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[enmansiflooring]

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[mtandtgroup]

WEB Deck™ The Smart Access System

WEB Deck is an innovative clip-on modular system which provides a stable and strong working platform for under-decks. It is suitable for a variety of work tasks and can be used by regular tradesmen without safety lines. The system is quickly installed to the underdeck of bridges, viaducts, jetties and oil platforms.

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Full containment: The system includes side containment and full encapsulation where necessary.

[mercillery]

REQUEST: Do you think you can do the request for the reader who was a villain in the entire superhero world who somehow gets transported into one piece world and meet yandere Shanks? I like to imagine the reader acting naturally mischievous, just like Jinx from Arcane, although she only did it for fun and to survive for some reason.

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I really hope I did this right because I have NOT been on my A game lately 😭

Your arrival in the One Piece world is less of a graceful entrance and more of an explosion—literally.

One moment, you’re minding your own business, and the next, you’re plummeting from the sky like some demented shooting star, limbs flailing and curses flying. You crash into the middle of a bustling port town, sending crates, seagulls, and the occasional unlucky bystander scattering in all directions. The dust settles, and there you are, standing in a crater of your own making, grinning like you meant to do that all along.

Welcome to the Grand Line, where logic checks out and chaos clocks in.

The marines stare at you with the wide-eyed horror usually reserved for sea kings or Luffy’s buffet bill. Pirates gawk, unsure whether to laugh, run, or offer you a drink.

You give them your signature sharp, mischievous grin—one part charm, two parts “I’m going to ruin your day,” and an extra sprinkle of “just try me.” Confusion ripples through the crowd like a wave. You bask in it, your energy crackling and boundless, a living storm wrapped in human skin.

The local pirate crew, tough guys with a collective IQ rivaling a bag of rocks, size you up and make the classic mistake: they think you’re just some eccentric with a flair for drama.

That’s when you move. Before they can blink, you’ve turned their leader’s sword into a modern art installation, shoved two marines into a barrel labeled “Pickled Fish Heads,” and balanced a seagull on your shoulder for dramatic effect. Panic and hilarity ensue.

Word travels fast on the high seas, and it doesn’t take long for whispers of your chaos to reach ears in the highest (and lowest) places. The World Government adds your name to their ever-growing list of headaches, filed under “urgent” and “why do we even bother?” You’re not just a problem—you’re a full-scale diplomatic incident wrapped in a smirk and delivered with a bow. Basically, you’re a concern now.

But it’s not just the marines who take notice. Somewhere far off, a certain red-haired pirate lifts an eyebrow. “Looks like there’s a new wild card in the deck,” Shanks mutters, eyes glinting with that mix of amusement and intrigue. Congratulations, you’ve officially caught the attention of the world’s most unpredictable forces. This is where his obsession with you begins.

At first, Shanks is amused—entertained, even—by the novelty you bring to the seas. Honestly, who wouldn't be? The way you breeze through confrontations with the grace of a tornado and the subtlety of a sledgehammer piques his interest.

Watching you dismantle the strongest foes, evade the deadliest traps, and still manage to smile through it all is like watching a firework show that never ends—bright, unpredictable, and dangerously beautiful.

But Shanks isn’t some easily impressed fool. No, he’s smarter than that. He doesn’t just enjoy the show and move on. No, his amusement slowly morphs into something deeper. Something more…obsessive. You don’t just break rules—you make your own. And that, my friend, gets under his skin in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

It’s not just the chaos you bring to the table, but the fact that you seem to slip through danger with such ease. You take risks like you’re daring the world to stop you, and yet—you never get caught.

Shanks, being the perceptive captain he is, knows there’s something behind that. There’s a fire in you, sure, but there’s also something more—a certain… darkness? A guardedness that doesn’t show on the surface but flickers in your eyes every time someone gets too close.

Oh, he notices that. You laugh and joke with everyone around you, your antics a constant stream of unexpected, glorious chaos, but when it’s just you—when the spotlight’s not on you, when you're not performing for an audience—you’re different.

Your smile tightens, sharp as a blade, more of a dare than an invitation. It’s like a challenge in disguise, one that says, If you want something from me, you better be prepared for the cost. Shanks watches, fascinated, as you put on this show of being carefree and invincible, but underneath all the madness, you’re calculating. You’re always thinking, always a step ahead.

It’s obvious you don’t trust anyone, not completely, and Shanks? Well, Shanks doesn’t push too hard. Not yet, anyway.

He’s intrigued, yes. But he’s not stupid. He knows better than to charge in like some lovesick fool. You? You’re unpredictable, like a live wire just waiting to snap. He doesn’t want to get too close too fast, doesn’t want to make you feel cornered or raise an eyebrow at him.

And besides, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Watching from a distance, observing your every move, figuring out what makes you tick. The dance between curiosity and caution. Where did you come from? Who are you, really? How do you work? What makes someone like you—so erratic, so full of life—tick? Is it just instinct? A desire to keep the chaos alive? Or is there more to you than meets the eye?

And so, he watches. He watches the way you challenge the strongest and most fearsome foes like it’s nothing more than a Tuesday morning. He watches the way you smile at danger, never afraid of it, never running from it—just wading through it like you were born for it.

And more than anything, he watches the way you handle yourself when the storm clears, when you’re alone in the aftermath of all your destruction. In short, his intrigue starts with hearing about you, then turns into obsession when he finally sees you in action. Shanks is no stranger to dangerous things. And you, my dear, are dangerous—albeit in the best way possible.

Eventually, after admiring you from the shadows for so long, he decides to approach you. He does it in the most Shanks-like way possible: a mix of casual charm and reckless abandon. He’s not one for grand entrances; no crashing through walls or dramatic monologues here. No, he’s more of a “show up when you least expect it, but somehow it feels like he’s been there all along” type.

Picture this: you’re lounging somewhere high up—because heights are fun and gravity is just a suggestion when you’re you. Maybe you’re perched on a crooked rooftop, legs dangling dangerously over the edge as you tinker with a small gadget you found in some unsuspecting marine’s coat pocket. It’s a ticking contraption that probably shouldn’t be ticking, but that’s half the fun, isn’t it? The town below is bustling, oblivious to the chaos brewing in your hands. A seagull eyes you warily, as if it’s considering retirement if you stick around any longer.

That’s when he makes his move.

Shanks approaches you the way a cat would approach a bird—slow, steady, and with a smirk that suggests he already knows how this will end. He makes his presence known before he gets too close, humming some sea shanty that’s off-key enough to be endearing but not so bad that you’d throw your shoe at him.

He’s got his signature grin in place, the kind that says I’m here for a good time and maybe a headache or two. The townspeople below don’t even bat an eye; they’re too busy trying to remember if they left their windows locked the last time you strolled by.

Now, Shanks isn’t trying to startle you. He’s smarter than that—he’s seen what happens to those who catch you off guard. One minute, they’re standing proud, and the next, they’re tied up in some sort of human pretzel that makes them reconsider all their life choices.

No, he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever improvised booby trap you have up your sleeve today. So, once he’s within sight, he makes sure to announce himself, arms spread wide as if to say, Look! No hidden swords, no sudden moves. Just me and my questionable sense of judgment.

“Am I interrupting, or is this a bad time to mention that thing’s probably set to explode?” He quips, eyes twinkling with amusement. Of course, he’s not really worried—it’s Shanks. The man’s faced off against warlords and monsters that would send most pirates running home to their mothers, so a mischievous villain with a penchant for mayhem? That’s practically a vacation.

You arch a brow, glancing from him to the gadget that’s still ticking away. It’s almost funny—the most wanted man on the seas is standing there, grinning at you like he’s just wandered into a tavern and found the last seat at the bar.

Shanks knows he’s playing a risky game, approaching you unarmed and unafraid. But then again, that’s exactly the kind of gamble he loves. He’s betting that the spark of curiosity in your eyes will outweigh whatever impulse tells you to turn this meeting into a test of reflexes. And let’s be honest: he’s not wrong.

You tilt your head, the corners of your mouth quirking up just enough to let him know you’re intrigued—but not enough to let him off the hook. What’s his angle? Why is one of the most infamous pirates in the world standing here, acting like he’s just interrupted a casual hobby and not a potentially catastrophic experiment?

It’s not lost on you that most would run in the opposite direction at the mere sight of you tinkering with something potentially explosive. But this man? This ridiculous, audacious, red-haired captain? He’s leaning in, all while wearing that grin that’s one part roguish and two parts I’m absolutely going to regret this later. And somehow, that’s exactly what makes him fascinating.

At first, it’s almost funny. Because after that he’ll just start popping up out of nowhere, leaning casually against a market stall or sipping a drink at some rowdy tavern you’re sure he has no business being in.

He always wears that same knowing smile, as if the universe itself just happens to love playing matchmaker with you two. “Crazy running into you here,” he’ll say, voice laced with that lazy, deep amusement that makes you want to both smirk and roll your eyes. Crazy? Please. The only thing crazier is how often he’s finding you in the middle of your next big scheme.

But soon, the pattern becomes unmistakable. It doesn’t matter where you go—a sleepy fishing village where you may or may not have set a few docks on fire for fun, or a dense jungle where you’re sure no one could possibly find you while you scout for mischief—there he is.

Always at the perfect time, always with that lopsided grin and a sparkle in his eye that says he’s loving every second of it. It’s uncanny, really. The man’s supposed to be one of the most powerful pirates alive, yet here he is, spending an absurd amount of time just “accidentally” running into you.

And oh, how it gets under your skin. Because whether you’re raiding a marine base disguised as a disheveled merchant or setting up a prank involving way too much gunpowder and a seagull with questionable morals, there he is—unfazed and curious, with that maddening, calm presence of his.

He’s not just watching; he’s studying you, savoring every moment like you’re the best show on the high seas. Sure, anyone else would be calling for backup or running for cover, but not him. No, he’s the fool standing in the eye of the storm, watching with the kind of exhilarated wonder usually reserved for treasure hunts or legendary battles.

You, on the other hand, start to notice his little game. The “oincidences” pile up until they’re as obvious as a sea king at a beach party. You’re torn between annoyance and amusement. It’s flattering, in a way.

After all, it’s not every day that someone like Shanks, with all his charm and laid-back swagger, goes out of his way to stalk—sorry, coincidentally encounter—someone as unpredictable as you.

But it’s also infuriating. Who does he think he is, trying to turn the tables on you? You’re the master of chaos, the orchestrator of mayhem, and here he is, making you feel like you’re the one caught in some elaborate game.

Still, you try to outwit him. You switch up your routines, veer off into the most uncharted, unpredictable places, places so remote even the mapmakers just gave up and doodled sea monsters instead. You lay low, stir up trouble in places you’re sure won’t make it back to any pirate worth their salt. But somehow, some way, there he is.

Maybe he’s helping himself to an ale at the dingiest bar you could find, or maybe he’s leaning against a tree in the middle of nowhere, one hand on his sword and a smirk that practically screams, You didn’t really think I’d let you get away that easily, did you?

And if you try to push him away, that just won’t work. If anything, he’s more enchanted. Because to Shanks, every glitter bomb, every prank, every trick you pull is just another piece of the puzzle, another reason to be fascinated by you.

And somewhere between dodging your traps and trying not to laugh himself to death, he realizes he’s not just amused anymore—he’s head-over-heels, completely gone, the kind of infatuation that doesn’t end with simple fascination but with something much deeper. The man who could laugh off an admiral’s challenge now finds himself more captivated by you than any battle or bounty could ever make him.

Shanks’ affection sneaks in slowly, like a storm building on the horizon—quiet at first, but impossible to ignore once it hits. It starts as something harmless: an extra drink sent your way when you’re raising hell in a tavern, a knowing smirk as he casually keeps one hand on his sword when a fight breaks out.

But then it grows.

He starts hovering—not in an obvious, clingy way, but enough that it feels like he’s always a step behind you. Whether you’re flipping off marines or turning another pirate’s ship into a makeshift fireworks display, he’s there. Watching. Always watching.

And for someone who’s supposed to be laid-back, Shanks sure has a knack for snapping to attention whenever you’re around. His laugh gets a little tighter when someone brings up your antics, like he’s torn between pride and worry.

His crewmates don’t miss a thing, of course, but they keep their mouths shut. They know better than to tease their captain about the gleam in his eye whenever you come up in conversation—or the way his fingers tap restlessly on the table when he hasn’t “accidentally” bumped into you in a while.

It’s funny, really. Shanks is a Yonko, one of the most feared men in the world, and yet here he is, acting like a lovesick teenager. And the best part? He thinks he’s hiding it. He’s still doing his whole carefree routine, leaning against doorframes and cracking jokes like he doesn’t have an entire fleet of informants feeding him your every move.

But the shift is there, subtle but undeniable. His usual nonchalant swagger stiffens just a bit when another pirate crew gets too close to you, his grin falters for half a second when someone else makes you laugh, and his voice drops into something darker, something more dangerous, when he tells you, “Stay where I can see you.”

Oh, and let’s not forget the moment you decide to respond in the most you way possible. Because if Shanks is going to try to rein in your chaos, you’re going to remind him exactly who he’s dealing with.

Maybe you flash him your sharpest grin, the kind that screams I dare you. Or maybe you immediately do the opposite of what he asked, vanishing into the crowd like a puff of smoke just to see how fast he’ll find you again. (Spoiler alert: it’s fast. Too fast, honestly. How does he keep doing that?)

