#EVEN HIS STUPID LOOKS HAVE A REASON BEHIND IT

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dad!James Potter x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Telling James you're pregnant again is scary.

Genre: pure fluff

Warnings: reader is pregnant, vomiting

~ set after Santa Baby and before Snow On The Beach ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

Date nights were extremely important to James. Since Henry's birth, he was adamant that his alone time with you was something he didn't want to neglect, even if there was a child in the picture.

Now that Henry was nine, convincing Sirius and Remus to babysit wasn't hard. Especially since they would bring their four year old, Cassiopeia, with them and Henry would graciously play her while you and James went out. 

Tonight's date isn't any different than the others, except that you're a bundle of jumping nerves. It certainly doesn't help that James looks positively stunning with his dark hair slicked back, a few loose curls arrayed across his forehead, and his dark suit, which conveniently matches the velvet navy dress you're wearing.

The restaurant is fancy. It's James's favorite and you secretly think one of the reasons is he likes showing you how much he can spoil you, as if he hadn't been doing just that for the past thirteen years. He'd ordered this fancy appetizer, along with some wine you haven't touched and was currently talking about work. Taking over his father's company was putting some stress on him, which you understood. 

"You know, I can't wait till Harry starts school, not that I won't miss the little bugger," James chuckles behind his wine glass, his mind wandering, "but because we'll have more time. Just us."

His words cause your stomach to sink. How are you supposed to tell him now, you think. James, always observant to your emotions, frowns when he sees your expression. 

"You okay, you look like you're going to be sick—" 

As he speaks, the nausea hits you hard and you stand, holding a hand over your mouth as you rush to the nearest bathroom without any warning. You clumsily throw yourself on the ground, vomiting into the toilet and you choke on an embarrassed sob. 

James is hot on your heels the moment you leave dinner so abruptly, running into the women's bathroom without a care in the world. The older women, who'd been mildly appalled by your vomiting, send him some dirty looks but he doesn't pay them any mind as he opens the stall. He kneels next to you, gently gathering your hair in his hand as he uses the other one to rub soothing circles on your back.

"Hey, my love, what happened?" He asks between soothing words, his hand strokes your hair as you slump against him, tears glistening in your waterline. 

Your husband isn't stupid and he knows you. He looks into your eyes and he understands instantly. His breath hitches as he remembers just how bad your 'morning' sickness was when you were pregnant with Henry, lasting and becoming even worse in the evenings. His gaze softens instantly and clicks his tongue. "Why didn't you tell me?" he scolds half-heartedly, still rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

You sniffle, wiping your mouth with an enormous amount of toilet-paper as you whimper, "I felt like I was going to disappoint you, you seemed so happy for time alone and—"

"And now we are going to have another baby," James finishes for you, kissing your temple as he helps you up and brings you to the sink. He pushes hair behind your face as he gently takes some paper-towel, wets it, and gently runs it under your chin and around your mouth. You look miserable and his heart breaks. 

He doesn't say anything for a moment as he washes your hands, washing his in the process as well. Your mind races. You don't know what to think, what to feel about this new life growing inside you.

He places his large palm on your stomach. You're not showing, yet. You flinch, sniffing. "Why so sad, love?" he whispers as he tries to comfort you.

"You're upset," you whisper, looking at your appearance in the mirror. You look like a mess.

James grins. "Says who?" He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead again. 

You look on the verge of tears again and your husband's smile falters. He leans down, catching your gaze so you're looking at him properly. "Hey, love, please don't cry okay? I'm not upset, I promise. I'm happy. So so happy, really," James reassures you, a familiar glint of sincerity in his eyes. "We are having another baby. This is the best news, okay?" 

Tension eases in your shoulders and you finally relax. The warm feeling of happiness seeps back into you. You sniff again, looking into his eyes. "Promise?"

He straightens himself and holds out his pinky for you to take. "I pinky promise." You hook your pinky with his and he leans down, kissing his closed fist. You hesitate, finally cracking a small smile as you do the same. 

"Excuse me? This is the ladies room," a snark voice calls from behind you both and you look towards the voice. A woman is standing tensely in the doorway, gripping the hand of her young daughter, and she's glaring daggers at James.

The little girl looks confused and she's clearly feeling the fear her mother is and you can tell from James's expression he feels bad. 

"Sorry." He waves his hands in the air, his cheeks dusted pink, as he points to you, "My wife was sick—I was just leaving—" James looks your way and mouths, "You coming?"

You nod, taking his hand, as he leads you out the door. You mumble a small apology to the woman and James sends a small reading smile to the girl, hoping not to scare her.

Once your back at your table, James gulps down his wine and looks at you sheepishly. "Oops," he mutters. You smile and cover your giggles. James's smile widens when you laugh and he reaches over, resting his hand over yours. 

"Seriously, baby," he says, seriously now, "I'm really happy. And Henry will be happy too."

You rub your temples, taming some of the wisps of hair that fall in front of your eyes. "Yeah? You think so?"

James laughs, "No. He's gonna be furious," he pauses when he sees that his joke isn't landing and he squeezes your hand. "I'm joking. He'll be the best big brother. He's already so good with Cassi, he's practically an older brother already."

You smile. "He is, isn't he?"

James hums, that giddy smile of his returning. "Pregnant. Again," he muses, "I can't believe how lucky I am," he says and looks at you like you're the brightest star in the universe. You feel your cheeks warm. "I love you."

"I love you more," you say back, bringing his knuckles to your lips. 

James grins and when he catches glimpse of your untouched wine glass, a smirk curls his lips and shake his head, clicking his tongue. "Can't drink this, baby," he teases you and slides it over to his side. You roll your eyes. 

"I wasn't," you argue playfully.

"Hmm?"

You swat his hand, knowing he's teasing you on purpose to lighten the mood. Still, your nerves have calmed and you aren't feeling as nauseous anymore. In fact, you can finally truly feel excited now. Another baby. You smile.

Once the food arrives and the topic of conversation had changed to James excitedly coming up with new baby names, you feel at ease again and warmth spreads in your stomach.

You move your foot under the table, gently touching James's ankle—just to let him know you love him. James doesn't mention it but his smile widens as he speaks, a look of adoration and love sparkling in his eyes. 

[whatifitis]

♡ can we start it all over again? - LN 4 ♡

Summary: The person you thought was the love of your life turned out to be a liar. So now you're left with nothing, no love, no home, and no plans for the future. Everything feels awful but as soon as you feel things are getting better, you run into your first love.

Author's Note: After a long ass wait, here's part 3 to 'i wish you would've stayed'. thank you guys for all the support on this little series <3 yall are the reason i write

WC: 3469

CW: cheating, thoughts about not breathing, yearning from Lando, excessive song references

What I thought was for all time turned out to be momentary.

After a long day at work, you were excited to be able to come home and finally see the love of your life.

Even after all this time together, the love between you two was still so exciting and palpable. You were practically running up the steps to your shared home, fumbling with the keys a bit. You opened the door and didn’t find Gabe in his office like he usually is.

