trying to remain calm.

"Was I just a novelty?" Azula demanded. "Something to play with while you still had the chance?"

"No!" Ty Lee said desperately. "Azula I love you!" Azula hugged herself and looked away. Fear, anger, and sadness was boiling up inside her. She dug her nails into her arms. "Please, let's just take a minute." Ty Lee said, reaching out.

"Don't touch me!" Azula snapped as she jerked away.

"Azula please." Ty Lee begged softly. Azula screwed her eyes shut. "Please…"

"Shut up!" She hissed.

"But-" Ty Lee resisted the urge to reach out again.

"I'm taking a minute!" Azula said, opening her eyes and glaring at her. Ty Lee nodded and shut her mouth. Azula snorted and closed her eyes again. "You formed a union with me because you knew I would die."

"Azula I didn't-!" Ty Lee said feeling deeply hurt.

"Kyoshi!" Azula barked suddenly.

"…What?" Ty Lee asked.

"It means stop." Azula said as intense heat began radiating off of her. "No ifs, no buts, no manipulation. Now stop talking so I can think!" Ty Lee blinked in surprise. Azula inhaled and exhaled slowly. "You formed a union with me because you knew I would die…" Ty Lee bit her tongue as her eyes watered. "The benefits you would receive from this would be my companionship and physical intimacy for the limited time that I have. The drawbacks…" She chewed her lip. Ty Lee's eyes widened. Azula was sharing her thinking as she thought through this logically.

"Time limitation could be one. Your work is presumably limited to just guarding me. You risk losing many things if our semi-illegal union is discovered. Not to mention your life is in mortal danger being in my company." Azula continued. There was a stretch of silence. She opened her eyes again and glared at Ty Lee. "Why are you with me?"

"Because I love you." Ty Lee said in a cracked voice as she scooted forward. "Can I please touch you?"

"Not yet." Azula said furrowing her brow. Ty Lee nodded and twisted her hands. "There is no clear advantageous benefit to being in a union with me, even if it is for a limited time."

"I disagree." Ty Lee said, shaking her head.

"Explain." Azula said, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, for starters I get to see your beautiful face every day." Ty Lee said, staring at her lovingly. "I get to feel your warm perfect body beside me, or on me, or under me." The intense heat surrounding Azula slowly began to dissipate. "I get to have wonderful conversations with you and get to know you better. I have the honor of watching you firebend. I have the privilege, though I probably shouldn't, to touch and play with your hair." Azula blushed but was determined to reach the logical conclusion of her question.

"I still don't see that outweighing the negatives." She said.

"Well, why don't you share why you're with me?" Ty Lee countered. Azula straightened up at once and turned to face her. There were a hundred different things she could list off at once but instead she paused.

"I get to have you." Azula said, summing everything up succinctly.

"O-okay! And, uh, the negatives?" Ty Lee said, feeling her temperature rise.

"There are none." Azula said simply. Ty Lee snorted.

"There has to be some negatives." She said disbelievingly.

"No. There are none." Azula said firmly. "Though I suppose that in and of itself is a negative."

"Really? I don't do anything that annoys you?" Ty Lee asked skeptically.

"…No." Azula said hesitantly as she looked away.

"I think I can actually feel your sound chakra closing up more." Ty Lee said, crossing her arms. Azula made a face as she fought with herself internally.

"You're so stubborn!" She blurted suddenly. "You aren't logical! You don't listen to reason, you put everyone before yourself, you trust too much!" Azula began listing off. "You wear that stupid armor that covers up all your skin and its not even Fire Nation! And don't get me started on the stupid clown makeup that goes with it!" She huffed as a vein in her temple throbbed. Ty Lee raised her eyebrows.

"Can I touch you?" She asked.

"I demand that you do." Azula snarled the nearly yelped as Ty Lee pounced on her.

"I think it's ironic that you think I'm the stubborn one." Ty Lee said, pinning Azula's arms down as she struggled against her. Azula bared her teeth. She wanted Ty Lee to take control but didn't want to make it too easy for her. "You are as immovable as a goat gorilla sometimes, you know that right?"