Or maybe you just pull one of your classic stunts—a grenade-like gadget tossed high into the air with a wild laugh, sending nearby pirates scrambling for cover while you pirouette out of harm’s way. The chaos doesn’t faze you; it’s your natural state.

Shanks, on the other hand? He doesn’t even flinch. He just stands there, arms crossed, watching you with that maddening mix of amusement and exasperation, like a parent watching their kid lick a lightning rod during a storm. Sure, he’s smiling, but there’s a tightness to it, a barely-contained edge that says, You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?

But that’s the thing about Shanks—he’s not angry. No, he’s enchanted. You’re a hurricane in human form, and he doesn’t want to tame you. He just wants to keep you safe. And that’s the part that messes him up the most: you don’t need him to protect you. You’ve been surviving on your own for years. You don’t need Shanks. But oh, does he need you.

And the more he watches you dance on the edge of chaos, the deeper he falls. He sees the way you laugh in the face of danger, the way you challenge anyone and everyone with that gleam in your eye, like you’ve got nothing to lose. But he also sees the cracks, the moments when your guard slips and the weight of your past sneaks through.

And those moments? They hit him harder than any punch ever could. Because for all your chaos, all your wild unpredictability, he knows there’s a part of you that’s still searching—for what, he’s not sure. Safety? Belonging? Something else entirely? Whatever it is, Shanks wants to be the one to give it to you.

But he’s careful. Oh, he’s so careful. He can’t let you see just how deep this obsession goes—not yet. He keeps his grin wide, his tone light, his demeanor easygoing. But every time you pull one of your stunts, every time you put yourself in danger just for the thrill of it, his heart clenches.

And when someone else gets too close, when they so much as look at you the wrong way, that laid-back facade cracks, just for a second. Because Shanks may be calm, may be collected, but when it comes to you? He’s a man on the edge. And you? You’re still playing your own game, dancing circles around everyone who tries to keep up.

Let’s skip to maybe a few months or so: It’s one of those rare, quiet moments—well, as quiet as things get with you around. Maybe you’re perched precariously on a ledge, fiddling with some contraption made from salvaged parts that you swiped from a marine ship, casually ignoring the fact that the thing looks like it’s one wrong wire away from detonating in your hands. Shanks is nearby, sitting cross-legged on a crate, his hat tipped back and his arms resting on his knees, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. And honestly, you are.

That’s when you drop it. Completely unprompted, of course, because why would you bother easing him into it? One second you’re talking about how annoying it is that the marines keep sticking Wanted posters of you up in towns you haven’t even been to yet, and the next, you’re casually saying, “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m not even from this world. So that’s a thing.”

Shanks pauses mid-drink, the rim of his mug hovering just shy of his lips as he blinks at you. For once, the ever-unflappable Red-Haired Yonko looks... well, flapped. He sets his beverage down slowly, his eyes narrowing in that curious, thoughtful way of his, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re messing with him or if you’ve finally gone completely off the deep end. (Let’s face it, it’s a toss-up.)

You, of course, are completely unbothered by his reaction. In fact, you’re barely paying attention to him at all, too busy tinkering with your little doomsday device—or whatever the hell that thing is.

You start explaining, your words coming out in bursts of chaotic energy as you wave your hands around (which, considering you’re holding wires and probably a live battery, is extremely concerning).

You tell him about your world—how it’s full of superheroes and villains, and how you were one of the latter. Not because you were evil or anything, but because it was fun. Survival was tough in a world like yours, so you made your own fun, pulled a few heists, caused a bit of mayhem, blew up a few buildings here and there (details, details).

You glance up at Shanks, your eyes sparkling with mischief, and add, “And then one day, BAM! Out of nowhere, I get spawn and fall from the sky and into this place. Like the universe itself went, ‘You know what? You’re too much for this world. Let’s try you somewhere else.’” You laugh, loud and unrestrained, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it all.

Shanks, meanwhile, is still trying to process what you’ve just told him. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you—honestly, at this point, he’d believe just about anything when it comes to you—but it’s a lot to take in. Another world? With superheroes and villains? And you—you—were one of the villains? He can’t help but chuckle at that. Of course, you were. It explains so much.

Still, he has questions. So many questions. Like, how did you get here? Can you go back? Do you even want to go back? And, more importantly, what kind of idiot superheroes let you run wild long enough to wreak havoc in their world?

He doesn’t ask, though—not yet. Instead, he watches as you get bored of your gadget and toss it behind you with a shrug, causing a small explosion that sends a flock of seagulls squawking into the sky. You don’t even flinch, just lean back on your hands and grin like a kid who just got away with stealing cookies from the jar.

“That explains why no one’s ever heard of you,” Shanks finally says, his tone light but his eyes sharp, studying you. “Not that it matters. You’ve already made a name for yourself here.”

You smirk at him, that wild, mischievous grin that makes his chest tighten in a way he’s not ready to unpack. Of course, you’ve made a name for yourself here. You’re you. Doesn’t matter what world you’re in—you’re always going to be the storm that leaves chaos in its wake.

But what Shanks doesn’t say—what he won’t say, not yet—is that your revelation changes everything for him. Because now, it’s not just about keeping you safe from the marines or rival pirates. It’s not just about protecting you from the dangers of this world. It’s about keeping you here. In this world. With him. Because if you’re not from here, if you somehow came from somewhere else, then what’s to stop you from vanishing again?

The thought sends a spike of unease through him, but he buries it beneath his usual easy grin. He won’t let that happen. He can’t. You’ve turned his world upside down in the best possible way, and he’s not about to let you slip through his fingers.

If the universe went through the trouble of dropping you into his life, then damn it, he’s going to make sure you stay there. Even if it means playing along with your chaos and keeping his own obsession hidden behind that charming, carefree facade.

And so, life continues—a kaleidoscope of chaos, obsession, and unpredictable adventures that leave the Grand Line buzzing with your name. Shanks, ever the enigma, plays his role of charming pirate captain to perfection, but you know better by now.

The surface-level grin, the casual remarks, the way he always "just happens" to be in the same port town as you? Yeah, no one’s buying that anymore. The man is hooked, and not even the sea itself could untangle him from you.

But the question lingers—what next? You’ve already turned this world upside down, left a trail of havoc, and made a Yonko, one of the most powerful men alive, fall head-over-peg-legs obsessed with you.

And yet, your spirit is as untamed as ever. Shanks knows this, too. Oh, he’d love for you to stay, to have you as part of his crew or even just within reach, but you? You’re not the type to stick around for too long. You’re a storm, a burst of energy that refuses to be tied down by anything—not even the Red-Haired Pirate himself.

Still, Shanks can’t help but hope. He won’t say it outright, of course. Instead, he’ll do what he does best: adapt.

If you decide to wander, he’ll make sure to hear about your escapades—whether from his informants, his crew, or the occasional Wanted poster featuring your grinning face plastered in every marine office from here to the New World. And if he hears that you’re in trouble? Oh, he’ll be there. Not immediately, because that would be too obvious, but soon enough to lend a hand and maybe—just maybe—steal a bit more of your time.

And if you do decide to stay? If you decide that maybe, just maybe, the chaotic magnetism between the two of you is worth exploring? Well, Shanks isn’t going to complain. He’ll welcome you with open arms and maybe a locked door or two—just in case you try to bolt, ready to see where this wild ride takes the both of you.

But here’s the thing—this is your story. Whether you stick around, sail off on your own, or somehow find a way back to your world of superheroes, it’s all up to you.

Shanks knows this, even if he hates to admit it. He knows he can’t control you, and truthfully, he wouldn’t want to. That unbridled chaos is part of what drew him to you in the first place.

So maybe one day you’ll vanish, just as suddenly as you arrived, leaving behind a legend that grows wilder with every retelling. Or maybe you’ll stick around, redefining what it means to be a pirate in this world. Either way, one thing is certain: you’ve left a mark on this world—and on Shanks—that won’t be forgotten anytime soon.

And who knows? Maybe chaos itself has finally found a place it belongs. Or maybe it was never about belonging at all. Either way, the seas will never be the same. And neither will he.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Metalhead

Daryl Dixon x Reader

You had dragged Daryl along to something you liked last month, so now it was his turn.

To anyone around, including yourself it was clear you stood out from the crowd.

Inbetween the mass of black on black, spiked everything and the odd masked figures in red boiler suits your bright blue jeans and simple bright teeshirt.

Daryl had come along to your weekend event last month, so now it was your turn to join him to a concert.

"What's with the masks?" You were settled against Daryl's side, not entirely sure what to make of the group before you.

"Really, ya haven't paid any attention when I showed ya who we're seein' tonight?" Daryl, all decked out in his usual looks of heavy boots, black trousers with chains hanging off the belt loops and a black shirt that hugged his form ever so perfectly. It was printed with the picture of a blonde woman that you didn't recognise.

"Hey, Dixon!" A man's voice had you both turn and look behind you, where a bearded guy in a beanie walked up with two women in super gothy outfits, their makeup extreme but flawless.

You had never met Daryl's friends before and in all honesty you felt intimidated by them.

"Oh my god you brought your girl, finally!" One of the women gestured excitedly and hopped over to introduce herself, perfectly manicured hand outstretched for you to take. "Hi! I'm Viv, that's Sammy and Jesus." You shook everyone's hands and introduced yourself as well before Daryl did his rounds and gave everyone the biggest bear hugs. "Hey, hun." "How's the apartment lookin'?" "Tell yer mom I'm sorry fer not comin' over ta cook with 'er."

It was weird to see Daryl be so social. Normally he'd be the quiet one when you went out together, but now he was all smiles and talk.

"Gotta rep the guesting band, I see." The Jesus guy tugged on Daryl's shirt, staring at the print, while one of the girls chimed in. "You gotta know by now Dee's got the biggest crush on her." The three laughed as Daryl dismissed the comments, all while you stood by and listened to their banter. Who did Daryl have a crush on? What?

"Here, in case Daryl forgot to give you some." Sammy extended her hand to you and handed you a clear plastic baggie with two foam earplugs in them.

"Ah, crap.." Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously as he accepted a packet himself too. "Yer a lifesaver, Sam. Thanks."

You waited close to the front of the line for some more hours, having ordered food with a large group of people that all seemed to become friends at that moment.

Once the doors to the venue opened up you followed Daryl like a lost puppy, stuck to his arm in fear of getting lost in the sea of the dark clad people.

"Come on, Dixon, get your ass in gear!"

"Yeah, man. Barricade's gonna be full at this rate." His friend had already moved further along as you and Daryl put your stuff in a locker. "Go ahead. Takin' it easy with this one." Daryl's hand found your hair and ruffled it softly, much to your annoyance. But you appriciated his concern for you and was willing to not go full out.

You followed along with the stream of people and ended at the bar off to the side of the venue.

"One beer, and one--" Daryl gave you a look, and saw you just looking around the place, taking everything in. "And a Redbull, please."

By the time you had your drinks and the crowd had all settled in, the local opening band had started their first song. Daryl's beer was gone fast, kindly waiting for you to finish your overpriced can before slowly easing you into the crowd.

Every tine you stood still for a moment you took a peek at the stage, seeing the band perform the songs was something entirely different than hearing come from Daryl's huge sound installation at home.

Daryl was keeping a close eye on you the whole time, not caring much for the small band on stage. He was enjoying how curious you were. Less how easy it was to lose you in the crowd if he wasn't holding your hand.

"Yer havin' fun?" Daryl stood behind you with his hands loosely on your hips, you had found a spot closer where you could see the stage nicely.

You gave him a nod, resting your head against his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your hair. "Good, gotta lemme know when's gettin' too rowdy for ya, 'kay?"

"Promise, Dee." You turned to give him a quick kiss, laughing at how the previously considered scary people were all chanting along to the pop songs the speakers played between bands.

You were checking a few messages while you waited and hadn't noticed Daryl taking out his phone too until it was in front of you and his chin was resting on your shoulder. You looked up to see yourself on his screen, he was taking a selfie with you. Next to you he stuck out his tongue as he pressed the capture button and held it as he went to smooch your cheek.

He watched the short looping video back and added a caption before sending it off.

'Girlie's first metal gig!' He addded under it with a little black heart emoji.

The crowd around you cheered and hollered all of a sudden, making you look up and seeing the first members of the next band come onto the stage, waving and getting ready to perform.

You watched the stage didn't notice how giddy Daryl had gotten behind you. Most of the band had gotten onto the stage and an eery tune started playing that had part of the crowd whistle and cheer.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN."

Suddenly a loud, distorted voice called out from the speakers.

"I AM NOW PROUD TO INTRODUCE TO YOU,"

More howls and whistles surrounded you as the eery tune continued.

"THE ONLY,"

"IN THIS MOMENT"

Spots beamed to the centre of the stage as a gorgeous woman appeared as the band's instruments joined the tune, starting the song.

Behind you you felt Daryl's body jerk against yours as he raised a fist and joined the crowd in cheer.

His body stayed pressed againts yours with his arms around you, hands resting on your hips and stomach as he swayed you along the tunes of the first song.

As the band played on the crowd got more rowdy, jumping around and bumping into each other making you stagger in Daryl's grip.

Daryl kept being your shield as the crowd's shoves got worse. "Ya wanna move?" He tapped your arm and pointed off to the side where you could suddenly see a wide open space inbetween the few people that separated you from it.

Over the intro tune of the song a large hole had formed in the crowd, a few people in the middle bouncing around as the lyrics went on.

With your lack of answering, Daryl just kept up holding onto you and kept his gaze between you and the pit.