You heard some noise coming from your bedroom and booked it down the hallway in excitement, but when you opened the door, you were met with a sight you never thought you’d have to see. Red auburn hair swayed as the figure rode Gabe, covering his face.

You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your mouth. The two heads turn to face you and shock is drawn all over their bodies.

“Mikayla?!” you question, watching as your cousin climbs off your fiance, failing to cover herself with your bedsheets.

“I-” is all she’s able to voice.

Gabe is scrambling off the bed, “It’s not what it looks like, baby-”

“Don’t “baby” me. You lost that privilege the second you stuck your dick in someone else.”

“No! I didn’t- It’s not-”

“Oh! So you just tripped and it fell into her vagina?!”

Being met with silence, you’re quick with your movements, walking to the closet and packing whatever you can grab in this moment of fury and despair. You can feel heat consuming your face and body. Tears are forming on your waterline but you refuse to let them see you fall.

You zip up your bag and make your way to leave, stopping for a moment to look at the person you thought you knew. “Loving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. Someone will get the rest of my stuff later. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

You don’t even spare a glance at Mikayla. But, as you’re about to close the door, you pause, feeling the band around your finger: “Oh, and I guess you’ll need this for her” - you spat, tossing your engagement ring to Gabe’s feet.

After everything, everything you told him, he still went behind your back and chose someone else. Come one, come all, you guess. It’s happening again. He called you the love of his life. God, how could you be so stupid. You think back on everything, and it’s all making sense now.

Mikayla wasn’t necessarily ecstatic when you’d told her that Gabe had proposed to you. You were disappointed and confused but brushed it off as she had just broken up with her boyfriend at the time.

When you confessed to Gabe that you were disappointed in Mikayla’s reaction, he reassured you and told you he’d talk to her for you.. Gabe was always quick to problem solve and he always enjoyed making you happy, so when he jumped at the chance to speak with Mikayla, you didn’t think anything of it. After her “talk” with Gabe, Mikayla was giddy. She apologized for her initial reaction to your engagement and asked if she could help you with the wedding planning.

Planning the wedding with your cousin by your side was amazing. The two of you had a shared taste in aesthetic so it made everything feel a lot less stressful. Now you realize why she was so excited. Helping you plan the wedding allowed her to invite herself over a lot to “go over details”. It was almost as if she was planning her own wedding.

You are such a fool. You ended up lost inside a memory of someone’s life, it wasn’t yours.

After everything that just happened, you weren’t sure of what to do or where to go. You were driving around in silence, trying to keep from completely breaking. You call a friend of yours, asking if you could spend the night with her and that you could leave in the morning. Pietra, your friend, assured you that you could stay as long as you need.

After a long and dreadful drive, you had arrived at Pietra’s house. She sat you down on the couch and handed you a cup of tea. “Y/n, what happened?”

You took a deep breath and tried to stay composed enough to tell her, but you couldn’t. The words you wanted to say were stuck in a lump in your throat. Your breathing became irregular as you struggled for air. All you could do was break down into tears as Pietra moved closer to you and pulled you into her arms, rubbing her hand up and down your back.

The weight of everything just came crashing down on you now. You lost the love of your life, your cousin, and all your future plans in one day. You don’t have a home. You don’t have love. You don’t have the one person you trusted with your life. You don’t have the person who put you above everything else. You don’t have the person who had the ability to turn your bad days into good days. You don’t have the person who loved you for you.

You don’t even have Olive anymore.

The two of you grew fond of each other after you and Gabe moved in together. Olive became your best friend in a way. As crazy as it seems, she helped you pick your outfits a few times. But she's not yours. Nothing is yours. Was anything ever really yours?

Time passes and you’re able to calm your sobs. Through your hiccups, you tell Pietra about everything. You tell her about Mikayla, about Gabe, about how you feel so lost now.

“I’m sorry, my darling. I didn’t expect this, honestly. But don’t worry about finding a place to stay. Stay here for as long as you want, it’ll be nice to have you around. It’s hard to find time to hangout with you and I miss seeing you.”

“I missed you too. And thank you for letting me stay here, I don’t know how to repay you. I can pay some rent or something.”

“No. Don’t worry about that. Just help me make some brigadeiro when you feel up to it.” she says, offering you a soft smile.

“I’ll try. I think I’m gonna head to bed now. I gotta get to the office early tomorrow.”

“No. What the fuck? You just got your heart broken. Your whole life just fell apart. No offense. Take the day off, matter of fact, take the whole week off. We’re gonna take a break. Okay?”

“I kinda wanna go to work so I can have a distraction from the fact that I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing, y/n. Gabe failed you. Mikayla failed you. None of this is your fault. You did nothing to deserve this.”

“At some point, I have to realize there is something wrong with me. My relationships never work and the common denominator in all of them is me.” you say, shrugging your shoulders and accepting that maybe love isn’t meant for you. You stand to go to your temporary room. “Goodnight, Pietra.”

“Fine. You can go wallow in your sadness but call your boss cause you’re not going to work tomorrow. I will lock you in your room if I have to.”

You shut the door to your room, not having the energy to counter Pietra’s demands. You have to fight every bone in your body to keep from sliding down the door and sobbing. At least make it to the bed, you tell yourself. Your feet heavily drag across the carpet, trying to get you to the edge of the bed and when you do, you collapse onto it and break. You cry and cry as you curl into yourself. It gets harder and harder to breathe, but you won’t be able to feel the relief of ceasing your breath completely. There’s a hole in your gut in the shape of everything you had and lost.

Gabe played you, for years. It was like he was mocking you with everything you ever confided in him. You had told him things that you’d never told anyone else, and now you regret that. You wish you could unrecall how you almost had it all. Everything you’d dreamed of, being loved and wanted.

All those braids of lies. All those “I’ll never leave”’s and “You’re more than enough”’s.

If you could, you’d go back to the night you met Gabe. You’d go back and tell yourself that he wasn’t the one. You wish you’d never met him. You had all of him, then most of him, and now none of him. What the hell are you supposed to do?

Once your sobs subside briefly, you send a text to your boss, letting her know you won’t be in tomorrow, and probably the day after. You won’t be able to get stuff done while in this state. Maybe Pietra is right. It might be best if you take more than a day or two off work to get yourself back up on your feet.

The next week is spent with Pietra glued to your side. The two of you spent everyday either relaxing or going on mini adventures around town and shopping til you dropped. While it’s been nice, spending time with P and just going out, it doesn’t take away the pain or distract you from it too much. There’s still an empty space in your chest that feels like it will keep expanding until it consumes you into nothingness.

It seems as if your soul is disappearing, leaving you to be a ghost. You still don’t know how it ended. Yes, he cheated, probably more than once, but how? Why? Were you not enough? Did you do something to push him away?

You can’t feel it yet, peace and acceptance. But you are waiting. Desperate to feel anything but this, or nothing at all.