"I have morals!" Azula spat.

"Oh, and I don't?" Ty Lee scoffed as she straddled her waist. Azula freed one of her hands and grabbed Ty Lee's arm. With one fluid movement she rolled Ty Lee beneath her.

"I'm sure you do but they are probably just as nonsensical as you." Azula said before kissing her aggressively. Ty Lee took advantage of Azula's temporary lapse of attention and wrestled her onto her back.

"How are they nonsensical?" Ty Lee demanded as she firmly sat herself atop her. Azula opened her mouth to retort but her words died before they met her lips as Ty Lee pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside. Her face started to turn red as she stared at her breasts. Ty Lee grinned and winked.

"You are manipulating me!" Azula accused once she found her voice again. "How is that allowed for you but not me?" Before Ty Lee could respond there was a knock at the door.

"I hope you two are decent." Mai called from the other side of the door. Ty Lee scrambled off Azula and cursed as she saw her shirt halfway across the room. Azula snorted.

"Serves you right." She said before whipping one of the bedsheets around her. The door opened with exaggerated slowness before Mai stepped inside. She glanced at them before rolling her eyes and looking away. "What?" Azula demanded in offense. "We're decent." Mai pinched the bridge of her nose as she pointed to the harness with the toy still attached hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Discretion is obviously not part of the vocabulary for either of you." She said, sounding tired. Ty Lee's face turned red with embarrassment. She quickly grabbed the harness and stuffed it under the sheets. "Anyway," She said, crossing her arms, "Ursa has requested that the whole family celebrate day two of the festival together. So get up and get dressed."

"Does that include-?" Ty Lee began sheepishly.

"Yes, that includes you." Mai said, waving a hand. "And wear something Fire Nation for once." She said, sounding annoyed. "Not that Earth Kingdom garbage." Ty Lee looked slightly panicked. Azula looked pleased. Everyone would get to see her claim over Ty Lee's body.

"Uh! I don't have any." Ty Lee said, pulling the sheets tighter around herself.

"Figures." Mai sighed. "We'll have some sent up."

"Could it be, um, long sleeves and-" Ty Lee motioned covering her midriff. "-modest?" Mai raised an eyebrow.

"It's not that cold outside and since when do you care about modesty?" She asked suspiciously. Azula grinned broadly and Ty Lee pushed her. "For the love of the Fire Nation…" She said exasperatedly under her breath. "What did you do?" She said accusingly at Azula.

"What didn't I do?" She said smugly.

"Ew. Stop." Mai said, frowning at her. "What did she do?" She asked Ty Lee. Ty Lee lowered the sheets around her shoulders. Mai's eyes widened in horror. Azula was positively glowing with pride. Mai strode over and started inspecting the wounds.

"It was consensual." Ty Lee said seriously.

"You let her do this to you?" Mai said, scowling before turning to Azula and smacking her.

"Hey!" Azula yelped then bared her teeth.

"You stupid-!" Mai smacked her again. "-sadistic-!" Azula scrambled back. "-megalomaniacal-!" Ty Lee forced herself between them.

"It was consensual!" She repeated as Azula hissed at Mai.

"Spirits above Ty Lee!" Mai said, gesturing to her. "How are you going to argue that she's not hurting you when you look like you just lost a fight to a sabertooth moose lion?" Then she noticed the minor burn marks. "That breathes fire?" She added.

"I'm not! I'm just going to cover up!" Ty Lee said, pulling the sheets back over her shoulders.

"Ursa is going to set a pair of guards on you and send you home." Mai said bluntly.

"What?!" Azula said, frowning.

"Your mom is convinced you're abusing Ty Lee and honestly looking at her now…" Mai said, looking at the bite and scratch marks on her neck. Azula started to look panicked too.

"I wouldn't! I'd never!" Azula said quickly as her eyes widened.