The second the woman's voice went from a distorted speaking to a loud growled singing the crowd surged into the large open space, almost taking you and Daryl with them.

You didn't know where to look. The gorgeous frontwoman on the stage before you, or the massive swarm of people throwing themselves around next to you.

You peeked behind you at Daryl, who was staring, mesmerized by the woman leading the band. One arm stayed around you to ward off the thrashing crowd while the other one was raised above you in cheer.

The crowd bounced in unison making you want to join in, softly bopping to the beat on the balls of your feet. You knew nothing of the song so you went along with the crowd, much to Daryl's enjoyment as he joined in as well. You blended with the crowd now, barely noticing you were slowly moving around the floor agsin in the moving sea of people.

It was only when the band's set ended that you realised you had moved a lot closer and further off to the centre of the crowd.

Daryl had his face buried in the crook of your neck the second the band was off the stage, nuzzling against your skin and squeezing your soft thighs. "Yer havin' fun. S'good." His mumbling tone was barely audible over the waiting time music and the crowd's chatter. But you recognized the tone, he was getting high on your enjoyment. You could already tell that of the next band didn't interest him enough you'd be dragged into the nearest bathroom stall to show you just how much he loved seeing you enjoy yourself.

You found it cute how a big grump like Daryl got off on something as soft as seeing his girlfriend happy.

The intermission was a nice time to mellow out a bit before the headliner got on stage and quickly check your messages. This time it was your turn to send out a snapchat to your friends, showing them you were still alive and breathing.

A selfie of you in the dim lights with Daryl nuzzling your hair, and a simple text that read "having fun!".

While you sent away your snap and went to respond to a pauzed conversation from earlier the stagelights moved as the headliners entred the stage.

You scrambled to put your phone away with how wild the crowd got all of a sudden.

Almost immediately after the members got on stage a guitar rhytm set in and thr crowd moved around you, so much it made Daryl move along and before you knew it there was another empty space in the crowd.

Right next to where you stood at the edge of it.

The drums kicked in, joining the guitars and right next to you there were people running in circles in the open space.

Daryl had let go of you for a moment to look into the pit and right at that moment the song started in full blast. Daryl's arm got grabbed by someone passing by and got yanked into the whirlpool of people. "Sorry!" You heard him yell, leaving you on your own off to the side against his will.

"Daryl?!" You called in shock and backed up when a guy ran too close past you, stepping into another person's side.

"Ah, I'm sorry.." Your fun was gone in an instant and the guy saw it, carefully patting your arm and offering to shield you from the rowdyness of the pit. A careful nod was all you needed to share before going back to watch the band play and glance to your side whenever Daryl passed by.

You listened to the song and followed Daryl's movements, watching him throw himself around with a wide smile on his face.

With the song nearing its end the pool mellowed out and Daryl came back to you, panting and smiling, placing a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing you in both his arms and pulling you into the still active pit, making you let out a yelp.

He moved along with the stream of people that ran in circles again and stepped back into the crowd after making two rounds, ending up almost at the centre front of the crowd.

Daryl's plan worked, snow standing close enough to his friends at the barricade. He whistled and saw Viv turn and reach out her hand to you.

"Grab, I'l follow." Daryl took the hand you didn't reach out with and you were pulled to the front with ease, quickly being squeezed between the two girls on the front row.

The view from your new spot was amazing, no heads blocking half of the stage, no shoulders moving just an inch to blind you entirely or needing to stand on your tiptoes to see.

You watched all the members perform up close, unable to resist the urge to photograph them all. It took you a moment before you noticed you recognised the song they were playing. Daryl had played it foe you, all those years back when he first got into this music.

You had heard it so often you could even hum along to the words, nodding to the rhythm. The girls beside you caught on quickly, smiling and nudging you to guide you along, showing you the 'proper barricade etiquette' as they called it.

Viv had your hand in hers, raising them together as the song ended and howled out in cheer along Sammy at your other side. Behind you Daryl, and beside him Jesus joined as well, Daryl's chest pressed against your back.

The music was loud, the crowd wild but the energy was one you never thought you'd welcome, there on your spot at the barricade of a heavy metal show.

Once the last song of the night ended you felt the cool air return around your body with the crowd leaving the hall.

"Think you swayed her?" Jesus asked Daryl. The two walked just a few steps behind you, watching you chatting happily with the two other girls beside you when you three suddenly made a turn towards the merchandise stand.

The men watched you all point out different things on the wall. "Course I did. 'S a lil' rebel, tha' one. She jus' gotta figure tha' out 'erself."

Jesus and Daryl caught up with you all, Daryl snaking his arms around your waist as he got to you. "Did ya find somethin', hun?" His chin rested on your head, taking a look at the wall for himself too as you waited for the person in front of you to finish their purchase.

"That one's pretty!" You pointed at one of thr shirts off to the side, having Daryl steer you towards the available salesperson.

"Girlie wants tha' second one op there." Daryl pointed at the shirt you liked, and moved on to some others as well. "Tour shirt in ..two XL, an' I'll take tha' last one down there."

The guy gathered all Daryl's choices and gave him the total, which Daryl happily paid before you joined your friends again off to the side.

"Always spending money, how much did you get this time?" Jesus crossed his arms as he raised a brow at Daryl, who showed him the bag with the three shirts. "Ain't much at all. Where's the girls?" Daryl looked around to find you and the others but you were nowhere to be found.

"They kidnapped her to the bathroom, probably lockers too." Jesus held out his pack of cigarettes in offer. "Smoke? I'll text them we're outside."

Daryl nodded and accepted the smokes, following his friend outside and smiling at you making new friends.

At the bathroom sink you were splashing water in your face to fully cool down and waited for the other two before heading back.

"They're outside already." The informafion came at the locker where you had left your jacket and bag, where you had told yourself earlier to try and have fun and not to worry so much.

With your jacket on and bag slung over your shoulder you left the venue to meet back up with the boys.

Daryl welcomed you by pulling you into his side. "Ya calmed down after all tha'?" His sweet smile leaked some smoke before blowing the remainder out over your head.

"Hmhm! I had more fun than I thought." You nuzzled his jacket and looked back at the friend around you. "It was really nice to meet you guys, too."

It was true, you did enjoy the event and were sure you'd be joining Daryl more often now.

With a last round of goodbyes you and Daryl left to catch the last train home, spending your late night moments almost falling asleep against him.

"C'mon. Yer takin' a shower with me 'fore we go sleep. Yer gross." Right, Daryl's after show routines, you almost forgot.

It was clear to him you were extremely tires so he made sure to treat you like a queen as he cleaned you up and dried you off, carrying you to bed and laying down with you, holding you close.

[firstdivisiongirl]

My sister has been begging for another random Kid pirate installment. Finally after months, here it is! Enjoy!

Platonic Law x Fem Random Kid Pirate Reader: The Cool Aunt

⚠️ WARNING: Swearing ⚠️

You and the other Kid pirates had docked at this little island to get supplies.  Since you were the only one good with money, they sent you to buy stuff.  The shops were so cute, like that out of a fantasy novel.  Little cozy stone buildings with flower boxes on the windows.  You loved it so much.  You were so distracted by your surroundings that you didn’t notice you ran into someone.  You looked up and it was Trafalgar Law.  He was your captain’s enemy, you both glared until you thought of something.

“Wait Corazon adopted you right,” you asked chipperly.

He nodded, “he’s like a father to me?  What are you getting at?”

You smiled like the Cheshire Cat, “I’m your aunt.  Wait a second, I’ll be right back!”

Dumbfounded, Law waited for you.  He knew Kid pirates, especially you were a little crazy but this was a whole new level.  When you came back, you were carrying a stack of Sora comics.  All in mint condition, all special editions.  You handed them to him, “this is to make up for the holidays I missed.  Merry Easter Christmas Halloween!!  Bye!!”  And you walked away leaving him dumbfounded again.

Later that day…

Law sat in his office on the Polar Tang reading his new comics.  “Dammit!!!  She’s the cool aunt,” he exclaimed loudly, scaring his own crew.  He was extremely annoyed.  You were loud, an idiot in battle and just weird.  You were his enemy.  But somehow, you knew he was a Sora fan and that he’d like this gift.  Heck, you didn’t buy something stupid or lame like socks like most aunts would.  You were such a cool aunt.

Meanwhile…

You were laying on the deck of the Victoria Punk watching the sky as the sun was setting.  Suddenly, you sat up really fast.  “What’s wrong,” Killer asked, rushing over to you.

“I think someone complimented me,” you said looking around.

“Yeah right,” Kid yelled, not even turning around.

“Shut up Kid,” you yelled back, throwing your sunglasses at him.

Killer looked at you, “any ideas of who it could be?”

“Maybe my nephew….”

“YOU'RE AN AUNT!?!?”

“The cool one I guess.”

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[seat-safety-switch]

Isn't it crazy how we have trains that go on the ground (trains,) trains that go on elevated rail (monorails,) and trains that go underground (subway,) but no flying trains? Instead, we have to ride on dumb-ass airplanes that might decide to stop obeying physics at any moment and kill us.

Sure, I know what you're going to say next. Tracks would simply be too expensive to build to all the places that planes fly. To that I ask: have you seen how fucking expensive gas has gotten lately? We probably could have built all these tracks way back in the 50s for like eight dollars, which is how much it costs to fill up a moped today. The next best time is now. I think we should, as a people, revisit this whole concept and reintroduce the flying train.

The model's simple. Everyone gets into a train, and then we run it up a track really fast and shoot it into the sky. It lands on a track on the other side and everything works out. Sort of like when you were a kid and tried to launch your Hot Wheels across the breakfast table because you didn't have enough of those little click-together orange roads. Remember how mad your mom was, presumably at having subverted the dominant paradigm of "cars need roads?" We can do that again. Our society is ready for it.

Now, I'm not expecting investors to open their wallets just because of this pitch. No. I have what investors want, though: a PowerPoint deck, where every second bullet point mentions "AI." I don't know exactly what those letters mean, but I think it stands for Alright, Install (money in me.) So far we've gotten $430 million from a handful of folks, but we're going to need a lot more if we want to make the "catching road" work on a particularly breezy day. Hey, what if we built it out of old Hot Wheels tracks? Those things are floppy as hell. Great idea, new Vice President of Catching.

[redarmyscreaming]

The B-17E was the first version of the Fortress to be produced in large numbers. It was originally designed to correct some of the deficiencies in the earlier Fortresses that had been brought to light as a result of combat reports coming in from Europe. The modifications which resulted in the B-17E were destined to turn an airplane which had been a relative failure into an outstanding success. A Bendix electrically-powered turret containing two 0.50-inch machine guns was installed on the upper fuselage immediately behind the flight deck. This turret was usually operated by the flight engineer. A power-operated belly turret replaced the ventral "bathtub" housing of the B-17D. This turret was remotely-controlled by a system of mirror periscopic sights from a Plexiglas bubble below the waist hatches. In order to achieve better stability during the bomb run, the span of the horizontal tailplane was increased, the vertical tail was greatly increased in area, and a long dorsal fin was fitted in front of the tail. The first B-17E flew on September 5, 1941. It immediately superseded the B-17D on the production line, and as fast as they could leave the production line, they were issued to operational units.

[desertduality]

(tumblr ate this ask when I tried to post it but here's a screenshot of what the prompt was)

HIIII :D TANGOOO yes i was very excited for this one :3 hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1025

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

It’s like this: Tango, for months on end, had holed himself up underground. Countless hours of complicated redstone and careful designing of the levels, putting his heart and soul into the creation of his game. It was a passion project, worth every minute that it had taken, but he can’t pretend that it hadn’t gotten tedious at times. A little dark. A little lonely. 

But every now and then, Scar would show up. He understood passion projects well, in the midst of one of his own, and he never let Tango go too long without a visit. He’d be carving his masterpiece at the bottom of the world and suddenly Scar would appear with a mischievous grin and a pocket full of sunshine, just to keep him company. Just so that he wouldn’t be alone. 

Tango would give anything to be able to return the favor. Would blow the entirety of Decked Out to kingdom come if it meant they had a chance. 

As it is, though, there’s nothing he can do. Himself and the other redstoners have been working nonstop since they got home, building and building and building and watching it all fail and fall to ruin. Failure is common when working with redstone, but it’s never hit them quite so hard. There’s never been so much at stake, before. 

His emotions flare with each discarded project, heat coming off of him like a furnace, anger and anguish burning brightly in the very core of him. There are times where no one can get close to him for fear of getting burned. 

He remembers the heat surrounding him before his final death in the game, torch in hand as he burned Bdub’s globe-shaped base. Scar had convinced him to do it. There’d been something desperate and agonized in his eyes, and it had made it impossible to say no. Even though he’d known where it was going. He hadn’t been the least bit surprised to feel Scar’s hand land on his back and shove. His voice, quiet and unnervingly sincere. 

(“Goodbye, Tango.”)

In the few hours a night he manages to sleep, he always wakes up with those same two words echoing in his ears. A goodbye. One he hadn’t known the finality of until he’d spawned back onto Hermitcraft with the others and watched Pearl drop to her knees screaming, watched Grian crack right down the middle. 

Fast forward three weeks later, and they’ve barely gained an inch. The portal to the middle dimension had been a relief to see work, but the barrier has them back at square one, throwing darts at the wall and seeing what sticks. Grian disappears into there for hours at a time, sitting and staring at the problem. There’s a catch though, to staring at a problem for too long; you start to see your own reflection. Tango knows. He’s been staring at himself for a while now. 