Days and weeks pass and you’re slowly coming to. You’re back at work and you’ve been touring some apartments with Pietra. She insisted that if you moved out, you would at least live close by. You agreed to this condition and you just sent an application for the apartment you liked most. It was beautiful with a few big windows to let the sun in, a window nook you could relax in, and a magnificent view of London.

You were on break at work when your phone pinged with a notification. You look down and see his name pop up on the screen. Gabe texted you, letting you know he packed the rest of your stuff so it’ll be an easier and faster process for you to get whatever was left after that night.

Without responding, you text Pietra, asking her if she could go and grab your stuff with her boyfriend, Max. You don’t think you could stomach going back there. Not after knowing what happened in what was your room. Not after you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling questioning how many times it happened. Where it happened.

Without hesitation, Pietra says yes and lets you know that she’ll have your stuff in your room by the time you get home. You’re forever grateful for Pietra for being there for you through all this, for allowing you to live in her home. You would mention Max as well since it’s his home as well, but you found out that he had told Lando about your situation in full detail. So, he’s on probation right now.

The work day wraps up quite late so by the time you’re driving home, it’s dark and cold. You call Pietra and let her know that you were on your way back, asking if she needed you to pick up anything on your way home. She says no but keeps you on the phone to make sure you get home safe. The two of you talk about work and make plans for the weekend.

As you pull into the driveway, Pietra is already waiting for you at the door, dancing around as you hear a one direction song being played from inside the house.

“Welcome home, bestie.” Pietra screams.

You run up to her and hug her so tightly. You had just seen each other this morning but it felt nice to feel appreciated and wanted. In the past few weeks, you two had grown closer and it felt like you were kids again.

You enter the house and drop your stuff onto the couch when you feel something furry run along your ankles. You look down to see Olive.

“Pietra, what the hell?”

You look up to see Pietra with a guilty look plastered on her face, “Well, when I went to get your stuff from that bitch, I was grabbing the last bag and he had Olive in her little crate. He said he wanted you to have her. He said that the two of you had grown close and he wants you to have her. And if it makes you feel better, he said she’s been shitting in his shoes since you left.”

Bending down to pick up Olive, you look at her face and just hug her close. Turns out she is a girl's girl, and you’re grateful for her, even if she is just a cat.

“Thanks, Pietra. For getting my stuff and bringing my little Olive.”

“It’s no problem. I’m glad you got something good out of all this.”

“Me too.” you say, watching as Olive curls into you and purrs as you scratch beside her ear.

The rest of the night is spent cuddling with Olive and listening to Pietra vent about her own work life and personal life. Apparently her manager wants her to do a brand deal with a cheese company? When Pietra is lactose intolerant?

The next morning, you are awoken by birds chirping outside your window as rays of golden sun make their way to warm your body. It’s a beautiful day outside so why let it go to waste?

After kissing the top of Olive’s head, you start getting ready for the day and put on one of your favorite dresses. It’s a beautiful, pink sundress that’s loose and comfortable but hugs your figure nicely. It’d been a while since you’d worn it, having forgotten about it after Mikayla told you that it made you look like one of the twins from ‘Alice in Wonderland’. Maybe you should’ve seen the signs.

You decide to head to your favorite cafe that’s down the street. After moving in with Pietra and Max, you’d ventured to each establishment in the area and just fell in love with the aesthetic and aura of this cafe. It was cozy with cream colored walls, big windows that allowed the warm sun to shine through, and potted plants in every corner and crevice of the place.

After ordering a coffee, you take a seat at a table in the corner where you can read your book in peace. That was until you heard an all too familiar voice. “Y/n.” - Looking up from your book, you’re met with his eyes. The eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.

“Lando.”

With a shaky exhale, he quickly explains himself, “Max told me you were here. Actually, I kind of berated him to tell me where you were and if I could talk to you. I heard what happened with Gabe and I just had to see you. Can I have a seat?”

“I’m not in the mood, Lando. I’m tired and I feel like I’m just starting to get back up on my feet. I don’t want to entertain this.”

He takes a seat in the chair across from you and you watch the pleads that leak from his body. “Please, Y/n. I just want to talk. I’ve thought a lot about what I’ve done to you and I just need you to listen. Please. I don’t expect to get back together or for you to forgive me and all that. I miss having you in my life and I would really like it if we could at least be friends?”

You just sit there with your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at him. You know as soon as you see him, you’re gonna wring Max’s neck for telling Lando about what happened and about where you were.

Realizing you weren’t going to speak, Lando continues, “I fucked up, bad. I disrespected you and essentially used you. Like I said the last time we spoke, I didn’t realize what I had til it was gone. I didn’t realize that I actually love you, like a lot.”

With a deep breath, you tell him everything you never said. “Sometimes I can find peace with the fact that you left, accepting that this wasn’t meant for me. Other nights I would bargain with God, asking him what I had to do or give up for him to bring you back. After all of this, I don’t know why I’m holding on to you. There is nothing to hold on to. And I used to be scared of losing you. I think I still am somehow, which is weird. Like if I let you go then I officially lost you. If I just hold on to every little memory, maybe you’ll come back, even if I shouldn’t. And that’s even scarier. It’s scary knowing that after all this time, you still have this hold on me. Like all you have to do is say something, and I'll come back.”

“So why don’t you come back? To me? I’ve grown, Y/n. I’ve changed. And I’m still changing and learning. I love you. And I know that even if I love you wholeheartedly, that’s not enough. I will work everyday to prove to you that I love you. I will work every moment to show you how much I care about you. The day that I left, I lost the love of my life. I lost you.”

“You didn’t lose the love of your life, Lando. You just lost the person you had loved the most so far in your life. You’ll find the love of your life, someday. But it’s not me.”

“Y/n, I don’t know life without you. Everyday that’s passed since I ended things, you’ve always been at the forefront of my mind. I found you then I lost you and looking back is torture. It hurts to know I hurt you. If I could go back and do it all over, I’d do it differently. I would’ve never let you go and I would have treated you better. I would have loved you better.”

“But you can’t. We both need to move on. This whole situation is not healthy for either of us. We can’t keep going around and around. You fucked up and you need to deal with the consequences. I need time and space from anything to do with love. I just got cheated on by someone who was supposed to love and care for me. I have to explain to every person I know why I’m not getting married anymore. I have to tell every single person that I’m not enough and I’ll never be enough. I have to tell everyone that I’m the disappointment they always knew I’d be.”

“You’re not a disappointment, Y/n. You never have been and never will. Let me show you what love really is like. I promise. We can go as slow as you’d like. We can be just friends. I can’t promise sunshine and rainbows 24/7. I can’t promise that there won’t be times where you’re mad at me. I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect. But, I can promise to stay. I promise to love you wholeheartedly, and do it proudly. I will love you loudly, shouting it from every rooftop. I promise to keep you safe. I promise to take care of you. I promise to surround you with love. While I hope you can love me again, I know it’s not easy and not something that has a high chance of happening. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please let me in again?”

