#running left simulator

[elis-dreams]

Mild rw watcher spoilers below the cut

HOW BIG IS AETHER RIDGE

EVERYTIME I'M SENT TO THIS REGION I SWEAR IT GETS BIGGER

Don't get me wrong, Im enjoying the exploration, but how big is this goddamn region??? Does it ever end???

[messrmoonyy]

Not to toot my own horn here but all my fits I have Arthur in are just. Chefs kiss

[obsidiannebula]

Never truly done thinking about Spike getting isekai-ed into BG3 and meeting Astarion... just want the vampire blorbos to meet each other ig

[keeps-ache]

so Apparently a game i was running on my computer (without a cooler thing for a good minute there, because i guess i thought i was invulnerable to heat) may or may not have burnt out some parts of my machine. and it's been a couple months since i've played it bc it just stopped working one day and i just had to accept that lmao- but anyway i'm booting the game up again today, Surely this will go differently :3

[bigfootshonkers]

Fuck rotc cause why do they act like a straight up cult

[unproduciblesmackdown]

tfw my shifting dream threads for a bit were all framed as Media & all had will roland acting a Role. first was "here's a short film w/him & some guy & he's wearing sort of a smock sort of a dress over pants & a sweater & we're like yeah cute. kind of about his role getting mentorship about performing a role but at first neither are sure they're that interested in this creative process & i suppose that will bear the plot" then was "idk the plot but i was also doing A Role & i heard a roger mentioned & i am like is this the will roland role? so i ad lib leaning over like [as in roger that] & he ad libs [never heard that one before XD] so yes" like can't go wrong, a [hop, skip] of a name as you can sort of glissade in & out on the R but with an untamed Short O &, looks something up, affricate in the mix for panache. third time i was the wrole b/c i advanced a Gay Love Interest? thread by leaning over like "amicable perhaps teasing interaction with this guy" then like "and what of beaming about it afterwards when it was simply momentary & even while you've turned away" & beyond that there was still a wrole in an ensemble plotline. thank you & goodnight

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | forgetting their birthday

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : pretending to forget their birthday but actually having a huge surprise for them planned

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 3719

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : god FORBID you forget one of their birthdays... i fear everyone but verstappen and piastri might overreact a tEEEEENY bit...

ʚ・max verstappen

you knew max didn’t love big birthday celebrations. he wasn’t exactly the cake and balloons type. but still, he deserved something special. and if you had to fake forgetting the day just to throw him off? so be it.

it started that morning. he came into the kitchen, hair sticking up on one side, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. you were already at the stove, flipping pancakes like it was any other tuesday.

“morning,” he mumbled.

you glanced back over your shoulder. “morning.”

that was it. no ‘happy birthday.’ no mention of it at all.

you saw the subtle twitch of confusion in his brows, but he didn’t say anything. just grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee.

you didn’t feel bad. okay, you felt a little bad. but it would be worth it.

by the time afternoon rolled around, max was quieter than usual. he’d disappeared into the simulator room for a couple hours, re-emerging only to plop onto the couch and scroll aimlessly on his phone.

“everything okay?” you asked, settling beside him.

he shrugged. “yeah. just… thought today might feel different.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder. “tuesdays are weird like that.”

he didn’t answer.

but when you stood up a bit later and said, “i’m just running out to grab some groceries, be back in an hour,” and kissed the top of his head, he nodded, not suspecting a thing.

what he didn’t know was that the "groceries" were actually a mad dash to finalize the surprise party you’d been planning for weeks. all his closest friends were already at the venue. there were red bull-themed decorations, his favorite food, drinks, and even a mini go-kart course set up just for him.

when you texted him an hour later, “hey, can you come meet me at this address? i need help carrying stuff,” he didn’t hesitate.

he pulled into the lot, looking around curiously. then walked inside.

and everyone yelled, “surprise!”

max blinked. for a second, you saw that classic verstappen processing face, the one he made when someone overtook him unexpectedly. then he turned to you.

“you little liar,” he said, breaking into a grin.

you shrugged. “thought tuesdays were weird like that.”

he pulled you into a hug so tight your feet almost left the ground.

“i really thought you forgot,” he murmured into your hair. “i was trying not to be upset.”

“i know,” you said, pulling back to smile up at him. “that’s how i knew it would work.”

max kissed you, soft and slow and a little overwhelmed.

“simply lovely,” he whispered.

and it was.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you figured lewis wouldn’t throw a fit if you forgot his birthday. he wasn’t that type. but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt him.

and that’s what made the plan a little risky.

the morning of, you played it cool. real cool. too cool.

“morning,” you said, breezing past him in the kitchen as he fed roscoe.

he looked up with a sleepy smile. “morning, love.”

you kissed his cheek, grabbed a banana, and scrolled through your phone. no ‘happy birthday.’ no card. not even a cheeky joke.

you saw the faint change in his expression. his smile dipped, just slightly. like he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to be disappointed.

but he didn’t say anything. just nodded and went back to scratching roscoe behind the ears.

you left the house an hour later, saying you had errands to run. lewis stayed behind, probably expecting you’d come back with cake or something. but you didn’t. at least, not right away.

the rest of the day, he barely said a word. he worked out, took roscoe for a walk, sat out on the balcony with a tea. every now and then he checked his phone, like he was expecting someone, maybe you, to send a text. a call. anything.

nothing came.

you got home just before sunset, acting casual as ever. “you hungry? i was thinking we could order thai tonight.”

lewis looked at you, finally speaking after what felt like hours. “you didn’t… have anything else planned today?”

you tilted your head. “should i have?”

that hurt flickered in his eyes. he hid it well. but you noticed it, because you always noticed him.

he nodded slowly. “nah. just wondering.”

you stepped closer, and before he could pull further into himself, you said, “actually… yeah. i do have something planned. but i need you to come with me.”

he raised an eyebrow.

you handed him a hoodie. “put this on. we’ve got somewhere to be.”

the drive was quiet, but you saw the gears turning in his head. he was curious now. hopeful, maybe.

when you pulled up to the small venue you’d rented for the night, he looked confused.

until he walked inside.

there was soft music playing. his closest friends, family, and team were all there. dim lights, candles, vegan food lined up buffet-style, and roscoe’s favorite treats in little bowls around the room.

photos of lewis through the years played on a loop on a big screen. gp wins. childhood go-karts. that time he dressed up as batman for halloween. all of it.

he turned to you, eyes wide.

“you didn’t forget?”

you shook your head, stepping closer, arms wrapping around his waist. “how could i forget? you just had to let me lie a little first.”

he pulled you close, forehead pressing to yours, that quiet smile finally breaking through.

“you got me,” he whispered.

“i always do.”

lewis kissed you like he’d been holding his breath all day. and maybe he had.

later that night, after the crowd thinned and it was just the two of you swaying in the soft light, he said it again.

“i really thought you forgot.”

“i know,” you murmured. “and i’m sorry for letting you think that.”

he looked at you for a long moment, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“this… this was perfect.”

and you could tell he meant it.

ʚ・george russell

you knew george would make a thing out of it.

the man had a flair for dramatics. you loved that about him. but it also meant pretending to forget his birthday was going to be a test of your own acting skills.

you woke up early on purpose, slipped out of bed before he opened his eyes, and left a post-it on the mirror that said, “went out to run errands, be back later x.”

no ‘happy birthday.’ no breakfast in bed. not even a cheeky wink.

the silence from your end was deafening.

by the time you returned home mid-afternoon, george was sitting on the couch like a man freshly betrayed. wrapped in a blanket, arms crossed, tv playing some mindless nature documentary that he was definitely not watching.

you dropped your keys on the counter and glanced over. “hey. everything alright?”

he didn’t move. “oh, splendid. never better. just enjoying the slow decay of time.”

you bit your cheek to stop from laughing. “cool. i got almond milk, by the way.”

“oh, fantastic. we can toast to that instead of, i don’t know, birthdays or being alive another year.”

you blinked. “was it someone’s birthday today?”

he whipped his head around, lips parting like you’d slapped him.

“i cannot believe this,” he said, standing up and letting the blanket fall like a cape. “you’ve forgotten. i’m going to spiral. i’m going to become a menace to society. this is your villain origin story.”

“i think you’ll survive,” you said, barely holding it together.

he threw a hand to his forehead. “i wore the nice socks today. the ones with the tiny stars on them. i thought we’d at least go out.”

you walked over to him, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “get dressed, drama queen. we’ve got somewhere to be.”

george paused. “wait. what?”

“no more questions. just put on something that won’t wrinkle when you sit down.”

still confused but too intrigued to argue, he changed into something sharp, because of course he did, and let you drag him into the car.

you drove for about twenty minutes before pulling into a private racetrack on the outskirts of town. george stared.

“you didn’t.”

“oh, i did.”

there was a single vintage aston martin waiting on the tarmac. helmet. keys. and a sign that read “happy birthday, t-pose king.”

he looked at you with the most ridiculous expression of glee and disbelief. “you made me think you forgot. you let me sit there in existential crisis mode, wrapped in fleece, contemplating my place in the universe.”

you nodded, smirking. “and now you get to race a car that costs more than both our kidneys combined. so… you're welcome?”

george burst out laughing. “this is evil. i love it.”

he pulled you into a hug, rocking you side to side like a goof. “you are insufferable. i was actually about to text my mum.”