“Making a sculpture?”

A voice from behind him startles him, and he blinks as he’s dragged out of his thoughts, gaze landing on the mangled bits of metal welded together by his heated hands. He sets it down on the table with a huff, turning around to face Jimmy, standing there with an eyebrow raised, bright yellow wings folded behind his back. 

“I’m not into abstract art,” Tango mutters, shoulders dropping in exhaustion, irritation at himself rolling in his stomach. He glares at the tangle of metal. “It wasn’t going to be anything important, anyway.”

Jimmy hums, coming up beside him and leaning against the table, the two of them surveying the various players milling around the Dome doing odd jobs. Keeping busy. They’d all developed a sudden allergy to being idle. 

“How long you been in here for?” Jimmy asks. 

Tango stares ahead, voice dull as he answers. “I don’t know.”

“Need to get Bdubs to install a clock, eh?” Jimmy jokes, an attempt at levity that lands clumsily. He’s got a nervous energy about him, but Tango barely even registers it. Everyone is like that, these days. 

“I doubt it would help,” Tango replies. 

“I think I know something that would,” Jimmy says. 

“Yeah? What would that be?”

Jimmy looks at him seriously. “You need to get out, man. You need some sunshine.”

Tango, ridiculously, feels the urge to tell him that that’s Scar’s job. Scar’s the one that brings the sunshine. 

He’d probably be sad, if saw what Tango had been up to. It’s the only reason he agrees. 

“Fine,” Tango says, sighing. He gives his mangled project one last forlorn look. Then he turns back to Jimmy and pushes away from the table. “Let’s go get some sunshine, I guess.”

Jimmy smiles, subdued but triumphant, and together they walk outside. It’s almost embarrassing how well it works to put him in a slightly better mood. 

They walk down the uneven dirt paths, and eventually Tango glances sidelong at Jimmy, wondering about something. 

“I was burning enough to bend metal and you walked right up to me,” he says, raising an eyebrow, question clear in his tone. 

Jimmy shrugs innocently, a playful little gleam in his eye. “I mighta downed a fire resistance potion before I came over.”

It’s shocking enough that Tango can’t help his short bark of laughter, Jimmy chuckling along beside him. The sun is bright and burning. He feels guilty almost immediately after. It feels wrong to laugh knowing Scar is somewhere out there, alone and trapped and hurting. Out of reach. 

At the bottom of the world building his game, it had been easy to get lost in the mechanics of it all. Easy to get lost in his own work. 

It’s like this: Tango gets lost, and Scar comes and finds him. That’s how it had been for a long time. 

(“Goodbye, Tango.”)

No, Tango thinks, chest burning with stubborn determination. Not goodbye. 

He walks with Jimmy for a little longer, but soon takes his leave and heads straight back into the Dome, throwing his failed project into the fire and drawing up plans for the next one. 

Scar may be lost, but Tango won’t rest until he’s found. 

[itsanerdlife]

Wicked Intentions 9

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader // (Seriously close) Steve Rogers x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader // T’Challa x Reader.

Warning: Violence. Language. Bullying. Girl Fights. Name Calling. Degrading Comments. Angst. Degrade of Woman (to a point). Criminal Life. Illegal Shit. Fights. Alpha Males. Stalking.

Characters: Peter Stark. Howie Stark. Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers. Clint Barton. TC (T’Challa). Ben Reilly. Cledus Kasady (CK). Brock Rumlow. Gwen Stacy. Wanda Maximoff. Becca Barnes. Amore Lorelei. Kitty Pryde. Frank Castle. George Barnes. Joe Rogers. Winni Barnes. Pepper Stark. Wade Wilson. Eddie Brock. Warner Strucker. Barney Barton. Bobbi Morse. Pietro Maximoff. Logan.

A/N: This is a Bully Romance. High School setting. Mafia Family Life. Woman are on a lower level than males in their world. Just a heads up. This is the third installment of the series. Bad Intentions, Cruel Intentions, and Wicked Intentions.

Credit: Huge shout out to @ml7010 for all the help, pushing, hyping up, putting up with my changes midway through. If it wasn't for this peach, y'all never would have gotten this series or nearly as far as I am now.

He sits, glaring.

Pietro is twirling his fiancée around the dance floor. The two of them laughing close together.

“Don’t do it.” Peter chuckles sitting down next to him.

“Give me one good reason.” He cuts his glare to his soon to be brother-in-law.

Peter sighs. “Pietro is a big cat in the game. You don’t need that smoke. We don’t need it with all we have going on with our sisters.”

Bucky cuts his eyes towards the two.

“Not enough of a reason.” Bucky shrugs, standing up.

“Oh. Oh!” Peter jumps up with him. Hurrying after him.

He closes in on the two. Pietro stops dancing, hand on the small of Y/N’s back, she looks almost smug. Pietro cuts his eyes between the two of them.

“Oh!” Peter cuts between Bucky and Pietro. “Hey now.” Peter pats him on the chest, a little out of breath.

“Problem?” Pietro asks in his stupid Russian accent.

Peter cuts him off before he can speak. “Buck here, was just hoping to get a moment of your time, have a small conversation.” Peter fast talks.

Y/N rolls her eyes. He glares at her.

“Of course.” Pietro removes his hand from Y/N stepping away. Peter stays between them till Pietro is a few steps away.

“Problem?” Y/N sasses him, folding her arms over her chest.

He chuckles. “You’re next.” Following Pietro.

Peter sighs, dropping his head back. “Come on, you can’t just not do this to me?”

“You act like I don’t know how Gwen got pregnant.” Y/N laughs, hearing her heels walking away.

“It’s different you’re my baby sister!” Peter calls after her, before hurrying after him. Once they’re through the side doors to the sitting room, something like a lobby or waiting room, off the ballroom the reception is being held in.

He unbuttons his suit jacket, pulling it off, he tosses it at Steve. Pietro meets the center of the room, turning to face him. Bucky’s fist follows through, decking Pietro in the jaw.

“Really?!” Peter huffs behind him. Bucky shakes his hand out, adjusting his button-down sleeves.

“He had his hands on my fiancée.” He glances at Peter.

Pietro rubs his jaw, opening and closing his mouth for a moment, working his jaw. “Hella, swing you got there Barnes.” He nods.

“Can you imagine what their kids will get?” Clint’s brows jump up.

Steve and Peter stop, staring into space.

“Oh fuck.” Steve whispers.

“People are going to die.” Peter breathes.

The door opens and Howie steps in, late to the party.

“What did I miss?” He looks around.

“We’re having nightmares about the swing our nieces or nephews will get between their parents.” Steve catches him up.

Howie stops in his tracks thinking about that. “Oh fuck.” He spoke softly.

“Apparently people are going to die.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

Howie shrugs, joining the others on the side. “Smalls, right hook, your follow through, yeah they might actually kill someone.”

“Barneys going to love your family.” Clint chuckles softly.

“He already does.” Peter, Howie and Bucky comment together.

“So, you’re the one.” Pietro smirks, turning their attention to him.

“Marrying the woman you just had your hands on? You’re fucking right.” Bucky replies with irritation.

“Oh shit, I missed a lot.” Howie mumbles.

Pietro chuckles softly for a moment. “I meant the one Satan will be tormenting to death for life.”

Bucky’s head tips. The guys next to them all slowly nod in agreement.

“Does she still run around beating people up?” Pietro wonders.

“She starts before nine in the morning some days.” Clint sighs.

Pietro chuckles.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks.

“She has been my twin sisters’ best friend since they were little.” He explains. Bucky looks from Pietro to the twins.

“Don’t worry they barely know me.” Pietro sighs. “Wanda has been kept from the business, unlike your Satan.” He waves his hand to the side.

“Wanda is a wife?” The three of them gap at him for a moment.

Pietro chuckles. “Shocking, yes. For best in our line of business.”

“What line?” Steve wonders.

“Drugs.”

“How is she married to Sam?” Clint’s brow drops down.

“That was a conversation I was hoping to have with some Stark’s.” Pietro looks to her brothers.

“We work for Smalls.” Peter shrugs.

“And she’s going to be a Barnes.” Bucky corrects.

Pietro nods slowly. “Perhaps we can talk?”

Buck looks from him to the guys. They nod.

“Fine.”

Together they all take a seat settling in.

“Wilson was not the first pick for my sister.” Pietro starts. “Someone else showed interest and pushed hard for her.”

“Who?” Peter asks.

“Someone you boys know and dislike. Eddie Brock.”

Its silent for a moment.

“Eddie put a bid in on Wanda?” Steve leans forward.

Pietro nods.

“How does Eddie know your sister?” Clint wonders.

“Maximoff’s run drugs, Eddie is a seller.” Howie explains for them.

“Oh shit.” Steve whispers.

“Wait, wait.” Buck puts his hands up. “The story, from when your sister and I started out. You messed up a deal for a pipeline, for Eddie. That got Gwen’s dad killed, and you guys sent to reform.”

“See Eddie wants to be a big cat.” Peter sighs. “He needs a line, to funnel more drugs, to be a top supplier to smaller dealers. He gets from the Maximoff’s and wants to hold over the smaller timers.”

“He needs a line to do that. That connects him to smaller dealers, in other areas.” Steve nods slowly.

“To make good without the line, he would have to marry your sister.” Clint connects.

“I denied his bid.” Pietro nods. “I picked Wilson, because of his tie to The Brothers.”

The three of them look to the twins.

“You know Sam from before?” He asks.

They nod. “We do business with Sam’s father, and now Sam.”

“Now Sam? He’s already taken over?” Clint wonders.

Howie nods. “His father passed just after his promising to Wanda.”

“Shit.” Bucky breathes, unable to imagine.

“We had no idea.” Steve shakes his head.

“Not many know.” Peter assures them. “He doesn’t talk about it. That’s just how his father was. We do shipments with the Wilson's.”

“Shipments?” Bucky wonders.

“Heavy weapons.” Howie replies.

“Is there anything the Stark’s aren’t involved in?” Steve smirks.

“Weapons, drugs, underground fights, laundering, money, the table.” Clint grins.

“Been busy boys?” Pietro smirks.

“Smalls created her own mafia.” Peter grins. “We got into bed with The Saintz. Opened a lot of channels.”

“Perhaps there’s room for another?” Pietro glances around.

The four look over at him. He takes a breath, nodding slowly. “Touch my fiancée again, and your body will be in a shipment back to homeland.” He settles a look on Pietro.

Pietro grins at him. “No wonder she picked you. You two will make a ruthless couple.”

“Make? They already are one.” Peter sighs.

“Literally.” Steve shakes his head.

Bucky smirks, shrugging. “We’re not that bad.”

“We’ve seen our baby sister lick you, over a girl watching you.” Howie points out.

“I broke John Walkers arm for touching her for you.” Clint comments.

“You killed CK, for trying to take her.” Steve snorts.

“She smashed up Sina for touching you.” Peter nods slowly.

Bucky grins as they stand up, licking his lips he chuckles. “And you wonder why I won her in the bid?”

“Like anyone else had a chance.” Clint laughs.

“We would have burned the town down if she didn’t get her way.” Howie sighs.

“It worked out for more than her though, you’re marrying his sister are you not?” Pietro looks to Howie as they head for the doors.

“Yeah of course, we just, we were talking about them.” He splutters.

“Howard.” Bucky pauses, but Howie is out the door hurrying away from them.

“Did I say something?” Pietro wonders.

Peter sighs. “No, he’s going through something.” Hurrying after his brother.

“Another promise broken.” Y/N sasses as she walks past them.

The four of them exchange a look, three laugh.

“Excuse me boys, I have Chaos to wrangle.” He takes his suit jacket from Steve, heading for his fiancée.

“Oh no you don’t.” He chuckles, catching up to her, he grabs her waist, shifting her and tossing her over his shoulder.

“Boss man!” She gasps.

“You’re going to yell at me and I’m going to kiss you till you shut up.” He chuckles, walking out the of the reception with her over his shoulder. He passes Tony and his father, together they laugh.

“No take backs. She’s yours.” Tony calls after him.

“Hey!” She huffs loudly. He laughs harder, heading into the hotel hall.

---------- Everything Peaches 12/8/22 @mo320 @ml7010 @babizza @kmc1989 @joannie95 @coley0823 @rileyloves5 @sexyvixen7 @duckestylez @abschaffer2 @drayshadow @shirukitsune @xoxabs88xox @carostar2020 @rosalynshields @hookslove1592 @royal-sunflower @iwillbeinmynest @bellamy-barnes @geeksareunique @happydeanpotter @fanfic-n-tabulous @steel-blue-eyess @mariekoukie6661 @bless-my-demons @notyourtypicalrose @lets-talk-about-xyz @loving-life-my-way @shinycupcakebaker @also-fangirlinsweden @stupendous-science @daughterofthenight117 @dandelionsmarkthegrave @physically-a-cheesecake @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

Bucky 'Fuck Me Up' Barnes: @nickyl316h @jbbarnesgirl @lets-roggerthat @this-is-mycrisis @kaylaphantomhive

Series tags: @sebastians-love @otterlycanadian

[crickit-song]

@graveyardparade look what you've done to me.