As you sit there looking at this person, this person who you loved with all your heart for so long. This person who took your heart and broke it into pieces. This person who has come back over and over again. This person who hasn’t loved or dated since the last time you two had spoken. This person who claims to love you.

“I don’t know, Lan. Can you?”

—————————————————————————

Tags for pt 3: @leclerc13 @f1fantasys @htpssgavi

I only tagged those who specifically asked to be tagged in pt 3 cause I didn’t know if those tagged in pt 2 wanted to be tagged in this one 😭😭😭

[kashverse]

happy birthday to the goat.....!!!! getoo suguruuu!!!

birthdays are a special occasion, but when it’s your fiancé suguru’s birthday, it’s a full-blown event. gifts? top-tier. dinner? already reserved at his favorite restaurant. romance? obviously. however, this year, suguru had one specific request that turned the night into a logistical nightmare.

he wanted to bring satoru.

your ridiculously white, obnoxiously spoiled retriever—who had bright blue eyes and a penchant for stealing your fiancé’s attention whenever possible. "he's a part of the family," suguru had reasoned earlier that day, scratching satoru behind the ears as the dog dramatically collapsed into his lap. "and he loves me."

"he loves inconveniencing me," you muttered, watching satoru flop over with a huff. suguru smirked. "sounds familiar."

and that’s how you ended up at dinner date night with suguru and your 75-pound, attention-seeking furry third wheel sitting at your feet, dressed in a stupid little bow tie suguru had personally picked out. the night started fine. candles, good wine, romantic atmosphere. suguru, as always, looked unfairly good in a dark button-up, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back but with a few strands loose. it should’ve been the perfect evening. should’ve. but satoru had other plans.

phase 1: ultimate betrayal

as soon as your food arrived, you felt it—a large, furry weight leaning against suguru’s chair. you glared.

“satoru.”

the dog stared back. unbothered. unrepentant. 

"he just wants love," suguru defended, reaching down to scratch satoru’s chin. satoru had the audacity to wag his tail smugly, tongue lolling out in triumph. you raised a brow.

“he just wants to steal my fiancé.” suguru chuckled, not denying it. "maybe he knows something you don't."

"excuse me?"

"maybe i'm his boyfriend first."

before you could argue, satoru let out a pathetic, theatrical sigh and nudged his massive head onto suguru’s lap. your jaw dropped. 

"oh, you manipulative little—”

“he’s just a baby,” suguru cooed, betraying you on his own birthday. satoru barked in agreement.

phase 2: sabotage

you tried to reclaim suguru’s attention several times. each time, satoru outmaneuvered you.

• attempt #1: reaching for suguru’s hand? blocked by satoru forcing his giant head in between. • attempt #2: feeding suguru a bite of your dish? intercepted by satoru suddenly sitting up, bumping the table. • attempt #3: leaning in to whisper something romantic? interrupted by a loud huff as satoru flopped onto his side like he had been personally victimized.

"this is ridiculous," you huffed, crossing your arms. suguru, clearly amused, swirled his wine. “jealous?” you scoffed. 

"of my own dog?"

"you sound jealous."

you did. and you hated it. satoru, who absolutely understood everything, let out another smug sigh and laid his head directly on suguru’s lap. “okay,” you muttered, glaring at him. “this means war.”

phase 3: the truce (bribery edition)

your opportunity came with dessert. you had ordered carrot cake. satoru, as a man of sophisticated palate, also loved carrot cake. when the plate arrived, you seized the moment. “satoruuu,” you called sweetly, slicing off a tiny, dog-safe piece. his ears perked up immediately.

“oh, now you’re interested in me?” you snarked. satoru wagged his tail enthusiastically, shameless. you smirked, placing the piece on a napkin and holding it hostage. 

“listen, if you agree to chill for the rest of the night and let me have my moment with my fiancé, you get this. deal?”

satoru, brilliant strategist, expert negotiator, pawed your knee in acceptance. "good boy." you handed him the cake, watching as he inhaled it in one bite.

suguru chuckled. “you really just bribed our dog.”

“he started it.”

satoru, apparently satisfied with the transaction, curled up beside your chair instead of suguru’s for the first time that evening. suguru leaned over, pressing a lazy, amused kiss to your temple. "you’re unreal."

“i have to be,” you sighed. “otherwise i’d be single.”

he chuckled, lacing his fingers with yours under the table. satoru, content and full of cake, let out a deep sigh and settled in. peace, at last.

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

guys. i crave fnc. specifically chip still vaguely in denial of his sexuality but like. finding ways somehow of getting to see gillion flex or show off without being obvious. just regularly and veeeeery casually asking gill to do something that requires hard labor or something. for Normal Reasons. of course. because he is a straight man, the straightest even, and hes not even doing anything he has plausible deniability and everything and jay needs to stop looking at him like that his face is red because its hot out and definitely not because he asked gill to help haul up the sails and can therefore see that his biceps are the size of chips head and the strong line of every muscle in gills back and torso-

just chip. reaaally liking how physically strong gill is and finding every plausibly deniable excuse to witness and admire it. and later when theyre dating, jay whispers something in gills ear and chip sees his fins flicker and gillion is clearly flustered but chips across the ship he can only watch this shipwreck go down and sweat over what jay could possibly have told gillion.

and then later that night when its just chip and gill left on deck, gills being smooth and silly with chip and has a hand on his waist and is leaning into him and guiding him backwards with a pretty, charming smile. and then gill says "jay told me something rather… interesting this morning." and before chip can even blink gills brought both hands down to chips thighs to hoist him up and slam him (gently) back into the mainmast. and chip yelps and wraps his legs around gills waist and locks his ankles behind his back to help support himself (though gill has him very securely holding him by the thighs and bracing him against the mast) and he is blushing furiously at the way gill picked him up like he was nothing, and oh god gills leaning in closer and the corner of his teeth glint in that stupid smug grin and he murmurs "i take it by your flush she was correct?" and chip can only squeak he feels like hes gonna pass out and gill leans forward to kiss him strong and sweet and chip is ascended hes in the heavens hes gone holy fucking shit-

you know?

[saeist]

"did it hurt?"

"falling from heaven? a little"

"more like crawling out of the depths of hell but okay.." you say under your breath. nagumo gasps and puts a hand over his chest at your implication

"hey, that's mean!" he points a finger at you

you roll your eyes, "i mean your tattoos.. stupid"

nagumo raises an eyebrow, glancing down on his arms before it all clicks. a sly smirk makes their way on his face. he leans in ever so slightly just to mess with you

"oh? so you were looking at me?"

"nagumo, just answer the damn question! did it hurt or not?" you grumbled, facepalming as the man continues without fail to annoy the shit out of you. it was just a basic question yet he couldn't even answer it properly

nagumo laughs plenty, poking fun of your angry face. (that he may or may not like so much) when he finally stops laughing, he wipes the tears of joy from his eyes, shaking his head

"eh, depends but mostly no" he finally answers, showing off his tattoos by rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. "some on my arms i did by myself while the rest were done by a tattoo artist at a parlor"

wait a second, did he just say he did some of his tattoos by himself?

you stopped listening the moment he said that he does some of his tattoos. your eyes dart over his arms, observing the lines of ink permanently etched on his skin. a million questions running through your mind as you stare at them. how long did they take? did it hurt? how did he managed to tattoo himself on both arms precisely and accurately? who is his tattoo artist? how much does he pay for one tattoo? do each tattoos hold a specific meaning?