"Well, you have and you did." Mai said dryly. She turned to Ty Lee. "Either you cover this up flawlessly or you come clean and explain that you 'consensually' let Azula maul you. And I'll admit the 'for sexual reasons' doesn't sound like a convincing excuse." Ty Lee and Azula shared a look.

"I'll cut off my top knot." Azula said at once.

"What!?" Mai and Ty Lee said in unison.

"It will prove that I have no ill intentions towards Ty Lee." Azula said simply.

"Azula." Ty Lee said, feeling touched.

"Absolutely not." Mai said firmly.

"You can't stop me." Azula said, shrugging carelessly.

"No." Mai said, pointing at her threateningly. "You will do no such thing."

"I'm going to do it." Azula argued. Mai rubbed her temples.

"You are a living nightmare." She hissed. Azula smiled. "You know what? Fine." Mai said, throwing her hands up. "Cut off your top knot but Zuko and I will choose the time and location."

"Okay." Azula said, yawning.

"Quit looking so smug." Mai said glaring at her then turning her attention back to Ty Lee. "And you cover up. We're having breakfast in one hour." She said before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

[teaonastro]

Honestly I'm on your side now after going through your blog. I second the anon who said that d4rkpluto/aphrodicci has always been the common denominator of these "dramas" in the community, and that's coming from someone who's been lurking in the community for 5 years. If aphrodicci is truly the narcissist they say and is obsessed at being at the "top", then the only thing the community can do to counter that is to create more astrology blogs that will outshine them. Don't join their discord, their strategy is quite clear now: they lure you into joining the discord under the false pretense of finding community in astro tumblr, wait for you to slip up and say something they can frame negatively, and then go after you like piranhas. I mean that's literally step by step what mean girls stereotypically do in the movies.

So yeah, focus on creating astrology and tarot content that you want, focus on honing your knowledge. If you create content that is good, people WILL like your posts and stay for your blog. That way you can build up your reputation in the astro community. By not joining their discord, you'll be ensuring you're not be under their control. Of course, since they have a squad (apparently), be careful of fake actors trying to get info out of you that they can use. When more reputable blogs that are not under aphrodicci's control start to appear in the community, the more aphrodicci will be reminded they can't stand out as much as they want to or stay at the top. That's what narcissists want, attention and relevance. We have to take that away from them. And I mean no offense, aphrodicci barely posts these days, the only reason why they're relevant is because they still have a reputation lingering from their past days. So the less control they have on things, the less dominance they'll have over the whole community. Maybe this is a too simplistic way of wanting to solve the problem, but it's true what teaonastro says, we have to focus on building our own community.

Dearest gentle reader, Upon reading your words, We must confess- We found ourselves overcome with the most profound sense of gratitude. Your message rang like a clarion bell through the fog of scandal, piercing through the mists spun by those who would manipulate and control under the guise of “community.” Indeed, We concur most emphatically: d4rkpluto, or as they now style themselves, aphrodicci, has long been the orchestrator of disquiet beneath layers of charm and cunning. Your observation is not merely correct, it is astute for what you described is not the behaviour of a benevolent guide, but of one who seeks dominion. The illusion of kinship within their Discord is but a trap laid delicately, only to later ensnare and devour with the vicious efficiency of court gossip turned weapon. You speak with the wisdom of a seasoned wallflower who sees the ballroom for what it truly is, not a place of harmony, but of hierarchy. And We, for one, are weary of watching brilliant minds dim themselves to avoid stepping upon their fragile pride. Thus, We wholeheartedly join you in your call to arms though not with swords, but with scholarship, intuition, and radiant creativity. Let us flood this community with voices, with visions, with interpretations of the stars so luminous that no self-crowned monarch can cast a long enough shadow to eclipse them. Yes, let them seethe in silence as their grip loosens. Let them watch, powerless, as we rebuild a space that does not revolve around their ego but around learning, truth, and mutual respect. We implore you to exercise the utmost caution when engaging with that particular circle, especially within the confines of their Discord salon- though naturally, the final choice rests, as it always must, with you. And so, We extend our hand- not just in thanks, but in alliance. Let the stars guide us, but let our integrity anchor us. Yours in righteous clarity and celestial defiance, The Whistledown Ladies