They wrote a lovely post about how justifiable Riz's fear of being alone is as an Aroace person who's only seen financial stability in romantic couples, I'll link in at the bottom.

~~~~~~

Adventures end, and Riz is terrified of the inevitable settling down of his party. One day, the Bad Kids, all grown up now, finish a campaign and leave for separate houses, and Riz just knows it'll be the end. They'll fall apart, like Lydia Barkrock's party did, and he'll be alone. He fights tears tooth and nail that night.

Then, it happens like this:

Fabian's never not lived in a big ass house, why change that? So he buys that big ass house and immediately hates it. It's lonely. He stumbles through an awkward, fast confession style explanation of this to Adaine and both of them hear an invitation when it's over.

Adaine's living in a shitty apartment with Aelwyn. This Elvin Oracle gig still doesn't pay. Adaine loves her sister so much, but damn does that woman not take care of herself. She's ace and comfortably single, and she immediately agrees to move in. He's got a tower, come on, that's her thing.

Neither Fabian nor Adaine remember when Kristen decided to stay. Grown up though she is, she's still a fucking mess when her relationships end, so crashing the guest bed and crying about her ex girlfriend eventually turns into fully living there. Kristen remembers. She'd had thought that she'd never been happier, and started calling it home the next day.

Eternally stable mechanic Gorgug and his chill partner buy the more orc acessibly sized place across the way, and they eat dinner at the house Fig lovingly calls Bad Kids Headquarters, or BKHQ, nearly every night.

Fig and Ayda don't settle. Both of them want to travel the world, and Aydas got her nest in Compass Points already, but there's a door from the HQ that goes straight there, and they come and hang at least once a week. Fig has a bi-weekly jam sesh with Gorgug, and her room has a rad four poster bed.

When Riz gets back from his (admittedly a little time-fucky) undercover gig for Angel Dad, a guest room's been converted to an offic space. It's got one door to five places (Bastion City, Leviathan, Fallinel, home in Elmville, and Gravalvia in the Baronies, which Fabian thought would be funny) and another door to the conjoining room, also redone. Said room includes a second and third murder board, a desk, a fully stocked mini fridge for the hyperfocus hours and no bed. All the walls are decked out like a cat tower with plenty of places to obsess, theorize, scramble around, and hunker down when sleep finally comes to catch him. His friends smile at him when they tell him it's his. Kristen and Fig drag him around the rooms, pointing, and Adaine tells him about spell building with Ayda for the Howl's Moving Castle style office door, while Fabian grabs his suitcase and Gorgug mentions the Small size accessibility stuff they'd just finished installing.

Riz was wrong. As if his friends (no hey, The Ball, we're family, don't you know that by now?) sorry, family would ever give up on him.

Riz cries. It feels better than he thought it would.

Link to the post that inspired whatever the fuck that was:

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[cdr2002]

Mirror Universe Concepts: Lower Decks main cast

Season 5 is here, might as well share this

Beckett Mariner

Daughter of Carol and Alonzo Freeman, Mariner was born in an Alliance slave camp on Earth. Though her parents did their best to try and keep her out of trouble, Mariner was rebellious by nature and often clashed with Alliance overseers, resulting in harsh punishments including solitary confinement and torture. Prone to using her voice as a weapon, Mariner would mock and belittle her oppressors throughout these punishments, only kept alive because the Klingon overseers found her spirit admirable and the Cardassians were amused by her wit. Mariner never succumbed to any attempt to break her, and even wore her scars proudly, much as her behavior deeply worried her mother and resulted in several arguments.

Eventually, Mariner started a small rebellion in the slave camp, intent on killing or incapacitating the overseers and escaping on a freighter owned by a Ferengi trader that Mariner had gotten into contact with made some deals with, typically using money pickpocketed from overseers or from privileged Alliance-collaborating Terrans. The slave riot that kicked off Mariner’s rebellion would also be its end. Many of her fellow slaves were less equipped for combat than her, and nearly all of them were killed by the overseers during the struggle. Though Mariner successfully killed dozens of her oppressors during the fight, the constant death of friends and even her own father around her finally broke her like no amount of torture ever could. In the end she was fighting just to fight, and would only be saved from death, a death she practically wanted by this point, by two things: the intervention of a Klingon warrior named K’orin, who found her cause and spirit honorable, and the timely arrival of Quimp, her Ferengi contact, aboard a cloaked ship. Contacting her over the communicator she had smuggled into the camp, Quimp urged Mariner that it was time to go, and her surviving allies: K’orin, her then-girlfriend Amina Ramsey, and her mother, saw his wisdom in the matter. Quimp successfully beamed Mariner and the other survivors aboard and then fled Alliance space as quickly as possible.

Though managing to escape, Mariner fell into depression. She grew to loathe the universe around her and rarely offered her trust to anyone for fear of putting them in danger. After years of being forced to hide from the Alliance’s attempts to find them and in particular prosecute K’orin for his betrayal, Mariner eventually set out into the universe as a free woman.

Through Quimp’s connections, she managed to acquire a ship: the SS Cerritos. The Cerritos was far from impressive; a run-down, patched together hulk made from dated technology salvaged after the fall of the Terran Empire. While the Alliance allowed the use of a few such ships as freighters, Terran-style configurations typically invited hostility. Exactly what Mariner wanted: a middle finger to their dominance over the Alpha Quadrant and a ship fast and sturdy enough to pull herself and her crew out of scraps, if necessary.

Her crew was small at first. Not able to handle any more violence or death and simply wanting to escape the Alliance, Carol elected to stay in a small Terran sanctuary city on Ferenginar, which the Alliance ignored due to their lucrative dealings with the Ferengi Coalition. K’orin, having sworn a blood oath to Mariner, readily joined her, as did Quimp, worried about his new friend and hoping they would find some business dealings along the way. Ramsey stayed on the Cerritos for a few months, but ultimately decided to leave once she heard word of a large-scale rebellion organizing against the Alliance.

With her ship, Mariner became an infamous troublemaker throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. The mission of the Cerritos was simple: raise as much hell as they could get away with. Antagonizing Alliance patrols, robbing their installations blind, breaking open slave camps and transferring the slaves to safe worlds, simple acts of vandalism. Mariner was known as a pirate, a hero, a terrorist, and a maverick, respected by some and friend to few.

Over time, her crew grew in size, though not without earning her a death mark from the Orion Syndicate. Mariner reveled in her outlaw status, never staying in one place for long and gaining a reputation for fearless abandon. Per a vouching from Ramsey, and even her mother, who found it in herself to fight, the Terran Rebellion became interested in recruiting Mariner as they took to the task of establishing communication within their cells and growing into a larger organization. Afraid of the commitment and the responsibility for more than a small group, Mariner turned them several times and continued to go her own way.

However, the Rebellion has picked up steam recently, performing daring operations like the taking of Terok Nor, and even capturing Regent Worf. With only her own fears holding her back, Mariner could find a cause worth fighting for, an inspiration like that of Starfleet to her prime universe counterpart. But healing such wounds is far from easy.

Bradward Boimler

Born in Modesto California, Boimler’s family had been simple vineyard owners during the time of the Terran Empire. Little ones for violence, they had been supporters of Spock’s reforms and admired him in the waning days of the Empire. When Earth was conquered by the Alliance, the Klingons and Cardassians, fanciers of good drink themselves, contracted the owners of any vineyards who had survived the assault with with producing Kenar, Bloodwine, and any Terran beverages Alliance members had taken a liking to, in exchange for their lives.

Born into this environment, Boimler found the work painfully dull and longed for something more with his life. However, a universe in the fire grip of the Alliance granted him few options. Nonetheless, Boimler had a yearning to explore the galaxy and see what was out there. This desire became so strong that one night, Boimler stole a Cardassian shuttlecraft and set course for the next closest solar system. However, a failure to input the proper verification codes upon reaching orbit and the fear of death forced Boimler to immediately surrender. In the interrogation that followed, his obvious panic meant that there was little need to torture him and he was quickly assessed as a minimal threat. His captors made the decision to transfer Boimler to a labor facility on Vulcan.

The harsh environment ill-suited Boimler. He was easily frightened, not especially strong, and talkative. Exactly the kind of slave the overseers were liable to simply kill and be done with. What saved Boimler’s life was a transporter malfunction that occurred during one of his shifts, duplicating Boimler and creating his twin, William. The accident fascinated Boimler’s overseers, who believed that their transporters could be modified in order to create an infinite supply of slave labor for the Alliance, an accomplishment which would surely greatly advance their careers. More opportunistic and ambitious than his progenitor due to some small variation in their brain chemistry, William offered to assist the research in exchange for being granted the privileged life of an Alliance collaborator for being the cause of this discovery.

In order to prove his sincerity, William goads the overseers to go ahead and shoot Brad. Brad would only be narrowly saved by the intervention of a Vulcan named T’Lyn, a seeming fellow slave to Brad who was in fact an undercover operative for the resistance cell on Vulcan. She short-circuited the transporter remotely with a device she had implanted hours before, leaped into the room, and killed the slave overseers by vaporizing them with a phaser. She attempted to shoot William for being a collaborator, but he managed to grab a Disruptor and fire back, escaping the room. Intuiting that William had no real knowledge on how to recreate the transporter glitch, T’Lyn grabbed Brad and had him beamed to a secure location underground with her, where she explained herself and her mission. Though naturally taking some time to regain his bearings, Brad eventually accepted the situation, and asked to join the Rebellion.

Their higher calling of liberating Terrans, Vulcans, and other races enslaved by the Alliance gave Boimler the worthwhile pursuit he had been searching for all his life. Though the members of the rebel cell on Vulcan were skeptical at first, T’Lyn vouched for Boimler and he was accepted into their ranks, given the training he would need to carry out operations against the Alliance. Now skilled with a phaser, as well as various tactics of infiltration, Boimler became a freedom fighter in earnest, undermining the Alliance regime in conjunction with his allies and learning to overcome some of his own fears. Though Boimler never became one for hand-to-hand combat, he was still nonetheless an effective soldier, and T’Lyn taught him the Vulcan Nerve Pinch in order to make up for that shortcoming.

While fighting as a Rebel, Boimler became an avid follower of the exploits of Captain Beckett Mariner and the SS Cerritos, an outlaw famed for giving the Alliance a bloody nose on more than one occasion.

As the disparate rebel cells began to coalesce after Tuvok managed to get Miles O’Brien’s rebel cell on Terok Nor in contact with the rebels on Vulcan, Boimler personally volunteered for the mission to locate the Cerritos and extend an offer to Captain Mariner.

With T’Lyn offering to accompany him, the mission was approved and the two managed to get themselves onto the ship. Unfortunately, Mariner quickly began causing trouble in the system of their meeting right as they began attempting to make their proposal, forcing Boimler and T’Lyn to become members of her ship’s crew in order to assist in preserving the lives of everyone on board. Braving skirmishes with the Orion Syndicate, the Gorn, and Alliance warships far more powerful than the Cerritos, Boimler is still determined to convince Mariner to take part in the wider rebellion, regardless of the walls she puts up around herself. With time, he may succeed.

D’Vana Tendi

“Mistress of the Winter Constellations”, Tendi comes from a powerful family in the Orion Syndicate. She is the granddaughter of the previous holder of her title, Astrea Tendi, who famously stole an ancient artifact from Terran captain Christopher Pike in the 23rd century, among other accomplishments.

Growing up with immense pressure to fulfill her role as heir to family’s wealth an influence, Tendi chafed against these demands as well as the standards of Orion society as a whole, feeling that her people needlessly limited themselves by pouring their entire cultural resources into their vast criminal empire rather than allowing individuals to pursue other interests. Tendi herself developed a fascination with the sciences at a young age, and dreamt of a life of discovery, exploration, and adventure. These values closely matched that of the Federation Starfleet, but were seldom respected in the Orion Syndicate or elsewhere in the mirror universe. As she reluctantly carried out the family business alongside her sister D’Erika, Tendi would take exceptionally well to the training and various skills her family provided her.

She would also come to despise the Syndicate’s dealings with the Alliance. While the Orions were certainly exploiters, assassins, and thieves, careers Tendi had no taste for, they had long abandoned outright slavering, an act the Alliance almost seemed to specialize in. Though her family tried to explain to her that appeasing the Alliance was simply part of life due to their dominance over the Alpha Quadrant, this was the last straw and Tendi knew she had to leave this life behind.

She would find her escape in the form of outlaw captain Beckett Mariner, who docked her ship at a repair station owned by Tendi’s family after a battle with Alliance forces. Her scientific personal studies having led her to studying various technologies, including those of the fallen Terran Empire, Tendi took a personal interest in repairing the ship. Her skill at optimizing the outdated technology and even fusing it with some contemporary Orion equipment impressed Mariner, and she offered to find some way of repaying her personally. Tendi’s price was escape from the Orion Syndicate, who were already maneuvering to capture the Cerritos and its crew to collect a bounty from the Alliance. Using her inside knowledge to thwart the trap, Tendi quickly earned herself a spot as Second Officer of the Cerritos and the respect and trust of Mariner and the crew. Mariner reacted surprisingly positively to the death mark from the Syndicate, believing it advanced her reputation.

