#and they think it's just normal for a captain and first mate

[reapedsouls]

zoro's devotion to luffy is an important aspect in zolu but can we talk abouti luffy's FAITH in zoro. "you can never fail me." zoro would be like sorry for disappointing you captain and every fucking time luffy would be no no no you're perfect. that's how much luffy trusts zoro can you believe that. it's about raw confidence in someone to the point of no requirement for reassurance. luffy has nothing but faith in zoro.

[imagine-horizons]

Sweeter than sugar warnings: none, just cute fluff - the Polar Tang has landed in a town, and Law suddenly has a sweet craving, no established relationship pairing: Law x f!reader (gender neutral, no pronouns or specific physical characteristics, but just in case)

——————

You felt a hand ghost across the small of your back that made you look up - gold tinted eyes gazed down at you, peeking through the shadows casted by his white leopard hat.

“Captain,” you greeted happily.

“You wandered away from Bepo,” Law noted. “Be careful with the crowds.”

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. The Heart Pirates had landed in a small town for some much needed reprieve from the violent waters. Supplies needed to be replenished, but it was also nice to explore and mingle amongst the locals, for some reminisce of a normal life.

You wandered yourself to the heart of the town, where a festival was taking place. Local hawkers yelled out their sales and specials, enticing passerbys with free samples and unique inventory. Children were weaving in and out between the crowds, while music could be heard from all corners of the town centre. Your eyes sparkled at the excitement and your curiosity led you away from the First Mate - Bepo had told you to stay close. But it was not missed by the Surgeon of Death as he silently followed you. He kept his distance, not wanting youto feel suffocated - he respected the space of his crew, knowing that the small confines of the submarine left no breathing room. But he didn’t feel easy leaving you by yourself.

It wasn’t until he felt an unsettling presence, and his eyes scanned the crowd to see that you did not go unnoticed by a few lurkers in the crowd. Law’s hand gripped tighter on his sword, as he felt something stir inside of him and he closed the distance between them. His hand automatically reached out to gently brush against your back and he dipped his head closer to you.

“Y/N-ya.” His deep baritone voice and breath warmed your ear, and you looked up.

“Captain, do you think we can buy snacks for the crew?” You asked thoughtfully, pointing towards some candied packages, and pastries.

“Just the necessities,” he chided gently, and a slight pout appeared on your face.

“Bepo ate my stash,” you complained. A slight smirk ghosted the corner of his lips, and he sighed.

“Fine. Just don’t go crazy.” Your eyes lit up even more than he thought they would, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He followed you to a pastry stall, as you began listing off the things you wanted to the vendor.

“Would you like a sample? The filling is made from a native fruit in our region! Not too sweet,” the vendor said, handing them a tray of small samples. You took one excitedly, but Law gave a slight shake of his head politely turning it down.

“This is so good!” You gasped, and before Law could stop you, you added a few dozen more to your order. As you reached into your pouch for payment, Law wordlessly reached over and gave the vendor payment. “Captain…!” You said in surprise.

“You went overboard - but just this time,” he grumbled. “I’m taking a cut out of your next share if you do it again.” But he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that as you smiled sweetly at him.

As you walked away, you were finishing off a free pastry the vendor kindly gave you - Law noticed some pastry flakes and sugar just on your cheek. He wasn’t sure what over came him but his next actions would have sent his crew into hysteria if they saw.

Leaning down, he used one hand to gently cup your face. His tongue slipped out to lick up the crumbs and sugar that dusted your cheek, his lips ghosting across your smooth skin. There was a subtle sweetness that didn’t come from the pastry, and he knew he would want a taste of it again all too soon.

“Captain!” You squeaked, your face bright red as you almost dropped everything you were holding. A definite smirk was on his face as he leaned back.

“It’s not bad,” he murmured, and his eyes flickered to your soft supple lips that still had remnants of the pastry. As he drew closer to you , you squeezed your eyes shut, not sure what to do , your heart pounding out of your chest.

“CAPTAIN! DID YOU BUY PASTRIES?”

Law quickly pulled away from you and his eyes resumed its stern look as he stared at Bepo , Shachi and Penguin. When they got closer, they saw your flustered expression. “Are you okay y/n? Did our Captain say something?” Shachi asked curiously.

“Or do something naughty? You look red,” Penguin chimed in.

“You guys are too assuming I would do something scandalous,” Law scoffed. “Why is that?”

“Because y/n is cute,” Shachi and Penguin said at the same time. A vein twitched on the side of Law’s temple. “You would take advantage of them - you’re not exactly as stoic and stiff as you make yourself to be.”

“How many pastries did you get?” Bepo frowned, completely ignoring the ongoing conversation. “How did you pay for this?”

“Um I didn’t ,” you said shyly but grateful for a shift in the topic.

“Who did?” Bepo asked in shock. There was a moment of silence and they all stared at Law incredulously , as he tugged his hat further down his head.

“No way,” Penguin gawked.

“Captain would never with us -“ Shachi choked.

“Is the Captain going to give y/n a bigger allowance than me?” Bepo fretted.

“Shut up you guys - we’re leaving,” Law snapped, as he pushed past them. “Bepo - carry y/n ’s things.”

“Aye aye Captain!” Bepo saluted.

As they followed their brooding captain back to the yellow sub, Shachi and Penguin tried to keep up with Law.

“You got it bad for y/n, don’t ya?” Shachi teased.

“So you DID do something naughty to y/n!” Penguin poked at him.

“Is our captain a pervert?”

Law groaned and immediately barked out : “Room!” Followed by “Shambles!” The two Heart Pirates disappeared with the blue glow, only to be replaced with a random rock.

He was not gonna hear the end of this. But as the Polar Tang was about to submerge, you passed by Law on the way into the submarine. He was too busy barking at Shachi and Penguin to get inside, when he felt you gently tug on his black coat. You pulled him down, and quickly kissed him on the cheek, your own cheeks flushed, and you could barely meet his gaze.

“…. For the pastries,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

Law smirked and gently ruffled up your hair.

“Go inside,” he murmured softly. And as you left, the only thing he could think about was how soft your lips were and what they would taste like the next time he got a moment alone with you .

[luffington]

hello i love ur works!! i hope ur doing well! :D for law can i request a law with a f!reader who doesn’t like him at all at first but has an uncharacteristic absolute soft spot for cute things (ie bepo) and he uses that to get closer to her? thank u!! ☺️

➤ pairing: trafalgar law x gn!reader

➤ word count: 1.1k

➤ warnings: alcohol use

this is such a cute concept thank you for suggesting it!! i'm exactly like this and i wanna hug bepo so badly ᕦʕ •ᴥ•ʔᕤ

i'm still not confident in the way i write law so i hope you like this!

Law's heart skips a beat the moment he meets you. That’s very unfortunate for him. 

His social skills are adequate at best, since his awkwardness unintentionally comes off as rudeness, but they get infinitely worse around people he’s attracted to.

Plus, you're a Straw Hat, so you're already seeing him out of his element. Luffy's (unintentional) insistence on ruining all of his carefully planned schemes leaves him perpetually frustrated, uncomfortable, and grumpy.

You frown when his voice comes out harsher than he meant it to. Roll your eyes when he gets upset at your crewmates again for doing what they always do. Mumble something snarky under your breath when the man frantically tries to get his plan back on track, somehow still not realizing that everything works out for Luffy. 

Oh, you must hate him. Law knows it. He tries to give you space to avoid making the situation worse, but that only upsets you more.

But Bepo? You’re obsessed. 

Constantly clinging onto him, rubbing your cheeks against his fur, giggling about how soft and round he is until the poor bear's snowy white face is tinted bright red.

His first mate nervously cries out "Captain!!", clearly flustered but secretly enjoying your praise. You pout, wondering why the cutest Mink you'd ever met is sticking around with an asshole like Law.

It’s not just Bepo – you love everything cute. Chopper always ends up in your lap, happily wrapped in your embrace. You feed stray cats, stop to pet every dog you see, and gush over the Tontattas in Dressrosa (especially Princess Mansherry!). Somehow, you cry more than Franky does at heartwarming stories. 

Law doesn’t understand how someone as adorable and kind-hearted as you could become a pirate. He admires your emotional vulnerability and childlike whimsy as much as he’s terrified of it. 

The poor guy can't win. He can barely talk to you like a normal person, much less have a full conversation with you. It leaves him lying awake in bed at night trying to think of something to say that doesn't make him sound like a dick. 

(Maybe he should read that book Chopper gave him – 'healthy ways to process trauma’ or something stupid like that.)

His crewmates know about his predicament, so Shachi suggests expressing his feelings in a way that doesn’t involve words. 

Law fights off embarrassment and walks into a toy store, looking incredibly out of place. He ends up picking out a black-and-white puppy plushie. (it’s Snoopy hehe)

Anxiety nearly overwhelms him while he waits for the perfect moment to give it to you. When it finally feels appropriate to pull you away from your crewmates, he leads you into an empty room on the Sunny. 

Law can barely look you in the eyes as he hands you the stuffed animal and mumbles, “I got this for you.”

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “Oh, Law…” The long stretch of silence causes him to panic internally, suddenly regretting everything and thinking of ways to explain himself.

Before he can come up with a flimsy excuse, you gladly accept his gift and hug it tightly. “It’s adorable, thank you! It even matches your hat!”

A blush spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. He wasn’t thinking about that, he swears! It’s the same color as Bepo! Yes, he loves black and white, and maybe he subconsciously wanted it to remind you of him, but he didn’t do it on purpose!

At breakfast the next morning, Shachi asks if you like your gift. Deciding not to question why he knows about it, you nod enthusiastically and say it’s so cute that you spent the entire night cuddling it. Law sputters and spills hot coffee on himself.

But now you feel bad. Everything about Law’s behavior made you think he disliked you, but he clearly cares enough to notice your interests. You don't know anything about him.

The next time your combined crews split up, you make it a point to join him and spend alone time together. He’s obviously overjoyed, and he’s already thinking about more gifts to buy you.

Once you get past his awkward exterior, you realize he's actually pretty cute. He has his own nerdy interests, and he genuinely cares about Bepo and the rest of his crew.

He’ll show you his if you show him yours… Obviously that means his limited edition Germa 66 comics box set and your collection of cute trinkets, with the puppy plushie he bought you sitting proudly on your pillow.

When he sees a cute animal or something he knows you’d like, if you’re within Room range, he Shambles you over to him so you won’t miss it.

“Law, what the hell? Why am I three blocks away from where I just was?” With a straight face, he points and says, “Cat.”

Bepo’s also a great wingman. He helps you see his captain’s soft side by telling stories about their adventures together – even embarrassing ones Law wishes he left unsaid. You eagerly listen to everything the Mink has to say and become even more comfortable around Law.

Law realizes you can be soft and strong at the same time. No one doubts Sanji’s strength even though he caves whenever he sees a woman – why shouldn’t that apply to you and your interests?

At one of your crew's famous banquets, you get super drunk and won’t stop clinging to him. Law is completely sober and tries to push you off of him, attempting to prevent you from doing anything you'd regret the next morning. 

But then you tell him you think he's adorable and giggle cutely.

He's stunned into silence for a few moments. "...You think so?" (He'd rather be seen as manly, but he's more than happy with any perception as long as you like him.)

You nod and move to kiss him, and as much as he’s dying to reciprocate, he holds you back. Instead, he half-carries you over to where a group of both of your crews are mingling. You're asleep in Bepo's lap in less than a minute.

Hungover and sleepy the next morning, you timidly apologize for your behavior. Law shakes his head and assures you that it's fine. 

"I still wanna kiss you, though," you murmur quietly. 

So his lips press against yours in a slow and gentle kiss, eventually escalating until your fingers are tangled in his hair and you’re straddling his lap, one tattooed hand gripping your hip and the other holding you tight against him.

Bepo and Shachi’s eyes widen when they see their captain’s flushed state a while later, hair messy and hickies on his neck. In typical Law fashion, he just thanks them with no further explanation.

[daphwritesworld]

#21 K. Walsh— BeFoUr. [part one]

(ft: #6 L. Williamson)

content: Top!Keira, Bottom!Reader, Top!Leah, impact play (R receiving), Brat Tamer!Keira, fingering (R receiving), orgasm denial, breath play, Keira bending reader like a pretzel with manhandling, oral (r receiving)

warnings: dom/sub relationship, choking, a few clit and ass spanks, not even semi-public sex they straight up some nasty horn dogs in this club, being heard going to pound town, 3sum, mentions of strap-ons but no penetration (YET AYYYE)

synopsis: You've always been a perfect submissive for your girlfriend…but what happens when you decide to break that good girl persona she's grown so accustomed to? And what happens when you enroll her best friend to help you? Lord help you, girl.

word count: 4.5k

part 2 here

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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“You better get your girl, Kei!” A very drunk Alexia laughs out, “Before your best friend does.” 

Keira’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, her eyes searching out to where her captain’s sights are set. And oh what a sight she is met with— you, her sweet angel, pressed up against Leah on the dance floor. You’re still high off the win, and even more elated from seeing your old English teammates celebrating with you. It’d been quite a day at the UEFA, both of your groups collecting a victory in your matches. 

Now here you are, three shots deep and your adrenaline making you act out a lot more than you normally would. You’re usually such a good girl for Keira. An absolute picture perfect sub— admired by all who saw the two of you interact. She loves the way you heed her every word, never arguing or disagreeing when she tells you to do something. So it’s a surprise to her when you just smile at her, and grind your ass back against Leah when she motions for you to come towards her. 

Keira feels her jaw clench as her fingers tighten around the glass in her hand, and she makes the continuous decision to set it down before she ends the night early getting stitches. She starts making her way through the crowd, her eyes never leaving yours as she does. Leah’s whispering something in your ear, and you bite your lips at whatever it is. A blush crossing your cheeks as you finally break the intense gaze of your girlfriend. Leah’s hands are circling around your middle now, her palms resting low on your abdomen as she presses you against her front even tighter. 

You can hear your heart thumping in your ears now. A pit deepens in your stomach as Keira rapidly approaches you, her hand instantly wrapping around your wrist as she yanks you into her body. You stumble at first, your free hand coming up to balance yourself against her chest. You feel like your blood is molten lava under your skin, and you aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or your actions that’s causing the burning sensation to pump through your veins. 

Maybe it’s the good girl deep inside of you burning alive from the guilt of acting out…but the sexy look on your girlfriend’s face quickly sweeps that notion from your mind. I mean how could you feel guilty when your pussy is throbbing from the way her nails angrily dig into your skin…you should right? You should feel guilty about how much it turns you on to see her jealous and hot headed with anger, but it doesn’t. It only makes you smile up at her as your hands go behind you to find her best mate, and pull her back against your body. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her hands move down to your waist as she tightens her grip there, knocking Leah’s away in the process. 

“Well, I wasn't just gonna sit on your lap all night because you didn’t wanna dance with me,” you make sure to roll your eyes as you say it— playing up on the brattiness to test her boundaries in front of company. It feels so much safer to do it with so many eyes on you. Because in your mind, what can she really do to you in a room full of hundreds of people? 

So it inflates your confidence, your ego, and your desire for her to break you back down into a pliable little sub. It’s like you have a sugar rush from all the praise and sweetness she’s always shown you, but you’re finally coming down from the high…and boy are you crashing HARD. You’re craving to see the rougher side of your sickly sweet girlfriend has been growing steadily for weeks now. At least, ever since she let it slip that she’s a brat tamer during a drunk truth or dare last month.

-

You had called her out with a big hearty laugh, “Oh Kei, come on! You’re like the total opposite of that. You’ve never even raised your voice at me, let alone spank me back into my place!”

“Yeah, because you already know that it’s underneath me. Brats are like wild animals, and you’re more like a house cat, babe. No need to tame a kitten when you’re used to dealing with lions.”

It was like a light went off in your head after that— a deep seated need to be broken then put back together by her. A kitten? Oh, you’ll show her a god damn kitten.

-

Your feet must’ve gone into auto pilot, because your brain is just now playing catch up. You hadn’t even realized you’re being dragged through the crowd. At least, not until you hear a chorus of teasing shouts from the mix of your former and current teammates behind you. The door to the bathroom flies open just as Mariona makes sure to yell out for you both to “Usa protección, chicas!”

Keira doesn’t even check to see if all the stalls are empty. She just pushes you into the first one she sees. You go to speak, but you’re cut off by her hand coming up and locking around your throat. “Spread your fucking legs.” 

Your eyes widen at her statement, hesitation clear as you make no move to follow her demands. “B-but we’re in pub—“ you’re cut off by a growl coming out of the older girl in front of you, “And I don’t give a damn, y/n. If you wanna act like a slut, then i’ll treat you like one…” She pushes you up against the stall door, her chest vibrating against yours as she lightly laughs. 