"hello? earth to y/n?" nagumo waves a hand over your face. you must've been staring at him for a while. "i knew i was a looker but you don't have to ogle me" he teases, chuckling to himself

you finally return to your senses when his words processed in your head. you shake your head vigorously

"i was not!" you deny, crossing your arms

nagumo laughs again, "you were totally checking me out!"

"i will check you out myself at the nearest funeral home. do not test me"

nagumo whistles low, "whoa.. freaky. though you're in luck, i like them like that" he winks

you can feel yourself burn up with how smooth he was with words. effortlessly shutting you up by just playing along. damn you nagumo and your smooth talking!

"you know what? this is pointless. i should've asked rion instead where she gets her tattoos done" you murmured, having enough of this conversation with nagumo. all you wanted was to ask where he gets them done so you could probably get one as well but since he wasn't answering properly then forget it

you turn around to walk away from nagumo, but before you could actually get away from him, he grabs onto your arm, preventing you from walking away

"hold it!" nagumo says, tugging you lightly to make you face him. he holds in another laugh when he sees you glaring at him. "no need to look for rion when everything you need is literally right in front of you" he muses

you raise an eyebrow, "what the fuck does that even mean?"

"i mean i can tattoo you" nagumo says like it was the most obvious thing in the world

you blink once. twice. trying to process what he just said

"what?"

nagumo exhales sharply, rolling his eyes. why couldn't you get the hint?

"i just told you that i did some of my tattoos. so if you want one, i wouldn't mind doing it for you" nagumo explains, taking a good look at your arm. an empty canvas in his eyes. his fingers trace over your skin as if he was already planning what he wants to tattoo onto you

his touch alone is sending sparks all over your body but for some reason, you don't pull your arm away

"let me guess, you're going to tattoo a dick on my arm" you huffed, watching him trace random shapes on your skin

nagumo reluctantly lets go of your arm and puts his hands behind his head as he looks at you, grinning

"maybe. it would be funny as fuck" he shrugs, giggling to himself at the thought of actually tattooing a dick on your arm

"this is why i'm going to rion" you sigh, rolling your eyes yet again. there's just something about talking to nagumo that is so infuriating but at the same time, so endearing

"come on" nagumo drawls, "you and me? matching tattoos? just think about it"

the mere thought of getting matching tattoos with nagumo, who's gonna do it on you just somehow made your stomach flip

what the fuck?

"never in a million years" you scoff, starting to walk away from him. "i'm gonna go look for rion. bye"

nagumo, as sharp as ever, notices the faint blush on your cheeks at the mention of getting matching tattoos with him. he lets you walk away from him with a small smile on his face. he knows damn well that you aren't going to reject this offer

"offer still stands!" he calls out after you, "you know where to find me"

you respond by flipping him off without the need to look back. nagumo bursts out laughing before he carries on with his day

later that night, you find yourself contemplating on taking nagumo's offer. all it takes was a curious cat to get itself killed. you stand in front of a mirror, trying to map out where you would like to get inked

the memory of nagumo proposing of getting matching tattoos echoes in your mind like a broken record. you mentally curse yourself for holding onto the thought of getting something permanent together. it almost feels like its a commitment

you actually can't believe that you're even considering this. from nagumo at that

on the other side of the jcc building, nagumo was sprawled over his bed, busy solving sudoku puzzles when he hears his phone vibrate on his bedside table. he pauses, picking his phone up lazily before he smirks when it was a notification from you

[7:09 PM] y/n :) : hypothetically speaking, if i were to accept your offer of you tattooing me, what would it be?

nagumo grins widely. he knew it. you wouldn't able to resist such offer from him. he immediately types his response not even a minute later

[7:10 PM] nagumo (DO NOT REPLY): hypothetically it would be anything you'd like cus that means you'll have a piece of me on you forever ;) [7:10 PM] nagumo (DO NOT REPLY): so, you down?

[just-wrting]

Think I Like You

Title: Think I Like You

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Half Mink!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Master List

Summary: You try to figure out why Zoro won’t take you seriously even if the answer isn’t what you expect.

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m just all over the place with a lot of stuff. I sleep a lot which I can’t tell if it’s a sleep issue or a depression issue, but I’m always tired. I still work full time but also do school part time now. Plus I’ve still got a boyfriend! But he wanted to end this weekend on 1062 which means Zoro brainrot for me.

You stretch and roll over, burying your face into your pillow. Ever since you changed where you nap, you've started sleeping so much better. Something about being more comfortable or something like that. The actual reason doesn't really matter. You're just happy you're sleeping better.

"You owe me for this."

"I don't owe you shit. Not my fault you nap in my spot." You reach up and pat his cheek. "What do I need to do for you to be quiet?"

"I already told you, you owe me."

You open your eyes just a little. "What could I possibly owe you? I don't like to drink, I don't keep money, not to mention I can't even tell if you're the type of man to be swayed by physical charms. What could I possibly offer you, Roronoa?"

"For starters, you can start referring to me by my name like everyone else does." He looks pissed. "You should fight me."

"You didn't take me seriously last time, Moss Head. Why would I bother trying again?"

He pulls on your ear. "I said like everyone else, not like how that idiot says my name."

You ignore him and bury your nose in his stomach. Dinner has been started, and if you don't ignore it you'll end up going to the kitchen early. It's less that Sanji minds seeing you, it's more of the fact that you struggle to suppress the urge to knock shit off the counter and dip your fingers in the sauces. Such is the life of someone like you.

You let yourself doze a little. You can still hear what's going on, but just like every common house cat, you ignore it. What you can't ignore is the gentle scratching behind your ears. As far as you remember, no one has done this since you were a kid. You don't hate the feeling, but you start to feel flustered over it. Ever since you left home, you've made sure affection comes at your own terms so you haven't had this in years.

There's no point in asking him to stop. You're clearly fond enough of him to nap on him, what's the big deal about getting ear scratches? Besides, he's the type to get embarrassed and loud if you point out you're awake. That's not something you feel like dealing with right now. You're too touch starved to complain.

Despite the comfortable conditions, you don't actually fall asleep. You spend the next forty-ish minutes pretending to sleep, waiting for dinner to be done. The time passes by relatively quickly, though you're sore afterwards. You couldn't bring yourself to even twitch, worried that he'd stop.

The dinner call goes off, and you pretend to wake up. You have no clue why you're acting, but it was too late to stop twenty minutes ago. Standing up, you stretch halfheartedly. At first, he doesn't say anything. It's only once he catches up to you that he starts asking questions.

"What's the deal with the noise you make?"