In gratitude for her invaluable contributions, Tendi was allowed the sway to suggest possible sites of scientific observation for the ship, pursuing her passion as much as she could without leaving the ship in one place for too long. This would remain more or less status quo until the arrival of resistance fighters T’Lyn and Boimler, who sought to recruit the Cerritos crew into the growing Rebellion. Tendi was sympathetic to them and was in favor of joining, but Mariner’s reluctance put that idea at the very least on pause. Nonetheless, Tendi has befriended the two Rebellion representatives and is hopeful that the races under Alliance rule can achieve the same freedom of choice she herself sought in breaking away from the Syndicate.

Samanthan Rutherford

Thrill-seeking, rambunctious, and only respectful of authority when it suited his own ends, Rutherford was practically born a rebel. Once he was old enough to be suitable for labor, he was stationed on an Alliance shipyard, where he immersed himself in the study of engines, general starship design, program design, and most especially, speed. Rutherford took in as much knowledge as he could, much impressing his overseers. He became one of the most productive slaves at the facility, refitting dozens of Alliance warships and making improvements to their overall performance. The overseers were so impressed with Rutherford that they failed to keep a close enough eye on him to realize two things: that every Alliance ship he worked on had been outfitted with a sabotage code designed to go off the moment said ship locked their weapons on any Terran life signs, and that Rutherford had been building his own personal ship using parts he gradually stole for himself while working the yard.

After seven months, the small ship was complete, and outfitted with one of the fastest and most compact warp drives in the Quadrant. One night, Rutherford took his ship, the Sampaguita, and made a rush for the Romulan Neutral Zone, which he knew the Alliance vessels wouldn’t pursue him into even if they caught up to him. Skillfully evading the Romulan detection grid, Rutherford took off for parts unknown and began his new life as a free man.

Engaging in illicit ship racing, gambling, and becoming a mercenary engineer, selling his skills at ship repair and enhancement to the highest bidder in the underworld of the Galaxy.

Eventually, another rogue would contact Rutherford: Captain Beckett Mariner, in need of his services to repair the SS Cerritos after another round of damages suffered antagonizing the Alliance. Rutherford would impress the crew, particularly Mariner’s technically skilled Second Officer D’Vana Tendi, with his repairs, optimizing the ship’s systems, further bringing them up to spec with modern technology despite the Cerritos’s century-old Terran frame, and enhancing the capabilities of its shield and warp drive.

Tendi suggested hiring Rutherford onto the crew due to his capabilities, but Mariner was reluctant to give herself the responsibility for another life, and respected Rutherford’s free-spirited nature too much to attempt to pin him down. Ultimately however, Rutherford would be forced to join the crew after Alliance agents caught up with him, seeking to interrogate Rutherford to determine the extent his sabotage work as a slave engineer had affected their fleet.

In the fight ensued, Rutherford docked the Sampaguita, damaged from battle, in the Cerritos’s shuttle bay, before the ship managed to take out two Alliance warships and escape into Ferengi space, where trade agreements forbid pursuit. From then on, Rutherford accepted the position of Chief Engineer aboard the Cerritos, and took part in much of the ship’s troublemaking misadventures from then on.

Due to their respective natures, Rutherford and Mariner would often butt heads and argue, forcing Tendi to be a peacemaker between them. Fortunately, their underlying respect for one another led them to always eventually see reason. Though he hated the Alliance, Rutherford was among the crewmembers skeptical of joining the Terran Rebellion. However upon suffering a nearly fatal injury and being given a cybernetic implant which saved him by Vulcan surgeons, Rutherford would find in his gratitude that he could do nothing less than give his commitment to the cause.

T’Lyn

Born into slavery on Qo’Nos, T’Lyn was the daughter of two house servants owned by a Klingon regent. Her parents raised her in the Vulcan way, as allowed by the Alliance because of the belief that Vulcan logic produced more disciplined servants. However, the strong emotions of the Klingons around her did leave an impression.

When T’Lyn was in her mid teens, her master took her and her family on a trip to Vulcan to meet with a Cardassian gul to whom he was a political ally.

The two were scheming the elimination of a rival and their plan involved the implementation of explosive devices inside the bodies of T’Lyn’s parents to hide their bombs in plain. T��Lyn was horrified and objected, but was knocked unconscious and unable to prevent the procedure. She was kept alive because her master needed a house servant, but he threatened to kill her if she spoke up again.

The two powerful men organized a meeting with their rival and offered him T’Lyn’s parents as a supposed sign of goodwill.

Before things could go further, the meeting was attacked by the Vulcan Resistance, who were seeking to take out high ranking Alliance officials while they were gathered in one place.

During the chaos, T’Lyn managed to grab a Disruptor from a dead Klingon guard and joined forces with the rebels in order to save her parents and achieve freedom. Unfortunately, the explosive devices embedded in them were activated, and T’Lyn was forced to watch her parents die.

After that, she made sure that every Alliance member at the meeting was killed with quick and savant-like marksmanship. She had learned a fair amount just from observation in all these years. Were she not Vulcan, the display might appear as rage. Once the battle was over, she was counseled by the leader of the rebel attack, Sokel. He suggested that it would be logical to channel her feelings towards the liberation of the oppressed throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.

T’Lyn accepted and began training in various aspects of combat, infiltration, espionage, and assassination by the Vulcan underground. She would also be trained in various forms of Vulcan meditation to assist in coping with her trauma, though she remained with an underlying passion that fueled her as a fighter. She became an efficient and deadly fighter, but also a compassionate field medic and liberator, doing her best to free Alliance slaves and help their own recoveries as best she could.

Eventually however, T’Lyn would suffer another loss when Sokel was killed in a skirmish with Alliance forces, driving her into a depression for a number of weeks.

After finding it in herself to begin actively fighting again, T’Lyn succeeded in the liberation of Brad Boimler from an Alliance facility, preventing the Alliance from exploiting transporter duplicates as a source of labor. She assisted in his training and eventually accompanied him to the raider ship SS Cerritos in order to recruit Captain Mariner into the growing Rebellion. T’Lyn’s patience has proven to be her most valuable asset in this endeavor.

[girlwhowrites-stuff]

Fly on the Wind - Zoro x Fem Lunarian! Reader

MDNI - This post contains explicit content 18+ only

6.4k words

Notes: My first fic getting back into writing, all comments welcome! Please be kind, but I know it's not perfect. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun shines warmly on you from a cloudless sky and the sea is an impeccable turquoise. On the Grand Line the ocean could be any color imaginable but, in your opinion, it’s always best when it reflects shades of blue, like a second, much deadlier sky. 

Perching atop the crows nest of the Thousand Sunny the wind ruffles the feathers of your wings pleasantly as you scan the horizon for the shadows of an approaching island or ship. Your eyes are sharp, which is but one of the reasons you decided to be the lookout for the Straw Hat Pirates. 

Being a pirate wasn’t always your number one career aspiration, but when you’re hunted by the government as an escaped convict and one of the only remaining Lunarians in the entire world it is difficult to imagine doing much of anything else. Besides, a standard job wouldn’t be this exciting. 

Lost in thought as you are, it takes but a moment for your eyes to pick up on a glimmer in the distance, signaling the Sunny’s approach to a relatively small island. You whirl to the bell hanging behind you, installed specifically for your perch atop the nest, and give it two solid rings. 

“LAND HO, EVERYONE! STARBOARD SIDE, 3 O’CLOCK,” you holler with glee, as the ship comes to life below you, crew members milling about waiting for orders from your captain. 

“Thank you, y/n!” Nami’s voice floats to you from the deck, followed quickly by raucous laughter from Luffy.

“Let’s go! To the island!” He howls, swinging to the front of the ship and sitting on the decorative head of the vessel, iconic straw hat whooshing in the air behind him. 

With that, you leap from the crows nest into a nose dive. Air whips around you momentarily as you dodge a few sails and ropes, then slow your descent with a few good flaps of your wings, landing gracefully on the main deck beside Usopp and Franky, who are using binoculars to survey the island. 

“It looks like a springtime island!” Usopp says, passing the binoculars to Franky. 

“OW, I can see the cherry blossoms from here! Spring islands are SUPER!” Franky agrees, posing in his Franky way. 

“Should be able to get some good supplies here,” Sanji’s voice comes from behind, and your group of three turns to agree with him as he lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. 

He exhales a puff of smoke. “There are a few recipes I’ve been wanting to make that need some springtime ingredients,” he said with a wink at you. 

You wink back to him and are reminded of your first encounter with Sanji: having been rescued by Luffy, you were weak and malnourished from months in a navy prison, traumatized by scientists who relentlessly experimented on you. Once you arrived on the Sunny, Chopper bundled you in bandages and gave you an herb for the pain. Soon after you had settled into your room, Sanji came to you, a steaming bowl of hearty stew and a hunk of fresh bread in hand that was too tantalizing to ignore even though you couldn’t help but be suspicious after months and months of torment at the hands of men. The first bite of stew was nearly transcendent, so delicious that it brought tears to your eyes, a moment you will never forget. 

It was not long after that you met Zoro. You’d first seen him during the battle that freed you from your cell and introduced you to the Straw Hat pirates, and you thought of him as a demon then - An incredibly strong, one-eyed swordsman, with a deadly, albeit interesting, sword technique. Not to mention he was (and still is) a wall of rippling muscles and shit-eating grins with green hair. 

You’d come to be pretty comfortable on the ship, making fast friends with all the crew members but Usopp, Nami, and Robin are your closest friends. It was sheer luck that you ended up befriending Zoro in the first place. 

You’d been hunting in the pantry for a little bit of sake to enjoy when he’d come into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, pulled out the very bottle you’d been searching for, then started walking away. Shocked he could just take the thing you wanted with no effort, you asked if you could join him. He seemed surprised but picked up two cups anyway. 

The pair of you shared drinks in awkward silence at first, but after some time you worked up the courage to speak and found that Zoro was not nearly as serious or stoic as he appeared. The pair of you laughed and talked for hours, and when the ship landed at an island he helped you pick out a quality sword that is the proper weight and length for you. He even agreed to let you borrow a few of his moves if you could master them. 

It wasn’t for another three months of shared jokes, sweltering evenings in the crows-nest-turned-weight-room, and late nights drinking that you began to feel something more for him, and you made the innocent but retrospectively irrational decision to tell Nami about it. Nami has been trying to set you up with him for months now. She indoctrinated Usopp and Robin to the cause almost immediately and the three of them together have been insufferable, going to extreme lengths to force you and Zoro into situations that will “inevitably result in a successful long term relationship.” So far none of their plans have worked, mainly due to the unwillingness of their subject to participate in their schemes, as you often find them implausible and utterly ridiculous. 

Gritting your teeth at the thought, you watch as Luffy swings back onto the deck laughing and smiling, and all but one of the other crew members gather around one by one, Robin and Chopper, then Brook. 

The ship finally docks at the island and the Straw Hats are gathered at the helm, Nami is reading from a notepad, delegating tasks. 

“Sanji does groceries, Chopper and Robin, you’ll be restocking the infirmary… Usopp, you and Franky can go to the shipyard and get anything we need for ship repairs and improvement, then restock our ammunition,” she taps a pen to her chin and furrows her brows in thought, eyes meeting yours with a devious glint. 

Understanding dawns on you a second too late. As you figure out what she’s plotting, Nami grins and says “y/n! Look after Zoro, make sure he doesn’t get lost. You guys will be on alcohol and cola duty. Everyone else, you have free time! Someone needs to stay near the ship as lookout but I’ll let you work that out amongst yourselves. I’m going to get us some goodies!” After Nami parses out the coin for said items to everyone, she disappears down the ladder to the docks, the listed crew members dispersing as well. 

You clamp your mouth shut to keep from groaning, and your wings shudder with frustration. For God’s sake, you don’t even know where Zoro is, though booze does sound pretty enticing at the moment. 

“Luffy have you seen Zoro?” You ask quickly, before he can disappear to wreak havoc on the small unsuspecting town before you, as he tends to do when you arrive at new islands. 

He turns to you, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm…” he considers for a moment, “nope! Good luck finding him, y/n! See ya!” 

The dull throb of the beginning of a headache pulses through your skull. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to stave it off, grumbling to yourself about stupid captains and bad friends as you begrudgingly walk towards the men’s quarters. 

You knock on the door when you arrive. No response. You knock again, a bit more forcefully this time. Still nothing. 

“Zoro, we have chores to do! If you aren’t out here in two minutes I will literally drop kick your ass!!” 

A moment passes. You hear a bit of rustling and something else. You get closer to try to make it out. After a few seconds of silence, a loud snore echoes from beyond the door. 

“Fucking hell,” you nearly stomp with irritation, the fire at your back igniting for a split second, going back out when you tamp down your anger in favor of thinking rationally about this entirely irrational situation. 

Normally you wouldn’t mind being assigned chores with Zoro, but Nami is up to something and that makes you anxious. She can be very wily when she wants to be and considering the lengths she has gone to before it seems unlikely that her only step was to put yourself and Zoro alone in the same town, which was inevitable anyway. 

You briefly consider abandoning him on board the ship and going shopping yourself, but that train of thought is quickly derailed when you picture Nami’s face when she sees you in town alone. Best case scenario she crucifies you, and you would rather avoid that for now. Especially when the solution is to simply wake up Zoro. He’s a highly skilled swordsman and ex pirate hunter, how hard could it be? It seems to you that it’s a wonder he gets any sleep at all as second in command on a wanted ship in the most dangerous sea on the planet. 

You also don’t really want to pass up the chance to see him sleepy and shirtless but that’s neither here nor there. 