[matildareddx]

cold truths ─── abby x reader

✧˖*°࿐ content warning ─ a little bit angsty toxic!abby toxic!reader ykwim! [sorry i did this in a train a little bit drunk so i hope it's not terrible enjoy !!]

the room felt heavy with tension, the air thick with unspoken words. although you were just rooms apart, the distance felt overwhelming. you were alone in the living room, sitting in the couch, reminiscing about the evening. a casual conversation started off innocently enough, but suddenly spiraled into a heated argument. and then you found yourselves locked in a battle of wills.

"you just don't get it, do you?" abby's voice was laced with frustation. her eyes flashing with anger. "you always have to make everything about you."

your jaw clenched, a surge of defensiveness rising within you. "i'm just trying to express how i feel, abby."

she scoffed, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "oh, of course. because you're the martyr that does no wrong."

you gritted your teeth, your patience wearing thin, "that's not what i'm saying."

"then what are you saying?" abby's voice rose, her anger escalating. "that i'm the one who's always at fault? mhm? that i'm the one who has to cater to your every fucking whim?"

"that's not fair," you shot back, your voice tinged with exasperation.

abby's gaze bore into yours, her expression a mix of frustration and hurt. "no, what's not fair is that i constantly have to tiptoe around your feelings. i can never do anything right in your eyes."

your chest tightened, a knot of guilt and hurt forming, "that's not true, abby. at all. i appreciate everything you do."

she rolled her eyes, her disbelief evident. "oh, i'm sure you do. just not enough to actually listen to me, right?"

"are you serious? you're just straight up lying!" you insisted, your voice strained.

"really?" abby's tone was biting. "because it seems to me like you only hear what you want to hear."

the room seemed to close in around you, the weight of the argument suffocating. your gaze hardened as you pushed back. "and what about you, abby? you're so fucking quick to point fingers, but you never take responsibility for your own actions."

her nostrils flared, her anger reaching its peak. "you're unbelievable. you always find a way to turn things around on me."

"maybe because you never take ownership of your mistakes," you shot back, your words laced with bitterness.

abby's face turned red, her voice seething with anger. "you know what? i'm done with this."

she stood up abruptly, storming out of the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. the echoes of the argument hung in the air, a toxic mixture of hurtful words and unresolved emotions.

and that's leads to now. you're still sitting in the couch, the minutes ticking by, the silence becoming unbearable. you both knew the argument spiraled out of control, fueled by both of your insecurities and frustrations. it had pushed you to a breaking point, and the toxic dynamic you have didn't helped at all.

with a heavy sigh, you got up from the couch and headed towards the bedroom, finding abby sitting on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped and her face buried in her hands.

"i'm sorry," you said, your voice soft and sincere.

abby looked up, her eyes red from tears. "i'm sorry too."

you sat down next to her, your gaze filled with regret. "we can't keep doing this, abby."

her expression softened, her guard coming down. "i know. it's just..."

you sighed, the weight of the moment sinking in. "we need to figure out how to communicate better," i mutter. "how to support each other instead of, well, tearing us down, you know?"

abby took a shaky breath, her figure getting closer to yours, taking you in her arms. "i love you," she muttered, close to your ear.

tears welled up in your eyes, leaning in her warmth. "i love you too."

as the two of you sat there, holding onto each other, the toxic cycle of jealousy, insecurity, and blame began to unravel.

matildareddx © || 𓆩♡𓆪

please like and repost it if you like it!! big kisses have a good day [✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧]

[french-toast-enjoyer]

Short story — part two!

this is a continuation of my story from earlier!

the same content warnings for suicidal ideation and gore still stand !

Yusuf realizes now that he should be sobered, humbled, afraid. In the den of the minotaur.

But fear is no object as he turns and takes in the sight of the beast. Any death is sweeter than the bitter winter outside.