Raising an eyebrow, you look at him. "I don't snore, so I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid, I can tell you aren't snoring. The other noise, the one that's relaxing. I can usually feel it when you're laying directly on me."

"What do you mean? The other noise?" You pause to think it over before it clicks. "We aren't talking about that."

You know what he's referring to. It's not like it's something you can control, but it's still embarrassing. Of all people to be you around, it's been Zoro. No one on the crew has judged you for being what you are, it's just embarrassing to be a mix. Your mother's human, and your dad's a mink. You look decently human, just with a few quirks.

"What do you mean, we aren't talking about it? We're talking about it right now."

Your face starts to heat up. "I mean I don't want to tell you."

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why not? Is it supposed to be embarrassing or something?"

"If I say yes, will you drop it?"

"Yeah, sure."

His face instantly relaxes. If you could smack him, you would. The last time you tried, it hurt. So you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a push. The only thing it does is cause his other shoulder to hit the doorframe, but you use it to march past him.

You take your seat, leaning back against the armrest of the booth seat. Kicking your feet up on the space next to you, you watch the crew carefully. Everyone is smiling and in a good mood, so you don't have anything to worry about. You don't ever admit it, but you care about them even if it's difficult to show.

Zoro picks up your legs and lays them in his lap. Since it doesn't seem to bother him, you're tempted to just sit normally. You have no idea what's going on in that head of his, and you doubt he does either. However, you actually do enjoy touching him, so you'll stay like this for now.

There's more commotion as Sanji brings out the plates. The one you're most interested in is a large tuna fillet that gets set in the middle of the table. You can't stop staring at it, the tender flesh a beautiful golden color. It's hard to tell if it smells better than it looks or looks better than it smells. Sanji has never failed to impress you with his dishes, so you can't wait to sink your teeth in.

Before you can even start to load your plate, Sanji sets a small plate in front it you. It contains a disk of packed rice, some avocado slices, and chunks of fish. You're assuming it's more of the tuna. Whatever it is, it was made specifically for you.

You don't mind the special dishes. You'll try almost everything, and unlike Luffy, you'll eat it slow enough to give a review. Everything tastes good so you don't get the point, but it probably makes Sanji feel better to have honest reviews and not just someone who loves food fawning over his cooking. Though if you're not careful, you worry that he'll start having write an essay about it.

"And for you, a special tune tartare! If you like it, I'll make it again for everyone some time."

You nod. "Yeah, I'll let you know. I always do. Not that you've ever made a bad dish."

You can't stop the tip of your tail from flicking back and forth in mild annoyance. By the time you get halfway through the tartare, all of the fillet is gone. It's not like it's the biggest deal, you just wish you could've had some of that too. It's not fair that since you got a special tuna dish, that you don't get the other one.

"If you tell me what that noise was, I'll share," Zoro teases while pointing at you with a bite of tuna. "I bet you can't resist answering now."

"I'm a cat. I was making a normal noise that cats make. Consider it a compliment."

You lean forward and take the bite of tuna. It's flakey and melts on your tongue with a slightly sticky glaze that has hints of honey and garlic. You lick your lips savoring the balance of flavors. None of them are overwhelming, but it's hard to gauge in just one bite what you think about it.

"You can't just," Zoro stutters. "You can't just take the food off of my chopsticks. Get your own!"

You grab his wrist and lick the glaze off of the chopsticks. It feels like there's another flavor there that you can't quite tell what it is. It's some sort of herby flavor, that while you enjoy, you can't pin down.

"Here!" Zoro doesn't look at you as he shoves his plate towards you. "Just take it since I don't want your germs."

You want to tease him, but you'll leave him alone. It's better to leave it in front of other people since Robin's insinuations are becoming too much. For now you'll just eat the food. Later, you'll tease him.

—-

"You're still not taking me seriously, Roronoa. Why did you want to fight if you won't take me seriously?"

You lunge, hand reaching for his throat. He blocks it with his arm, causing your claws to dig into his skin. Using his arm as leverage, you pull yourself closer to him, swinging your sword at his side. His parry is effortless, and he looks bored. It's so aggravating that he won't take you seriously in a simple sparring match. Perhaps he'd take you more seriously if you actually tried to kill him.

You disengage before leaping over him. This time, you swing your sword at his neck as he turn around. It's once more blocked, and he smirks. You're just barely faster than him as he takes a halfhearted swing at your sword arm with his other arm. You catch the flat of the blade with your knuckles, steeling your arm against the shock wave of the blow.

Kicking your leg out in front of you, you aim for his knees, intending to bring him down. Despite the grip on his sword, he catches your ankle in his hand and pulls your leg to the side. You let your body pivot with the movement, twisting until your leg is behind you. You yank your foot forward as hard as you can, pulling him into your back.

He's quick to let your ankle go and grab your shoulder to steady himself. In a fluid motion, you swing your arm and grab your dagger. You flick it in your fingers and thrust towards his ribs. His hand trails down your arm to your wrist and pins it behind your back. He gives it a squeeze trying to get you to drop the dagger.

"Are you actually trying to kill him?" Nami tells from the side. "Are you stupid?"

You roll your eyes, sweeping your leg behind you and hooking Zoro's. Despite your efforts, you can't get him off balance, only causing him to take a step back. By now you're getting pissed off. You aren't a bad swordsman, it's just that this jerk is ridiculously smart in battle. This is probably the only time he'll use his brain all day.

You jerk your head back, hitting his jaw. The sound of the impact makes you regret it, knowing you'll feel like shit later. You manage to free yourself as he loosens his grip, and you elbow him as you twist back around. The only reason you're still going is because he won't take it seriously. It's like he finds it funny that he's able to fend you off so easily.

You rush towards him, tossing your weapons to the ground. Digging your claws into his shoulders, you use your momentum to knock him over. It only works because he's too busy rubbing his jaw to notice you in time. The two of you tumble to the deck, and you lean in as close as you can.

"Why won't you take me seriously? Is this just a game?"

Faster than you can blink, he's able to flip and pin you under him. He's even more smug than the last time you sparred, and you can't tell if you want to smack him or if you should kiss him. Not that you could smack him, he's got your hands above your head. While kissing him would let you win, you're not willing to fight that dirty in a friendly match.

"You're a brute, Zoro. You can't just manhandle the other crewmates just because you feel like it." Sanji pulls him off you. "If you were in the mood to fight I would've taken the offer."

You tune out their fight as Chopper checks your head and shoulder. You're a bit sore now, but you'll be fine in a few hours. Nothing keeps you down for long, even if it's usually just you going against the doctor's orders. The only thing actually bothering you is the fact that for a moment you thought he was going to answer your question. Though the fact you thought about kissing him is also an issue.

It's not difficult to figure out why you thought that way. Your parents made sure that you knew to find someone strong enough to protect you in case of something happening, even if you knew how to take care of yourself. That, and he's easy on the eyes. Even if he's an idiot half of the time, that doesn't matter. Your parents never said to find a smart man, just a strong one. Everything else was your choice.