“And sluts don’t get fucked on nice comfy beds, do they?” Her eyes flicker up to yours before she leans down to press a couple kisses up your neck. A few more condescending giggles come out of her too, slightly tickling your skin in her wake. When she pulls away it’s like you can see the switch flip behind her eyes, because suddenly her voice is back to being as stern as the look on her face. “They get finger fucked in dirty bathroom stalls with their panties hanging around their ankles.”

You can’t help the moan that slips out from your lips at her words. You’ve never seen or heard this side of her before. It's exhilarating and makes your head spin with every second that passes. So you finally start listening and slowly begin to pry your legs apart. It must be too slow though, because next thing you know Keira is spreading them for you. As she pushes your short little dress up to bunch up around your waist, it’s her turn to let a moan slip from her mouth. You went out in an dress this short without panties on, and let someone else touch you? Oh dear lord in heaven— Keira is battling demons. She lets her hand around your throat come down and pull one of your legs up onto her shoulder. It burns a little from the stretch, but she knows how flexible you are. She’s seen you bend yourself like a pretzel just for fun– so she knows you can handle this. 

“You let her touch my pussy?” It’s asked in a scarily calm tone. One that has a shiver running down your spine as you sink further into her intense gaze. 

You can’t even react right away, brain too fuzzy from the newfound domination radiating off your girlfriend. Your mouth moves before the words can start forming, stuttering out fragments your brain can’t seem to currently process. You get snapped out of it when you feel a spank land onto your throbbing clit. It makes you jolt in her hold, and a cracked whine to rip out of your throat. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before, dancing right on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“I asked you a question, y/n.” She’s giving you another opportunity to be good for her, and you bite your lip as you weigh your options. You could listen now, but would that really get you what you want? “Answer me or I swear to god I won’t touch you for a month,” well never fucking mind we got Miss party pooper over here. Your eyes snap up to hers as the pout on your lips starts to form. 

“No,” you cross your arms over your chest. “...but I might if you don’t hurry up and fuck me alre–” you get cut off by the another yelp leaving your lips. She’s landing another slap to your clit, this time with a little more force. There are tears gathering in your waterline now, and it makes Keira ruin her underwear a little more than she’d like to admit.

Is she upset? Yes. Is she more turned on than ever? Also yes. She’s prided herself on the fact she’s never had to punish you. Always bragging about you and your streak of being an unmatched good girl. So it’s hurting her ego a little bit to see you act this way. Has she been too sweet on you? Spoiled you to the point of being rotten? Well, now she has to correct those mistakes, and she will do it wherever she sees fit. You wanna be a brat in front of all your friends and a bunch of drunk strangers? That’s fine. You can all learn together what a lesson from Keira entails. 

There’s something so intoxicating about you being bad, though. It’s filling her body with this tingling feeling, like all her nerves are vibrating from the adrenaline rushing to her head. It’s like an extinguished fire that’s been buried in her chest, and you’ve just reignited it by tenfold. Something low in her gut started to twist when she saw you pressed up against Leah. Not jealousy per se, something more carnal. 

The blonde defender has always been a trouble maker, and Keira can’t help but get turned on when she thinks of her best friend corrupting you. Leah is the only person in the world to know your girlfriend better than you. They have years of built up trust, memories, and experiences together. Leah knows every single way to push her buttons…and she knew when Keira saw her whispering naughty little encouragements into her sweet girlfriend’s ear, that it’d set her over the edge. 

“I’m getting real sick of your smart ass mouth, y/n,” Keira’s words are spoken so low and deep you think you might pass out right here. You could drown in her velvety smooth voice, getting lost in the way her tone drops as her patience wears thin. 

“Then why don’t you do something about it—”

She cuts you off by plunging two of her fingers into your mouth. You gag at first, surprised by the intrusion as you try to calm your throat around her digits. Keira uses her other hand to grab the back of your head to keep you in place, and with that she starts fucking your mouth. She’s so close to your face that you can feel her breath dusting across your cheeks. She keeps her eyes locked onto your mouth, enchanted by the sight before her. She can hear the squelching of your spit coating her fingers, and it only adds to the erotic scene playing out between the two of you. She thrusts into your mouth for a few minutes, making sure you get them wet enough. 

When she's satisfied she pulls them out, tapping your lips before she runs them down your body. She lets her nails scratch you as they move down your abdomen, leaving goosebumps to wise behind in their path. She skips over your pussy, letting her nails run along your inner thigh. A shiver takes over your body at the feeling, a new sense of arousal flooding in through your body. You try to cock your head down to watch her hand, but you're stopped by the one still holding your head in place. "Please, Kei! I need you, baby!" You don't care how loud or desperate you sound— this is torture. 

"Oh so now you need me, huh? What happened to that big bad attitude you had earlier? All gone now that your pussy isn't getting stuffed?" This time you cower from the laugh she lets out after she speaks. It's dark and menacing; a side of her you didn't even know existed. 

You manage the best pout you can muster up, eyes all wide and innocent as you lightly reach for her arm. "I always need you, Kiera." 

"That's not true, now is it? You looked more than satisfied out there with Leah," Keira watches as your face heats up, holding back the grin that's pulling at her lips. "Was it me or her who made you this wet, baby? Maybe I should go get her and let her clean this mess up—" 

It's you cutting her off this time, "N-No! I only get this wet for you— I swear! Just please touch me, okay? Please, I'll do anything!" 

A wicked grin breaks out across her face, "Anything?" 

You think you might smash your skull into the stall door behind you if she doesn't stop teasing you. Does she know how absolutely fucking sexy she is right now? And does she know how torturous it is to not be touched when you've craved this version of her? "Yes, fuck— anything! Please, baby…" You choke the last couple words out, a cry clogging your throat as your frustration builds. 

She must take some pity on you, because she listens to you. She starts by rubbing through your folds, collecting your wetness. A small string of your arousal connects to her finger tips as she moves to rub your clit. It makes a moan pour out of your lips, back arching into her touch as it lights your body aflame. "Thank you, baby!" 

Keira's hand on your head moves to your front, ripping the top of your dress down so she has access to your chest. She knew you hadn't worn a bra tonight, and honestly she's proud she's lasted this long before tearing it off. Her mouth goes straight to your tits, lips enclosing around your nipple as her free hand comes up to pinch at the other one. She lets two of her fingers slide into your pussy; not giving you a second to adjust before she's jack hammering into them. Her palm hits your clit perfectly, sending jolts of electricity from your core up to your spine with every thrust. You somehow arch your back even deeper, pushing your boobs further into your girlfriend's mouth. 

"Feels s-so fucking g-goood!" You're slurring your words already, brain fogging up from the pleasure she's giving you. 

You feel her laugh against your chest, the vibrations of it moving from your nipple down to your core. She pulls her face back after the pretty noise you let out from the action, a bodeful look overtaking her features. "Admit you liked Leah's hands on you," It makes your pussy gush into her hand. "I-I didn't!" You feel the heat rise back to your cheeks, and the tips of your ears turning bright red. That's how Keira always knows when you're lying, because of the cherry tomato tint that covers them. It always gives you away. 

Her fingers curl up into your g-spot just as the bathroom door opens, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth...but Keira stops you. Her one hand captures both of your wrists, and she pins them above your head. That leaves you to bite down onto your bottom lip, trying with all your might to stay quiet. Keira rolls her eyes at that, slipping a third finger into your dripping cunt before increasing the speed and force behind her thrusts. The burn of the stretch is what breaks you, a pitiful moan echoing out across the tiled room. You don't even notice how hard you'd bit your lip until Keira's bending down to suck the blood off of it. 

It's so dirty and taboo…so nasty. You genuinely had no idea how much of a fucking freak your girlfriend is….and you definitely didn't' know how much you'd enjoy it. She's ruining you with every second that passes, and ingraining a need for this kind of treatment, at least weekly. Keira doesn't know it yet, but she is destroying the good girl she once created. 

"M'Gonna cum!" You slur it out as your eyes cross, legs shaking as Keira keeps you held up with her weight. Your eyesight is blurring out as you feel yourself start to tip over the edge…then it's gone. Just as fast as your high came about, it vanishes along with her fingers.  She takes your leg on her shoulder off, softly setting it back down on the ground as you groan out from the discomfort. You feel tears gather in your eyes at the empty feeling left in your pussy. You go to open your mouth to complain, but Keira's wet hand comes up to pinch your cheeks together, effectively silencing you. "Not until you stop lying to me. Good girls don't lie," her grip tightens on your face, "and bad girls don't get to cum." 

The tears in your waterline finally fall down your face. "I'm not lying.."

"Yes, you are. Now tell me the truth or we're going home, and I won't let you cum for a week if you lie to me again, y/n. Maybe if I punish you then you'll learn, hmm?"

"O-okay, fine!" It's your turn to be the one to roll your eyes now. A blush settling across your skin as you look anywhere, but at Keira. "…I liked it when she was touching me.."

She can't hold back her grin this time, "Who? Gotta be specific, baby." 

You whine out as you struggle against her hand still keeping your wrists bound. The embarrassment of being caught is becoming too much for you to handle…and not in the way you'd expect. It's humiliating you, yet somehow you're getting wet from it. There are so many new feelings you're experiencing right now, and so fucking thankful it's Keira you're exploring them with. You take a deep breath before looking her in the eyes, "Leah! I liked it when Leah touched me, okay? Now please, baby!"

Your blood runs cold at the ominous laugh that burrows out of Keira's chest. You don't have time to think about it much, because then she's pulling you away from the door and unlocking it. Yanking it open as you scramble to pull your top back up. "You hear that, Le?" 

Your head snaps up at that, eyes widening as you see the blonde standing directly in front of the open stall. "Oh I definitely heard that, Kei." She has a smirk sitting pretty on her lips as her eyes rack up and down your body, finally meeting your gaze as she flashes you a predatory smile.

You swear you must've of went into a trance after that. Because the next thing you remember is being in the back of a taxi, Keira and you making out as Leah's lips danced across your neck. Eventually your girlfriend pulled away and led your mouth to her best friend's, and took the spot of leaving love bites on your neck. They'd corned you in the elevator of the hotel, one on each side as they felt up on your body. Pulling sweet sounds from your mouth as you melted into their touch. 

That leads us back to now. The two English footballers towering over you as you sit on the edge of the king size bed. "You sure you want to do this, love? You say the word and we can end this right now. There's no pressure on you, okay?" Keira's hand comes up to your cheek, her thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. A concerned look etches itself onto her face as she addresses you. You smile at her, letting your own hand come up to smooth the furrow in her brow. "I 100% want to do this. I know this is all new for me—  for us together…but I want this," you take her hand into yours as you slide it up your thigh. She groans out when she feels the wetness leaking out all over them, 'I really fucking want this." 

You don't get a verbal response from her, just a push to your shoulders that sends you flying back onto the duvet. A giggle escapes you as you bounce against the mattress, waiting for one of them to finally make you cum. Keira and Leah share a look as they switch positions. The blonde defender makes a place for herself between your legs, her hands going to your calves before she pushes them up against your chest. "I've been waiting years to get a taste of this sweet cunt. You should hear the way Keira describes it— says it's just like honey." 

You flush as you go to look at your girlfriend, a playful smile on her face. "Y-you talk about me?" 

"Of course I do, love. How could I not when you've got the best fucking pussy I've ever had?" She strips her clothes off as she climbs up on the bed. After pulling your dress off she settles down above your head, her cunt presented to you for your viewing pleasure. Before you get a chance to ask her to sit on your face, Leah is thursting her tongue into your hole. Her nose rubs up into your clit as she stays buried to the hilt, moans flying out of your mouth as you get lost in the pleasure of hers. You're still so wound up, like a live wire ready to blow. So it's no surprise when you come tumbling towards the edge again, hands scrambling to reach out to Keira above you. 

"Please don't stop! Please, baby!' But she just laughs at you as she lets you cling to her arm, wrestling one away from your tantalizing grip. 

"I'm not the one you should be begging right now." She grabs your chin as she moves your head down, and your eyes lock with Leah's. "Please don't stop! Please, Le. I wanna cum for you..want you to taste me on your tongue." She moans into your cunt from your words, and it sends vibrations through your most sensitive nerves. It feels like a firework went off inside your gut, leaving you to be overwhelmed with the waves of pleasure rolling through your body. A cry falls from your lips as your thighs attempt to close around her head...but it's Keira who spreads them back open. She leans over your body as she gets onto her knees, and her lips find their way to your chest once again. She licks, sucks, bites…just about everything to your nipples. She knows how sensitive they are— hell she's even made you cum from just her mouth on your tits before. So she can't even imagine how good you feel right now. "I can't h-hold it, baby! Can I please c-cum?" 

Keira knows it's directed at her this time. If the pet name wasn't enough, everyone knows only she owns your orgasms. Leah might be the one between your legs right now, but make no mistake...Keira is the one to decide if, how, and when you get to cum. You're lucky she's feeling so generous tonight, because with one breath she's detaching from your tits. "Go ahead and show her why I brag about you so much. Cum all over her tongue for me, baby." 

Your nails dig into your girlfriend's arms as your back arches off of the bed. Keira's hands hold your hips down for her best friend as she pulls away from your hickey covered tits, groaning out at the sight in front of her. Leah's eyes are rolling into the back of her head as her jaw works overtime. Keira can see the wet muscle thrusting into your pussy, a coat of white cream spilling all into the blonde's mouth. Leah lets one of her hands come up to rub at your clit as she starts moving her head, sucking up every ounce of your essence that leaks out. It's like goddamn nectar and Leah can't get enough of it. 

She only pulls away once Keira's hand is pushing her head to give you a break. You are absolutely boneless under the two women, eyes barley open as you try and catch your breath. Keira crawls back as they go to examine your condition after a round like that. Leah's the first to break the silence, "I think we bloody killed her, mate."

"Oh trust me, she's fine. Plus we haven't even showed her our surprise yet—"

"Surprise? What surprise?!" 

"Oh and suddenly you're just fully awake, huh?" Leah laughs out, shaking her head as she gives Keira a look.

"I told you she was fine, just needed a little encouragement. Ain't that right, baby?"

"Mhm…sooo about this surprise?" 

"Well someone's a little impatient," Leah says as she shakes her head, "Close your eyes first, darling."

You dramatically sigh before following her instructions. 

"Again, just trust me. She always is when it comes to surprises," the two of them keep talking like you aren't even there. Walking over to two bags you still haven't noticed magically appeared in your room. You hear some rustling around, but mostly silence. It lets your mind drift for the first time tonight, and a sinking feeling fills your gut as you realize something. 

"WAIT!" Your eyes snap open, "H-how do you two have a surprise for me?" You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the revelation. "And how'd those bags get in here?"

They just share a crimson smile as they turn back towards you, and you gasp at what you're met with. Both of them approaching you with a strap on attached to their hips. Leah is the once again the one to speak, "Oh don't worry, darling. I told Kei allll about your little plan. You didn't really think a little kitten like you was calling the shots, did you?" 

A whole new feeling of arousal seeps into your bloodstream…because now you realize just how calculated this whole night has been. She knew every step of your plan and then used it against you…and you played right into her hand. Now you're at the complete disposal of not one, but two very…very worked up athletes. It terrifies and excites you at the same time. They start climbing onto the bed as they skewer you between them, man handling you onto your hands and knees. A silicone cock rests against your cheek and the other on your ass, grinding into everywhere but where you need them most. You look up to see who’s at your front end, the tall blonde’s abs are the first thing you’re greeted with. Her voice drops a few octaves as her eyes grow darker.

"We're just getting started, darling." 

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Indifference

Prompt: Sanji starts treating you differently from normal and it's taking a toll. It all comes to a head when you get hurt.

~~ Part 2

Sanji X Fem Reader

You’d been on board the Sunny for a while now. Enough to know all your crew mates’ personalities. Enough to brace for impact when you hear your captain yell your name, strike a pose when the shipwright yells super, even joining the helmsmen to meditate every now and then. Reading a book just to discuss it with Robin or discussing fashion with Nami. Eagerly sitting and listening to Usopp’s stories, or waking the swordsman up for dinner, even along to music played by a Skeleton were common days for you. Chopper loving your company in the med bay when you sneak him more Candy than the chef would like.

         And then there was the chef. The curly browed, blonde-haired chef. You had heard warnings of him before joining the crew, how his nose bleeds came from his perverted thoughts. How he doted on any female in his sights. Even Nami had pulled you to the side to tell you how to kick or slap him away if you felt it got to much. Robin giving the advice to just ignore it.

         The first couple of weeks you had proven those rumors true. Sanji would go out of his way to make sure you felt comfortable, making you snacks and drinks constantly and praising the very land you stood on. At first you were taken aback by it, but quickly realized that it was just who he was. He treated you the same as Nami and Robin and it brought you comfort that, while a little strange, it wasn’t different from others.