The creature hunches tall over him, bestial yet weak; adorned with jagged horns and clawed hands and split hooves— the cautionary visage of a minotaur. He's covered in thick, damp fur and a faded red cloak like a creature of the night, yet he’s too– ill to look predatory. His frame is giant and brutish, yet he strains to hold his wretched head up.

He doesn't seem like the abomination the townsfolk whispered about. Even in this pen of rot, he can't imagine the creature indulging the loving eroticism of death.

But it’s starving.

The beast needs to feed, and the man needs to die. Such is life for animals like them.

If the folktales are true, the creature will taste the man’s flesh and be blessed to never hunger again. If they aren’t, it doesn’t make much difference.

It doesn’t move to claim him, it only stares with lidded black eyes.

Even so the man goes on and places his life in the maw of the minotaur. He clenches his eyes shut, draws in a sharp breath, and submits to his own devouring.

“Please,” the man begs an unmoving Kallus, "end me, make love to me with your fangs. Feast upon me so that you may live– so that I may rest in peace.”

Close your jaws around him. The voice commands, Have your fill. End this.

"No," The beast utters, almost usure which voice he’s denying, "won't.. hurt you,"

His words are blunt and forceful and he no longer looks at the traveler. He’s fighting the scent, fighting to preserve something.

But despite the minotaur's objections, the man’s desire persists.

"I’ve nothing left." He grovels, “Let me offer myself. Let my death have meaning, please. I beg of you.”

“Won't lash out in hunger. Won't.” Kallus says through clenched teeth.

“And what of the slaughtered animals?” the man seethes, casting eyes on the den of rotting creatures, “What barrs my innocence from that of any creature fallen on the blade of your desire?”

The minotaur’s face distorts in grief, eyes all too present for a moment.

“Was not always... like this,” he mourns, languishing over his wretched body, “was… human once, was cursed with this body.”

“Like the faerie tales.” the man whispers, “You’ve not yet devoured a human, have you?”

“No!” he cries, staggering back with disgust, “Can not destroy my kin– can not become such an animal.”

Oh.

Silence consumes them both, yet before another word escapes either man– there comes something more intimate.

A touch.

A freezing hand ghosts across the side of a monstrous face, and holds it with wifely fervor; unafraid.

“Oh, my other,” the man whispers, “I am not kin, I am not prey; I am an oblation. To eat of my flesh would be an act of love– would make you a god,"

His words are pure bullshit. Flattery, but part of him believes.

The minotaur lets his gaze drop to the man’s neck, transfixed. It would taste so sweet, he thought, sweet and forbidden. A rope is still wrapped around his neck, the other end strung up on the branch of an old elm tree. He’s resigned, unwilling to break away.

The man’s words arouse something within Kallus. He fears he can’t stop himself from doing what he's wanted to do since the stranger arrived. But he tries. Again he denies the man.

“Then I must go, and find my death somewhere else.” he resigns, hanging his head and turning to walk away.

“No.” The beast orders.

“... What?”

“Stay here– just for tonight.” the beast says, calmer now.

And with a lasting prayer that morning will not come for him, the man obliges his new master.

Under the dim light above the den Kallus finally sees the wanderer, and in simple terms, he is moth-eaten.

Wrapped in ragged wool is a pale, thin, pestilized body. His face is gaunt and aging, his dark hair is long and unkempt, and his cheeks are scarred, tinged red with the biting cold.

He hungers as well.

To the beast he’s fragile as stained glass.

Just as beautiful too.

“Have you a name?” the man asks, watching the creature pace around the room.

He stops dead. Caught off guard by the thought that anyone cared enough to ask.

“Kallus,” he answers, in a strange, hushed tone, “and you?”

The man falters for a beat, and swiftly pulls something from around his neck.

“I was once called Omega.” He says, presenting a silver pendant with the Greek symbol on its face, “It means end of all things.”

Kallus looks at the rough edges of the relic, and in turn the rough edges of the man himself.

“But that was long ago.” he adds sharply, snapping up the necklace and stashing it away, “my real name is Yusuf.”