Chopper hands you a damp towel, and you use to clean under your claws. Tiny spots of blood rest under them, probably from when you grabbed Zoro. If the pinprick wounds bothered him, he doesn't show it. He's too busy trying to shove Sanji off the boat. As long as you stay dry, it doesn't matter if they end up overboard. They can both swim.

After a few minutes, Nami separates them. You watch her glare at the men before you stalk off to take another nap. The sun is just starting to dip below the water, so finding a nice patch of sun to lick your figurative wounds isn't possible. You'll have to settle for sulking in some weird spot. Perhaps it's time to torment the fish in the tank once more.

Lounging on the sofa is probably the second best place to nap. The sound of the tank constantly humming while you watch the fish swim in tempting circles puts you at ease. You stretch out fully, let your arm and tail hang off the edge. The tip of your tails twitches slightly as you trace the movement of a particularly large bass. That should be tomorrow's lunch, perhaps in a stew. Even though it hasn't been long since you had food, your mouth starts to water at the idea of seafood stew.

"He really doesn't take you seriously, does he?"

You recognize Robin before she even speaks. Her stride is longer than Nami's with her steps being lighter than everyone else's. Not to mention she smells floral. It's never overpowering, but it allows you to pick her out from the crew.

"I guess not. Maybe I should've gone for his other eye."

She laughs, sitting down next to you. You aren't opposed to the company, especially if it's Robin. There something about her that puts you at ease.

"I don't think he'd like that," she muses. "What did he say to you?"

You scoff. "He didn't say anything. Bet he's too proud to take me seriously, like the jerk he is."

Robin smiles knowingly. "I'm sure he has his reasons. Maybe you should talk to him, just the two of you. I'm sure he'd tell you when no one else is around."

You frown. "What is he? A shy school boy? There's only one reason for not taking me seriously in a fight, and it would be him not thinking I'm even worth it. No point in having him tell me that in private, he can just keep it to himself."

She reaches out her hand, gently brushing your hair from your eyes. "Then what do you think about him?"

"I think he's an idiot who swapped out his brain for more muscles."

"Let me rephrase that. What feelings do you have about him?" There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "At least figure that out."

You shift so you can place your head in her lap. "I guess he's fine most of the time. I don't know why I enjoy his company, I just do. He's never really pushed me on anything, just sort of letting me do my own thing. Not to mention he's comfortable. As much as I hate admitting it, I suppose I like being around him."

She continues to brush your hair with her fingers silently. It's one of those tactics of hers. She'll stay quiet until you keep talking.

"What do you want me to say? He's nice enough to me, I can respect him as vice-captain, and he's decent looking. Everything else I think about him is my little secret." You're starting to get irritated talking about him. "Actually, I think I'll go talk to him now. I'll drag that answer out of him if I have to."

Robin looks at you with worry as you sit up. "Perhaps this is just a misunderstanding. What are you going to do if his answer isn't what you expect?"

"I'll deal with it when it happens," you say with a shrug. "It's not like it'll be anything surprising."

You take your time wandering around the ship. It's not hard to tell where he is, you'd rather put it off for a little bit longer. This weird feeling in your chest has been bothering you a lot lately. It can't be ignored anymore, but that doesn't mean you're one hundred percent ready to admit it.

Thankfully, he's exactly where you knew he was. You won't tell him that you enjoy finding him when he's working out. Something about him being shirtless is nice. Not that he usually bothers with wearing a shirt, so you can usually just stare whenever you want. Maybe he just likes the attention, and you'll gladly give it to him.

As soon as he leans back on the bench, you sit on his lap and stretch out over his torso. You rest your chin on your hand, pressing your palm on his chest. Watching as he sets the barbell back on the stand, you wait for him to start talking. It would be fine with you if he kept working out, but he seems opposed to the idea.

"Is bothering me amusing to you?"

You tilt your head slightly. "You're not cute when you're mad, so no. I was just hoping we could talk."

"You don't have to sit on me to talk."

"That's just personal preference. Besides, you tend to avoid talking about certain things and this keeps you from leaving." you say with a Cheshire grin. "I enjoy your touch, so this is ideal for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zoro looks away from you. “You keep saying weird stuff.”

You don’t even blink as you respond, “I enjoy your touch. That’s what that means. I’ll even be nice and tell you the answer to your question from earlier. As a cat, I sometimes purr when I feel comfortable and content. Though some cats purr when scared.”

“So you’re scared of me? Is that what that means?”

“No. The only thing particularly scary about you is the fact that you’re an idiot.” Your ears twitch. “But since I answered your questions, you can answer mine. Why don’t you fight me seriously?”

He looks at you for just a moment, before looking at the ceiling. It’s like he’s embarrassed by the answer and is hoping you’ll forget about it. However, you’ve already made up your mind about what you want. You’re just waiting to see what he’ll do.

“I-,” Zoro cuts himself off to hide behind his hand. “I could hurt you really bad. That would be bad.”

Your tail swishes on the ground in mild irritation. “So you think I’m incapable of defending myself. That would explain the times you’ve interrupted my fights.”

“It’s not that!” He sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don’t tumble to the ground. “I don’t want you to get hurt if I’m around. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

You’re nose to nose with him now. Even at this distance, he can’t seem to make eye contact. You can smell the liquor from dinner on his breath. It would be so easy to close the gap and kiss him, but for some reason the thought makes you nervous. You’re usually close to him, so why is this time different?

“Why should you keep me safe?” you mumble. “Do you save me out of obligation for the crew? If so, aren’t there better people on the crew to swoop in and save?”

“Does it matter why?” The way that his lips almost touch yours as he speaks makes you flustered.

You close your eyes. “Yes. I don’t want to get my hopes up if you think of me as nothing more than a burden of a crew-mate. Just be honest with me for once, Zoro.”

You don’t regret the soft begging tone as you say his name. You regret not saying his name in that almost pathetic tone sooner. The way that he kisses you makes your head spin. Even though he’s holding you close, you have to wrap your arms around his neck to make yourself feel more steady.

Zoro kisses you like he’s been wanting to for months. His hold on your waist makes it impossible to move, and the way that his hand grips yours hair makes you moan. You can barely breathe as his tongue explores your mouth, your grip on reality slipping as his fingers dig into thigh.

Even when he pulls away to let you breathe, you find yourself lost in the way he touches you. Sloppy kisses trail down your jaw and neck, coming to an end with his teeth on your collarbone. The way that his fingernails scrape gently against your scalp as he tugs lightly on your hair causes you to expose more of your chest to him as you lean into his palm.

You’ve never felt like this before. Hot, heavy, and breathless all while being lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it in you to resist him if he wanted more. In fact, the pathetic words of begging him to ravish you weigh heavy on your tongue. Yet he just continues to press kisses along every inch of skin exposed to him, ignoring how hard you’re panting as little moans escape you. He’s oblivious to everything but the act of kissing you.