         You’d even join him to help prep the food or wash the dishes, he protested at first, but never truly tried to stop you. The gentle humming you’d hear as you peeled the vegetables or set the table would sometimes make your heart skip a beat. He’d always turn around to have you taste his food prematurely, his cooing as you gladly took the spoonful.

         Maybe that was your problem. Maybe you had fallen too hard for the stupid chef. Going out of your way to wake up earlier to help him with breakfast, or staying up late at night to see him prepare a snack for your gluttonous captain. Making sure you could spend as much of your precious time with him while attempting to make it seem like a coincidence.

         But now here you were, staring at the man cooking with his back turned to you. It started about 2 months ago. His indifference to your presence. The way he’d barely glance at you, sharing only the bare minimum of words needed to not ignore you completely. The silence in the kitchen hung on your heart as you stared at the back of the chef in front of you. It started slow, but now it was hard to avoid. Sanji had just asked you to stop coming to his kitchen. His voice had been low, and he hadn’t even turned his head to talk to you, You swallowed the lump in your throat, deciding not to speak as you listen to his words.

         Deciding to go to the aquarium instead. It’d be quiet there around this time of day, with the rest of the crew distracted in their own daily routines. Holding your breath as to not let a single cry out as your chest burned. You sat against one of the couches, staring at the fish swimming buy thinking about what happened.

You noticed right away when he stopped fawning over you, the praising tones towards Robin and Nami seemingly falling flat as he would turn to you. And you noticed how the dishes and drinks you got no longer were presented with perfection, often getting a closer presentation to Luffy or Zoro. The sing-song voice slowly turning mono-tone towards you over the weeks. Last week he had stopped talking to you in the kitchen, opting instead to just place your task on the opposite end of the kitchen from him but still saying thanks as you finished.

You brought your knees to your chest, biting your lip hard to remain quiet as his last words to you echo in your mind. The dry tone telling you to leave. You could feel your nails starting to break the skin on your palm and the subtle taste of copper on your tongue. Maybe you weren’t welcomed. Maybe everything had been an illusion and Sanji was just the first one to give up the act.

You were quickly snapped out of your mind with the sudden jerk of the ship, falling at the unmistakable feeling of a cannon ball hitting. Your mind going into action mode, forgetting all about your feelings as you go to the deck. The captain and his wings were already on the attack as Franky was switching the ships mode for battle, and you join the line-up to help the fight.

At one-point Marines had started to board the ship. You fought them off as quickly as the came aboard, slashing and dodging as fast as you could. At one point you had been surrounded, a marine attempting to disarm you by grabbing your wrist, forcing you to turn away from most of the enemies before you fell to the ground. You broke free from the grasp quickly enough, slashing at their ankles as you stand back up. The blood in your veins burning as the fight raged on.

         By the end of it, everyone was exhausted. 5 marine ships surrounding the Sunny in hopes to sink it. The adrenaline had kicked in quickly for you with the shaking of the ship and the movement of fighting. You breathe out a huge sigh of relief as Zoro and Sanji take care of the stragglers, throwing them overboard as you slump against the mast, sinking into the grass beneath. Now that the fight was over it was harder to breathe.

         Franky and Usopp going to fix the ship right away, as Jimbei jumped in the water to see if there was damage to the hull. Chopper complained about the smell of blood but chocked it up to the marines Zoro took care of as Nami and Robin whisked him away to clean up in the bathhouse. You glance up as Zoro heads to the crows’ nest to keep watch for a bit while Brook follows Luffy and Sanji into the dining hall, the captain yelling for food.

         Standing up, you notice a stain of red on the mast and grass from where you sat. You felt the shreds of your shirt on your back when you fell but now you could feel the warm liquid dripping down your back and legs. The stinging pain hitting you as you try to straighten your back a bit more, before quickly heading to the med-bay.

         You could hear through the walls Sanji yelling at Luffy to not eat raw meat as you grabbed some bandages and anti-septic. You didn’t want to bother Chopper, Robin had probably made a bubble bath for the cotton-candy lover. It took longer than you would have thought to find the bottle that was sure to sting, and grabbed a clean cloth, wetting it with the liquid. The cheerful laughter in the other room ringing around you as you prepare yourself to clean the wound you couldn’t see.