The creature turns the name over in his mind, drinking in the very warmth of it.

“‘Yusuf.’” he repeats, and the man shivers at the possessive way he says it.

That’s it, he thinks, call me yours.

Night has all but fallen, and the storm picks up outside. Yusuf shakes beneath his tattered cloak as he sits on the floor of the den. He curls into himself a bit, as if mourning or nursing a wound.

Those worn brown eyes catch Kallus leering, and the body shifts to cover its emaciated nature. It only draws him closer.

The behemoth moves forward on all fours, trying to be light and gentle as he skulks over piles of ravaged bodies. They’re a chorus of voices beneath his claws and hooves, led by that shameless old desire.

Maim him. Hurt him. Kill him.

It’s easier to resist, looking into his eyes.

“Are you hurt?” asks the minotaur, almost closing the distance between them.

“No.” he replies, withdrawing into his cloak.

The beast huffs and raises its towering head.

“Show your arm.”

“No, it’s nothing.” You’re going to devour me anyway, the man thinks, almost resentfully, it’s only another reason to give in.

“Show.” he orders, voice stern yet not unkind.

The man buckles under the weight of the command.

“It’s not important, it's just– my arm. I can’t feel it,” he mutters, revealing the affliction.

The limb at his right is frostbitten, reminiscent of a burned tree branch. Blackened, waxy skin stretches across the tender, withering hand. The darkness creeps up below his elbow where it meets a pale, soft body, like a falconer's glove.

It’s troubling how well Yusuf hides the pain, and how the hand hangs rigid as a body in the gallows.

“It’s dead weight.” he admits, “ but– it’s begun to spread, and it hurts. I can’t hunt, I can’t start a fire, I can’t treat it. It’s always there.”

Kallus reaches out, cautiously. He’s afraid to even touch the man in this state, considering his– ideations.

“You can still survive,”

“No, I can’t. Not like this.”

“Then find a way. Darkness is coming, you must learn to live with the pain.”

“I won’t live. It's unbearable. You could never understand.”

The beast’s ears flatten against his head, and he bites his tongue and seethes, quietly.

“Understand far too well.” Kallus all but confides, “Pain may never fully leave, but you will make it.”

“And what about you? If I survive and leave this place, what happens to you?”

There comes no reply.

The chorus is one voice stronger now.

“Why are you so stubborn?” he lashes out, “You can have me. You’ll starve if you don’t!”

“You are not a body to be offered!” Kallus dercies, violently shaking the thoughts from his head.

“Then why? If you don’t want to kill me, why would you ask me to stay?”

“Alone,” he admits.

“Do not want to be alone. Do not want you to be, either.”

Yusuf stops short at that, breathing in ragged bursts and slumping against the rigid floor. He’s begun to cry, he realizes, sharp and guttural as if his grief is being bled from a drainage wound.

He’s only helpless for a moment as a claw laces beneath his chin, tilting his head to meet a blackened gaze.

“If I am to be your god,” the behemoth says tenderly, “then-- must protect you.”

The images that flash in the man’s mind are conflicting.

Soft winter mornings in the warmth of his leviathan arms.

The spread of decay, the illness, the mourning.

Making it out together, finding hope.

Being a helpless voyeur to his god's demise.

“How?” Yusuf asks, cradling his dying arm, “How could anybody save me from all this?”

Kallus’s breath hitches as a certain hunger returns to him, yet the shame dissipates knowing that the desire is all his own.

“Sever it and offer it to me.” he says, “Let me have my fill.”

And for the first time in what feels like years, the man smiles.

[whitedragoncoranth]

Save Us Rocket...

"Fix the ship, Rodent!" snarled Drax.

Internally, Rocket seethed--but then his crimson eyes seemed to light up. "Oh, you call me rodent now, blue boy" he sassed, "but one day it'll be like this..."

And then... Rocket opened his mouth and sang!

"Save us, Rocket, Nobody builds like you, Get that bench hummin' And please build us somethin' ta Blow us up that moon..."