“I’m coming in, so if you’re awake now is the time to say something,” you call as you ease open the door. 

You haven’t ever been into the men’s cabin before and find it surprisingly comfortable looking. Two low couches on either side of a sunken kotatsu style table sit across from the three sets of wooden, hammock-style bunk beds. A hanging light illuminates the space with a warm yellow hue. Beyond the beds, on the back wall is six standing lockers that have each respective boys’ wanted poster on it, though it appears that Sanji took his down, it’s the only one missing. 

Your eyes float to the beds, searching for a sign of life in any of them, when another snore tears through the quiet room. 

You sigh and tip toe your way over to the beds. Of course, Zoro is fast asleep on one of the top bunks, mouth open, drool pooling on the pillow. He looks so peaceful this way, bundled in blankets in a way you wouldn’t expect from someone who sleeps just about anywhere on deck fully dressed and with only his swords to rest on. 

You reach a hand across the blankets to shake his shoulder gently, whispering “Zoro, wake up.” Even through the blanket he’s very warm. 

He stirs slightly at your touch, twisting towards you a bit. You see his mouth move as if he’s trying to talk, but you can’t quite make it out. His face scrunches and he makes a small sound that almost resembles a whimper. You can see his body twitching uncomfortably under the covers, and he shakes his head, burrowing into the pillow. 

Poor thing is having a nightmare, you think to yourself. After all, he has no shortage of content for unsettling dreams. 

You shake him a little harder. “Zorooo, we have chores to do,” you say to him, raising your voice a bit in an attempt to wake him, concern bubbling in your chest. 

He grunts a word and buries his head in the blankets - but this time, he spoke more clearly so you were able to make out what he said. 

“Y/N,” the sound of your name on his lips was husky and caught you entirely by surprise. You felt your feathers prickling as they stood up, the realization setting in, whatever this dream is, you are in it. 

“Zoro, it’s time to wake up now,” you say sternly, giving him a rough shake, though the curiosity is killing you, you don’t want him to suffer through a nightmare any longer than he has to. 

His one good eye slides open. At first his expression is a mixture of sleepy and confused, but as he seems to process who is standing in front of him his eye widens in shock and he bolts upright, the tips of his ears turning beet red. 

“What the hell are you doing in here, y/n?” He glares down at you, the blankets that covered him before have fallen and it is clear that you were correct to assume Zoro sleeps shirtless. 

You blush as your eyes trace his supple muscles down to the defined v of his hips, slightly exposed from beneath the bundle of sheets and you nearly lose your balance as you step down from the ladder and back track towards the door. You don’t know why you’re so flustered. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times in the crows nest but this encounter feels more intimate somehow. And why is he blushing?

“We’ve landed on an island. You and I were assigned to to get cola and alcohol for the ship together so I came to find you. I knocked before I came in but I guess you were sleeping pretty hard… it sounded like you were having a nightmare,” your wings flit nervously behind you, and you will them to be still. Zoro has his piercing gaze fixed on you. 

“So, you woke me up… to go shopping?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes?” 

“Fine. Let me get dressed and I’ll go with you. It’ll only take a minute or two, but you can sit if you want.” 

He deftly jumps over the edge of the bunk and lands gracefully on the floor, ignoring the ladder entirely. Show-off.

Zoro unfortunately wears pants to sleep, but you get a rush of heat to your face as he reaches his arms high above his head in what appears to be a very pleasant stretch and rolls his head and shoulders with a satisfying series of cracks as he pops the bones along his neck, earrings glinting in the light.

You can barely tear your eyes off of him as you stalk over to the couch and slide into a seat. You press your hands to your cheeks.  They feel cool to the touch and they steady your racing mind and heart a bit. 

“So, I didn’t say anything weird in my sleep did I?” He asks nonchalantly, striding over to his locker. 

“Um, no? I mean your mouth was moving but I couldn’t hear you say anything,” you lie. No point telling him the truth when that would probably end up being an awkward conversation for the both of you. 

“Okay, just making sure. The guys tell me that I talk in my sleep all the time, but I’m not sure if I believe it or not. I don’t really remember my dreams though so-“

Click. 

You whirl and Zoro’s head whips in the direction of the sound. Towards the door. 

Oh, shit. If you hadn’t been sitting down your knees would have buckled. 

I’m going to kill her. 

He saunters over to the definitely locked door, his jaw set with annoyance. 

Zoro starts to say “It’s probably one of the guys trying to prank us-“ 

But he’s cut off by wild, girlish giggling from the other side of the door. 

Zoro looks at you in confusion, identifying the voices as none other than Robin and Usopp. 

“Hey, let us out!” Zoro pounds on the door with his fist. 

More giggling erupts and another voice chimes in, “if you break this door we aren’t buying sake for the ship this month,” Nami says wickedly, “but don’t worry about your chores, I’m handling it! Have fun in there!”

“Wh- huh? Hey! Open this door, asshole!” 

But the laughter was already fading away, and worse, you felt like you were gonna explode from embarrassment, your ears and cheeks blazing red. 

A few more minutes pass by while Zoro tries desperately to open the door without smashing it to bits. There are no windows or gaps in the walls so chances of escape seem pretty slim, and eventually Zoro comes to that conclusion too, strutting over to sit by you on the couch. 

Because of the interruption, he remained shirtless, wearing only a comfy looking pair of pants and green socks, and you can’t help but wilt from the lack of clothing that should’ve been normal but wasn’t. 

He sits with his ankle crossed over his knee as he rests his head on the back of the couch, annoyance painting his features. 

“I’m sorry about this,” you sigh, breaking the silence. 

His eye slides to you quizzically, “Why are you sorry? If anything, this is my fault,” he says. 

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. That certainly wasn’t in the script. 

“What do you mean?”

“Tch-“ he clicks his tongue, “you can’t answer a question with a question, y/n. You first,” he says, and turns to face you fully. 

Blood rushes to your ears and you pray that he can’t hear your heart pounding as loudly as it sounds to you. 

“Well, I may have told Nami that I might have developed a bit of a crush on you?”

You are met with silence. 

Panic starts to take over your mind and a flurry of words come tumbling from your lips as you search his face for any reaction. 

“Well, since then she’s been trying to set us up by planning elaborate schemes to get me to admit it to you, and eventually I think she was hoping for you to catch on and somehow Usopp and Robin got roped into it and that’s kind of why things have been weird lately I think? I just didn’t want to freak you out or, like, to ruin our friendship-“

“Stop,” he interrupts, his good eye locking on to yours, “just stop.”

You nod and take a shaky breath in. His face is painted with surprise and something that might be relief. Without warning, he cracks a smile as he tries to hold back laughter, failing almost immediately. 

You shift uncomfortably as his booming laugh echoes through the room for a few seconds before he manages to rein himself in. 

He wipes a tear from his eye, and sits up straight again, a more serious expression sliding into place as he calms down. 

“Y/n, do you want to know what I was dreaming about before you came in?”

You kick your shoes off and pull your legs up onto the couch to turn and face Zoro. 

“I’m so lost right now, I don’t know what to say-“

“It was you, y/n. I was dreaming about you. I was dreaming that maybe we were more than friends. And I liked it. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, shit, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true.”

He stared intently at you, his cheeks and ears flush with embarrassment and single eye aglow with hope. 

“Zoro, how long has this been going on?” You ask, incredulous. 

He leaned back into the arm of the couch, stretching his legs out towards you, not touching, but closer, and he replied thoughtfully, “about a month or so I guess? The dreams started before that, but I guess I didn’t pay them much attention because it’s not like I can control who my wet dreams are about, and it’s not like I have much of an outlet otherwise,” a pause, “what about you?”

You chuckle nervously, “Zoro, I confessed this crush to Nami months ago. She’s been trying to get us together ever since. I can’t say I’ve had any dreams about you though, besides maybe day dreams, if those count. Although,” you slide a bit closer to him, nerves making your hands tremble a bit, and you lower your voice to a murmur, “I think you and I know each other well enough to know that we need something, as two adults who happen to be friends. If you’re interested?”

He smirks and scoops you into his arms with surprising deftness, and presses his mouth up to the shell of your ear. 

“I’m definitely interested, baby. You’ve just gotta promise not to hate me afterwards. If this thing,” he gestures to the two of you snuggled up, “doesn’t work between us, I will respect you of course, but I don’t wanna lose my workout buddy too...” 

You chuckle, and nuzzle into his neck, “I promise not to hate you permanently- there might be hard feelings at times but I don’t want you out of my life either if this “thing” doesn’t happen for us. More than friends it is?”

That demon smile flashes to his lips, “works for me,” he says, and he leans back further, waiting for you to be ready. 

You grin as well, sucking in a breath as he shifts beneath you and you feel his bulge growing hard in his pants. 

You begin trepidatiously, fingers creeping up his bare abs and chest, marveling at the sculpted muscles. He watches like a cat, his eye half open, just waiting for you to take the lead or give him the go ahead. 

As your fingers trace the lines of his body, you work up the courage to press your lips to his. The touch is electric, sending jolts of heat through you as you taste his mouth. His lips are warm and softer than you expected as his hands find your hips and rest there respectfully. You gingerly bite his lip, hoping to prod him into taking some of the lead and he obliges, as if he could read your mind. 

His tongue brushes across your lips and with surprising gentleness slips between them to trace the soft parts of your mouth. 

You squeak softly at the feeling, and let your hands come up to cup his face. You feel him smiling as he separates from you, and his hands slide up from your hips to the hem of your shirt. You meet his gaze and see him questioning, again, waiting for your permission before proceeding. 

You nod, and he starts working to undo the complex knots at the back of your shirt, with the wings, clothing can be a bit complicated but he doesn’t back down. You move yourself into a more convenient position, straddling him and you can see the hunger in his eye as he works on the knots of the shirt. You hold your wings up to provide a better angle for Zoro but you can tell he’s getting frustrated. 

“Do you need me to do it?” You ask him softly. 

He sighs and lets his hands flop to his sides, “this is dumb. A man shouldn’t have to need help getting his girls shirt off,” he grumbles. 

“Well, I’m not like a regular girl, and I like this shirt a lot so I don’t want you to rip it. Let me do it,” you start to reach behind you and Zoro catches your hand. 

“No,” he says with a determined look in his eye, “I want to do this. Turn around?” 

You oblige him, sitting on his lap, wings lifted in as helpful of a manner as you can muster and after a few minutes of him examining, you start to feel the tickle of his fingers followed by fresh air on your skin as the strings came loose, finally falling down  to your sides, the shirt going with them. You pull it off and take a deep breath, preparing yourself for- you don’t even know what. 

Flashbacks of your traumatizing experiences in the lab start spiraling through your mind as Zoro waits, and you find yourself paralyzed. 

A few moments pass, and you feel his fingers brushing through your hair comfortingly, snapping you out of your memories. He leans closer to you, your wings compressing between the two of you his face ending up near yours.

“Have you ever done this before?” He asks softly. 

You try to answer him but find that you are unable to speak, so you shake your head no. 

He reaches around you places his hands in yours and you squeeze them, hard. 

“Y/n, we don’t have to do this. I don’t mind. I want it to be fun for both of us, if you want to wait so do I.” 

You shake your head, finding the words now, “it’s not that, Zoro. I want to do this with you. It’s just that some stuff happened to me when I was young, and it’s harder to deal with than I anticipated.”

You feel a rush of energy through the room, it’s familiar feeling out of place in this cozy room. His haki, rippling out of him in waves. 

You turn to look at him in shock, his eye burning with a fury you had never seen before. With the same speed it appeared, it dissipates from the room, but his face is still enraged. 

“I’m so glad I fucking killed those guys, y/n.”

You smile at him and kiss him on the cheek. He relaxes a bit and you whisper to him “thanks for that, by the way. I think I’m ready now if you wanna take the lead?”

He smiles, softness creeping back into his expression, “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?” He says, and you nod.

“Do you want to stay here or move to the bed? I know it’s a bunk, but it might give you some more room for your wings?

You consider it for a moment and you nod. He scoops you up again and carries you over to the bunk beds, transferring his hold on you to climb and carry you up the short ladder, you can’t stop giggling with giddiness. 

He flops you onto the mattress and your white hair sprawls around you with your wings that tuck comfortably inside the wooden walls of the bunk beds. 

Zoro climbs up and takes in full picture. He admires your face, flushed with excitement and arousal, and then his eyes trail to your breasts. Voluptuous and perky, he slowly brings a hand up to squeeze one. 

You moan softly at his touch, calloused hands scraping pleasurably against your skin and he leans down to suck a hard pink nipple into his mouth. 

You gasp as he does, heat rushing between your legs as his tongue and teeth graze the sensitive bud. You arch your back in response, grinding your hips into his, and he squeezes your other boob, running his thumb over your nipple for added stimulation. 

After a few moments of this, he switches sides, tongue drawing lazy circles around your nipple and he slips his left hand down to your waistband and waits there for an agonizing second as you feel your abdomen tighten with your arousal. 

You grow tired of waiting for him and start to take your pants off, which Zoro chuckles at. 

“Impatient, huh?” He murmurs, helping you throw your remaining clothes to the floor, as he presses a shower of kisses to your collarbone and sternum, his hand seeking out your dripping cunt. 

You cry out as his fingers brush your clit, and he starts to gently rub you, his fingers instantly coated in your juices. 

“You’re so wet, y/n,” he sighs, as you squeak with pleasure at his movements.

Your hips buck up into his fingers as he picks up the pace, Zoro grinning as he watches you, and you suddenly realize you can’t handle the fact that he is not naked yet. 

Through your pleasure you manage to reach down and tug at his pants. 