         You tried turning your head to look in the mirror but only felt light-headed when you saw how much blood was coming out, your flayed skin curling back from the center of the cuts. Seeing the glimpse of how bad it was seemed to also fully awaken your body to how much it hurt as all of your muscles tensed, every movement now seemingly shooting unbearable pain through your body. You can’t seem to fully move yourself anymore as your throat tightens enough to stop your breathing.

~~~

         Sanji left the kitchen after feeding his wild animal of a Captain. Opting for a smoke after the battle was over. It was tougher than he’d like to admit and he was in a foul mood as Zoro had defeated 3 more marines than him. Walking around a bit to lean on a railing while staring at the half-sunken ships now far behind them.

         Everyone should be in their normal post-battle routines, Food on the table for those who needed the energy, some fixing anything that needed it or cleaning any messes about. And of course, the women and Chopper taking an extra bath to rid themselves of any sprayed blood, dirt, or gunpowder.

Dinner would be soon but Sanji still had a good amount of time before he had to truly start any prep. Especially recently with your help, what would normally take him an hour had been cut down to half that… Smoke blew out past his lips as he remembers how he told you to stop helping just earlier that day. How you hadn’t even responded to him, the silence hanging heavily in the air before he heard your soft footsteps and the door opening and closing. It was for the best that you stayed away, after all he-

         “Hey Sanji, have you seen Y/N? She didn’t join us for a bath.” Nami walked by with slightly damp hair, distracting Sanji from his current thought. He turns around offering her his full attention, shaking his head to her question as he fawned over her new outfit.

Robin holding Chopper who seemed to have fallen asleep, “Perhaps she was too tired to join us. She hasn’t been sleeping well.” The suggestion seemed plausible, at this point everyone knew how you’d walk the ship for hours at night to try and wade your insomnia away. Chopper had even tried giving you some medicine for it, but was woefully out of the primary ingredient needed. Even Sanji had altered your meals to have no caffeine or ingredients that would promote sleep. Not that he’d ever tell you. It came naturally to shift dietary needs to the person no other reason to it.

Nami and Robin starts walking away just as Nami steps in a puddle, “Ew, Sanji didn’t you guys clean the deck? There’s still blood everywhere.”

“I’ll get right on it Nami-swan~” The reaction was immediate and they continued to walk away. But Sanji looks down, he could have sworn he saw Usopp cleaning the deck earlier. Frowning a bit as he sees it’s a trail. A stupid Marine must be hiding on board. Badly at that. The least they could do is hide the fact that they’re bleeding.

Following the trail of still wet drops of blood, some larger pools and some streaks until he’s in front of the med-bay door. Kicking the door open to find their apparent intruder, his foot catching a flame as he peered inside. But instead of seeing a badly injured marine, he saw you. Your frozen stare into the mirror behind you, your arms in the air as your pale face turned towards the startling noise. His cigarette falling from his lips as his leg falters.  He sees a cloth and a fallen bottle of anti-septic, pooling around your feet mixing with blood that was a shade to dark. Glancing back up to the mirror to see the horrific scene on your back as you let out two anguished gasps before falling.

Sanji lunges forward, barely catching you from falling on the floor as he calls for help. Quickly placing you face down on the bed, grabbing anything to apply pressure to the gushing gashes, quick footsteps getting closer as his mind started to race.

[marshmallowdarling]

I'm having a few drinks in my room tonight and... John Price who is a nice guy, a bit strict and blunt but he puts the wellbeing of others above his own including you. Ol' you who is head over heel's for the captain but remains (almost) normal infront of him to not make yourself look like a fool but that gets thrown out the window when you see him at one of the local pubs. You have a glass and a half of whatever alcohol you choose that night in you and your not drunk, or even tipsy at this point but you use it as an excuse as you blurt out all the things that have been circling in your head. "Your ass looks great in every pants holy fuck how does that work, your ass looks better than mine-" "The strap on your thigh makes my mouth water- hey does your tip touch the-" "I never though I had a daddy kink and I dont but for Captain Price I would call him daddy in a heart beat-" "Do you think he would let me lick his curly happy trail and chest hair?" His team mates watch on with a mixture of amusement and shock since they had watched their captain mope around when he thought no-one was looking since he thought you didnt like him back. Now they were just needing to help you two get together.... Soap wanted to try first but Ghost quickly reigned him in since he knew the Scott would probably end up in a threesome but the masked man had to hold the other back by the scruff whenever you blurted out about their captain because the Scott's mind was running.... Poor thing now Ghost has to help his problem as Gaz sweet talks you :(

[itsgiovanna]

playing for love (chapter 1)

pairing: fem!character x mason mount

summary: injured and lost, mason mount begins his recovery with the help of adeline alderidge, a tough yet brilliant physiotherapist. but, some wounds don't heal easily, and the closer they get, the more mason realizes she might need saving just as much as he does.

notes: hey, everyone! this is the first chapter and i’m so happy to introduce you to mason & adaline's story. hope you like it! enjoy 🤍

word count: 2.8k

my masterlist

warnings: none

next: chapter 2

The locker room was buzzing with energy — voices overlapping, boots scuffing against the floor, the clap of a teammate hyping up the squad. It was the usual match routine, but to Mason, something felt off. He sat at his locker, elbows resting on his knees, staring at his feet. His stomach was tight, but not in the usual way. Normally, it was adrenaline, that restless hunger to get out on the pitch and play. This was different, it sat heavy in his chest.

Maybe it was just in his head. But it had been there for weeks now — like a weight he couldn’t lift. Since joining United, everything had felt harder. The pressure, the expectations, the constant questioning.

He already knew what people would say if he had another bad game.

“Mount struggling to find his place.”

“United’s number 7 failing to deliver.”

A hand clapped against his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You good?” Mason looked up to see Marcus Rashford standing over him, adjusting his captain’s armband. His expression wasn’t just casual concern — he was really looking at him, like he could tell something wasn’t right.

“Yeah. Just focused.” Mason forced a nod. 

“Focused, huh?” Marcus raised a brow. 

“I’m fine, mate.” Mason let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. 

“Alright. Let’s do this.” Marcus studied him for a second longer before giving him a firm pat on the back. 

The team gathered around as Ten Hag delivered his final words. “Stay compact in midfield. No sloppy passes, no hesitation. And Mason.” — his gaze locked onto him — “Be aggressive. No holding back tonight.”

Mason nodded, but the unease in his chest didn’t go away.

The first half was a battle. Manchester City were relentless, pressing high, moving the ball quickly. Mason was doing his best to keep up, but it wasn’t enough. He felt a step behind, his touches just a little off. Every mistake felt heavier, like it was adding to the weight pressing down on him.

Then, early in the second half, his moment came. A misplaced pass from City’s defense sent the ball rolling into open space. He sprinted forward, reaching for the ball — but, everything happened at once.

A body crashed into him, full force.

Rúben Dias.

Mason barely had time to think before he was sent flying. 

The pain was unbearable, his knee twisted violently before giving out completely, his body collapsing onto the grass. He gasped, his hands clutching his leg, but it was like a fire spreading through him, sharp and unrelenting. 

The noise of the crowd faded. His ears rang. The only thing he could focus on was the agony tearing through his body.

Then came the voices.

His name. Shouts for the medical team. Hands on his shoulder, his arm — steady, grounding. Rashford and Hojlund were crouched beside him, his face tight with worry.

“Mase, talk to me. You alright?” Rashford put his hand on Mason’s shoulder, but voice cut through the chaos — loud, sharp, and angry.

“What the fuck was that?”

Mason barely turned his head in time to see Rúben Dias standing a few feet away, arms raised, shouting at the referee. But he wasn’t apologizing — he was blaming him.

“He threw himself into it!” Rúben snapped, shaking his head. “That’s not on me!”

A wave of anger rolled through Mason’s teammates. Rashford was up in an instant, stepping toward Rúben. “What’s your problem?” he shot back. “He’s on the ground, mate. Have some fucking respect.”

Lisandro Martínez shoved past Rashford, glaring at Dias. “You’re not helping, Dias. Just walk away.” The referee quickly stepped between them, telling them to calm down, but Mason couldn’t focus on the argument. The paramedics were already beside him, voices low but urgent.

“How bad?” one asked.

“Looks like ligament damage. Possible tear.”

“Quick, we need to get him off now.”

Mason barely processed their words. His pulse pounded in his ears, the stadium lights too bright, the voices around him distant. The stretcher appeared beside him, and Mason barely registered the hands lifting him onto it.

This wasn’t happening.

He wasn’t supposed to go out like this. Not injured. Not like this.

As they carried him off, pain flaring with every small movement, the crowd’s noise became lower in the background. He shut his eyes, swallowing down the disappointment, the fear.

(...)

The ambulance ride was a blur of flashing lights and muffled voices. Mason lay flat on the stretcher, his body stiff, every bump in the road sending pain through his leg. His knee felt like it was on fire, a deep, throbbing ache spreading through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through it, but it wasn’t working.

“Hang in there, Mason. We’re almost there.” One of the paramedics hovered over him, adjusting the straps securing his leg.

“Male, twenty-six, severe knee trauma. Suspected ACL tear. Pulse stable, high-pain level.“ The other spoke into a radio, relaying updates ahead to the hospital.

ACL tear.

Mason clenched his jaw. He knew what that meant. Months out. Maybe longer.

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the stretcher. The sound of the sirens was distant, drowned out by the pounding in his head.

The ambulance doors swung open the moment they arrived at Manchester Royal Infirmary, one of the best hospitals in the city for sports injuries. Everything moved fast. Bright lights, rushed voices, the sharp scent of antiseptic.

“Took a direct hit before collapsing. Pain’s at a ten.” The paramedics wheeled him through the corridor, speaking to the medical staff waiting for them, prepared to do the scans.

The words barely registered. Mason felt lightheaded, the pain and exhaustion weighing him down. He barely reacted as they transferred him onto the hospital bed.

And then, finally, known voices.

“Mason!” His dad’s voice cut through the hallway.

Mason forced his eyes open, blinking against the brightness. His dad, Tony, was standing at the edge of the bed, his face tight with worry. His mom was beside him, arms crossed over her chest like she was physically holding herself together.

“We came as soon as we got the call.” Tony said, his voice steady, but Mason could see the concern behind his eyes.

“They think it’s my ACL.” Mason swallowed hard and the words felt heavy on his tongue. “I don’t know how bad.” Before they could say more, the doctor stepped in, holding a clipboard.

“Mason, we’ve reviewed your scans.” he said, flipping through the papers. “It’s a complete ACL tear.” He met Mason’s eyes. “You’ll need surgery.”

“Dear, God." his mom gasped. "And, the recovery?"

"It'll take at least six to eight months.” the doctor responded.

Silence.

Mason’s chest tightened. Six to eight months.

His season was over. His career, put on hold.

“We’ll get through this.” His dad pressed a firm hand on his shoulder.

Mason exhaled, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t go away. The pain in his knee was unbearable, but right now, the pain in his heart was worse. Suddenly, the disappointment of letting down, the fans, his teammates and his family was greater than anything else.

(…)

The sterile smell of the hospital still clung to the air, heavy and cold. Mason lay on the bed, staring up at the white ceiling, his mind swirling with frustration. The pain from his knee was a constant reminder of everything he’d lost in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t just the injury. It was the weight of the season ahead — the expectations he was expected to carry, the doubts creeping in after another setback. His career, his future, all of it felt uncertain now. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not like this.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the nurse entered, her steps light but confident. She had black hair and a name tag reading "Charlotte" clipped to her uniform. She smiled as she walked toward him, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Mason.

“Mr. Mount.” she said, her voice sweet, but with a touch of something more. “How are you feeling?”

“Same as before.” Mason barely looked at her, keeping his gaze on the ceiling.

Charlotte moved closer to adjust his IV, her touch is gentle, but there was something about it that felt a little too warm. Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and as she finished, she smiled.

“I bet you didn’t expect your night to go like this. Right?” she said, her voice softer, a little flirtatious, though Mason wasn’t interested.

He could tell she was trying, but he wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone. Not right now.

“I’ve had better.” he replied flatly, still not looking at her. She laughed lightly, and Mason couldn’t help but feel like she was laying it on thick.

“You’re not gonna stay mad at me, are you?” she said, leaning in just a little, her words dripping with intent.

“Not mad. Just not in the mood.” He shifted uncomfortably, finally meeting her gaze, though it was more to put an end to the exchange than anything else.

She raised an eyebrow, her smile a little less subtle this time. “Well, if you need anything, I’m just down the hall.” she said, lingering for a moment longer before stepping back, lingering on him as she made her exit.

Mason couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. The last thing he needed was someone flirting with him when he could barely get a grip on his own thoughts. After a few minutes, the door opened again, and this time, it was his sister, Jaz, and her husband, Sam. Jaz had that look on her face — the one that always came when she knew something wasn’t right, her worry barely hidden beneath a smile as she walked toward him.

“Mase.” she said softly, pulling up a chair next to his bed. “How’re you holding up?”

Mason turned his head toward her, but his expression remained guarded.

“Just another day.” he replied, though it didn’t sound convincing even to him.

Jaz sat down next to him, her eyes full of concern as she studied him. Her hand reached out, brushing his. “I know this has been tough on you.” she said quietly. “I can see it, Mase. I know what leaving Chelsea did to you... and now this.” Her voice cracked a little, but she quickly recovered, squeezing his hand. Mason didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t in the mood to explain. He wasn’t in the mood for pity.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

Jaz didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, she leaned in, her voice low and gentle.

“You don’t have to be fine, Mase. Not with me. Not with Sam. We’re here. Always.”

“You know we’ve got your back. Whatever happens.” Sam, standing at the door with his arms crossed, nodded in agreement.

Mason felt a surge of gratitude for them, but it was mixed with anger. He didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want them to see him like this. He hated feeling weak. But Jaz wasn’t having it. She pulled him into a tight hug, resting her cheek against his.

“I know things haven’t been easy for you.” she whispered. “Leaving Chelsea... coming to Manchester. It’s a big change. But you’ve always been strong. You’ll get through this. I know you will.”

For a moment, Mason didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, especially not with his sister, but the warmth of her embrace made him realize how much he needed this. How much he needed them.

He hugged her back, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I just... I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I can keep going.”

Jaz pulled back slightly, her eyes soft with understanding.

“Mase, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But don’t give up on yourself.” The words hung in the air, and Mason found himself lost in them, his walls starting to crumble a little.

(...)

Adeline stood in the kitchen, wiping down the countertops as the evening light dimmed outside. The small flat in the heart of Manchester felt quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that only settled in after Lilith had gone to bed. The last few hours had been spent in the usual routine — dinner, playtime, bedtime stories.

Adeline couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Lilith was the light of her life, the reason she kept going even on the toughest days.

She had fought for Lilith before she was even born, through sleepless nights filled with doubt, through the suffocating fear of wondering how she would do it alone. The father had never been in the picture — he hadn’t wanted to be — and she had long stopped caring. What she had gained was far greater than what she had lost.

Lilith was her heart walking outside her body.

Every sacrifice, every long shift, every moment of exhaustion was worth it.

And it wasn’t just about being a mother. She loved her job, too.

Physiotherapy wasn’t just a career — it was something she was passionate about, something she had worked relentlessly for. Helping people heal, watching them rebuild their strength, seeing them step back into the life they thought they’d lost — it was fulfilling in a way nothing else was.

She had climbed her way up, studying late into the night after putting Lilith to bed, taking extra certifications while balancing work and motherhood. It hadn’t been easy. But she was good at what she did.

She remembered the early days of motherhood, when everything had felt so uncertain. There was a time when she had been terrified — terrified of raising Lilith on her own, terrified of how hard it would be. But there was also a moment, after months of sleepless nights and endless worry, when she’d found the strength to tell herself, don’t give up on yourself. She had whispered those words like a promise, a way to keep her head above water.

Now, years later, she repeated that phrase whenever things got tough. It wasn’t easy, but she had made a life for herself and for Lilith, one small step at a time.

“Mum? Mum!” Her thoughts were interrupted by a small voice from the hallway when Lilith called, her little voice muffled from her bedroom. “Mum, I can’t sleep.”

Adeline dried her hands quickly and moved toward the door, calling out gently, “I’m coming, Lily.”

Lilith was curled up in her bed, clutching her stuffed bunny. “I had a bad dream.” she mumbled, holding out her arms.

Adeline bent down to scoop her daughter up, cradling her in her arms. “What happened, darling?” she asked, brushing a lock of hair from Lilith’s forehead.

“I dreamed the bunny got lost.” she said softly. “Can we keep him close?”

“Of course, my love.” Adeline smiled and settled them both under the covers, letting Lilith snuggle into her arms. “He’s safe now, I promise. No one’s taking him.”

As she laid there, her phone buzzed from the kitchen counter, the vibration loud in the quiet room. Adeline’s eyes fluttered open, and she reluctantly got herself away from Lilith, tucking the blanket around her daughter before heading back to the kitchen.

She frowned when she saw the name of your boss, Dr. Hearst, on the screen. It was nearly 11 p.m. What could he want this late?

“Dr. Hearst?” She answered quickly.

“Adeline, I’ve got an opportunity for you. A big one.” His voice came through steady, direct.

She straightened. “I’m listening.”

“Mason Mount came in tonight. Complete ACL tear. Manchester United is assembling a team to handle his recovery, and they need the best physiotherapist for the job.” Adeline was not a football enthusiast, she’s heard his name a few times, but that’s it.

“And… you’re saying that’s me?”

“Yes. You’re the most qualified in our department, especially with your postgrad in sports injuries. I vouched for you.”

“I appreciate that, but-” Adeline hesitated, gripping the edge of the counter.

“I know what you’re thinking.” he cut in. “But, listen. They’re offering serious money. More than double your salary. This isn’t just about your career, Adeline. This is about securing a future — for you and Lilith.”

Lilith.

Adeline’s gaze flickered toward the closed bedroom door, where her daughter was sleeping soundly, unaware of the weight pressing on her mother’s shoulders.

“When do they need an answer?” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

“Tomorrow morning. We’re finalizing the medical team, If you want in, be at the hospital by eight.”

A beat of silence passed.

Adeline swallowed. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long.” Dr. Hearst warned. “This is the kind of chance that doesn’t come twice.”

She ended the call and stood there for a moment, staring at her phone.

Footballers. She’d heard enough stories from her colleagues — entitled, arrogant, difficult to work with. But…

She glanced at Lilith’s door again.

This wasn’t just about her. This was about her daughter’s future.

And Adeline always put Lilith first.

(...)

[takamimami]

I am a fucking idiot my brain clocked out while I was reading the prompts

All Angst;

2, 8, 11.

All with both Law and Kid (seperate)

Hello, my dear. Thank you for the request! I have been needing to crank out some good old heart-wrenching angst, so this request was much appreciated!

That being said, I am a sucker for both Kidd and Law, so this will be a two-parter - sorry to keep you waiting :3 but I promise there will be plenty of angst and smut in the next part, so hopefully it is worth the wait <3

Kidd/Law x F!Reader - SFW - "Please don't talk about yourself like that." - STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: ANGST; kidd is prideful and stubborn, law is moody and sensitive, crew mate!reader ---word count ~1k each