Rocket walked off to return to his bench in the Cargo slash Landing Bay, his eyes a li'l misty. Why'd we have to hand that Terran over to Nova Corps? For a primitive, he seemed like a cool guy... The little raccoon sighed at a potential friend lost--but as he returned to his tinkering, there came a banging on the Cargo Bay doors!

"Da flarkin' hell...?" Rocket thought. Readying a small stunner just in case, the raccoon opened the doors and - "Whoo! What a rush!" - blinked in surprise then outright cackled as David nearly fell into the cargo bay. Fortunately, the human caught himself in time--but then Rocket yelped as he was quickly picked up in a raucous hug, a hug he returned with fervour, his crimson eyes now very misty. It's just the dust in here, messin wit'--oh, flarkin'...

"Da flark HAPPENED?!" poor Rocket cried, voice breaking. "Flarkin'... when we handed you to Nova Corps, I thought you were gonna end up in the flarkin' KYLN... I thought you... I thought you were..."

"Aw, little man..." David soothed as the doors automatically closed and he stepped inside, over to Rocket's bench. As Rocket nuzzled into his humie, inhaled his scent, lick-licked him, snuffled back a sob, David sat down with Rocket near the work bench - not letting him go for a minute - and continued, "Nah, as it turns out, some idiot at the Corps wanted to book me and the band in for another concert..."

Now Rocket pulled back, wide-eyed. "What... da... flark...?" the raccoon half-laughed, incredulous.

"I know, right; that's what I thought when the bounty was erased, and I was let go. Hoo, boy, was Ronon Dey pissed when he heard--oh dude, shh, shh, listen! I think he's still going, holy shit...!"

Immediately, human and raccoon shut up and, yes, in the silence, both could clearly hear a Nova Corps Rookie being thoroughly dressed down, and loudly at that! Rocket's eyes widened--and then he clamped his paws desperately over his muzzle, snerked and snorted - trying in vain to hold back his laughter - wanting to keep listening, finding it all flarkin' hilarious! David did the same, hands over his mouth, body shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Oooooh, frack, I had no idea Centurions could be that loud! Rocket thought, in a mixture of awe and amusement. Jeeze, I'd hate to be that guy!

"... VACUUMING UP THE BARRACKS DUST WITH YOUR NOSE, CORPSMAN...!"

That was it, they were done; David and Rocket lost it and laughed and laughed, and laughed, clutching each other tightly until they flopped on the Cargo Bay floor, struggling for breath--but no sooner had they calmed down, gotten some air,

"...CLEANING THE LAVATORIES WITH YOUR TONGUE, DO YOU HEAR ME, CORPSMAN! YOUR TONGUE!"

... Rocket and David lost it again, laughing until they nearly choked! "Oh, gods, can barely breathe," the human gasped, "I can't - ah-ha-ha! - shit, hold on..." As Rocket howled his own laughter, banged his paws on the floor, David got up, went over to the mini fridge he'd stashed under the bench and retrieved from it a couple of milky-fizzes, one of which he put a straw in for Rocket. Together, both calmed, sipped their drinks and relaxed, content in each other's company.

The laughter finally died down, and the silence that followed was a peaceful one, filled with the quiet hum of the ship’s systems and the occasional clink of tools on Rocket’s workbench. David sipped his milky-fizz, the cold sweetness helping to soothe his still-rattling chest from their laughter fit.

Rocket, however, wasn’t as calm. He’d already started fiddling with a set of busted-up electronics, his paws moving quickly and skillfully, making those little tsk-tsk noises when something didn’t go as planned. Every now and then, he’d glance up at David, just to make sure the human was still there, still real. He had this kind of habit when he was deeply into something, like needing the reassurance of his friend’s presence, even if they weren’t saying a word.

“So... you’re tellin’ me that all it took to get you outta the slammer was a little concert for the Nova Corps?” Rocket asked skeptically, eyebrows raised as he adjusted a wire that was definitely not supposed to go there.