He leans up to your face and presses a kiss to your jaw. When he pulls away he looks you in the eyes and whispers, “are you sure you’re ready?”

You swallow and take in his face. His expression is patient, and you know you could tell him no and it would be over, no question. His eye is glimmering with lust, but he is doing everything he can to hold himself back. To wait. For you. 

You nod, “I’m ready, Zoro.” 

His body shudders with anticipation, and you help him tug off his remaining clothes and throw them to the floor with the rest. 

You finally get to take a look at him, and you gawk at the sight. His dick is long and thick, dripping with pre cum. 

He’s gonna rip me in half, you think to yourself, a whimper escaping you. 

You brace yourself and he presses his body to yours. 

“What do I need to do?” You ask him, but it comes out a squeak. 

“I’ll do the work this time okay? You just do what feels good, and tell me if you don’t like something, or need to stop. Do you like what you see? Are you worried?”

“Oh my god, you’re huge,” you say breathlessly, pressing your forehead into his, “but yeah I like it. Will it hurt?”

He thinks about it for a moment, fingers absentmindedly ruffling through your feathers. “It might. I’ll be honest I don’t know that I’ve been anyone’s first since I was a teenager, so we’ll be learning together. I can try warming you up a bit more if you want that?” 

“Hmm. Let’s do that.”

He smirks, putting his hand back into position, his thumb gently tapping your clit as his fingers start to tease your entrance. 

Your breath catches in your throat, fists clenching handfuls of the blankets as he teased you, fingers toying with your opening. 

Gently he slips a finger inside and you feel a wave of heat flow through you, and a moan escapes your lips. He starts slowly with long gentle strokes, his fingers reaching and stretching inside you, pleasure jolting through you intensely. 

He picks up the pace as he feels you getting closer, fingers pumping smoothly but deeply, hitting a sweet spot you didn’t even know you had, while never losing focus on your sensitive cluster of nerves. His other hand starts moving, landing on your chest, rubbing over your already raw nipple and sending you right to the verge of climax. 

He must sense it from the tensing of your muscles and the speed of your breathing because he stops and pulls his fingers out suddenly, leaving your cunt squeezing at nothing, you gasp for air at the the quick change and glare at him. 

“Why’d you stop,” you whine, feeling the blood rushing through your body as it came down from the near orgasm. 

“You’re so needy,” he says gruffly, repositioning himself to be hovering over you, “I thought you might like it if I use my cock to finish you off? Unless you want to cum on my fingers, which I can definitely handle, though it goes against my nature.” 

You giggle and press a kiss to his jaw, “we wouldn’t want that, would we?” You settle back down onto the bed and stare up at him, savoring the look of him, ruffled green hair, muscles well toned and relaxed, hungry to turn you into a puddle beneath him. 

“Alright Zoro, fuck me. Please.” 

He wastes no time. With another wicked smile he settles his cock against your cunt and braces his elbows on either side of you, hands pressed against your sides. He looks at you one more time for confirmation and after he sees you are certain you want this to happen, he starts to slide himself in. 

The fat head of his cock penetrates you and you can barely breathe. You tap a hand against his shoulder weakly and he freezes, waiting for you to adjust. He presses an open mouth kiss to your neck, your collarbone, your sternum, your jaw, patient and sweet. 

A few seconds pass and a quick assessment reveals you are ready for more. You drop your hand from his shoulder and nod and he sinks himself in further, inch by inch until he’s fully seated. 

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes with the full girth of him inside you. You’ve been filled to the brim, his cock seemingly fitting perfectly inside you, the walls of your cunt squeezing around him, and he moan quietly into your ear. 

“You’re so fucking tight, y/n,” he breathes, wiping one of your tears with his thumb. 

You smile and signal him once more, grinding your hips a tiny bit for some added friction, but Zoro is way ahead of you. 

He starts slowly again, pumping in and out in long pleasing strokes. Your wetness allowing him to glide into you effortlessly, you reach a hand down and rub circles around your clit, moans getting louder as he picks up the pace. 

The sound of his skin slapping against yours, and the waves of heat pulsing through your body have you gasping for air, your free hand climbing up to dig your nails into Zoro’s back. 

He hisses with pleasure and continues his relentless pace, thrusting into you with more force, hitting your g-spot with every pump, his breaths coming in pants as you both get closer to your finish. 

You start to work your clit wildly, moaning into Zoro’s ear and bucking your hips into his as he fucks you into the mattress. 

You feel the tension in your abdomen reaching its all time high, and his rhythm starts to get more erratic, he says your name over and over, and with a few final heavy thrusts he’s spilling his hot seed into you and the feeling is what sends you over the edge, a scream wrenching from your throat as you clamp down on him and burst, the arousal in your core melting down in dramatic spurts. 

You both sit in silence broken only by your heavy breathing for a few seconds before he exits, using the corner of a blanket to dry you and then himself. He flops down next to you, and nuzzles his face into your neck his body warm and comforting as you come back into consciousness. 

You kiss his forehead and turn to face him. His whole body is relaxed, his eye fixed on your face. 

“So. First time went well, I hope?” He asks, grinning. 

You sigh and pull up the covers, inviting him in to snuggle and he does, taking you into his arms. “I’d say so, how about for you?”

He smiles “it was amazing y/n. Better than any dream for sure. I liked the part where you were screaming my name the best though.”

“I did not scream,” you exclaim, playfully smacking his hand, “but you do have that effect on me,” you admit. 

He smirks again, “if you say so y/n, I’m just excited for training tomorrow.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I can’t wait to see how you’re walking after this,” he chuckles. 

“You asshole! I’ll just have to fuck you next time and we’ll see how cocky you feel after I blow your mind.” 

“I think I’m getting the better end of this deal, y/n,” he laughs, but there’s a hunger in his eye.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. We’re gonna get even eventually. I’ll train with you in the bedroom too, you know.” You wink at him and he just smiles back at you. 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” 

Satisfied with that answer, you lean into him and close your eyes, letting his steady heartbeat and firm grip lull you into sleep. 

A few hours later

You wake to a commotion outside the door, groggily you remember the events that transpired before you drifted off into slumber and panic shoots through your veins like ice. 

Zoro is sleeping soundly next to you, unaware you’re about to be discovered naked in the same bed and you shake him violently to stir him. 

He blinks slowly as the sounds seem to register in his senses, and then he bolts upright. 

“Shit, the crew is back.” He says plainly. 

“What do we do??” You hiss, feeling very exposed as you realize all your clothes are on the ground and scattered about the room.    

Zoro chuckles, “let them see, I don’t care that they know you’re mine. That stupid curly brow can eat my sword if he so much as flirts in your direction after today.” 

“Very nice sentiment Zoro, but I don’t know if I want this entire crew seeing me naked right now.”

“At least Nami will stop bugging you after that?”

“Oh shit, Nami-“ you’re cut off with the door exploding open, Nami, Robin, and Usopp flooding in. 

“Eek!” You screech, and pull the covers up to hide your body and face, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

Giggles explode through the room, and through laughter you hear Nami say, “finally you two have come to your senses! Now everyone on this ship can get a good night sleep without you two whimpering for each other all night!”

Usopp snorts, “hey, nice one Zoro! Congrats on the new girlfriend! And the stellar bang, which you can attribute to us, hold the applause please.” He takes a comedic bow. 

Robin was laughing so hard tears were steaming down her face, “that didn’t take long at all, maybe we should start resolving all conflicts on the ship by locking people in a room together. It’s a good thing I had chopper pick up that medicine,” she says through her giggles. 

“Okay, thank you for checking in, but I think you’re actively damaging my girlfriend’s modesty so if you could please leave now,” Zoro says, gesturing to the door. 

At the word girlfriend the trio all squeal with glee and head to the exit. You peek out of the blankets as they all file out. Zoro is grinning, not at all caring about his own modesty, but his arm wraps around you again once the door is closed. 

“Well, I guess that takes care of that. I don’t have to tell her anything now though, since she already knows!” You say smiling up at him. 

He grins, “just make sure they know they’re not invited to watch.” 

You swat at his shoulder, “of course not, you freak.”

He laughs and starts to make his way down the ladder, extending a hand to help you down.

You take his hand and follow him, as you hope to continue doing for a long time. 

The End

[catherinetcjd]

119 Timothy Drive

Grid-Adjusted Split-Level ...built with only 1 piece of CC 4 bedrooms - 3 bathrooms - 2-car driveway - back deck - lots of hobby space - unfurnished - pet friendly -

Thank you SimsGirl for sharing this home with me! I don't think I've ever built a house this fast! LOL! ...of course, it is really just an unfurnished shell. But, I had a lot of fun playing with the Grid-Adjuster today. I hope it is what you wanted.

This TS2 House is based on a Real Life Home.

Read more »

Custom Content Included - Simple Passage Modular Stair by HugeLunatic(HL)/Sims2Artists - these need a script file so follow the link and make sure you install them properly!

Lot Size: 40X30 Lot Price (furnished): $60,344

DOWNLOAD @ SFS

Or from MTS and Simblr.

[otternalremnant]

SteamOS now runs on AMD chipsets

Valve have released SteamOS version 3.7 alongside its official ports they made for the ROG Ally and Legion Go handhelds.

I have installed SteamOS on my Ryzen 7 5000 series laptop. It was pretty smooth.

Bioshock remastered max graphics, no frame dips Battery dies pretty fast while playing, probably needs better drivers. Trackpad doesn't always pick up my mouse moving But wifi and Bluetooth are working perfectly

FF7 rebirth is so far the only game where I had to change Proton version Kept spitting out an error that my GPU didn't support dx12, which it does.

After some research I found that despite 7rb being Steam Deck certified that a lot of users have been getting that error ever since the game came out, so at least its not just me.

Was able to install Emudeck as well. Need to do some more testing with games but we're getting closer to having a viable Windows alternative for gaming finally!

[lonestarbattleship]

February 18, 2024 Update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"BATTLESHIP TEXAS UPDATE

Battleship Texas at Sunset.

The last Dry Dock Tour date has been announced! They are filling up fast -book now for before this once in a lifetime opportunity is gone! https://battleshiptexas.org/plan-your-visit/

A quality control check was conducted on January 30th, 2024. Leaks were expected and the team has successfully located them. Several of the leaks were under the starboard after docking keel. To fix it requires removing the docking keel, fixing the hull, and installing a new docking keel. For structural support symmetry we are replacing the two after most docking keels. At this time we are only replacing the after two docking keels. We have a procedure for safely removing these blocks that will not structurally damage or compromise the ship.

Work will continue to ensure that Battleship Texas is leak free, right up until she goes back in the water. And keep working after that to keep Texas as internally dry as possible.

Starboard docking keel removed and doubler plating being installed, after original steel was blasted and painted.

Partially removed starboard docking keel.

Cross section of docking keel -they are supposed to be hollow structures with a frame every four feet and their bottom is made of a heavy channel beam with teak in the channel. This docking is filled with mud from San Jacinto.

The teak "shoe" of the docking keel -the teak is amazingly good condition. That's San Jacinto mud above the the teak.

The first restored 5"/51 gun has been returned to the shipyard. This is 5"/51 mount #13. The mount was successfully reinstalled on Saturday and the gun will be reinstalled Monday. The rest of the starboard side guns will be reinstalled over the next week or so, with the port side guns following.

The gun for 5"/51 mount #3 being landed back on the dry dock, in preparation for reinstallation.

The stand and carriage of 5"/51 mount #3 being brought into the air castle. All 9,000 lbs of it.

The carriage and stand for 5"/51 mount #3 back in place, awaiting its gun and final bolting down. Yes those are the threaded rods that holds the mount -they are 24"-30" long.

Repairs to the ship's Aft Fire Control tower are ongoing. The windows, which were removed years ago, will be replaced.

The pipe mullions and window frame strips are fitted in place and awaiting final weld out.

The deck drains on the port side of the foremast have largely been reinstalled, ensuring that water drains properly off the ship.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

WHAT’S NEXT? - Battleship Texas will remain at Gulf Copper Shipyard for until her new home is ready for her. Additional steel work, removal and replacement of the ship’s deck, and superstructure/aft fire control restoration will continue. Painting the topsides!

SPLASH! - The ship will be put back into the water in early March.

PAINT! - Battleship Texas was painted in the Measure 21 camouflage scheme prior to deploying to the Pacific Theater during World War II. At this time Battleship Texas is the ONLY museum ship painted in this camouflage scheme and only one of two battleships in their WWII measure. Yes, the rest of the ship will receive a new coat of paint prior to leaving the shipyard.

HULL NUMBERS/NAME - The new hull numbers and name board have been extensively researched so each number and letter is not only the correct font, but applied in the appropriate position as it was in 1945. The numbers have been applied to both bow and stern.

ANTIFOULING! - The ship’s hull has been coated with PPG SIGMASHIELD 880 GF. Historically the ship would be coated with an anti-fouling coat that is red in color, but that coating is no longer needed as the ship is stationary and antifouling is not need to keep the hull free of marine growth for efficient movement through the water.

KEEL BLOCKS - Yes, the keel blocks supporting Battleship Texas can be moved. Each block is moved so the area atop of them can be blasted, repaired (if need be), and coated.

WHAT ABOUT THE RUDDER? - The rudder will remain where it is. Funding is best spent elsewhere.

WILL THE SHIP RUN AGAIN? - No, the ship will never be able to run under its own power again.

TOURING? - The Battleship Texas Foundation is working on new touring opportunities before the ship reopens.

REOPENING? - There is a lot to be done before the ship is ready for touring at its new home in Galveston, Texas. Reopening is projected to happen sometime in the later half of 2025.

Come on Texas!

To donate to the preservation and operation of Battleship Texas, please visit: https://battleshiptexas.org/

Support Battleship Texas by making a purchase through the ship's store: https://store.battleshiptexas.org"

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation: link