A simple comment about him controlling his temper was all it took to have you and your captain at each other’s throats. You couldn’t understand how he could be so brazen and hot-headed when danger stared him in the face, and he didn’t give you a chance to explain where your concerns stemmed from before he dismissed them completely, his stubbornness rearing its ugly head as he cut you off in the middle of your sentence.

“I don’t care to hear anymore, Y/N. I am the captain of this crew, and I will handle things my way. The pirate I am has gotten our crew to where we are so far - so if you have a problem with the way I handle things…”

🌷

“...Either keep it to yourself or get lost!”

You barely heard the words leave his mouth as he stared down at you, chest puffed out and breathing heavily as he yelled. Your eyes burned, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how hard his words hit you. Instead, you looked over to Killer - who normally played peacemaker between the two of you during your squabbles - to find him rubbing his temples as Kidd turned and stormed away from you, leaving you standing in the middle of the deck. Unbeknownst to you, Quincy was also lurking near the stairs to the helm, witnessing the fall out of what started out as a heart-to-heart with your captain.

You let the first sob shake your shoulders as the door to Kidd’s workshop slams shut, and Quincy and Killer are immediately on you, both of them reaching a reassuring hand to your shoulders. You brush away from their touch, storming to the bow of the ship to get away from everyone, feeling your chest tightening as you struggle to draw in breaths.

To your surprise Quincy follows you, lingering a few feet from where you grip the railing, trying your best to level your breathing as tears continue to sting your eyes. She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to leave you alone, but also not wanting to impose on your space as you try to settle your mind.

“He didn’t mean it,” she says softly, shifting closer to you as you turn and lean against the railing, keeping your eyes on the ground as she approaches.

“Yes he did,” you murmur, feeling the familiar self-doubt creep into your mind as you think over the argument that just occurred. “He’s always told me I’m too emotional for this lifestyle, so maybe I don’t belong here after all.”

Quincy flinches at your words, reaching her arms out and pulling you into a hug by your shoulders. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, Y/N,” she chastises, pulling away to look you in your eyes as she continues. “Kidd is just… emotionally constipated. Like, all the time. He views emotions as a sign of weakness, and he doesn’t realize that if everyone on this crew acted as irrationally as he did, we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

You hold back the new tears forming in your eyes as you look at Quincy, talking in her words as she offers you a gentle smile. 

“C’mon,” she nudges, “I know where Killer keeps his comfort snacks.”

She giggles as your lip curls into a smile, following her to the kitchen and immediately feeling a lump in your throat as you open the door to Kidd and Killer arguing in the kitchen.

Kidd’s eyes flick over to you, not even flinching at your disheveled appearance before he returns his gaze to Killer, who looks exasperated as he nudges his head in your direction. 

“Apologize.”

Killer’s authoritative voice makes you flinch as you keep your eyes on Kidd, his throat bobbing as he holds Killer’s glare. 

“Last time I checked, I am the captain of this crew,” he says between gritted teeth. He turns his gaze to you, eyes fiery with rage as he grows more defensive by the second. “And I don’t recall one of my responsibilities as captain to be coddling my crew when they don’t get their way.”

You feel your jaw tense at his words, and before you can swallow down the retort you take a step forward and press your hands to the counter. 

“Stop acting like a self-righteous prick, Kidd,” you snap, feeling the rage bubbling up from your gut as you lash out at him. “I only said what I did earlier because… I love you.”

The last words leave your mouth quieter than the previous ones, your voice cracking from the vulnerability behind them. This was only the second time you’d dare utter the words to Kidd, the first time you had been the day he lost his arm - when you weren’t sure he would make it. The two of you hadn’t spoken about it directly, but you knew Kidd was mindful of the way you felt for him, at least you thought that was the case until today.

You can feel Killer and Quincy tense as Kidd’s stance sharpens, his lip curling as if he were going to snarl at the words leaving your mouth.

“I didn’t ask you to love me.”

Your breath hitches as you hear the words hanging in the air, the weight of them bearing down on your shoulders as the tears burning your eyes begin to fall. 

Kidd looks away, almost wincing at your reaction as he speaks again.

“I am the way that I am, Y/N. You of all people should know this,” he grunts, moving from his spot across the kitchen and heading towards the door. “I don’t need any of you trying to change me or tell me what I should be doing.”

With that Kidd kicks open the door to the kitchen and stomps away, back out onto the deck. 

You try your best to hold in the sobs as you saunter over to the door, desperate to go curl up in your bed and try to sort through your thoughts. 

“Y/N,” Killer calls to you quietly, causing you to pause at the door as you try to muster the strength to answer him. 

Your lip quivers, the hole in your chest growing as you hear Kidd’s words echoing through your mind, and instead of saying anything you just look back at Killer. The pain in your eyes must have said enough because his shoulders slump as he watches you leave the kitchen.

Your vision blurs as you disappear below deck and into the women’s quarters, grateful that no one was around to hear you as your sobs rock you into a fitful sleep.

🐯

“...Maybe it's time to re-evaluate your position on this crew.”

You could feel your nails digging into your palms as you squeezed your hands into fists at your sides, feeling that familiar burn in your eyes as you watched Law resume wrapping the wound on his arm. 

He winces as he struggles to lift his shoulder, and you instinctively lunge towards him to assist him with wrapping the wound, your jaw tight as you work in silence. You fought the urge to tie the bandage too tight in retaliation as Law watched you work, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he took in how your delicate hands traced over his skin.

The door to his office swings open behind you as you finish tying off the gauze, and Bepo strolls in and drops a stack of paperwork onto Law’s desk before turning it over to the two of you. 

“Captain,” he says wearily, nodding awkwardly as he feels the tension in the air between the two of you. “Shachi and I are done sorting through the documents you brought back, and these are the ones that looked the most promising.”

Law turns his attention from you to Bepo, and you take the opportunity to shift away from him, shuffling towards the door in an attempt to dismiss yourself. 

“Y/N,” Law’s stern voice cuts through the air, Bepo flinching a bit as he casts a sympathetic gaze your way. “We’re not done, here.”

You squeeze your hands again, feeling your palms sting as you stop halfway through the doorway. You breathe in deeply before looking over your shoulder at him, his brows furrowing as he catches your heated glare.

Bepo salutes awkwardly as he shuffles towards the door, distress evident on his face as he disappears back down the hall, leaving you alone with Law once again.

You turn around and lean against the wall, eyeing Law from across the room as he hobbles over to his desk, skimming over the papers that Bepo left as he contemplates the next thing to say.

“I don’t appreciate being questioned, Y/N,” Law murmurs, eyes lifting to meet yours as he sits down behind his desk. “At the end of the day, the crew will do as I say, and I will take whatever necessary measures are needed in order to ensure we are successful.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you refocus on him. “So we are supposed to just stand idly by while you make reckless decisions, regardless of how risky they are? You expect your crew to just sit back and be yes-men?”

He grimaces at the tone in your voice, his eyes dropping back down to the papers on his desk. “I want my crew to trust me, and not question their captain’s decisions.”

“Well, I can’t do that, Law. Not when I care about you this much.” You feel your breath catch in your throat and your pulse rise at the realization of your admission. 

Law’s hand tightens on the edge of the table, and his eyes shoot back up to meet your heated gaze. “If you can’t trust me, Y/N, then why are you part of this crew?”

You suck in a shallow breath at Law’s question, wondering if he was asking it to you or to himself. 

“If you don’t want me here, just say that,” you say through clenched teeth, dropping your chin to your chest as you feel your eyes begin to burn.

Law grimaces, still holding firm as he keeps his gaze on you, “Your words, not mine.”

Not an admission, but his answer leaves little room for comfort as you slowly release the breath you had been holding. You can feel your pulse in your temples as you do your best to fight off the tears, turning away from Law and storming out of the room as you feel the first one slip through your lids.

You waited half a beat for him to call out to you, to come rushing after you to offer you the reassurance you were seeking - that he wanted you on his crew. But Law remained in his office chair as your trembling legs carried you down the halls of the polar tang, stopping as you round the corner to release the pressure building in your chest. A sob rakes through your body, your throat immediately going raw as the tears spill faster and faster. You bring a hand to your mouth to keep the sound from reaching your crewmates down the hall, ducking into the small corridor that leads to the small women’s quarters. 

You quickly enter the room and shut the door behind you, leaning your head against it as your sobs intensify, the sound vibrating off the walls of the empty room. You turn and lean against the door, sinking down to the floor and holding your knees to your chest as you try to get a grip on the emotions swirling through your chest. You hear footsteps approaching from down the hall and try to muffle the sounds of your cries, but Bepo’s soft knock at the door for some reason brings a whole new wave of emotions washing over you. 

“Y/N,” he calls gently through the door. You drop your head down onto your arms and continue sobbing, letting the pathetic sounds tell Bepo everything he needs to know as he lingers on the other end of the door.

“I’m fine, Bepo,” you croak, knowing you don’t sound anywhere near as convincing as you wanted to. “I’ll be gone soon, so you and the others won't have to worry about me. I’m sure you’ll find someone better suited for this kind of thing anyway.

Bepo leans into the door, wishing he could somehow offer you an embrace through it.

“Please don’t say that, Y/N. We need you.” 

Silence is all you can offer him as your eyes begin to burn again, fresh tears cascading down your face.

He stands there for a while before giving up, realizing you need this time to be alone as he places a supportive paw on the door opposite you before walking away. His footsteps disappear down the halls, leaving you alone with your thoughts - the sound of Law’s voice haunting your dreams as you slump onto the cold floor.

Part Two

100 Follower Event Masterlist ✨come say hai :3✨

[2b4st4r]

I see your requests are open so id like to request something! So im a little nervous going back to work next week after being out for a month due to surgery. Could i maybe get Marco, Shanks, and/or Ace helping reader readjust with going back to normal crew life after being out with an injury? Fluff if possible! Thank you!

Rekindled Fire

Ace x reader

words: 5,604

warnings: descriptions of violence , use of y/n, F!reader.

━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━

The clash of steel rang in your ears, a symphony of destruction you'd grown intimately familiar with. Sweat stung your eyes, but you didn't dare blink, your gaze locked on the chaotic maelstrom of the battlefield. This wasn't just another skirmish; this was a brutal, no-holds-barred brawl against the notorious Black Tide Pirates, a crew as relentless as the very waves they sailed. Their captain, "Barnacle" Barty, a hulking brute with a hook for a hand and a sneer permanently etched onto his scarred face, was a force to be reckoned with. Your trusted cutlass, Seasplitter, felt like an extension of your arm, its familiar weight a comfort as you parried a vicious blow from a burly Black Tide first mate, his weapon a crude, spiked club that whistled dangerously close to your ear.

Around you, the Whitebeard Pirates fought with their usual ferocity. Jozu, a shimmering diamond, tore through their ranks, leaving a trail of stunned and bruised enemies. Vista's graceful swordplay was a deadly dance, cutting down foes with elegant precision. But your focus was narrow, your world shrinking to the space between you and your current opponent, and the reassuring, fiery presence beside you.

Ace.

He was a whirlwind of flames, each punch a scorching inferno that sent Black Tide pirates scattering. His signature "Fire Fist" erupted, incinerating a cluster of enemies who dared to get too close. A surge of warmth, not from the heat of his Devil Fruit but from the sheer comfort of his proximity, washed over you. You moved in sync, a deadly pas de deux amidst the chaos. When he needed an opening, you created it. When you were pressed, his flames were there, a blazing shield.

Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed over you. Barnacle Barty himself. His single eye, glinting with malice, fixed on you. "So, the Whitebeard witch," he rasped, his voice like grinding stone. "Heard you're quite the handful. Let's see if those pretty eyes can still see after I'm done with you."

Before you could react, his massive hook swung in a wide arc, aiming for your head. Time seemed to slow. You twisted, Seasplitter coming up to block, but the force of the blow was tremendous. Your arm screamed in protest, and you skidded back, your boots digging trenches in the splintered deck. Just as Barty prepared to follow up, a wall of fire erupted between you, forcing him back with a roar of frustration.

"Leave her alone, Barty!" Ace's voice, usually laced with an easygoing warmth, was now a low growl, filled with barely contained fury. His body was wreathed in crackling flames, his eyes burning with an intensity that mirrored the inferno within him. You felt a fierce protectiveness bloom in your chest, even as you rubbed your aching arm. He was always there, your fiery anchor in the storm.

Barty sneered, "Ah, the brat. Still playing hero, are we? You think you can stop the Black Tide?"

"I don't think," Ace retorted, his fists igniting, "I know."

You knew what was coming. Ace, when truly angered, was a force of nature. But Barty was no pushover. This wasn't going to be a quick fight. You adjusted your grip on Seasplitter, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. This was your life, this exhilarating dance with death, side-by-side with the man you loved, surrounded by your family. The stakes were high, the air thick with tension and the smell of gunpowder and salt. The roar of the ocean, the cries of battle, it all faded into a dull thrum as you prepared to jump back into the fray, ready to protect your crew, ready to protect him, no matter the cost.

Your decision was instantaneous, a primal instinct overriding all else. Barty, fueled by rage and the promise of a decisive blow, brought his hook down with terrifying speed towards Ace, who, despite his fiery prowess, was momentarily caught off guard, a split-second opening in his defense. There was no time to think, no room for hesitation.

You lunged.

The world blurred, the cacophony of battle fading to a distant hum. All that mattered was the space between Barty's lethal hook and Ace's unshielded form. You pushed Ace with all your might, a desperate, forceful shove that sent him stumbling out of the direct path of the attack.

Then, an agonizing, searing pain blossomed in your side. The hook, meant for Ace, found its mark in you instead. It wasn't a clean cut; it was a brutal, tearing rip through flesh and muscle, a searing brand that felt as though molten iron had been plunged into your body. A choked gasp escaped your lips, raw and involuntary, as your vision swam. The impact spun you around, sending you crashing to the splintered deck, Seasplitter clattering uselessly from your numb fingers.

The world tilted, painted in shades of blinding white and an encroaching darkness. The scent of your own blood, metallic and sickeningly warm, filled your nostrils. You heard Ace's roar, a guttural sound of pure anguish and fury, echoing in the hazy distance. He was there, suddenly, kneeling beside you, his hands hovering, unsure how to help, his face a mask of horrified disbelief. His usual fiery aura flickered, diminished by the shock.

"Y/N!" His voice was raw, laced with a torment that tore at your heart more than the wound itself. He gripped your hand, his touch oddly gentle, yet trembling.

Through the haze, you could see Barty, his face contorted in a sneer of triumph, already preparing for another strike, this time aiming for Ace, who was still reeling from the shock of your sacrifice. But Ace, seeing the renewed threat, erupted. His body became a supernova, flames licking hungrily at the air, his eyes blazing with an intensity you had rarely witnessed, an unholy inferno born of despair and vengeance.

You wanted to tell him to be careful, to not be reckless, but the words wouldn't form. Your breath hitched, each inhale a fresh wave of agony. The deck beneath you felt cold, hard, unyielding. The battle raged on, a distant, muffled roar, but your world had shrunk to this small, agonizing space, illuminated by the desperate fire in Ace's eyes. You could only watch, helpless, as your sacrifice ignited a storm within him.

Ace was a blur of righteous fury, his Hiken erupting with a force that sent Barnacle Barty reeling back, momentarily stunned. The air crackled with the sheer heat of Ace's anger, and the Black Tide pirates surrounding them instinctively retreated, their faces pale with fear. They knew that rage. They knew what it meant to cross a Whitebeard commander, especially one who had just witnessed a loved one fall.

But Ace’s focus was already off Barty. He was by your side in an instant, his fiery aura still simmering but his hands now surprisingly gentle as he tried to assess the damage. He tore a strip from his own shirt, pressing it against the gaping wound in your side, trying to staunch the gushing blood. Your vision was tunneling, the edges darkening, but you could hear the frantic shouts of your crewmates.

"Doctor! Get the doctor!" someone yelled, and the words barely registered through the fog of pain.

Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared, his lean frame moving with an urgency you rarely saw from him. It was Marco, the First Division Commander, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a look of grim determination. He was the crew's doctor, his Phoenix Devil Fruit abilities granting him extraordinary healing powers, but even he couldn't fix everything with just a touch.

He knelt beside you, his bright blue flames flickering around his hands as he gently pushed Ace's makeshift bandage aside. A sharp intake of breath from Marco confirmed your worst fears. "This is bad, yoi," he muttered, his voice unusually strained. "The hook went deep, caught something vital. We need to get her to the medical bay, now."

Ace scooped you up with a tenderness that belied his usual boisterous nature, holding you close to his chest as he sprinted towards the lower decks of the Moby Dick. The battle above still raged, but for Ace, nothing else mattered. You could feel the warmth of his body, the frantic beat of his heart against your back, and it was the only thing keeping the encroaching darkness at bay.

The medical bay was a flurry of controlled chaos. Nurses, usually tending to less severe injuries, moved with frantic efficiency, preparing instruments. Marco barked orders, his voice sharp and clear despite the urgency. He had shed his usual jacket, his arms bare, revealing the strength that belied his often relaxed posture.

He looked at you, his gaze piercing through the pain-induced haze. "We need to operate, Y/N. The wound is severe. I can stabilize you, but it's going to be a long shot. There's internal bleeding, and a major artery might be compromised."

You wanted to nod, to tell him you trusted him, but even that small movement sent a fresh wave of agony through you. You could only manage a weak squeeze of Ace's hand, which he still held tightly. His face was pale, drawn, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant self. He looked at Marco, desperation etched across his features.

"Do whatever it takes, Marco," Ace pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Anything."

Marco nodded, his expression resolute. "We'll do our best, yoi. But... it's going to be touch and go. It’s a very serious injury. She’ll need all her strength to pull through this."

As they prepared for the surgery, the last thing you saw before the world dissolved into blackness was Ace's face, hovering above yours, his eyes filled with a raw, agonizing fear you'd never seen before, and a single tear tracing a path through the grime on his cheek.

The world returned to you in fragments, a mosaic of muffled sounds and hazy sensations. The rhythmic creak of timbers, the distant roar of the ocean, the soft murmur of voices – all slowly coalesced into a fragile reality. You felt a dull ache, a persistent throb that was a constant reminder of the gaping void in your memory. It was as if you had been adrift in a vast, dark sea, and now, slowly, you were being pulled back to shore.

The surgery, you would later learn, had been a brutal dance with death. Marco, with his steady hands and keen medical mind, had fought tooth and nail for your life. The internal bleeding was extensive, the damage to the major artery severe. He’d worked for what felt like an eternity, his blue flames a constant, flickering beacon in the operating theater, sealing wounds and cauterizing torn tissue. He'd poured every ounce of his Phoenix Devil Fruit's restorative power into you, pushing his own limits to the brink. It had been a desperate race against time, a battle you were losing until the very last moment. Your life had hung by the thinnest of threads, a testament to Marco’s skill and the sheer will of your body to survive.