“and say what?”

“that you were a monster. but now i take it all back.”

you handed him the keys and grinned. “happy birthday, george.”

he kissed your forehead and gave you the most dramatic bow he could manage. “best gift ever. even if you did emotionally traumatize me first.”

“adds character.”

and with that, he took off toward the car, already shouting something about lap times and not crashing it.

you just shook your head and laughed.

he’d never let you live it down — and honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos wasn’t the type to make a fuss.

he didn’t expect fireworks or a giant party. but a little something? a kiss, a card, maybe even just a soft “happy birthday, amor” in the morning? that didn’t seem like too much.

so when he woke up to an empty apartment and a quiet kitchen, he frowned.

you were already gone. no message, no balloons, no surprise breakfast. just a sticky note near the coffee machine that said “be back later <3.”

that was it?

at first, he tried to reason with himself. maybe you were planning something. maybe he was overthinking. he went through his normal routine — showered, made coffee, and replied to dozens of “happy birthday” texts from friends and family.

but with every hour that passed and nothing came from you, the more that quiet little sting in his chest grew.

you didn’t call. you didn’t text anything special. just a casual “need anything from the store?” and a “don’t forget to hydrate.”

hydrate? on his birthday?

carlos wasn’t mad. not exactly. just… disappointed. the kind that sat heavy in his chest and made everything feel a little dull.

by the time you got home that evening, he was sunk into the couch, arms folded and mouth pulled into that very specific pout he swore wasn’t a pout.

you walked in like everything was normal, bags in hand, smile in place. “hey. you okay?”

he didn’t look at you. “fine.”

he was not fine.

you sat beside him, and he barely shifted. “you sure?”

he shrugged, voice low. “i just thought maybe today would be a little different.”

and there it was. not angry. just honest. soft, but it hit you like a punch.

“i didn’t forget,” you said gently.

he turned his head, eyes meeting yours. he didn’t say anything, but his expression asked all the questions he couldn’t put into words.

“come with me,” you said, standing up. “just trust me.”

carlos followed. quiet, still wearing that guarded expression, like he didn’t want to hope just yet. like hoping would make it worse if he was wrong.

you drove for a while, and he didn’t ask where. he just stared out the window, wondering if he had overreacted. maybe he had. maybe he hadn’t. but it still kind of hurt.

and then you pulled up to the beach.

he recognized it immediately — the quiet spot just outside the city. no tourists, no noise, just the waves and a little stretch of sand. it was the place he told you once reminded him of summer nights in mallorca.

when he stepped out and saw the setup, he froze.

there were candles tucked into the sand. a low table, set for two, his favorite food already waiting. soft string lights swaying in the breeze. a bottle of wine. a tiny chocolate cake with “feliz cumple, mi campeón” written on top.

his chest actually ached a little.

you stepped beside him. “i wanted it to be private. just us. i thought you’d like that.”

carlos stared at you, overwhelmed in that quiet way only he could be. he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head with a small laugh.

“you really let me sulk all day.”

“i didn’t think you’d get that sad.”

“i had a full sadness, cariño,” he said, grinning now. “i almost went for a drive just to feel something.”

you laughed and leaned into him, arms slipping around his waist. “happy birthday, carlos.”

he kissed your forehead, arms wrapping tightly around you. the kind of hug that said thank you and i missed you and you know me better than i know myself.

“don’t think i didn’t notice the silence,” he whispered. “you were evil for that.”

“but you love me.”

he rested his chin on your head. “unfortunately for me,” he said, smiling, “yes. i really do.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

you didn’t mean to emotionally destroy charles. but, to be fair, you also kind of did.

because pretending to forget his birthday seemed like a harmless little prank. he was dramatic anyway. he overreacted if the grocery store ran out of his favorite chocolate mousse. he once said “this is betrayal” because you changed the netflix profile photo without telling him.

so yeah, forgetting his birthday?

he would be insufferable. but it would be hilarious.

and it was.

it all started when you woke up and kissed his cheek, said “don’t forget to take out the recycling,” and walked away. no “happy birthday.” no breakfast in bed. no gift.

charles blinked at the ceiling for a full five minutes like he was processing a national tragedy.

by mid-morning, he was fully spiraling. you ignored his very obvious attempts to fish for attention — him humming happy birthday under his breath, sighing deeply while scrolling through birthday messages, and dramatically opening and closing drawers just to see if you’d hidden something.

nothing.

at noon, he facetimed arthur and told him, loudly, “yes, it’s been a very lonely birthday, merci.”

you were in the other room.

by the time 4 p.m. hit, he was flopped across the bed like a man who had lost everything. face down. motionless.

you peeked in. “charles? you good?”

he didn’t lift his head. “i have been disrespected.”

you laughed. “come on. you’re being dramatic.”

“i am a monegasque man. i feel things.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “put on something nice.”

he finally lifted his head. “why?”

“just do it. i’m taking you out.”

he narrowed his eyes. “out where?”

you shrugged. “it’s a surprise.”

he sighed, loud and exaggerated, but he got up. grumbling. mumbling something about emotional wounds. but he followed you anyway.

you drove up the hillside to one of his favorite spots overlooking monaco. he liked it because it was quiet. and because the view reminded him of home in a way that didn’t involve flashing cameras or team meetings.

when he got out of the car and saw the little table set up, the candles flickering, the box of pastries from his favorite bakery, and the tiny red-and-white checkered flag stuck in the cake… he froze.

“you didn’t forget?”

you grinned. “of course i didn’t forget.”

his mouth fell open like you’d told him you were actually a secret agent. he turned around in a slow, dramatic circle.

“you let me mourn. i was mourning.”

“yeah, i saw that.”

“i told arthur i was emotionally abandoned. you made me lie to my own brother.”

you handed him a fork. “eat your cake, romeo.”

charles laughed, stepping closer and pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever gotten from him.

“you’re terrible,” he whispered.

“but?”

he kissed your forehead. “but i love you. even if you are a little monster.”

you smirked. “happy birthday, drama king.”

“never do this to me again,” he said, full pout back in place. “i aged five years today. emotionally.”

ʚ・lando norris

you didn’t actually forget lando’s birthday.

you just didn’t say anything right away.

why? because watching your boyfriend slowly unravel in quiet confusion while trying so hard to act like he doesn’t care? prime entertainment. especially when it’s lando and you know his first response to emotional distress is going live on twitch like a victorian child playing the piano in a thunderstorm.

you left him a kiss on the cheek that morning. said something casual like, “i’ve got errands today, might be gone for a while.” no happy birthday, no gifts, no hints.

he blinked. “okay… cool.”

then you walked out.

lando sat there for a while. fully dressed in his comfy hoodie, expecting a “surprise!” to pop out from the bedroom or kitchen or shower. nothing. the apartment was silent.

he gave it an hour. then opened twitch.

“yo,” he mumbled into the mic. “what’s up, guys.”

chat immediately popped off:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING!!!

WHERE’S Y/N??

ISN’T IT DATE NIGHT??

YOU STREAMING ON YOUR BIRTHDAY?

BE FR, ARE YOU OK

lando forced a smile. “yeah… nothing planned today. just thought i’d chill with you guys instead.”

he sipped his red bull dramatically. “no big deal or anything. just a regular day. like any other. i’m not sad.”

he absolutely sounded sad.

even his “poggers” had less energy than usual.

at one point he read a message and went, “no no, she didn’t forget, i don’t think… i mean, probably not. right?”

silence.

he died in-game two seconds later.

an hour into the stream, he looked directly into the camera and said, “if anyone asks, i’m emotionally strong. like… very mentally resilient. super fine.”

right on cue, your voice came from the door behind him: “hey, lan?”

he turned around so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. “yeah?”

you peeked in. “can you come downstairs real quick?”

“what for?”

you shrugged. “just come on.”

lando hesitated, told chat “brb maybe she finally remembered i exist” and followed you downstairs.

waiting outside was a surprise birthday setup on the rooftop deck of your building. pizza, cake, his favorite snacks, party lights, a mini projector set up to play shrek 2 (because of course), and all his closest friends quietly waiting with party hats on.

he blinked. then laughed. then rubbed his face like he was overwhelmed but also completely relieved.

“you’re evil,” he said, pulling you into a hug.

“you were really about to stream all night, huh?”

“i was playing the long game. guilt stream.”

“happy birthday, twitch boy.”

he looked around at everything, grinning like an idiot. “okay yeah. worth the emotional damage. ten out of ten.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you weren’t actually going to forget oscar’s birthday.

please. you’d had the whole thing planned for weeks. the idea was simple: pretend to forget, act super casual all day, then hit him with a surprise dinner, a stack of his favorite snacks, and a handmade card that said “happy birthday, nerd <3” in glitter glue.

classic. easy. foolproof.

except there was one flaw in the plan: oscar literally didn’t care.

the day started normally. you woke up, kissed his cheek, got out of bed like it was just any other morning. no mention of birthdays, no presents, not even a wink.

he just stretched and went, “do we have any cereal left?”

you expected some reaction. a confused glance. maybe a suspicious squint. but nope. he poured cereal, sat at the table, and started talking about tire degradation in the australian grand prix like it was a normal tuesday in april.

you were still waiting for the shift. for the "heh… you forgot something?" moment. it never came.

by lunchtime, you started to panic.

you casually said, “nothing special going on today?”

he looked up from his sandwich. “nah. not really.”

no sarcasm. no hint of drama. just full, honest indifference.

that’s when it hit you: he actually didn’t care that you hadn’t said anything. not even a little.

and that made you spiral.