David smirked, leaning back against the bench and watching Rocket work. “Yeah, pretty much. I mean, I was supposed to perform for a bunch of higher-ups. That idiot at the Corps erased the bounty ‘cause they thought a concert was better than keeping me in prison. It didn’t help that Ronon Dey was absolutely furious when they got the call.”

“Ronon Dey?” Rocket snorted, his eyes narrowing. “That grumpy wreck of a Centurion who’s always trying to get into everybody’s personal business? Ha! I bet he was real pleased.”

“Oh, he was thrilled, alright,” David laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “He got so mad, I thought his face was gonna turn a new shade of red. But hey, not my fault I’m irresistible to the public.” He flashed Rocket a playful grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Rocket said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Irresistible to the public, and to the bounty hunters, and to the Nova Corps... You’ve got a lotta ‘fans,’ don’t you, huh?”

David chuckled, but then, his expression softened a little, something almost pensive crossing his face. “You know... I wasn’t really expecting to be walking outta there. I had a feeling they were just gonna keep me locked up and toss away the key. But I thought of you, Rocket. Thought of what would happen if I didn’t make it out. And that... that kept me going.”

Rocket’s paw froze over the wire he was about to cut, his crimson eyes meeting David’s for a moment. The usual sharp edge in Rocket’s gaze softened, and for a second, it was just the two of them, the weight of everything that had happened and everything yet to come hanging between them. Rocket sniffled quietly, as though trying to shake off an unexpected lump in his throat.

"Don’t go makin' me all sentimental now, human," Rocket muttered, quickly focusing back on his work. "You know I don't do the mushy stuff."

David smiled, shaking his head. "You know I’ve got your back, Rocket. Always. Besides, if it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be rotting in some Nova Corps cell right now. And I think I’d prefer to not spend the rest of my life in a cage."

Rocket’s tail flicked nervously, but he cleared his throat and swiped the milky-fizz back from the bench, giving David a mischievous glance. “Well, just don’t go getting too attached to the idea of saving me from everything, alright? I’m a professional at gettin' out of messes.”

"Professional, huh?" David raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "That’s why you were about to get yourself caught in that trap last week?"

Rocket’s eyes flashed with sudden defiance. “I wasn’t the one who tripped the damn security system!” he growled, but his voice held no real heat. "Wasn't me."

David snorted, clearly amused, and Rocket turned back to his tinkering. For a while, the two of them just sat there in comfortable silence, the occasional ping or buzz from Rocket’s tools filling the air as he got to work on fixing the ship, his mind seemingly far away, but at ease.

Suddenly, Rocket stopped and glanced over at David. “Hey, uh... If I, y’know, actually did something nice... for you... would you, uh, be cool with it?” His voice was quieter now, almost sheepish.

David blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in Rocket's tone. “Nice? What do you mean, ‘nice?’”

Rocket scratched behind his ear awkwardly, looking anywhere but at David. “Like, I dunno... fixing up your gear. Reworking that thing you call a ‘tuning fork’... maybe throw in a little boost here and there so it doesn’t explode every time you try to use it? Or... whatever else you need. I’ve been, y’know, meaning to... y’know... do something, so you don’t always have to babysit me.”

David’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on Rocket’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I think you’re already doing plenty, Rocket,” he said gently. “But if you wanna mess around with my gear, I won’t stop you.”

“Good,” Rocket grunted, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I’ll throw in a couple of surprises. For fun.”

David raised an eyebrow playfully. “Surprises, huh? Well, if it makes me look cooler, I’m all in.”

“Ha!” Rocket barked a laugh. “That’s the spirit! Just don’t expect me to fix your ridiculous taste in clothes anytime soon.”

David chuckled. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll leave that up to you, buddy.”

With that, Rocket went back to his work, the beginnings of a new plan forming in his mind. And David sat back, quietly watching his friend, his thoughts swirling with gratitude and affection for this strange little raccoon who, despite all the odds, had become his closest friend in the galaxy.

The modified song referenced here is "Save us Sarah" by the Smoky Brights, from the game "Pacific Drive"; it's a banger!