Slowly, carefully, you opened your eyes. The infirmary of the Moby Dick was exactly as you remembered it, familiar in its clinical warmth. Sunlight, filtered through a porthole, cast a gentle glow on the crisp white sheets pulled up to your chest. The air smelled of antiseptics and something faintly sweet, perhaps a medicinal herb. You tried to shift, but a sharp tug in your side stopped you, a stark reminder of the massive bandage covering your torso. It felt tight, oppressive, but also reassuringly protective.

You were alive.

A wave of profound relief, so intense it almost brought tears to your eyes, washed over you. You had survived. The fight, the pain, the terrifying darkness – it was over. For now. Your gaze drifted around the room. Empty beds, neatly made, lined the walls. A small, familiar figure was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the mattress, his spiky black hair a chaotic mess.

It was Ace.

He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. Even in slumber, a faint trace of exhaustion lingered on his face, a testament to the ordeal he had endured. A bandage, neatly wrapped, was visible on his left forearm – a minor injury, you realized, in comparison to yours. He must have stayed here, watched over you, for who knew how long. A warmth spread through your chest, eclipsing the physical discomfort. A silent testament to his love, a comfort deeper than any medicine.

A soft groan escaped your lips as you tried to shift, the sound barely audible, but it was enough. Ace’s head snapped up, his eyes, usually blazing with life, now wide with a dazed, disoriented look that quickly transformed into pure, unadulterated relief.

“Y/N?” he breathed, his voice rough with sleep and emotion. He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the chair, and was instantly by your side, his hand gently covering yours. His touch was hesitant, as if you were made of glass. “You’re awake. Thank the heavens, you’re awake.”

A small, weak smile touched your lips. “Hey, you big dummy,” you whispered, your voice raspy. “Did you really think I’d kick the bucket that easily?”

He let out a shaky laugh, a sound that was half-sob, and leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. You could feel the tremor in his body, the sheer exhaustion and worry he’d been carrying. “Don’t you ever do that again,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Before you could respond, the infirmary door slid open with a soft swish, and Marco stepped in, a medical chart in his hand. His gaze immediately fell on you, and a rare, genuine smile broke through his usual stoicism.

“Good to see you awake, yoi,” he said, his voice calm but with an underlying current of relief. He walked over to the bed, pulling up a chair on the opposite side from Ace. “You gave us quite a scare. It was a close call, kid. Very close.”

He began to check your vitals, his fingers light and practiced on your wrist, his eyes scanning the monitors beside the bed. Ace, still holding your hand, watched Marco with an intensity that could burn holes in steel.

“How is she, Marco?” Ace asked, his voice tight with a lingering anxiety.

Marco finished his assessment, then straightened up. “Stable. All vitals are strong, given the trauma. You’re incredibly lucky, Y/N. The hook went deep, perforated your peritoneum, and came dangerously close to your kidney. But we managed to stop the bleeding and repair the damage.” He tapped the chart. “You lost a lot of blood, and you’ll be on a strict recovery regimen for a while, but you’re going to pull through, yoi.”

He looked directly at you, his blue eyes serious. “You’ll be weak for a bit, and that wound will take time to heal. No fighting, no strenuous activity for at least a month, possibly more. We’ll keep you here in the infirmary for a few weeks to monitor for infection and ensure proper healing. We’re not taking any chances.”

You managed a small nod, relief washing over you in waves. You were alive. You would recover. And Ace was right here.

The first few days were a blur of pain, exhaustion, and the constant hum of the ship. Your world was confined to the infirmary bed, punctuated by Marco's regular visits. He was a meticulous doctor, his assessments thorough and his instructions clear. He’d check your bandages, listen to your breathing, and prod gently around the wound, always with a reassuring, "Looking good, yoi," even when your own body screamed otherwise. Ace was a near-constant presence, rarely leaving your side unless it was for a quick, essential duty. He'd bring you broth, read to you from tattered adventure novels, and simply sit there, holding your hand, his quiet strength a palpable comfort.

Your first real failure came on Day Five. Marco decided it was time for you to try and sit up. The simple act felt monumental. You braced yourself, pushing with your arms, but a searing pain ripped through your side, making you gasp and collapse back onto the pillows. Shame washed over you. Ace was instantly there, his face etched with worry. "Easy, easy," he soothed, gently pushing a strand of hair from your face. Marco just nodded, unperturbed. "It's a big incision, yoi. Your core muscles are still healing. Don't push it. We'll try again tomorrow." It was a small setback, but in that moment, it felt like an insurmountable obstacle.

Small Victories

The next day, with Ace propping you up and Marco supervising, you managed to sit upright for a full minute, your teeth gritted against the protest of your wound. It was a tiny victory, but a victory nonetheless. Each day brought small, incremental improvements. Soon, you were shuffling a few steps to the bathroom, then taking short walks around the infirmary, clinging to Ace's arm like a lifeline. The feeling of your feet on solid ground, even just for a moment, was a sweet taste of freedom.

One afternoon, about two weeks after the surgery, Marco brought you a light training dummy. "Time to start building that strength back, yoi," he said. You scoffed. "You want me to fight that?"

He just raised an eyebrow. "Just gentle movements. Focus on your stance, your balance. Don't engage the core too much yet."

Your first attempts were pathetic. Your arms felt like lead, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. You tried a simple parry, and a sharp jolt of pain reminded you of the internal stitches. You wanted to scream in frustration. Ace, watching from a nearby chair, looked like he was biting his tongue to keep from rushing over.

"Again," Marco instructed calmly. "Slowly. Focus on the form, not the power."

You gritted your teeth and tried again. And again. And again. You failed to hold a stance without wobbling. You stumbled when trying a simple lunge. But with each attempt, the movements became a fraction smoother, the pain a tiny bit less jarring. You focused on the muscle memory, on the years of training that were embedded deep within you.

A Glimmer of Hope

Then came the day you truly felt a shift. It was three weeks post-op. Marco had cleared you for slightly more active, but still gentle, exercises. You were practicing a series of slow, deliberate sword forms with Seasplitter, its familiar weight now comforting rather than cumbersome. You moved through a sequence, focusing on breathing, on balance, on controlling the slight tremble in your limbs. As you brought the blade down in a controlled, fluid arc, there was no sharp pain, just a dull ache. You completed the sequence, breathing heavily, but feeling a surge of satisfaction.

Marco, who had been observing from the doorway, gave a rare, genuine nod of approval. "Good, yoi," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "That's progress. Significant progress."

Ace, who had been leaning against the wall, watching your every move, straightened up, a wide, relieved grin spreading across his face. "Told you she's tough," he boasted to Marco, then winked at you. "You'll be kicking ass again in no time, Y/N."

You smiled back, a real, unforced smile. You still had a long way to go. The scar tissue would ache for months, and your full strength wouldn't return overnight. But you had faced down death, endured the pain, and pushed through the frustration. You were getting stronger, day by day, with your family by your side. The open sea called, and soon, you would be ready to answer.

The day finally arrived, a crisp morning bathed in the golden light of the rising sun. It had been two long months since you’d last felt the bracing wind on your face outside the infirmary, two months since you’d heard the true, unadulterated roar of the Grand Line from the open deck. Marco, after a final, thorough check-up, had given you the all-clear, with the stern caveat to still be mindful of your limits. "No heroics just yet, yoi," he'd warned, a rare glimmer of concern in his eyes.

You stood before the full-length mirror in your cabin, pulling on your familiar pirate attire. The fabric felt foreign after weeks of soft infirmary gowns, but also wonderfully normal. Your cutlass, Seasplitter, hung at your hip, its weight a comforting, familiar presence. You traced the faint, reddish line of the scar peeking from beneath your shirt – a permanent reminder of how close you’d come. A wave of nerves, cold and unsettling, washed over you.

You'd fought countless battles, faced down monstrous beasts and formidable foes without a flicker of fear. But this was different. This was the fear of being less than. The fear of not being able to keep up, of being a burden, of failing the crew, of failing Ace. Your hands trembled slightly as you buckled your belt.

Ace found you just like that, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his face. "Ready to rejoin the chaos, Y/N?" he asked, his voice laced with his usual easygoing charm. But then he saw the subtle tension in your shoulders, the slight tremor in your hands. His smile softened, and he pushed off the frame, moving to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms gently around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "What's wrong? You're usually busting down the door to get out there."

You leaned back into his warmth, drawing strength from his embrace. "I don't know, Ace," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm... nervous. What if I'm not ready? What if I'm too slow, too weak? What if I can't pull my weight? What if I get in your way?"

He squeezed you gently. "You think I'd let you get in my way? Never. And you're not weak, Y/N. You faced down death and spat in its eye. You think a few weeks off deck is going to change that? Marco said you're cleared, and if Marco says it, it's gospel. Besides," he chuckled, a warm breath against your neck, "you've been driving him crazy with your endless questions about when you could get back to sparring. He practically begged me to take you off his hands."

He turned you gently in his arms so you were facing him. His eyes, usually so full of fire, were soft, reassuring. "Look at me. You're a Whitebeard Pirate, one of the best. You're my partner. We're a team, always have been. And if you're feeling a little rusty, we'll knock that rust off together. I'll be right there, every step of the way. Just like you were there for me." He paused, his thumb gently stroking the curve of your cheek. "You saved my life, Y/N. You think I'm going to let anything happen to you out there now?"

His words, simple and heartfelt, were a balm to your frayed nerves. The warmth of his touch, the unwavering trust in his eyes, slowly chased away the chill of doubt. You took a deep breath, the salty air of the ship filling your lungs. He was right. You weren't alone. You never had been.

"Okay," you said, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "Okay. Let's go."

With renewed resolve, you stepped out of the cabin, Ace's hand finding yours. The familiar sounds of the bustling deck, the laughter of your crewmates, the distant cry of gulls – it all enveloped you, a warm embrace. You were back.

Stepping onto the main deck of the Moby Dick was like breathing fresh air for the first time in months. The salty spray of the ocean instantly invigorated you, chasing away the last vestiges of infirmary stuffiness. The familiar rumble of the ship beneath your feet was a comforting rhythm, a heartbeat you’d sorely missed. Your eyes, accustomed to the muted light of the medical bay, drank in the vibrant chaos of daily crew life.

Thatch was bellowing orders in the galley, the aroma of a hearty breakfast already wafting tantalizingly through the air. You caught a glimpse of Jozu, his diamond form gleaming as he effortlessly lifted a massive crate, while Vista’s laughter drifted from a group gathered near the mast. It was all so wonderfully, gloriously normal.

As you and Ace walked hand-in-hand, heads began to turn. Smiles, wide and genuine, broke out across familiar faces. Hands waved. "Y/N!" someone shouted, and then a chorus of welcomes erupted. "She's back!" "Lookin' good, Y/N!"

Your initial nervousness began to melt away, replaced by a surge of warmth and belonging. These were your people, your family.

Pops, massive and imposing even in his seated position, boomed with laughter from his usual spot. "Looks like my troublesome daughter decided to rejoin us, huh?" he rumbled, a fond smile on his face. You grinned back, feeling a lightness in your chest you hadn't experienced in weeks.

Ace, still holding your hand, steered you towards the bustling galley. "First order of business: getting some proper food into you that isn't bland infirmary slop," he declared, pulling out a chair at a table already laden with plates of eggs, bacon, and freshly baked bread.

You spent the morning simply being. You ate, laughing at Thatch's boisterous stories, feeling the easy camaraderie of your brothers and sisters in arms. Later, you sat with some of the younger recruits, listening to their tales of recent adventures, offering advice, and feeling the familiar pull of mentorship. You still felt a slight stiffness in your side, a dull ache that served as a constant reminder, but it was manageable, easily pushed to the background by the sheer joy of being back.

The real test came in the afternoon. Ace, true to his word, found you. "Ready to knock off some of that rust?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes, gesturing towards a less-crowded part of the deck.

You grinned, a challenge blooming in your chest. "Lead the way, firecracker."

He started you slow, just as Marco had instructed. Gentle sparring with staves, focusing on footwork and balance. Your first few moves were clumsy, your timing off, and you stumbled more than once. Ace, ever patient, simply adjusted his own movements to match yours, offering quiet corrections. "Too much power in that swing, remember your core," he'd say, or "Shift your weight, like this."

Then came the moment you felt the old rhythm return. You ducked under a feint from Ace, pivoted, and brought your staff up in a clean, swift block that met his with a satisfying thwack. Your movements were fluid, precise, and for the first time since the surgery, you felt your muscles respond with the familiar strength you'd always commanded. Ace grinned, a flash of genuine surprise and pride on his face. "There it is!" he exclaimed. "Welcome back, Y/N!"

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, you stood on the deck, a comfortable fatigue settling into your bones. You were back in your element, back with your family. The road to full recovery was still ahead, but you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your heart, that you wouldn't walk it alone.

Life aboard the Moby Dick quickly resumed its familiar rhythm, and you found yourself seamlessly re-integrating into the sprawling family that was the Whitebeard Pirates. The initial aches and stiffness from your injury slowly faded into a dull background throb, a constant, low-level reminder of your near-fatal encounter.

Back in the Fray

The first time you were truly tested came a week later during a routine patrol. A smaller, rogue pirate crew, emboldened by rumors of Whitebeard’s commanders being temporarily indisposed (no doubt thanks to the Black Tide Pirates spreading misinformation), dared to make a move on a supply convoy under Whitebeard’s protection.

You found yourself on the front lines again, Seasplitter a familiar weight in your hand. The sounds of battle – the clang of steel, the shouts, the impact of blows – were no longer a distant echo of trauma but a vibrant, immediate reality. Your movements weren't as reckless as before, a newfound caution guiding your parries and thrusts. You moved with deliberate precision, valuing efficiency over flashy displays. You remembered Marco’s words, "No heroics just yet."

Mid-skirmish, a hulking pirate swung a heavy axe towards your head. Your instincts screamed to dodge, but your recovering core muscles protested. Instead, you pivoted sharply, letting the axe’s momentum carry it past you, then countered with a swift, clean strike to the pirate's arm. It wasn't the powerful, sweeping blow you might have delivered before, but it was effective, disarming him instantly. Ace, who was scorching a group of enemies nearby, glanced over, a proud grin flashing across his face. You caught his eye, and a silent understanding passed between you – you were still a formidable fighter, just a smarter one now.

Camaraderie and Comfort

Evenings on the Moby Dick were often filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of mugs. You found yourself drawn to these gatherings on deck, no longer retreating to the quiet solitude of the infirmary. One night, while sharing a bottle of sake with Thatch and Vista, the conversation turned to the infamous Black Tide Pirates.

"Heard Barty's still spitting mad about the beating we gave him," Thatch chuckled, taking a long swig. "And even more so about his little 'victory' being short-lived, with you up and about, Y/N."

You raised your mug, a wry smile on your face. "He'll get no sympathy from me. Some lessons need to be taught more than once."

Vista, ever the elegant swordsman, nodded approvingly. "Indeed. Your recovery has been remarkable. Many would not have made it back to the deck so swiftly."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, grateful for their unspoken acknowledgment of your struggle and recovery. It was moments like these, surrounded by your brothers, feeling their acceptance and respect, that truly solidified your return.

Later, you often found yourself on deck with Ace, leaning against the railing, watching the stars blaze across the endless sea. He'd tell you about the latest islands they'd visited while you were recovering, or recount some new, ridiculous prank Thatch had pulled. Sometimes, you'd just stand in comfortable silence, his arm slung around your shoulders, the gentle sway of the ship beneath you.

One night, he squeezed your shoulder. "You know," he murmured, his voice soft, "it feels right, having you back here. The ship just wasn't the same without you."

You leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It feels right to be back," you agreed, the vast, star-dusted ocean stretching out before you. You were a Whitebeard Pirate, a frontline fighter, and a survivor. And you were home.

Life on the Grand Line, however, rarely allowed for prolonged periods of peace. Just as you were settling back into the rhythm of daily life, a new, ominous shadow began to creep across the horizon. Whispers, then outright reports, began to filter through the pirate grapevine: the World Government was making an unprecedented push into a notoriously volatile stretch of sea, an area known for its independent pirate strongholds and treacherous currents – an area the Whitebeard Pirates frequently navigated.

One blustery morning, a lookout’s shout pierced the usual deck chatter. "Marine ships! Bearing down on us!"

The announcement sent a ripple of tension, quickly followed by a surge of readiness, through the crew. This wasn’t a rogue pirate skirmish; this was the World Government, a direct confrontation with the might of their naval forces. As the Marine battleships, sleek and imposing, emerged from the mist, their cannons already swiveling to target the Moby Dick, a grim determination settled over the deck.

Whitebeard’s booming laugh cut through the rising tension. "Hah! Looks like the old man's still got their attention, eh?" He rose from his captain's chair, his massive figure casting a long shadow over the deck. "Alright, my sons! My daughters! Show these dogs of the government what happens when they cross the Whitebeard Pirates!"

You felt the familiar thrill of battle, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, but this time, it was tempered with a sharpened awareness. Your hand instinctively went to Seasplitter's hilt. Beside you, Ace ignited, his fists already flaring with hungry flames. He glanced at you, a familiar fiery grin on his face, but his eyes held a deeper, more serious resolve.

"Ready, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low, a promise and a challenge rolled into one.

You met his gaze, the vast, unforgiving ocean stretching out behind him, the imposing Marine fleet ahead. The scar on your side gave a phantom throb, a quiet reminder of battles past, but it no longer felt like a weakness. It was a testament to your resilience, a symbol of your survival. You had faced death and returned stronger.

"Always," you replied, your voice firm, a fierce light in your eyes. "Let's show them what a Whitebeard Pirate can do."

As the first cannonballs screamed through the air, heading straight for the Moby Dick, you and Ace charged forward, side by side, a united front against the encroaching tide of the World Government. The fight for survival, for freedom, and for family had truly begun anew.

[minimiance]

can i please request something with price and fem!reader who's just unbearably shy around her captain at first regarding personal stuff or attempts to get to know her and he has fun making her nervous because he thinks it's cute and wants to see if she's as shy while squirting on his dick as she is when he asks her favorite flowers 🥰🥰

omg yes bc like, Price being a little bit mean to you and teasing you is what I live for actually 😇

Price who started getting to know you simply enough. Normal things that could be brushed off as a Captain having a healthy curiosity about his soldiers.

Things like your birthday, favourite animals, simple things. And even though you flustered slightly at the older man showing curiosity towards your life you still answered with relatively no problem.

Questions gradually getting a bit more personal, a bit more flirty. How long since you’ve had a good shag, how many kids would you want, are you into older men? He asked them all with a grin on his face, watching you stutter and splutter through your replies. Looking away and avoiding his gaze as you answer with a small voice.

And you can’t think of anything at all, your brain practically mush as he pounds into you in a mating press. He’s still asking questions. Asking if you like how deep his dick is hitting, if you know how sexy you are. Listens to you babble, listening to you murmur a small “Captain, too much too much, I dunno, too embarrassing,” while you moan as his tip practically kisses your cervix in one of his particularly deep thrusts.

Reaches down to play with your clit, rubbing circles into it in a firm and steady pace with his thumb. His mouth latched onto your neck and shoulders to leave his mark on you. He feels you tighten up, listens to your pleas that you choke out with a sob. Groans when he feels your nails dig into his back.