“oh absolutely not,” you whispered to yourself, already grabbing your bag.

by the time oscar finished his sim session, the apartment was unrecognizable.

the lights were dimmed. candles were everywhere. a blanket fort was in the living room, fairy lights tangled in the sheets. on the table: pizza, garlic bread, a mini chocolate cake, and a birthday card shaped like a tire that said “p1 in being born.”

he blinked. “uh.”

you appeared from behind the couch, slightly out of breath and holding a party hat. “sit down. we’re celebrating your birth. no arguments.”

oscar raised an eyebrow. “i thought you forgot.”

“that was part of the plan. but then i realized you didn’t even care, and that was way worse.”

“i really didn’t,” he said honestly. “it’s just not a big—”

you shoved garlic bread in his mouth. “it is. you’re my favorite person and you were born today and that is a top-tier event.”

oscar slowly chewed. then smiled a little. “this is ridiculous.”

“you deserve ridiculous.”

he sat down, pulled the party hat over his hair with zero resistance, and looked around at the chaos.

“i seriously didn’t expect this.”

you nudged the cake closer to him. “good. i wanted to catch you off guard. you never let people do stuff for you.”

he paused. “yeah. i guess i don’t.”

you sat beside him. “well, too bad. today’s not about what you think you need. it’s about me forcing love upon you in the form of carbohydrates.”

he let out a quiet laugh, eyes soft as he looked over at you.

“thank you,” he said. “really.”

you smiled. “happy birthday, oscar.”

and for a guy who “didn’t care,” he looked suspiciously close to being emotional.

but he just picked up a slice of pizza and said, “do i at least get to pick the movie?”

“absolutely, birthday boy.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[nerdygirlramblings]

continued adventures of omegaverse!141

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an: the idea of separate task force and pack comes directly from @dragonnarrative-writes and their amazing 'Autumn Embers' series

You leave breakfast feeling both lighter and heavier. An invitation to join the 141 is a dream come true, and the idea that someone other than Captain Price was speaking favorably about your skills is intoxicating. You only know the members of the 141 by reputation, so you don't know who'd seen you on the shooting range. You wish you knew so you could properly thank them.

When he'd made the offer, Price said he'd like to speak to you more formally at 1600. You've never been anything but basic infantry, so you wonder what needs to happen to ensure your transfer into the 141. To keep yourself circling around things you can't control, you focus on leading your squad through basic land nav maneuvers.

After land nav and lunch, it's sparring and workouts in the gym. The room is busier than you like, especially as you aren't here for yourself. The constant eyes on you and your squad throw them off, but you use it to remind them all how important it is to focus despite the pressure. It certainly isn't an active battlefield, but the fight - flight - freeze reaction can help train them out of that headspace.

When it's finally time to meet Price, you dismiss your squad for the day and head to the base office complex. He told you where to find him, and you're knocking at the door a few minutes early.

"Punctual," he rumbles when he opens the door. "'s a good sign." He gestures you into his office and you notice it's spartan nature. There are only a few items in the wall: mostly awards and commendations. There's a single photo frame on the desk but positioned so only Price, or someone on his side of the desk, can see it. You wonder what it is. It must be special to be one of the few personal items in the room.

The space is dominated by a large walnut desk meant to intimidate. As if his leading 141 isn't enough. As though being an alpha, and a large one at that, wasn't already nerve-wracking for anyone sitting across from him.

He must know how the optics of the space works because he comes and sits in the chair left open next to you. He has a thin folder in his hand as he sits.

"I wanna clear the air 'bout something first. I'm sure ya know the 141's an elite task force. But we're also a pack. I know lots 'a military packs form 'cause 'a proximity: always stationed tahgether or 'round one another all the time without really bein' compatible. But that ain't us. We're compatible as a task force an' a pack. But, and I wanna stress this, being pack ain't necessary to be on the task force. Task force wan's yer skill. 'owever, if ya do join the task force, we've already decided we're open at courtin' ya, if yer open ta bein' courted."

You reel, feeling like the ground has opened underneath you. Price must notice the panic in your eyes because he forges on.

"What I got 'ere," he lifts the slim folder, " is transfer orders. Effective immediately, or as immediately as I submit 'em. They've already got my signature. Once ya sign, if yer interested in bein' on the 141, ya'd train wi' us, run drills an' simulations wi' us. Like squads, we eat tahgether an' have the same R&R. Only thing ya wouldn' do is move inta the barracks wi' us. Not unless ya decided ya wanted to be part 'a the pack. Ya'd still work wi' recruits, but ya wouldn' 'ave a specific squad."

"Wait," you interrupt, "what happens to my soldiers then, if I don't have a squad?"

Price smiles wide at that. "Lookin' out fer 'em's good. Important to the unity of the task force ta look out fer one another. But no task force sergeant has their own squad 'cause we could be sent out at any time. Tha' lack 'a consistency would be worse fer 'em. So, yeah, someone'd take yer squad."

He watches you contemplate all it would mean to become part of his task force. It's a lot, and he hopes you're still up for the challenge, because the more time he spends with you, the more he wants you on the task force and in his pack.

You finally shake off the fog in your head and ask Price for some time to think about it before fully committing. "An' I'm sorry, sir. Because I know I said yes just this morning, but I never thought I'd lose my squad." You pause for a moment before quietly adding, "An' I never imagined the offer included being part of a pack."

He catches your eye and reminds you, "Ya'd only be pack if ya wanted to be. And we'd court ya the right way. If ya wanted."

In the end he gives you the folder and says there's no official deadline for the offer, but he would appreciate a firm answer - either with signed or voided papers - within two days.

You nod, already thinking through who you wanted to consult about this when Price pulls you from your thoughts again.

"Can I make one small request?" he asks politely.

You nod, adding, "If it's reasonable, sir, absolutely."

He gifts you another smile as he leans forward and says, "Join us in the mess tonight? I'd like to officially introduce you to the lads before you make your decision."

next

series masterlist | main masterlist

[cybertron-after-dark]

what the FUCK happens in cyberverse

Here's a list just off the top of my head, in no particular order. MASSIVE spoilers ahead.

-Wheeljack keeps making party drugs. This is not only accepted but wholly encouraged by the Autobots. He's made the bot equivalent to cocaine so strong it made grimlock physically unable to stop himself from running around the ship at mach 5. This was the basis for an entire episode. He's also made patches that give you a direct link to the Allspark that he passed out at a party specifically to get everyone as fucked up as physically possible. I cannot overemphasize that Optimus make no effort to stop this until things turn destructive on both occasions.

-Soundwave and Shockwave completely fucking hate each other and have a whole rivalry trying to be a better and more useful follower for Megatron than each other.

-Soundwave is a fucking memelord who will play clown music or dramatic riffs to dunk on people from the soundboard he has built into his hardware.

-theres a sort of liminal dimension referred to as Unspace that you can get stuck in and if you are there for too long you will straight up disintegrate. We see this happen to the entire crew aboard the arc from different timelines several times while the main timeline crew we follow tries to escape this fate, thus dooming dozens of other timelines.

-Cheetor is basically Allspark Jesus, and he's tired of all the fighting, so he tries to have Optimus and Megatron settle their differences once and for all. The chosen method for this was making them both play the Newlywed Game. They were both terrible at it, the MegOp Divorce agenda is alive and well.

-the Quintessons invade Cybertron and stick the entire population into a simulation a la The Matrix, which slowly drains their life force until they die. This kills countless unnamed Cybertronians, both Autobot and Decepticon, as well as Hound, who does not get to appear on screen.

-the Quintessons also catch Starscream, rip his face off, and modify him into an Eldritch tentacle beast with his brain attached to two other aliens, and then appoint that amalgamation as the judge that decides the fate of the universe in regards to whether they exterminate all life within it.

-Shockwave commits suicide for Megatron's approval. He launches his spark straight into the Allspark to taint it specifically as a last desperate fuck you to the autobots.

-Soundwave acquired laserbeak by just kind of grabbing a random bird out of the sky.

-Soundblaster is an ex-decepticon that left out of shame. That shame being Soundwave beating his ass in a beatboxing competition so fuckin hard he couldn't show his face around his faction anymore.

-The autobots keep starscream captive and try to get him to take a therapy session with the Arc's AI, and he starts out willing to actually give it a shot but said AI is kind of Stupid and screamer ends up tricking him into letting him escape through an air vent to go wreak havoc instead.

-Starscream also starts a suicide cult with the other Seekers, gains control of Vector Sigma and the Allspark, has the seekers forfeit their sparks to him, thus resulting in a cosmically powered Starscream. He uses that power to "remake" his followers into scraplets that he refers to as, with nothing but love in his tone, his "children."

-Shockwave and Wheeljack are shown to be ex lab partners. Shockwave has an army of drones that look exactly like his altmode that Wheeljack helped program. They are programmed to be able to break out into a coordinated dance number at any given time. Originally this was just to make Wheeljack laugh. Shockwave kept that function in throughout the entire war and initiates it the second there's a truce and Wheeljack asks to see it again.

-Shockwave kidnaps Wheeljack at one point for Science Under Duress purposes and Wheeljack is too invested in all the sweet fuckin tech Shockwave's been making while they were apart to really care that he's being held against his will, and then proceeds to escape without too much issue because he knows Shockwave well enough to know exactly how to disable everything.

-Bumblebee distracts the Decepticons by running in front of their surveillance cameras and shaking his ass in the most underwhelming way imaginable.

-Grimlock is only stupid when he's in his altmode because it takes a lot of power to sustain and he has to sacrifice some of his higher brain functions to keep it manageable. In robot mode he talks like he went to an Ivy League college and knows what champagne tastes like. He throws upscale parties every chance he gets.

-Grimlock also helped start an anticapitalist revolution with Bumblebee when he found an underground society of insect transformers that had a rigid caste system. This was within moments of finding out that the ultra wealthy were hoarding the limited energon reserves for themselves. Grimlock is a comrade and he does not fuck around.

-Skybyte is here and he sounds like Skeletor.

-Windblade and Slipstream are nemeses and somehow it's even more toxic yuri coded than Arcee and airachnid in tfp.

-speaking of Arcee, she's besties with Grimlock. They at one point have a physical fight over who gets to die to protect the other.

-hot rod and soundwave are forced to share leadership over the team of bots and cons that escaped the quintessons' simulation and it's packed with so much homoerotic tension its unreal.

-Maccadam is some kind of lovecraftian war machine that can unfold himself into a whole armory whenever he feels like it. We have no idea what his whole altmode looks like, all we see are the ominous shadows of the weapons on the walls. He uses this specifically as a threat to keep anyone from fighting in his bar bc he's insistent it remain neutral ground. He also can kinda just. See into the future. And casually drops prophecies that get written off as spoonerisms until they turn out to be relevant.

-Optimus Prime has horrific social anxiety that he can kind of power through when he's in a crisis, but the second things are chill and he has to give a speech at a party or something he simply does not know how to function.

-the entire planet of Velocitron gets taken over by cosmic rust and everyone inhabiting it that couldn't escape in time was killed horrifically.

-cosmos is a girl and she hangs out with a dude named Meteorfire who is, for all intents and purposes, just robot Steve Irwin.

-Astrotrain keeps closing doors in people's faces for the funny

-Megatron is killed by a version of himself from an alternate universe that went nuts and starting creating a master race of perfect Decepticons to inhabit Cybertron. Said perfect Decepticons were carbon copies of idw Tarn in all but personality.

-Acidstorm is canonically genderfluid and keeps switching between male and female seeker frames whenever they feel like it

-Kup, who had not been in the show at all until this point, decides to show up and narrate an entire episode like hes giving a political speech.

And, the infamous one we all know and love

-Megatron is a twitch streamer and he livestreams Starscream's fucking funeral. The chat has custom Decepticon emotes.

[ridingthatd]

𝐏✘𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

geto, gojo, nanami, sukuna, toji, choso...

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐏...

❝ this is a really kinky work about jjk man.

read at your own risk. ❞

there eyes were glued on you. never leaving you as they stroke their fat, leaking cocks painfully.

it was getos idea to show his friends how your sweet little pussy take his cursed orbs one by one so well.

the only sounds that filled the room was your heavy whines, moans. and the wet sound of your pussy sucking in every orb getos shoves inside you.

this is how you got here. being their cumdump.

a cum dumpster that's what you liked being called. that's what always had you squirting, over flowing with juice. that's what always had you drooling. mouth over flowing with your own sloppy spit- spit that was mixed with their warm cum that they stuffed inside your mouth.

you were choking struggling to keep their boiled seeds that filled your mouth from spilling- nanamis and tojis hot cum that they spilled directly under your tongue to keep you from swallowing it. tears running down your face as your whole body thrust upwards- reminding you of the two fat cocks that were gaping your tight pussy wide open. choso had you sat on his thick thighs, your back smashed into his chest. you can the hardness of his red, sensitive nipples rubbing against your back as he thrusts in.

while sukuna figure was in front of you. his rough hands holding your legs up, pushing then tightly close to your front body as his leaking cock throb inside of your pussy, close to chosos cock. rubbing against chosos cock with each slam of his hips. both of your legs were smashed close to your face, giving you no room to escape the two inhuman cocks that was ripping you apart. t

he feeling of being gaped open was to much- the feeling of their warm, sloppy cocks struggling to enter your tight pussy as it sucks them tightly in was to much. it was all to much that it had you sobbing, drooling and spilling the cum out of your mouth as you hiccup, forgetting about the order of keeping it stuffed in your mouth that they gave you.

your mind was foggy, eyes blurry with tears, your lips were parted, jaw hanging open as drool of spit and cum drips down. your ears were filled with sound of wet, sloppy noises your cunt and their cocks made. your whole body was shaking, trembling. you were so fucked out of it that you didn't feel the sharp sting of the slap that was just placed on your cheek causing your head to snap to the left. "

you fucking slut, who gave you the permission to spill it from your mouth". geto harshly growls out after he slapped your face with his rough hand. just to grab you roughly by your hair and force your face to meet his. but you weren't even lookin at him, eyes crossed focusing on the feeling of the two cocks inside of you.

gojo laughs out loudly. "pathetic little slut to drunk off cocks to even look at you". toji chuckles before he swipe his thumb on your bottom lips, scooping the cum you spilled and shoving it into your mouth. he groans once you start sucking on his thumb immediately. he already came two times inside your little ass few minutes ago but he's still hard as rock.

your eyes shoot out of your head, your body trembles as you feel the curse orbs that geto placed inside your ass twirling around, consistently hitting your g-spot. you can feel the cum of gojo and geto that they spilled inside your ass sliding against the orbs making it more sticky and sloppy.

"s-suguru! no! no! no more please-" you sob out, you know geto was controlling them on purpose. he smirks as you sob out, pleading him to stop simulating you. "fuck! i can feel the juice of the orbs dripping from her ass". choso moans out, so close to squirt his own juice out just as close as sukuna was.

your eyes roll back as you feel robs of cum being shoot inside of you, choso burry his face into your neck, huffing like a dog. you can feel the heatness of his flushed face.

sukuna plugs his cock out of you, his eyes staring at the cum that spilled out of your pussy into the bed sheets in process. he scoffs before grabbing your face with his hand.

"lick it". his deep voice commands you to lick the cum that spilled off the sheets. you shakly get off choso, just to lean down and push your ass up into his face, choso groans as he starts eating your ass while your tongue peak out and suckle on the fabric of the sheets, trying to drink the cum that spilled in.

next thing you know, you are kissing sukunan, passing his cum from one mouth to another all while nanami leans in, close to abused, puffy pussy that was barely recognizable just to push your legs wide apart and spit on it. his eyes pierced on the way the string of spit lands on your swollen clit.

just to blow the smoke of his cigarette into your pussy. he takes the barely lightened cigarette and place it on your wet clit, causing you to feel a painful sting. you jerk away from sukuna and moan out before you squirt all over nanamis face. your juice spraying all over him.

after that all you can see was black.

tag list: @dellysrants @valentine-day-likes-rain @huboi @littleakuma28 @warrior-of-justice @reyyyyyleviii @fhvfgfuhhhbvhjn @neoxghoul @that-goth-bisexual @hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha @enhypen-scholarship @celcstia @xuanzangg @mamas-heart @vih-rodriguesz

[heyitspapayaontop]

Just Like You

In the quiet of a sunny afternoon in Monaco, the Verstappen-Piquet household was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Max was on a team debrief in the kitchen, Kelly was on the balcony sipping her iced coffee, and the sim room—Max’s sacred, high-tech, strictly-off-limits man cave—sat unguarded.

Which meant exactly one thing.

An 8 year old Penelope, peeked around the corner with a conspiratorial grin. Behind her, Y/N—barely 4, dressed in a too-big Red Bull hoodie and gripping a half-eaten stroopwafel—tiptoed with intense determination.

“You ready?” P whispered.

Y/N nodded. “Ready.”

“Remember, you do the wheel. I do the petals.”

“Okay. I be fast.”

“No, we be fast.”

The two girls quietly pushed the slightly ajar door open, the glow from the sim rig blinking like a magical treasure chest.

They slipped inside.

Penelope clambered into the rig like a pro—Max had let her look at it before, but never touch. She slipped her feet toward the pedals, eyes wide with reverence. “I’m gonna press the gas like crazy.”

Y/N nodded and wiggled up onto P's lap, gripping the steering wheel like she knew how to win a championship. “I turn bigggg.”

“Okay, let’s go!”

Penelope tapped the ignition key and Y/N dramatically twisted the wheel left and right. “Vroom! VROOOOM!”

And suddenly—it was all very real.

Penelope stomped a pedal. “GOOOOO!”

Y/N shrieked in delight, spinning the wheel. “We winning!! GO GO GO!!”

From the kitchen, Max frowned.

“Wait. What’s that noise?”

Kelly froze mid-sip. “…No.”

Max took off running. “Oh no.”

When he threw the door open, he found:

—His two daughters —In his prized sim seat —Y/N steering like a madwoman, —Penelope mashing pedals like it was Whac-a-Mole —And both of them dead serious.

“GIRLS—!”

Penelope’s head snapped up. “PAPAAA!”