Has you practically screaming when he helps you reach that peak, uncaring of whatever recruits outside could hear your noises. As long as he knew you were all his. Overstimulates you while reaching his own peak. Mutters and calls you his good girl while continuing to pummel your pussy.

When he finally does release deep inside you he does it with a loud groan. Collapses on top of you and chuckles at your whines that he’s heavy. A silence thats filled only with his breathing and your huffs is finally broken after a long moment. Price looks up at you from where he had rested his head on your chest with a cheeky grin.

“What’s your favourite flower, lovie?”

[unboundprompts]

Hello. I'm writing characters who are captain and first mate. The captain saved the first mate from death, and the first mate stays because they think of it as a life debt.

The first mate hasn't ever experienced kindness or a gentle touch without someone wanting something in return or to cause them pain.

The thin is,, I'm having trouble coming up with ideas to grafually grow their platonic relationship. Would you be able to write some platonic prompts about the first mate reacting to the captain being nice to them or doing nice things for them without expecting anything in return?

Captain and First Mate Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

The coat was torn bad across the sleeve, soaked in dried salt and blood. The first mate had left it draped over a chair, meaning to toss it out. In the morning, it was still there, but the tear had been stitched closed, the thread clumsy but steady.

The first mate came below deck soaked to the bone, boots sloshing, hair dripping. Before they could shake off the water, a towel smacked into their chest. "You’re gonna catch cold," the captain muttered, not even looking up from tying off rope. Their ears were pink. The first mate dried off in silence, smiling just a little.

The storm rattled the windows, thunder rolling close. The first mate hadn’t lit a lamp, just sat in silence at the edge of their bunk, elbows on knees. A knock broke through the hush, light, like it wasn’t meant to be heard. When the door opened, the captain stepped in, holding a blanket like it weighed a hundred pounds. "Figured you might want this," they mumbled, setting it down. The door clicked shut again.

Someone cracked a joke, crude and stupid. The kind that normally earned silence. But the captain let out a laugh, a quick, surprised sound, almost like they didn’t mean to. The first mate looked over. The captain shrugged, expression unreadable. "Guess it got me."

The night was too quiet. The stars too still. The first mate lit a cigarette, took a drag, and held it out without a word. The captain hesitated before taking it. They passed it back and forth like it was nothing, but neither of them left. When the ember burned down, the first mate crushed it under their heel and didn’t say goodbye before walking off. They didn’t need to.

The first mate hissed as they tried to clean the scrape on their palm, wincing when saltwater hit raw skin. The captain stepped in without a word, gently prying the cloth from their fingers. They cleaned it with careful hands, slow, methodical, familiar with pain. "You’re terrible at this," the captain murmured.

The clouds were stacking fast, wind howling through the rigging. The crew ran to their posts, but the first mate didn’t move. They stood by the captain, eyes narrowed at the dark on the horizon. "Get below," the captain said. "That’s an order." "I’m not leaving you up here alone," the first mate replied.

[islakaliko]

— Chapter 22: Home for holidays

disclaimer: a/b/o universe, alpha john price, male omega reader, very self indulged

< previous | next >

The house smelled like cinnamon, pine, and just the faintest hint of burnt sugar cookies—because Isabella had insisted on baking “her own special batch,” and her parents had let her. Chaos had ensued.

Snow fell gently outside, dusting the front yard in a soft white blanket. Inside, the warmth was golden. The fire crackled in the hearth, stockings hung slightly askew—each one with a different name stitched across it, including two tiny ones for Luna and Mia, both decked out in their first Christmas pajamas with little reindeer feet.

The tree was a glowing tower of lights and ornaments, none of which matched. Some were handmade by tiny fingers, others were sentimental from years past. There was even one of Ghost’s tactical goggles, which Soap had turned into a tree ornament as a joke (he vehemently denied it was him).

The living room was packed.

(y/n) sat curled up on the couch, Mia sleeping against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching the collar of his sweater. Luna was in John’s arms, blinking sleepily as he rocked her with practiced ease. Around them, their other six children were sprawled in various states of Christmas excitement and sugar highs.

Benjamin was under the tree, shaking every present despite being told not to. Emma and Isabella were carefully arranging cookies for Santa (with a note reminding him they had two babies now and he better bring extra gifts). The twins had built a pillow fort with Soap and Gaz that had somehow taken over half the living room. Oliver lounged nearby, pretending to be disinterested—but occasionally adjusting the star on top of the tree like it mattered.

Ghost, naturally, stood quietly in the corner with a mug of hot chocolate, William perched on his hip like it was the most normal thing in the world.

(y/n) looked around and let out a soft breath, his heart so full it almost ached.

“This,” he murmured to John, “is everything.”

John glanced at him, warmth behind his eyes, one big hand gently rubbing Luna’s back. “It really is, isn’t it?”

(y/n) tilted his head against John’s shoulder. “Think they’ll remember this?”

“The big ones, yeah. The little ones’ll just remember the feeling,” John said softly. “That they were safe. Loved. Home.”

Gaz came back in with mugs of cocoa for everyone. Soap tripped over a pillow and nearly dropped his. Mia stirred a little, letting out the smallest sigh as she nestled closer to (y/n)’s chest.

Outside, the snow thickened. Inside, the tree lights glowed, the fire popped, and the laughter rose again as someone turned on the Christmas playlist—and the twins immediately started shouting over which song should come next.

“Oi!” John called out. “Santa doesn’t come to houses that argue!”

That earned a chorus of “Daaaaaad!” and some very dramatic groans.

But a moment later, (y/n) leaned in closer and whispered, teasing:

“So… Captain… still think you haven’t had enough kids?”

John exhaled a laugh through his nose, gaze sweeping over the room—his mate, his children, his pack.

And he kissed (y/n)’s temple before answering, with all the certainty in the world:

“Not a single one too many.”

[iamnot-crazy]

A Pirate's Choice

Summary: Shortly after leaving Wano the heart pirates run into a easy group of pirates but Law notices you falling behind. You now have to face your captain with the truth of what happened in Wano.

Trafalgar Law x f!reader

TW: This story contains mentions of sexual assault and unwanted pregnancy.

****

The clash of steel echoed across the sunbaked beach as the battle between the Hearts and a smaller aspiring pirate crew. The Heart Pirates were dancing through the battle while you fell behind. Your mind is clouded, and your usual attacks missed their marks. Law quickly pegged your struggles, “Y/N! Either step it up or head back to the tang!” His voice boomed across the beach.

Stubbornness fueled inside of you, and you jumped back into your dance. Your once cloudy thought is now blank as you go through the motions. Law smirked watching you return to your normal self, dancing with parries, dodges, and well- placed blows. You barely notice the ache in your side.

As the fight died down Law searched around the beach to find you leaning on a rock holding you side tightly. Law approach cautiously listening to your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Are you injured?” Law asked pulling to your side trying to scan your form. You nodded lifting your hand to reveal the thin gash barely needing stitches. Law’s brow furrowed in confusion. You’d brushed off worse injuries without batting an eyelid. This wound, the panic – it didn’t make sense. Tears welled in your eyes as you look at the gash.

“What’s really wrong, y/n?” Law’s voice softened looking up at you locking eyes.

Taking a shuddering breath you blurted out, “I think I’m pregnant.”

Law froze, his gaze darted between your face and the wound. Law jumped up to his feet looking over at his first mate, “Bepo!” The mink peeked up, “I’m taking y/n back to the tang I need you to take point.”

The polar bear nodded, and Law scooped you into his arms. A moment later, you found yourself in the submarine's infirmary, gently deposited on the examination table. Law turned and scrubbed his hands before facing you again. “So why do you think you’re pregnant?”

“My period was supposed to start a week and a half ago.” You spoke starring at the wall blankly. Law silently preforms a scan confirming your condition.

"So, who’s the father?" His voice was gruff, laced with a hint of concern. “Is it Shachi?” You shook your head sharply, heightening Law’s concern as you refused his gaze.

“Can you at least tell me when you suspect conception occurred?” His asked taking on a calmer, but no less serious tone.

“Twenty-eight days ago,” you mumbled, a tear traced a salty path down your cheek.

Law’s head snapped up, a horrifying realization dawning on him. His starred at you with eyes filled with anger and concern, “In the Wano prison?” he breathed in shock as you nodded.

Law’s furry began to grow as he hovered over angerly, when you flinched at the movement, he lowered himself back to your level, “Tell me everything”

You shook you head your breath getting caught in your throat. “It was one of the guards.”

“Why didn’t Shachi or Penguin do anything about it?”

“Ikkuka and I were separated from them. The women were placed in another cell.” You sniffled recalling the events while Law listened carefully, “I saw some of the guards being aggressive to some of the woman and I shouted at them to stop. The guards just turned his aggression to me…” Tears now flooded down your face.

“Is Ikkuka?”

“She’s fine. She couldn’t do anything there was too many of them, but they never touched her. I wouldn’t allow it.” You defended.

“Why didn’t either of you tell me sooner?” His hand cupped your tear-stained cheek, his thumb gently traced away the tears flowing down your face.

“It didn’t matter,” you tried to smile but failed as you lips pulled down into a deep frown.

Law placed his hand on your shoulder, “Everything that happens to my crew matters.” He looked deep into your eyes unwavering. You nodded as your breathing calmed and you wiped away the snot dripping from your nose.

Law nodded as he pushed off you step back with his sword in hand. Panic surged through you as he pointed the tip towards your abdomen.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you shrieked scrambling back in fear.

“Removing the blastocyst,” he explained, his voice devoid of emotion.

“The what?” you shouted clutching your stomach protectively.

“The child,” he clarified, lowering his sword slightly. “It won’t hurt.”

He expected you to calm down and agree to the procedure but instead you remained in a protective state.

“You’re not considering keeping it, are you?” His tone was laced with disbelief.

Shame flooded your cheeks, “I… I don’t know,” you mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. Law exhaled a frustrated sigh stepping closer to you his voice softening.

“We can’t have a baby on a pirate ship, y/n,” Law said, his voice laced with practicality.

You knew he was right. Life on the grand line was harsh and unpredictable adding the fact that you are a pirate on a ship with one of the highest bounties. But a tiny voice inside you hesitated, “But…” You stammered, “It’s a baby. How can I just.”

Law groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “That would be your maternal instinct kicking in, Y/n. But you know you can’t have a child. You’re a pirate the world government won’t care if you had a kid. Beside we are deep in the grand line we can’t just take a detour to the North Blue and I am not leaving you at some random island.”

You felt a cold dread pool into your stomach. “Fine!” you blurted out, “Just do it, then!”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No,” he said firmly.

“No? What do you mean no?” you shouted, jumping to your feet. You were a tangled mess of emotions – fear, anger, and something you couldn’t name. “You were just lecturing me about how I have to get rid of it, and now you just… say no?”

“No, I won’t ‘Just do it’” he clarified, his voice softer now, “You need to be completely on board with this decision, Y/n.”

“Two second ago, you were perfectly fine with killing it without my permission!”

“That was before I knew you were hesitant. I won’t have you blaming me later when you start to regret it. I need to know, for sure, that you’re fully at peace with this choice, whatever it may be.”

Silence stretched between you, think with tension and the weight of the decision. You buried your face into your hand’s frustration gnawing at you. You grabbed at your hair; a strangled scream escaped your lips. Hot tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision.

Law placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. His gaze held a mixture of concern and empathy, “What do you want to do, Y/n?” he asked, his voice soft yet unwavering.

****

Part 2

A/N: hey if you wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[simpleeindulge]

The Beast and the Mouse

Info: fem/reader x Kid, 1st meetings, cussing and rude language, Kid in denial, Kid gets a crush, implied sexual yearning, future mature content planned.

Context: Kid develops a crush on a girl he thinks is not his type.

Part 1.

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, and he didn't care who knew it. He stumped through the ship with his fist clutched, looking for Killer. It was rare for him to be pissed off at his best friend and first mate, but dammit, he screwed up!

Killer happened to be in the same room with his fucked-up choice of a new crew member, making Kid paused at the doorway to glared at the man's back. Killer sensed the hostility and glanced over his shoulder. The movement gave Kid a better view of the girl's eyes. Those damn beautiful, doleful eyes that made Kid go still nearly every time he saw them.

“Need something, Captain?”

Kid snapped out of his daze and glared at Killer.

“I need to speak with you in private,” Kid said through gritted teeth then walked away.

Killer tilted his head at Kid, then shrugged and followed him. It was odd that Kid wanted to talk somewhere else.

Normally, Kid would tell whoever was in the room to get out if he wanted to talk with him privately. When Killer walked into Kid’s messy quarters and closed the door, Kid rounded on him and bellowed, “What the hell, Killer! What were you thinking, letting her join the crew without asking me!”

Killer threw up his hands in defense, and he wore a surprised expression behind his mask.

“What are you talking about, Kid?! You asked her to join! Remember!”

“I did not! I-”

But then Kid remembered that he did offer her a chance to join his crew. It had been after a battle with some weaker crew. They celebrated the win at a bar on a nearby island, and she was one of the barmaids there serving drinks.

That is, she was supposed to be serving, but she saw the wounds on some of the men drinking and started treating with her meager medical kit.

Kid had some woman straddle across his lap and happened to see the girl recleaning a wound on Killer. At the time, it was amusing to see this small mouse of a girl patching up rowdy pirates as they drank. How she concentrated on the Killer’s wounds while being aware of her environment made her a paradox of perfection.

“Hey,” Kid called over to her as the woman on his lap kissed and nipped at his neck. “You got a name?”

The girl looked up at him, and Kid, for some reason, froze. There was something about how her eyes shone as she stared directly at him. Her lips were pressed together in a sweet pout, and her hair fell in soft-looking waves around her shoulders.

Kid didn't know if it was the booze, but he felt a desire to shove the busty woman off his lap and carry the girl off. Considering how small she looked, he could even tuck her into his furred cape for safekeeping and have her for later.

The woman stopped kissing Kid, looking peeved that he wasn't paying attention to her.

She then saw who he was looking at and whispered in his ear, “That’s Y/n, but we all call her ‘Mouse’ because of how quiet she is.”

Kid blinked and then laughed at the name, and the harlot laughed with him. “Mouse, huh? How would you like to join my crew?”

“Kid.” Killer said his name to bring some sense to him, but Kid plowed through.

“You’ll see the world beyond this dump ‘little mouse’! See things you never thought possible! Enjoy pleasures you never thought to desire! You would be one of us! The infamous Kid Pirates!”

His voice carried through the bar, and the rest of his crew got swept up in their drunken state and cheered their captain. The girl just sat and stared at Kid as the crew gulped their drinks.

“Think about and talk to Killer when you make up your mind, ‘little mouse.' We set sail tomorrow at noon.”

Kid forced his attention back to the woman on his lap and began biting at her shoulder, making the woman gasp and laugh with pleasure.

After that, well, he ended the night with a good fuck in one of the bedrooms upstairs and walked back to the ship with a massive hangover early the following day.

He didn't see the girl nicknamed Mouse till they were already out at sea. She was helping to scrub the floors in the mess hall when Kid tripped over her, spilling the bucket of soapy water. He was about to yell at whoever tripped him when Kid recognized her from the bar.

“YOU!”

"Oh! Captain, I'm so sorry; let me help." She said softly as she took out a clean cloth and dried his face. Her hand touched his leg as she leaned in to press the fabric to his skin.

Kid went from anger to pure lust. He wanted to grab her and roll her under him without caring who was watching. The sudden carnal desire he suddenly felt overwhelmed him, and he quickly shoved her off him and stood up over her.

She made a surprised sound and glanced up at him with a wounded look that made his knees weak.

“How long have you been here?” Kid growled at her.

“Three days.”

“Who let you on my ship?”

“Killer, but you-”

Kid had left to find his first mate as he cursed himself.

Dammit! How could she have already been here for three days without me noticing?

Which led to the present problem of what to do with her now she's on the ship.

"I tried talking to you the day we set sail, but you were still hungover.” Killer explained as Kid rage grew.

“So you just let her on the ship!”

“The girl insisted on joining the crew. I was there when you asked her, and she didn't care that you were drunk when you asked her." Killer continued to explain.

"So this is my fault?!"

Well, yeah, duh, Killer thought but knew better and instead said, "Look, she may be useful. Heat looked over her bandaging skills. She's not bad and has enough medical knowledge for him to show her more."

"For what!? A nurse!" Kid roared. “We don't need another nurse!”

"She'll be a field medic." Killer clarified.

Kid's mind just stopped as he stared dumbfounded at his first mate. Her? A field medic? Her? Why not just shoot her now? It would be kinder and faster. Or if they wanted to make it slow, tie her up and drop her overbroad.

"You got to be kidding," Kid laughed as he started to pace the room.

"You want that small girl to go onto a battlefield and treat our crewmates! I might as well kill her right now! It would be the one good deed tied to my name!"

Kid then ran a hand through his red hair as he stopped pacing and shook his head. "No! No way! I want her off the ship!"

"But Kid, you-"

"I don't care what I said to her! No way am I keeping some weak pissant around to hold back our crew back!"

Killer's shoulder heaved as he sighed and said, "Okay, I'll see that she's off the ship at the next port. In the meantime, I'll have her do some odd jobs so she can earn her keep."

"Why wait?! Just put her on a rowboat and-"

"Captain."

Kid froze and snapped his gaze toward the doorway. Mouse, that is, Y/N, stood there looking at him with a firm expression on her sweet face.

It was unsettling how quiet she was as she moved. The door to Kid's cabin always creaked, yet she opened the door without a sound. She took a breath and walked into the room. Kid watched her and, for some absurd reason, felt nervous.

"Captain," she said again, "I want to stay and prove you wrong. I won't hold the crew back."

Killer watched as Kid had to visibly shake himself out of whatever sinkhole his mind had just dived into. He readies himself as Kid squares his shoulders and glares down at the girl. The girl didn't appear intimidated and even clasped her hands in front of her as her chin tilted up.

"You want to prove me wrong. Are you saying that you aren't a weak little-"

"I have experience treating the wounded, and I'm not afraid to go into a battle to help." She said quickly as her eyes softened at him.

Her voice was not raised, and her tone didn't sound desperate. It was like she was offering Kid a favor. A kind, healthful favor that made Kid's insides go all mushy.

"Please, Captain." She added gently as her lashes blinked at him. "Let me stay."

Killer glanced at Kid and was surprised to see him deflating. And if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, Kid was... blushing? Yes, yes, he was. Kid was actually blushing over this tiny, sincere girl who looked out of place on their ship.

Kid gritted his teeth and slapped his hand over his nose and cheeks to hide part of the redness spreading on his face.

“Captain?” She asked again, now looking worried.

Kid growled and turned his head away as he shouted, "Fine! You can stay! But if you screw up, I will personally end you! Now go find something useful to do before I toss you off the side!"

Y/N smiled widely and didn't appear offended by Kid's shouting or threats. "Yes, Captain! Right away! I'll start by cleaning your room!"

"Wait, what?!" Kid had barely enough time to respond when both he and Killer were shoved out of the room and had the door slam closed on their backs.

"What the-how?"

He turned and stared at the closed door and back at Kid. How was a tiny girl able to shove him and Killer out in the blink of an eye.

"She ate the scurry-scurry fruit," Killer explained with a shrug as Kid looked to him for an answer. "It's the other reason she was known as Mouse at the bar. She can move around quickly without making sound and lift five times her weight for a short time. It's also why I gave her the field medic job."