Y/N gasped. “OH-OH.”

Max rushed over, scooping Y/N up as she giggled wildly in his arms. “Wat zijn jullie aan het doen?!“ (“What are you two doing?!“)

“We were racingggg!” Y/N cheered, throwing her arms up.

Penelope climbed down, all smug. “I was the gas. She was the wheel. We were a team.”

Max stared at them, torn between horror and pure dad-melt mode.

“Mijn kleine gans,” (“My little goose,”) he muttered, kissing Y/N’s cheek. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Y/N squished his cheeks. “I go vroom like you!”

“And you, kleine eend,” (“And you, little duck,”) he said to Penelope. “You’re too clever for your own good.”

Penelope grinned. “You always say racing is teamwork.”

Max looked at Kelly, now filming in the doorway, completely losing it.

“I meant in real cars, not in my €40,000 simulator.”

Y/N leaned into his chest, eyes sparkling. “Can we race again tomorrow?”

Max groaned.

“…Only if I’m on your team next time.”

Penelope grinned. “Then you press the gas, Papa.”

Kelly zoomed in, whispering, “Caption: Verstappen's girls steal the sim, win Monaco Grand Prix.”

Max shook his head with a sigh, bouncing Y/N in his arms. “My little goose and little duck are too dangerous.”

But deep down?

He was just a little bit proud.

A/N: loved this one sm. Not requested!

[mallylonglegs]

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Project: HotGuys Dating Simulator

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(All art credits to @sadagios !!! They are absolutely fantastic!!!!)

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Welcome to HotGuys Dating Simulator! Please, select an option below!

>New Game

-Load Game

-Settings

-Help

-Quit

>Guest Mode

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Based on Scarian Death Game AU by sadagios, where an anon left a rather interesting idea to Sada. Mal took great inspiration from anon and Sada’s ideas, and formed a storyline revolving around them. She shared them with Sada, and thus, a new au of the original au was formed. Scarian Dating Game AU was now up and running!

Strange things happen to Gria, a game dev for “Evolutionist’s Portal”, after he takes home a disc with a dating sim game on it. His obsession with a character from the popular game series “Hermitopia” finally catches up with him, but at what cost? Through glitches and crashes, mixed feelings and concerning behaviors, perhaps what would have once been a dream turns into a horrible nightmare. But where will the story take you? Only you can decide your ending.

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Gria was in need of a couple of spare parts to fix one of the appliances at his apartment, and where better to go for absolutely random parts than Big Ron’s down the corner? While the store associate, Bee, who was most certainly a college student taking a summer job, searched in the back for a slightly more obscure piece, Gria takes the time to look around at all the items dotted about the store. He swears there’s always something different each time he pops in, and it’s always interesting to see.

Then he spots something that is definitely out of place. Not that it’s strange to see a loose disc here, but it’s not with the others, and is just barely poking out from between two books sitting on a shelf. He slides it out, with the intention of putting it back into the bin of loose discs. But the clearly handwritten words on it catch his eye, rather than it having a printed image with text. ‘Project: HotGuys Dating Simulator’. He looks it over, and you know, he’s kinda bored, so why not check it out? It probably won’t be any good, but it can be something to just pass the time.

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Continue reading?

>Yes

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ERROR. LOAD FAILED.

Reloading Old Save File…

(Seriously guys, Sada is absolutely insane, this is so fantastic and now I can actually talk about all the little details and stuff since the art is done and this is all posted)

[strnilolover]

⌗ . . . PLEASURE IS GOOD BUT THE PAIN FEELS BETTER

WARNINGS : SMUT. USE OF PERIOD SIMULATOR. LIGHT PAIN KINK. RIDING. PNV. CREAM PIE. OVERSTIMULATION. SLIGHT SUB!CHRIS.

chris and his brothers had no idea what any of them were getting into when they finally gave into the period simulator idea that matt had brought up on stream months ago—but you were there watching it all go down.

sitting in the background where the camera wouldn’t catch you as they filmed their video.

matt was the first one up who decided to try the simulation—though he did place the patches too high, you decided not to correct them on it. letting them deal with their own consequences.

as you sat there, you couldn’t help but to giggle to yourself softly. watching as matt yelled anytime the dial was turned up too high—complaining about the pain radiating through his body. the same happened with nick—the yelling and cursing. you honestly thought they were some big babies for not handling the pain well.

but when it came to chris’ turn—you couldn’t help but to let your mind wander. the wires were connected to his skin, the device in one hand as he leans back against the cushions of the couch.

“c’mon you can trust me!” matt exclaimed, though there was clear intent behind his eyes, a smirk forming on his face. “no, i can’t.” chris said, turning his head to look at matt as he shuffled away from him. “yes, you can. i swear!” but chris wasn’t buying it, continuing to hold the device away from matt. eventually, matt convinced him to at least let him turn the device on.

it didn’t start right away, chris’ nerves shining through each time the device was turned up to the next level. “you feel it?” matt had asked chris, your own ears almost missing the question. and chris nodded, “yeah.” but his response sounded a little breathless.

“does it feel nice?” matt questioned again, and chris turned to look at him again. “no.” but his mouth was agape slightly, his words breathless again. almost as if he was trying to hold something back. you just watched, quirking a brow as the boys paid no mind to you.

you continued to sit silently, watching as chris gasped and thrusted his hips upwards anytime the simulator got turned up too high. watching as he yelled—but you could hear they were forced, they weren’t the sounds he was wanting to make. you smirked, standing up quietly as you made your way down to chris’ room, waiting for them to finish filming.

-

chris didn’t come down to his room until late—going out with matt and nick to run some errands and to grab some food, making sure to ask if you wanted anything before they came home.

and that gave you plenty of time to go upstairs and search for where they had left the simulator. when you found it, discarded on the counter in the kitchen, you grabbed it and slipped your way back into chris’ room just as they walked in from the garage.

their voices mingled as they bickered over something stupid, but it quickly came to an end as chris opened the door to his room—food and drinks in hand as he said his last words to his brothers before closing the door with his foot.

“hey baby i got—“ his words were cut off as he turned around, seeing you on his bed in nothing but one of his tees and your panties. his mouth dropped open, everything on his tongue disappearing.

you smiled, crossing your legs as you held the simulator next to you on the sheets. chris’ eyes flicked to it then back at you before his feet moved to set the food down on his desk.

chris didn’t even say a word—just stared. his mouth parted, chest already rising and falling faster than normal. his eyes darted between your bare thighs and the little machine lying next to you on the bed.

“you guy’s left your toy out,” you said sweetly. “thought i’d give it back.” chris slowly stepped closer to you. “you—what’re you doing with that? you’re not gonna make me wear that again, are you?”

you tilted your head at his silly question, smirking slightly. “you don’t want to?.” you asked, cocking a grow at him. his face heated up, the idea of the simulator being hooked up to himself again making his brain work overtime.

“you looked so good earlier. moaning, gasping… couldn’t tell if it hurt or if it felt good.” you purred, but you already knew the answer to that. chris’ throat bobbed. “it hurt.”

“mhm. and yet you still popped a boner.” you teased, watching the way his eyes widened at your bluntness. “i didn’t—” he tried to protest, but you quickly interrupted him before he could get much out.

“you did.” you smiled as he couldn’t help but to palm himself through his sweats like it would prove you wrong. too late. your body was already crawling forward, grabbing the simulator and letting your fingers stroke across the wires as he stood still.

“off.” you said, and he didn’t move. so you snapped your fingers, watching his eyes re focus on you.

“i said off, chris.” and he obeyed, quickly stripping down to nothing, letting his boxers hit the floor along with his sweats. you smirked as his half-hard cock twitched under your gaze.

“come sit on the bed.” your hand coming down to pat the mattress under you. his feet moved, coming over, he sat. you came closer, climbing onto his lap. he hissed the second your clothed heat pressed against him through your thin panties, and you bent down to kiss his jaw, murmuring, “gonna let me put it on you again, baby?”

“yes.” he breathed, his body already beginning to tremble with the anticipation.

he whined under his breath as you shifted away slightly, but you were already setting the pads in place—lower this time, where they’d actually target his pelvis properly. he looked at you with wide, almost nervous eyes, but that didn’t stop you. he just gripped your hips as you straddled him once more and pressed the remote into your hand.

you flicked it on.

chris shuddered, his hips immediately jerking up as the first wave of simulation rolled through him, and a quiet whimper left his throat.

“there we go,” you whispered, grinding down on him. “that’s more like it.” the simulator buzzed, causing his hips to twitch up. your free hand reached down slowly, moving your already soaked panties to the side before you lined him up to your entrance, sinking down onto him.

his whole body arched up. “f-fuck.” he groaned, hands trembling on your waist. “you’re—shit—tight.” you moaned at the stretch, the fullness, the pressure of him inside while his muscles jerked with every little pulse of the simulator. you started to bounce gently at first, watching as his head tipped back.

he didn’t last long.

you knew he wouldn’t.

between the pain and the way your walls fluttered around him, it was only minutes before he was gasping and thrusting his cock up into you desperately, spilling inside you with a stuttered cry. his hands tightened on your hips as his cock pulsed inside you—painting your walls white.

but you didn’t stop—you couldn’t.

you were close—so close. and even though his thighs trembled and his stomach twitched with overstimulation, you gripped his shoulders and bounced your hips faster. “w-wait—babe, babe—fuck—” he cried, his eyes rolling back into his head as you continued to move, using him to get yourself off now.

“mm-mm.” you moaned, your head falling to his shoulder. “need it baby, m’almost there.”

“shit—” he cried out again when the simulator pulsed again, and his hips bucked up involuntarily, thrusting up into you. he hissed, head tipping to try and look at where you were connected. “it hurts—fucking hurts—”

“good.” you whined, bouncing even faster. “it’s supposed to.” and his nails dug into your skin—his face was twisted in that pretty little mix of pleasure and pain—eyes squeezed shut now, jaw slack, whimpering curses as you clenched around him again and again.

“fuck—m’gonna cum.” you moaned, your clit rubbing against his pelvis just the right way every time your body slammed down on him. the band in your stomach growing tighter and tighter before it finally snapped. you came with a broken cry, your whole body shaking, head tossed back as your orgasm spilled over you. chris groaned as your walls milked him, already leaking out around his cock.

you finally collapsed against him, your chest heaving with every breath you took. the simulator still attached to his skin, sending waves after waves through him, causing tears to build at his waterline. chris whimpered, “please. please turn it off.”

you slowly turned your head to kiss his cheek and finally clicked it off, and he melted beneath you with a long, shivery exhale as the waves stopped. you leaned up and looked at him—the way his face was flushed, his hair stuck to his forehead, lips parted and swollen from his teeth biting into it.

“you okay?” you asked sweetly, and he nodded, letting his eyes flutter close as he tipped his head back. you smiled, reaching your hand up to caress his face before you tried to move yourself off him, but his arms tightens around you.

“don’t move—stay, please.” he whispered, holding your sweaty bodies to one another.

and who could deny him?

a/n : ik some of y’all are waiting for the stepbrother!matt and chris thing…trust it’s coming, it’s just a little lengthy

ik @mattybsgroupie has been waiting for this one

[prokopetz]

I know proposing inadvisable game-mechanical premises for hypothetical metroidvanias is kind of a thing on this blog, but one that I genuinely would be fun to see is a metroidvania with a really big map where the physics and world model are simple enough that you can just keep the entire world actively simulated in memory at all times. No "baddies can't cross screen transitions" bullshit – the monsters are all bumbling around according to their limited programming the whole time the global clock is running, and they can end up in very strange places if left to their own devices. A moving platform with an unobstructed straight shot ahead of it might cross dozens of screens and have a cycle duration measured in tens of minutes. Which parts of the map are underwater depends on how long it takes you to get there, because some rooms are "leaky" and their water level changes at a rate of meters per hour. We need to Dwarf Fortress this shit.

[inseobts]

Ghost Knife

strawhat crew x fem ! winter soldier ! reader (platonic)

inspired by bucky barnes (marvel) - after getting separated from the other strawhats you return as the world government’s masked assassin with orders to kill them all. but then memories begin to resurface and so does the person you used to be.

a/n: omg I had a huge crush on bucky at some point so thank you anon for this request lmao

words count: 4.3k

tags: platonic, sabaody archipelago arc spoilers, kidnapping, brainwashing, torture, angst, hurt/comfort, cybernetic arm

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“Robin!”

Your voice cracks as you watch her vanish into thin air. One second she’s there, eyes wide, body tense, and the next, she’s gone. Swallowed by that giant’s palm. Sent flying through nothingness by Kuma’s strange power.

You run to where she stood, hand outstretched “Robin!”

The man, the machine, turns toward you.

Your breath catche “Don’t you dare.”

He says nothing. Just moves.

“Y/N!” Luffy yells from behind, voice full of panic “Run!”

You try to run. Kuma’s too fast. In a blink, his hand slams down.

You land hard. Cold floor. White lights. The air smells like metal and bleach.

You groan, pushing yourself up “Where…?”

Then pain shoots through your side. You curl up, coughing.

“Subject is awake, she forgot again.” a voice says above you. Mechanical. No kindness.

You blink through the blur. A face leans close with goggles, gloves, clipboard.

“Where am I?” you whisper.

He ignores your question “Sedate her again.”

“No!” You try to stand, but hands grab your arms. Straps hold your legs. A needle pricks your neck.

Your world fades to black.

The days bleed together.

They don’t call you by name. They call you Asset. Like a tool. Like a thing.

You scream the first time they put you in that chair. Metal clamps, flashing lights. They press buttons. You forget how many days pass. You forget the sound of Luffy’s laugh. Nami’s voice. Zoro’s snoring.

You try to run.

One day, you make it to a hallway before someone shoots your leg. You fall. They drag you back.

They don’t punish you with words. They punish you with fire.

“You’re stubborn,” the woman says. She has short black hair and cold eyes “Most subjects break after three weeks. You’ve lasted five.”

You spit at her.

She slaps you “Fine. We’ll go further.”

The next time you try to run away you then wake up with your left arm gone.

You scream until your throat bleeds.

“You don’t have to be in pain,” they say “Just obey.”

You don’t speak.

They give you a new arm. It’s metal. Heavy. Cold. It hums when you move it.

They teach you how to fight like a machine.

They wipe memories. Try to bury your name.

But in your dreams, Luffy still grins “You’re our nakama!”

Zoro still says “Tch. Don’t get soft.”

Usopp still brags “I’ll protect you!”

Robin still reads with you under the sun.

They can’t take that from you.

At least not yet.

Later on, the voice returns, steady and cold, always the same, “Who are you?”

You answer like they trained you to “I am Weapon Unit 27.”

“What is your mission?”

“Obey. Eliminate targets. No emotion. No hesitation.”

Your voice doesn’t shake anymore. Not like the first time. Or the fiftieth. But when you sleep, if they let you, shadows curl at the edge of your mind. Laughter. A rubbery arm slinging around your shoulders. Someone yelling about meat. Orange hair in the sunlight.

You reach for it but always end waking up screaming.

The woman with the cold eyes, Commander Drayke, watches as you fight in the simulation room. You’re faster now. Your metal arm crushes steel like paper. You don’t flinch when blades touch skin.

“She’s nearly ready,” Drayke says “Complete memory collapse in progress.”

The man beside her, white coat, tired face, glances at his screen “Her brain patterns still show flickers.”

“She’ll forget,” she says “Sooner or later.”

You now sit in your cell. Metal walls. One bed. One sink. One screen.

A small bird taps on the bars, black feathers, a bag tied to its leg.

News Coo.

The guard grabs it, rips the newspaper free, tosses it into your room.

“Read. Stay updated. Don’t fall behind.”

You almost ignore it.

Then your eyes catch two names.

PORTGAS D. ACE AND MONKEY D. LUFFY

The paper crinkles in your hands.

Luffy.

Ace.

The names itch in your chest.

You stare at their faces. Luffy’s wild smile. The straw hat on his back. Ace, strong and scarred, fire dancing in his hands.

You tilt your head.

“Why do they look… familiar?” you whisper.

You flip the page. There’s a bounty poster. A crew. Pirates.

The words Strawhat Pirates ring in your ears. It makes something in you tighten. Like a string pulled too hard.

Your hand trembles. You clutch your head.

Something hurts. Deep.

Like static in your skull.

“No. I don’t know them” you mutter.

But a voice inside you says: Liar.

Year 1, Month 8

Location: Secret Government Base – North Blue

The Winter Soldier... you stand motionless in the training room. Your breath is slow. Controlled. Your mask hides the lines of your face, but not the stillness of your new soul.

You don’t remember the ocean, the Going Merry, your family.

Only orders. Only targets. Only missions.

“Tell me what you are” the voice echoes from the intercom.

She answers with no hesitation.

“I am the blade of justice.”

“And who do you serve?”

“The World Government.”

“And your purpose?”

“To eliminate threats.”

“Good girl,” says Drayke “Deploy her.”

Same time - Weatheria, Sky Island

Nami lounges under a cloud tree, weather scrolls beside her. She flips open the latest News Coo with a sigh.

“Huh,” she mumbles “Another article about that assassin again…”

She reads aloud “The Winter Soldier has completed 35 high-level government missions. No survivors left at any site. Her origin is unknown. World Nobles call her their ‘Ghost Knife.’”

She frowns, “Creepy.”

She turns the page, trying to ignore the chill down her spine.

Kuraigana Island – Wasteland Castle

Zoro slices through a falling boulder like it’s paper. Perona floats nearby, holding up a newspaper.

“Hey, Moss-For-Brains, have you seen this? New assassin. Woman. Metal arm. Wears a mask. Total psycho.”

“Not interested.”

“She’s got a bounty on her head even without being a pirate. That’s rare.”

Zoro grabs the paper, scans it.

The image is blurry, during nighttime, shadows, but she’s unmistakable. That mask. That arm. That stance. The way her fist dents solid rock.

Zoro stares a little longer than he needs to.

“Huh,” he mutters “Feels… familiar.”

Boin Archipelago

Luffy stares at the newspaper like a child with candy.

“She looks SO COOL!” he yells, eyes shining “Usopp would freak out if he saw this!”

He points to the tiny, grainy picture of the Winter Soldier mid-kick, her metal arm glowing, mask hiding her face.

“Do you think she can stretch like me?!”

Rayleigh laughs from across the fire “She’s not like you, Luffy. She's basically a war machine now.”