"She can't turn into a mouse, right?" Kid asked as he shivered at the thought of a human transfiguring into a rodent. "Cause that would be gross."

"And less cute," Killer commented with a slight grin behind his mask.

The way Kid snapped his head around at him was enough to prove his sudden discovery. His friend's face was even beginning to redden again. Killer held back a chuckle and cleared his throat.

"I'm going to get a drink; want to join?"

Kid grumbled and walked in the other direction away from Killer. There was no fucking way he thought that the girl was cute. Weak wasn't cute; it was annoying and a pain. She wouldn't last a week with his crew.

If she died on the job, it would be her fault, not his! What was she thinking taking his drunken offer?! Didn't she know she was too delicate for this kind of life?! Didn't she know how small, soft-looking she was? How cute-

"NO! NOT CUTE!" Kid roared as he raked his fingers into his hair and nearly ripped off his goggles.

Nearby onlookers wisely glanced away and didn't bother their Captain. Kid growled and turned to stomp back to his room to throw the girl out.

When he got there, she was already gone, leaving behind a tidy room. Kid glanced around, huffed, and muttered, "I guess she can stay."

He then flopped onto his clean bed face first and sighed. He'll worry about his 'Mouse' problem later. All this raging was making him tired.

As he closed his eyes, he could smell the scent she had left behind while making his bed. Thoughts of her being in his bed, being under him, squirming and wriggling as she whimpered and moaned, seeped into his mind. Kid groaned and growled as he punched his fist into the blankets.

She was going to be a pain, and not just in the ass; Kid mused as his groin throbbed.

A big pain for such a little creature.

Part 2.

[childofthegarden]

Set Sail for Love

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!reader

Word count: 1,549

Warnings: Smut. Sex. Penetrative sex. Fluff. So much tooth rotting fluff.

Jake had always loved pirates. He wasn’t just casually into them—he lived and breathed everything from buried treasure to sea shanties and pirate lore. So when his birthday was coming up, you knew exactly what you had to do.

You were going to give him the ultimate pirate-themed birthday… and a surprise trip he’d never see coming.

The day started normally—Jake woke up to the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting from the kitchen. You greeted him with a grin and a paper pirate hat on your head.

"Oh Captain my Captain" you said in your best singsong voice.

Jake laughed, still groggy. “Oh no. What have you done?”

You giggled and sat next to him “Happy Birthday Captain” You grinned

“Only what any good first mate would do,” you said, handing him a parchment-style scroll sealed with wax.

He raised an eyebrow, unrolling it carefully. It read:

Ahoy, Captain Jake!

Ye be summoned for a grand birthday quest.

Follow the map, find the clues, and claim yer treasure.

X marks the spot, but beware… adventure awaits.

Yer loyal first mate,

Me ♡

Jake looked at you with that crooked smile you loved. “You really made a treasure hunt?”

“Oh, this is just the beginning,” you said with a wink.

You handed him a satchel containing a faux leather-bound journal, a compass (plastic, but still cool), and the first clue. What followed was a mini scavenger hunt around your house—each clue leading to a different room where he’d find pirate-themed trinkets and tiny gifts. A bottle of rum-flavored root beer, a T-shirt that read “Talk Pirate To Me,” and a pair of socks with tiny pirate ships on them.

At the final clue, he opened a small treasure chest (which you had painstakingly painted gold) to find a rolled-up boarding pass. He stared at it for a second, then back at you.

“A cruise?” he said slowly, reading the details. “To the Keys?”

You grinned. “A pirate-themed weekend getaway. There's a ship tour, a treasure hunt, and even a pirate costume party. We leave tomorrow.”

Jake just stared, stunned. “You planned a pirate birthday vacation?”

“I did,” you said proudly. “Because you’re my favorite pirate, and every pirate deserves an epic birthday quest.”

Jake threw his arms around you, nearly knocking off your paper hat. “You’re unbelievable. This is the coolest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day celebrating—Jake wore his new pirate shirt, you played sea shanties on a speaker, and you even made a “plank” in the living room he had to walk (which ended in a pillow pile, thankfully). That night, you cuddled up watching Pirates of the Caribbean, and he didn’t stop smiling once.

As he drifted off to sleep, wrapped in your arms, he mumbled, “Best. Birthday. Ever.”

And you knew the real adventure hadn’t even started yet.

The next morning came with a buzz of excitement in the air—and caffeine. Lots of caffeine. Jake packed his bag in record time, tossing in his pirate socks like they were essential survival gear. You’d already printed out your boarding passes and stashed the travel-sized sunscreen (because even pirates get sunburned).

As you drove to the marina, Jake was practically bouncing in his seat. “Do you think they’ll make us walk the plank if we’re late?” he asked, grinning.

“Only you, Captain. I’ll be sipping piña coladas and pretending I don’t know you,” you teased.

When you arrived, Jake’s jaw dropped. The cruise ship wasn’t just big—it was decked out in full pirate glory. Black flags with skulls fluttered in the breeze, and costumed crew members shouted “Ahoy!” as you boarded. The air smelled like saltwater and adventure.

You checked into your cabin (with a porthole view, obviously), and inside was a little surprise waiting: two pirate costumes laid out on the bed. You’d rented them weeks ago. Jake’s had a long coat, a sash, and even a fake sword. Yours was sleek and dramatic, with a wide-brimmed hat and knee-high boots.

He turned to you, eyes wide. “You thought of everything.”

You smiled, tossing him his hat. “Ready for your birthday weekend, Captain?”

He saluted. “Aye, First Mate. Let’s plunder some buffet tables.”

The cruise kicked off with a themed welcome party. People were already in costume, drinking out of tiki mugs shaped like skulls. There was a live band playing sea shanties, and Jake somehow knew every word to “Drunken Sailor.” You danced, laughed, and even joined a limbo contest (Jake lost spectacularly, blaming it on “peg-leg energy”).

But the highlight of the night came when the cruise director announced the Treasure Hunt Challenge—a ship-wide puzzle-solving race with a prize for the winning team.

Jake turned to you, eyes sparkling. “We have to win this.”

You smirked. “We will win this.”

The next day was pure magic. The two of you ran around the ship, collecting clues hidden in barrels, behind lifeboats, and inside the ship’s pirate museum. You solved riddles, talked to actors dressed as ghost pirates, and found yourselves crawling under tables more than once. It was silly, chaotic, and honestly kind of romantic.

By sunset, you stood on the top deck, holding hands as the last clue led you to a hidden chest near the bow. You cracked the lock with the final code.

Inside was a tiny golden trophy that said “Ultimate Pirates,” and two free spa passes.

Jake held it like it was real treasure. “We did it,” he said with a grin. “I mean, of course we did.”

That night, you watched the stars from the ship’s balcony, wrapped in a blanket, sipping rum-spiked hot cocoa. Jake looked over at you, quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he said, brushing hair from your face, “I’ve always loved pirates. But this… this made me love us even more.”

Your heart melted. “Happy birthday, Captain,” you whispered.

He leaned in, forehead against yours. “Best crew, best first mate, best birthday of my life.”

And somewhere, far below the waves, even the sea seemed to smile.

The final day of the cruise dawned with sunlight streaming through the porthole, painting golden stripes across the sheets. Jake stirred beside you, hair tousled and arms still wrapped around you like the world outside didn’t exist. You brushed your fingers down his back gently, not wanting to break the spell too soon.

“Morning, Captain,” you murmured, voice sleepy-soft.

He groaned dramatically. “Tell me it’s not almost over…”

You kissed his shoulder. “Not quite. There’s still one more surprise.”

That got his attention. He sat up, eyes narrowed with suspicion and delight. “Another one? You’re relentless.”

“You love it,” you teased, slipping out of bed to grab a small envelope you’d stashed in your bag. “One last quest.”

He took it, examining the wax seal stamped with a tiny anchor. “You really committed to this pirate thing, huh?”

“I had to keep up with you.”

He opened the envelope and pulled out a photo—an old map printed on the back of a polaroid you’d taken the night before, smiling in front of the trophy chest. Below it, written in your handwriting:

One final treasure for the Captain. Follow the map. Bring the compass. Trust your First Mate.

Jake stared at it for a beat. “Okay. I’m officially obsessed with you.”

You just winked. “Then let’s get dressed.”

After breakfast, you led him off the ship and onto the island port the cruise had docked at—an actual pirate-themed resort built into the cliffs. Hidden coves, hammocks strung between palms, fire pits and stone pathways… it felt like something out of Treasure Island. You followed the little trail you’d mapped out days ago when you booked everything, compass in hand for the theatrics, until you reached a tiny private beach at the edge of the resort.

Waiting in the sand was a weathered wooden trunk—yes, a real one—half-buried beneath driftwood and shells. Jake looked from you to it in stunned silence.

“You didn’t,” he breathed.

“I did.”

He dropped to his knees and opened the trunk, hands shaking with laughter and disbelief. Inside, nestled on top of sea glass and old parchment pages, was a leather-bound photo album titled Captain & First Mate: The Voyage So Far. The first page was your favorite picture of you two from your very first vacation. From there, it chronicled everything—snapshots, ticket stubs, scribbled notes, concert wristbands, polaroids taped in haphazardly but full of joy.

Jake stared at the pages like he was looking at buried treasure. And then he turned to you, glassy-eyed.

“This is everything,” he whispered. “You are everything.”

You sat beside him, pressing your forehead to his. “I wanted you to remember that no matter where we sail, I’ll always be your First Mate.”

He cupped your face, kissed you soft and slow, and said, “Marry me.”

You blinked, breath caught.

“I mean it,” he said, the kind of steady sincerity that made your whole body go still. “Not because of the cruise. Not because of the treasure hunt. But because I don’t ever want another birthday, another adventure, another anything, without you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Jake—”

“I didn’t get a ring yet,” he added, half-laughing now. “I thought I was being the romantic one with the socks and sword. But... I’ll get one. I just— I can’t wait another second to tell you I want forever.”

You didn’t need to think. You just kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. “Yes, Jake. A million times yes.”

Far in the distance, the ship’s bell rang out—like the sea itself was cheering.

And under the sun, in the sand, wrapped in each other’s arms, the adventure truly began.

That night, after a celebratory dinner under the stars and one too many glasses of rum punch, you and Jake wandered back to your bungalow on the beach. The moon was high, casting silver light over the water, and the sound of waves rolling gently onto shore filled the air like a lullaby.

Jake kicked the door shut behind him and dropped the fake sword he’d insisted on wearing to dinner. You were laughing, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and from everything else—the proposal, the treasure, the sheer magic of the day.

But when he turned to you, the laughter softened. His eyes were darker now, heavier with something slower, deeper.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, stepping closer.

“Oh, I think I might,” you said coyly, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the quick thump of his heart through his open button-down.

He slid his fingers down your arms, gentle but firm, until they laced with yours. “You planned every second of this day to make me feel like the luckiest man alive.”

“You are the luckiest man alive,” you teased, leaning in to brush your lips against his.

He kissed you back—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second. Then his hands found your waist, and he walked you backward until your legs hit the bed. The soft thud of the mattress was followed by the rustle of fabric as he pulled your shirt over your head.

Jake’s mouth traveled to your neck, then lower, peppering your skin with kisses while his hands explored like a map he knew by heart but would never get tired of tracing. You arched into him, your breath catching as he whispered something in your ear in that deep, gravelly voice only you got to hear like this.

“Mine,” he said. “My first mate. My everything.”

You tugged at his belt, and he groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your collarbone. His clothes joined yours on the floor, piece by piece, until there was nothing between you but heat and want.

He laid you back gently, worshipfully, like you were the treasure he’d spent all day searching for. His touch was both reverent and hungry—trailing down your body with soft, wet kisses and slow, purposeful fingers. You gasped, hips lifting to meet him, heart pounding as he looked up at you with that crooked smile and pure adoration in his eyes.

“Let me make this the best night of your life too,” he whispered.

And he did.

With the ocean murmuring just outside and the stars watching overhead, Jake moved with you in a rhythm that was all your own—slow and deep, every motion soaked in love and tension and the thrill of knowing you’d just promised forever.

You reached the edge together, breathless and tangled in sheets and each other, skin slick with sweat and kissed pink from hours of touch. He held you tightly afterward, your head tucked under his chin, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm.

“You know,” he whispered, lips brushing your forehead, “I thought today couldn’t get better. But this? This was the real treasure.”

You smiled sleepily against his skin, utterly full—in every way. “Happy birthday, Captain.”

if you would like to be added to the tag list please feel free to ask!❤️

tag list: @fleetingjake

[isabeauwolf]

Reader x Merman Law 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 3 - Nest

The lightening clashing and thunder rolling above the uncommon pair.

It certainly made things more awkward as the merman swallows thickly. He really didn't think things through, which never sounded like him. He always didn't like to make a move until he had things figured out. Plans, back up plans and escape routes. Down to the last detail.

Nope. He moved on impulse, his body moved on its own without thinking. All he knew was that his female was heading towards danger, he didn't have time to think, and he needed to act fast.

Sure enough, his instincts were right.

There you were not only caught in the storm, but you were thrown overboard, which made him worried and his anger spike. Adrenaline rushing through his veins as he caught your scent in the water instead of the ship, another moment sooner and he might have already lost you before he could court you.

He knew you weren't like him, a creature of the sea. You needed air. Needed it now! Without thinking he pulled you towards him and kissed you, giving you air as he breathed through his gills and blew mouthfuls of air into your lungs. All the while thinking, Hold on, songstress. Stay with me. Don't go where I can't follow. Please.

Feeling your body pressed against his own felt like home, eased his nerves to a degree. He could feel your rapid beating heart thundering like a frightened rabbit. He wanted to soothe your worries, but it would have to wait.

Pulling away and pressed you further into his arms as you listened to his instructions, keeping your eyes closed and held your breath again, clinging onto him as he swam fast towards his home, back towards the island your crew had left. Law felt his cheeks burning, his hold on you tightened, but not enough to hurt you. "Tap me twice whenever you need air, okay?"

You nodded, silently.

Periodically, he had to stop to give you more air as he breathed through his gills on the side of his neck. He told himself it didn't count as your first kiss!

After what felt like an eternity, Law saw his nest. The location he'd picked just for your two. The rest of his pod mates and crew wasn't too far, knew all twenty of his crew would protect their Captains female should Law be away. He was lucky to have a reliable crew he could count on and were fiercely loyal as himself.

"We are here." Law whispered into your ear and quickly swam towards the entrance, through the tunnel and reached the surface. He pulled you into an underground cave, on the other side there was a space fully of air and enough space for a small home, a nest.

You gasp, greedily taking in mouthful of air in-between coughing and sputtering. You blinked rapidly, rubbing your eyes as your savior rubbed your back, his fingers brushed your wet hair out of your face to meet your eyes, then continuing to run his digits in warm, smooth, small circle and whispering words of encouragement.

"Easy, I've got you." He spoke softly and slowly, keeping you both afloat with ease.

"Okay." You whispered in between cough fits.

When you had calmed down and stared to breath normally again the merman sat on the edge of the pool. Offering his inked hand to you, which you took and thanked him as he pulled you out.

"Where are we?" You asked, leaving his steely gaze to flicker around the place. You were surprised. It was dry, littered with books and coins?

"We are in my home." He blushed, turning his head away, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Forgive me. I haven't had time to clean up around the place." He wanted to say their home, their nest, but he kept quiet.

"It's alright." You offered him a reassuring smile, then shivered and sneezed, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Thank you."

The merman crawled further out of the pool. As soon as his full lower half emerged from the water, hunched over as his blue tail and black spots started to disappear or melt away? Shedding his skin or falling away like a wet slime, landing on the rocks and vanishing. In a matter of seconds his fin and tail were gone! Replaced with two human legs and oh!

You quickly turned around and gave him his privacy. Oh my god, he's naked! Your face turned deep red. I don't think he'd appreciate me staring at his southern friend.

The merman rose to his feet, standing on wobbly legs and shaking the salt water from his hair, raising a brow. His silvery orbs, twinkling with amusement. Someone's shy. He felt his lips quirk into a hint of a smile. "Sorry for scaring you." He chuckled, moving towards a cabinet and pulling out some towels, wrapping one around his waist and handing a red, fluffy towel to you. "I haven't shifted in a while."

You took the offered towel without meeting his eye. "Do all mermen and mermaids walk like humans like you can?"

"Yes, when we become of age. We can walk like humans, blending in without being noticed unless we get wet, are under a lot of stress, or too hot." He explained, giving his back to you for privacy and unwrapping his towel to dry off his body.

"How old are you?" You as drying your hair.

The Merman chuckled. "Isn't it rude to ask someone's age before knowing their name first?"

Shit, he's right. "I'm sorry." You muttered, face growing warmer. "I'm Y/n."

"Law." Law replied, thinking. Y/n. What a pretty name.

"Law?" You tasted his name on your tongue, it was different, foreign.

"Yes." Law's silver orbs grew heavy-lidded, his name sounded right and perfect coming from your lips. It made him shiver and his heartbeat quicken within his chest.

"Do you have any spare clothes?" You muttered shyly.

"Yes, one moment." Law dug into another cabinet, pulling out spare clothes. "I hope that you don't mind that they are men's clothes." He grew flustered again.

You shook your head and hummed. "I don't mind as long as they fit." You giggle softly; you began padding the rest of your body dry. "Men's clothes are more comfortable anyways."

Law paused. He yanked one of his white tank top over his head and peeked at you over his shoulder. This foreign feeling of seeing you in another man's clothes made his blood heated. "Do you have a lover?" His silver eyes narrow, flickering into a golden hue. Law felt his muscles tense and his jaw grind, the need to mark you as his, growing. He shoved his feet into his light washed, blue and spotted denim jeans, buttoned them and pulled the zipper up, fully covering his nudity.

Your brows furrowed. "No." He sounded upset. Angry? But why? You'd only just met him, and he was already sounding… jealous? Were you hearing things? Were your ears waterlogged or something? "I steal my big brothers Ace's, Sabo's and Luffy's clothes from time to time." You explained.

That piece of information got Law to claim down. Okay, only a tiny bit. Good you weren't already in a romantic entanglement with someone else. Less competition for him. "Here." He offered you his yellow and black hoodie with his jolly roger on it and a pair of black sweatpants.

Your fingers brushed his as you grabbed the offered items, making you shiver and your breath hitch. Your gaze flickering down to Law's strong, tanned hand and his long-inked fingers, noticing the words D.E.A.T.H on below his knuckles. "Are you in some sort of gang?" You asked softly. "You know all the tattoo's and all."

"I'm the leader of my own Pod." Law explained, turning and giving your privacy. "The Heart Pirates." He said with pride. "We swam over the red line from The North Blue while the humans onboard swam on our ship The Polar Tang."

That got your attention. You glanced over your shoulder. "Really?" Your excitement and smile grew. "My brothers and our crew came from The East Blue."

"StrawHat Luffy-ya, The Dragon Sabo-ya and Fire Fist Ace-ya are your brothers, yes?" Law asked.

You giggle. "You've heard of them?"

"Yes." Law nodded his head. "Never knew Monkey D Dragon-ya secretly had a daughter."

"They are overprotective." You roll your eyes. "You should see my grandpa Monkey D Garp."

You were a fellow member of the D Clan? That made Law's chest puff and swell with pride. His human woman and songstress was apart of the Will of D. Something you two secretly had in common.

It made him wonder what his adoptive father Corazon would think of you. He knew the giant, chain smoking and accident-prone blonde would accept you with open arms.

---- End of Part 3 ----

Part 1: Songstress and The Doctor

Part 2: Warning

Part 4: Rest

Part 5: The Heart Pirates

Part 6: Doctors Orders

Part 7: Duty and Heart

Song I listened to while writing: "A Dream Worth Keeping" by Sheena Easton from FernGully: The Last Rainforest

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