Luffy tilts his head “That’s sad.”

Impel Down – Level 6, Hidden Room

You stand over a rebel leader, blood pooling on the floor.

“Good,” Drayke says through her comm “Leave no trace. Return for recalibration.”

You turn to leave, but something on the prisoner’s jacket catches your eye.

A small pin. A broken symbol. An old pirate jolly roger. It’s familiar.

You don’t know why but you kneel down, fingers brushing the worn cloth, as something in your chest twists.

A campfire. A boy with a slingshot. A reindeer with wide, teary eyes. Laughter.

You jerk back, eyes wide behind the mask “What was that?”

Two Years Later - Sabaody Archipelago

The sea smells like salt and blood.

You stand stiffly on the deck of the government ship, black mask fixed over your face, mechanical arm humming quietly. Behind the mask, your heart feels cold. Heavy.

The voice buzzes in your ear “Mission: Eliminate the Strawhat Pirates. Neutralize any other threats.”

You nod once, sharp “Understood.”

The ship docks silently and you jump off without a word, disappearing into the crowd.

Nami and Usopp walk quickly through the thick crowds, keeping their heads low.

“You sure it’s this way?” Usopp whispers nervously.

“Yeah,” Nami mutters “Shakky’s bar should be close—”

She stops dead.

Ahead, a group of pirates blocks the path. Rough-looking men. One of them is dressed ridiculously like Nami, down to the orange wig.

“Hey, hey, look at these cuties,” one of the fakes sneers “Where ya rushing off to?”

Nami grits her teeth “Move.”

The fake Nami shoves her hard “Make me, sweetheart.”

Before Usopp can react, a shadow drops between them. Heavy boots slam into the ground. A figure, all black armor and shining metal, stands there.

You.

The Winter Soldier.

The thugs laugh, until you move.

A brutal punch knocks the fake Nami out cold.

The other pirates don’t even have time to scream before you take them down with smooth, efficient blows. No wasted motion. No mercy.

Nami and Usopp stare, wide-eyed. The street falls dead silent.

You turn your masked face toward them.

No words.

No threat.

Just silence as the two Strawhats freeze.

Usopp’s voice trembles “T-thank you…?”

You say nothing.

Nami grabs Usopp’s sleeve “RUN!” she hisses.

They sprint away.

You stand there, unmoving, just watching them disappear into the trees.

You could have chased, but you don’t. Something in your chest aches, and you don’t know why.

Shakky’s Bar

The Strawhats start gathering inside the bar.

Zoro leans against a wall. Franky orders drinks. Robin smiles softly. Brook hums a tune. But the air feels… wrong.

“They should be here by now” Nami says, pacing.

Usopp wipes sweat off his forehead “You guys. We saw someone scary out there. I think… it was her. That assassin the whole world’s been talking about.”

Nami shudders “Yeah. She saved us. But she was terrifying.”

Chopper clutches his bag “Isn’t she working for the government…?”

Nobody has real answers. Only dread. Only waiting.

Meanwhile — Grove 34

Marine soldiers scatter like bowling pins as Luffy punches through them easily, grinning wide.

“Man, you guys are weak!” he laughs.

He turns the corner and freezes.

You stand there, waiting. Black mask. Cold metal arm. Heavy silence.

You don’t speak. You rush him.

Luffy grins, slipping into Gear Second, pink steam curling off him. But his smile fades when he sees your eyes through the slits of your mask. Empty. Hollow.

You clash. Fist against fist. Rubber against steel.

The street cracks under the force of your hits.

“You’re strong!” Luffy yells, blocking another strike.

But then he ducks under your punch and with a sudden roar, he slams his fist straight into your mask.

The metal splits and the mask breaks off, clatters to the ground.

You stand there, gasping softly, face bare under the sunlight.

Your face.

Scarred. Pale. Tired.

The other Strawhats arrive, running after the noise and they all skid to a stop when they see you.

Dead silence.

Luffy stares at you, his mouth hanging open. His fists lower. His heartbeat screams in his ears.

“Y…Y/N…?”

Nami covers her mouth “No…”

Chopper’s eyes fill with tears “It’s her! It’s really her!!”

Sanji falls to his knees, sobbing heart-shaped tears “A goddess! And it’s OUR Y/N!!”

Robin’s eyes go wide in quiet shock. Franky clutches his huge hands over his mouth. Brook stares, frozen.

You blink at them confused.

You step back, raising your weapon again “Who’s y/n? I don’t know you.”

The words feel wrong on your tongue.

Luffy steps forward slowly, like approaching a wild animal.

“You’re my friend,” he says, voice rough and low “You’re my nakama. You’re part of our family.”

You hesitate.

Some random images flash in your mind.

Your grip tightens. Your orders scream in your mind: Eliminate them.

You attack.

The fight is brutal.

You move like a ghost, precise and devastating. But your strikes aren’t as strong anymore. Your hand shakes once when you aim at Nami. You freeze when Chopper cries your name.

Luffy blocks, dodges, and refuses to hit you hard. His voice breaks every time he calls your name.

“Come back...” he pleads.

“Wake up!” he begs.

Your body moves automatically, but inside, you are screaming.

In a desperate move, you throw a smoke bomb to the ground to blind them.

You retreat. Not because you were ordered to but because something inside you felt like breaking.

You stumble onto the ship, heart pounding.

Memories hit you like waves.

You fall to your knees in the empty hall, breathing hard.

“Luffy…” you whisper.

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you.

The scientists grab you and drag you to the white room. Cold metal cuffs slam around your wrists.

One scientist squints at you.

“What did you say?” he demands.

You clench your jaw. But it’s too late. They heard.

The lead scientist sighs coldly “She’s remembering. Begin full brainwash protocol.”

You struggle. You fight against the straps “Please! I don’t want to forget—!” you scream, thrashing.

The machine hums louder.

“You don’t need memories,” the doctor says flatly “You need orders.”

Tears prick your eyes as the sedation hits you.

The last thought in your mind before the darkness swallows you whole... I have to find them. I have to remember. I have to go bac home.

As the smoke clears. The mask lies broken in the dust. The air still hums with tension, but you’re gone.

The Straw Hat crew stands frozen in the middle of the wrecked street, staring at the empty space where you once stood.

No one says anything.

Chopper’s small voice finally breaks the silence.

“…She ran away.”

Robin steps forward slowly, picking up the shattered piece of your mask. The black metal is cracked, still warm.

She studies it with sad eyes.

“It was her,” she murmurs “All along.”

Usopp gulps “The Winter Soldier… that assassin everyone’s been talking about… that was Y/N?”

Franky clenches his fists “No wonder she was so strong.”

Sanji exhales a puff of smoke shakily, eyes low “Two years. That’s how long she’s been… gone.”

They walk slowly back to Shakky’s bar, the mood heavy like storm clouds. Inside, silence falls again.

Then Nami speaks.

“I should’ve known it was her.”

She sits down hard, shaking her head.

“When she saved us earlier, I didn’t… I didn’t recognize her. But the way she stood. The way she moved. It felt familiar. And I ignored it.”

Usopp adds, guilt in his voice, “Her eyes… They looked empty. She didn’t even blink. Like she wasn’t even… human anymore.”

“She was scared,” Chopper whispers, tears sliding down his cheeks “Even though she didn’t show it. I could feel it.”

Zoro leans against the wall, jaw tight “They must’ve brainwashed her. Tortured her. Trained her like a weapon.”

Luffy doesn’t say a word.

He’s sitting at the bar, hunched over, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have gone white.

Robin turns to him gently “Luffy…”

He doesn’t look up.

“For a second I thought she was dead.”

His voice is low. Quiet. Broken.

“After I broke that mask her eyes felt nothing like our y/n.”

He slowly lifts his head. His eyes are red, jaw tight with emotion.

“But she’s still y/n. They turned her into that but she hesitated.”

“They stole her from us,” Luffy growls “They made her forget us.”

Nami looks up, blinking back tears “What do we do now?”

Luffy stands “We go get her.”

Everyone looks up.

Robin nods “They won’t let her go easily.”

“I don’t care,” Luffy says, voice firm now “She’s our nakama.”

“She probably doesn’t even remember us fully...” Usopp mutters.

“She doesn’t have to,” Luffy replies “I remember her.”

The room goes quiet.

Zoro smirks “Then we break in. We take her back.”

Sanji flicks his lighter “Hell yeah we do.”

Brook plays a low note on his violin “Let’s bring our friend home.”

Meanwhile, your body lies strapped down in the cold lab room.

Machines buzz around you. Wires in your head. Drugs in your veins. But somewhere deep inside your mind, something fights.

You stand in a white, empty space.

Alone.

Then “Oi! Don’t eat all the meat!”

Laughter.

“I’ll patch you up, just stop moving!”

“You’re one of us now, dummy!”

Voices. Memories. Echoes of who you were.

You stumble forward. The ground starts shaking. The white fades.

A hand reaches for you through the dark.

It’s Luffy’s.

“Come back” he says softly.

Some days later, the alarms blare. Explosions rock the outside of the base.

Marines run through the halls in panic “We’re under attack!!”

Outside Luffy crashes down through a wall, fist first.

“Y/N!!!”

The Strawhats have come.

Your eyes snap open.

Lights above. Cold metal around your wrists and ankles. Straps tighten across your body.

The head scientist leans over you, calm as ever.

“They’ve come for you.”

Your breath hitches.

You don’t ask who. You already know.

“Kill them all” he says.

A command.

Your programming obeys. A new steel mask is replaced. The black suit sealed. Your left arm whirs to life.

You stand up, empty inside.

The Straw Hats move like fire through the base.

Zoro cuts through waves of marines, swords flashing. Robin breaks them apart with giant phantom arms. Sanji kicks his way through steel walls and floors, growling, “Where is she!?”

Luffy punches another door down “She’s somewhere here. I can feel it.”

They find you in the inner chamber, standing alone, blocking the hallway.

Winter Soldier mode on. Silent. Masked. Deadly.

You raise your weapon, red light glowing on your metal arm.

Luffy stops.

So does the rest of the crew.

You stare at them and they stare back.

You speak first.

“Leave. Or die.”

Zoro doesn’t even flinch “Not happening.”

Your eye twitches behind the mask.

“I said leave.”

You dash forward. Fast.

Your punch aims straight for Sanji’s chest but he doesn’t move. You slam into him and he staggers back, coughing blood, but doesn’t strike back.

You hesitate.

Why didn’t he fight back?

You spin, launching kicks and strikes at Nami, Robin, Usopp... They dodge or take the hit but they don’t attack.

Nami yells, voice shaking, “We’re not gonna hurt you, Y/N!”

You freeze mid-swing.

Luffy steps forward, fists unclenched.

“You can try to kill us,” he says “But we’re not gonna stop until you remember who you are.”

“I know who I am... I’m the Winter Soldier” you reply coldly.

“No” Luffy says.

“You’re Y/N. Our nakama.”

You punch again and again, he takes it. Blood drips from his mouth. Still, he grins.

“Come on,” he says “I know you’re still in there.”

Your vision shakes. A memory flashes. You stumble backward, clutching your head.

“Stop! Stop!!”

Luffy doesn’t stop. He steps closer.

Robin gently calls, “You saved us so many times, Y/N. Let us save you now.”

“Don’t you remember?” Usopp says “You made me that slingshot charm, back on Water 7. You said it’d keep me safe.”

Sanji places a gentle hand on your shoulder “You called us family.”

The words hit like thunder.

You scream.

You drop to your knees.

The pain behind your eyes explodes and the memories rush in.

Every laugh. Every fight. Every hug. Every scar. Every sunset on the Sunny. Every meal Sanji made. Every time Chopper patched you up. Every stupid, perfect moment.

The mask suddenly feels wrong. Tight. Heavy. You rip it off.

Tears streak down your cheeks.

“I remember.”

Luffy holds out a hand to you, grinning through a split lip.

“Welcome back.”

You take his hand and stand up. The mask lies shattered at your feet. Tears drying on your cheeks. The Straw Hats stand beside you.

You don’t feel like the Winter Soldier anymore.

Now, you feel like you.

But the moment is short-lived. Behind you, the reinforced blast doors hiss open.

White coats. Scientists. Dozens of them. Their voices are calm. Clinical.

“She’s unstable.”

“Reactivate the protocol.”

“Sedate her before she infects the others with sentiment.”

You freeze. The crew tenses.

You feel the shift in the air. The pure, boiling rage that radiates from behind you.

Zoro steps forward first. One hand on his sword.

Sanji lights a cigarette. Hands shaking with fury.

Luffy cracks his knuckles “You’re the ones who did this.”

The scientists don’t even flinch.

“She was never yours to begin with.”

Wrong answer.

Zoro unsheathes his sword.

“Zoro—wait—” you try, but it’s too late.

He’s gone. Charging forward with the fury of a storm.

Luffy launches after him.

Sanji’s right behind, kicking straight through the steel wall just to get a shortcut to them.

Franky roars, cannon arm charged.

Brook draws his sword with an eerie silence “You hurt our friend.”

Even Nami gets ready to attack them saying “How dare you doing that to our y/n!”

Usopp, Robin, and Chopper stay behind you, but even they look mad and protective.

You turn to them, breath fast “We can’t let them go too far.”

“They tortured you!” Chopper yells, ears flat, teeth clenched “They hurt you for two years!”

“I know...” you say softly.

Robin’s eyes are hard, but she’s not moving “People like them… they don’t stop unless you make them.”

“They already broke laws” Usopp says “They broke you.”

You step between them and the path ahead.

“I’m not asking you to forgive them. I’m asking you not to become like them.”

Screams echo through the halls.

Zoro’s blade slices through security bots. Sanji kicks a scientist across the room. Luffy punches straight through a wall of machines.

They’re not holding back.

“YOU SHOCKED HER—FOR WHAT?!” Sanji bellows, grabbing a doctor by the collar.

“She was scared, and you punished her?”

Luffy blasts a ceiling open.

Zoro cuts through an entire server bank, sparks flying “You brainwashed her.”

“She’s a person” Franky says, as Nami stands beside him and continue the sentence “She’s not your weapon.”

You land hard in the center of the chaos, skidding between your friends and the scientists. The room is smoke and ruin. Bodies groaning. Fire crackling.

You raise your hands “STOP!!”

They do. Barely.

Luffy stands over a lead scientist, fist drawn back. Shaking with rage.

You step between them.

“Luffy,” you whisper “That’s enough.”

“She crushed your arm, Y/N,” he growls “She erased your name.”

“I know,” you say “And I’m still standing.”

His fist trembles in the air.

“Please,” you whisper “Let me go forward now.”

His arm drops.

Slowly, the others follow. Zoro sheaths his swords with a hard glare. Sanji turns away, biting down on his cigarette so hard it snaps. Franky’s fists stop sparking. And Nami look at you apologetically.

You stand there, panting, eyes wide.

No one speaks.

The scientists back away, terrified now. Not of the fists. But of the silence.

Robin walks over to you slowly. She places a hand on your arm.

“You brought them back” she says.

“Now I remembered who I am,” you whisper “And who I fight for.”

Hours later, the ship is quiet.

You sit on the deck, wrapped in a warm blanket. Chopper’s checked your wounds three times. Sanji made you soup and hasn’t stopped calling you “my dear lost goddess”. Nami prepared you a good warm bath and brushed your hair.

After you get out all clean and dressed as your real usual, Luffy joins you, plopping beside you with his usual grin.

He doesn’t say anything at first.

Just sits.

Then he says “You’re really back now.”

You nod.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

Your chest tightens.

“I missed you too.”

For the first time in years, you feel still. Safe.

Your new arm clicks softly as you lift your drink. It’s light. Comfortable. Yours. Matte black metal with gold lines running through it like veins, designed by Usopp and Franky, who proudly call it “The Strong Arm Mk. I”.

“Mk. II has a built-in slingshot compartment,” Usopp boasts, puffing up “Just in case.”

Franky flips his sunglasses up “And the third one comes with a grappling hook! So you can be SUPER mid-air!”

You laugh “I love it.”

They both beam like kids on Christmas.

Chopper bounds over next, stethoscope in paw “Arm okay? Nerves stable? Circulation’s good?”

You nod, smiling “You’ve checked it twice already.”

He pouts “I just wanna make sure! What if the bone memory causes—”

You hug him before he finishes the sentence.

He squeaks, face turning red “O-okay! You’re fine, you’re fine!”

Later, in the kitchen Sanji won’t stop cooking.

Plates stack up faster than you can eat them: your favorite stew, that spicy rice from Drum Island, a cake that’s somehow in the shape of your arm, and a hot drink with cinnamon swirls on top.

He hovers proudly nearby, heart eyes practically glued to you.

“I’ll make it every day if it makes you smile, mon étoile!”

You snort “You’re gonna spoil me.”

He spins dramatically “Then let me!! You’ve been through hell, now all you get is heaven!”

Brook strums his violin, a slow, sweet tune.

It’s the lullaby you used to hum when you couldn’t sleep.

He doesn’t say anything. Just plays for you.

Robin sits beside you, passing you a book she picked from her personal collection. It’s about strong women who survived and changed the world.

She doesn’t say much either. She doesn’t have to.

You squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

Nami and Zoro hang back at first.

You find them leaning against the mast, watching the crew buzz around you.

“You okay?” Nami asks quietly.

You nod “I am now.”

Zoro doesn’t look at you, but his voice is low and honest “You scared the hell outta us.”

“I know” you say softly.

“I’m sorry.”

He glances over at last “You don’t have to be. Just don’t vanish again.”

You smile, holding back tears “I won’t.”

Nami smiles back at you “I’m so happy to see you smile again!”

Later that night, Luffy slams his mug down “Alright!! Now that everyone’s back, let’s celebrate!”

The crew cheers.

Meat piles up. Lights string along the mast. Music plays. Laughter fills the air.

You’re laughing too, tears in your eyes, surrounded by your family.

They don’t treat you like you’re broken. They don’t treat you like a weapon.

They treat you like Y/N.

The next morning the sails are up. The wind is perfect. The Log Pose spins confidently.

Nami grins “Let's start, next stop: Fishman Island!”

Luffy points ahead “Full speed!!”

You stand beside him, wind in your hair, new arm gleaming in the sun.

“Let’s go.”

Because this time, you’re not just coming along.

You’re finally home, with them. And the world better be ready.