Zoro only pauses after you tug his hair harshly. You didn’t mean to, you couldn’t help the reaction to him biting down on the side of your neck. You couldn’t even help the strangled groan that leaves you as he leaves a mark. For some reason, your body is shaking like you have some sort of withdrawal.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

You kiss him again, desperate to get as close as you can. Desperation courses through your body as you realize just how badly you’ve waited for this. You’ve spent months being almost attached to him so it makes sense, you just can’t figure out how you missed it. The long nights spent curled up in his lap, face buried in his neck has left you craving him so much.

You whine as he pulls away, unwilling to let this stop. It doesn’t even matter anymore how prideful you’ve been up until this. It’s so obvious how much you want him. Nothing could hide it anymore.

“Zoro.” You don’t even open your eyes. “Please.”

He gives your thigh a tight squeeze as you whimper. You can tell that what little restraint he has is fading with each whine of his name. Yet he’s able to pause and hold you close, breathing heavily into your ear. Eventually, he covers your mouth with his hand, stifling your words.

“Not like this,” Zoro says, his tone meaning he’s serious. “If you really want it, I want to make it special.”

“S-special?” You don’t know what that means. When was the last time someone told you that you were special? “How?”

“Just better than in the exercise room on the Sunny. You deserve to be treated better than that.”

You nod, and he lets his grip loosen. Despite the fact that nothing much happened, you feel drained. Maybe it’s because you really enjoy naps, but the exhaustion is hitting you hard. You don’t hide it, letting yourself go limp as Zoro picks you up.

“You can sleep in my bunk tonight. Not that it matters if I say you can as you usually show up anyway.”

You caress him jaw before giving his cheek a kiss. “Thank you, Zoro.”

The flush on his cheeks goes unnoticed by all beside you. Not that it matters, you don’t want to hide your feelings for him any longer. If he agrees to it, you’ll parade your feelings for the world to see.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; “the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“It usually involves taking care of the sub for a little while–like if they need to recover or if the Dom needs something to calm themselves down doing, for example–but there’s other ways and reasons to do it,” Tim says, stroking his hair just a little bit more carefully as Kon once again tries and fails to figure out what the fuck he’s feeling right now. “That’s just what most people think of first when it comes up. Supposed to just make it easier for everyone to come up and level out, basically.” 

Tim’s been petting him all this time, Kon realizes, biting the inside of his lip again. 

And then he realizes–Tim’s also been the only one talking to him about this. Like, the “polite intel-collecting/light interrogation” kind of talking, but definitely only Tim doing it. So, like–Tim thinks this is something to be careful about talking about, and apparently so does Bernard. 

. . . weird, Kon thinks, ducking his head just enough to hide his mouth against his folded forearms as he bites his lip outright, and doesn’t know how he feels about that either. 

He thinks maybe they’re doing that–“gentle” thing again, though, even though they’re not even actually fucking around right now. Like . . . like just being in bed together at all is reason enough to do it, or something. Like it’s just–like it matters enough to keep doing it either way. 

Kon knows exactly how he feels about that, but that’d be a lot more than just “mortifying” to admit. 

“Um . . . sorry,” he says, half-worrying about what Tim means by needing to calm himself down. The times he’s tried to Dom made him all anxious and nervy and filled his head up with even more useless circling thoughts than usual, so like . . . does that happen to Tim too? It hadn’t seemed like it was, but . . . “Should I be–doing something for you, you mean? Because I can–” 

A flash of stress flickers across Tim’s face, and Kon cuts himself off and feels a little–stupid, maybe, like he’s said something wrong or just messed up something obvious or . . . 

He bites his lip harder and a weird little–reflex, almost, has him glancing towards Bernard for . . . he’s not even sure why, just . . . Bernard would know what Tim needs right now, wouldn’t he? Like–he’d have to, right? 

Bernard’s still just standing by the nightstand and the breakfast tray, but the moment Kon looks at him he gives an easy shrug, scoops up the middle plate, and manages to neatly deposit it in Tim’s lap even as he lays down on his other side, stretched out on his own stomach and propped up on his elbows. Kon feels–something, kind of, and thinks about how that puts them both kinda . . . parallel to each other, kinda. Just . . . mirrored, a little, both lying on either side of Tim where he’s sitting against the headboard. 

That’s . . . kinda something he feels something about, yeah, but it’s another one of those “something”s he can’t seem to really pin down, because everything he thinks it’s making him feel is, like . . . not actually something that makes sense for him to be feeling. 

Kryptonite, he remembers abruptly. Right. So like . . . that. That’s probably . . . why he thinks he’s feeling . . . that kind of thing. Like–how Kara was saying, and all. 

Right? 

“Yes, you should be lying right there and letting Tim fuss over you for a while,” Bernard informs him matter-of-factly, crossing his ankles behind himself and resting his chin in one hand. “He likes doing the fussing. Though personally post-subbing is literally the only time I don’t wanna cuddle, I just wanna eat the fridge and pass the fuck out on the couch, so it’s really always been an unfortunate waste of the opportunity for me and also, like, not Tim’s favorite way to spend a scene’s afterglow either.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, mildly bemused by the idea of passing out on the couch after subbing instead of cuddling up with someone in bed. Like–wanting to pass out on the couch, at least. Like, that is just very much not how he feels after subbing, is all. But, well . . . if that’s all Tim needs from him . . . like, it’s not exactly an imposition or anything. “Seriously? Just . . . the fussing?” 

“Seriously,” Bernard confirms with a nod without bothering to lift his chin from his hand. “He literally always wants to do the fussing. Like he is definitely the ‘needs to calm down’ guy, and also the ‘subtly make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt or upset you when you were too high on endorphins to communicate it’ guy.” 

“Yeah, sounds like Tim,” Kon says, lifting his own head a little more again just to spare Tim a wry look. “‘Shit, that went way too well, lemme get all Bat-paranoia up in here and overanalyze the whole thing’.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Tim says, looking a little wry himself, and Kon–like, yeah, he’s teasing the guy about it, because when would he not take the opportunity to give Tim shit, but he still definitely feels some shit about the fact that Tim would bother worrying about him like that. Like–the “gentle” thing again, he guesses. It’s just . . . not something he needs, and obviously Tim knows that, because a) invulnerable and b) they’re literally just fucking around for the weekend, it’s not like they’re doing anything serious or whatever, but the fact that Tim’s bothering to do it anyway is just . . . yeah. 

He just–doesn’t have to, is all. He doesn’t have to, but he still is. Still is, and still told his boyfriend to be. 

“You are a total Bat, but fuck if I'm gonna complain about scorin’ some free attention,” Kon tells him with a teasing smirk. Even if “getting attention” wasn’t half the foundation of his core personality, getting Tim’s attention would still be a goddamn treat, any time. Like–it always is, seriously. So yeah, Kon is in no way above indulging in a little extra of it. As far as doing something for Tim, it’s basically the easiest thing the guy could possibly ask for. Normally Kon’d say it was the best thing the guy could possibly ask for, even, but given the radioactive gay space rock currently influencing his tastes and his preferred flavor of his favorite pastime, any current contenders for the “best” thing Tim could possibly ask for would definitely need the other’s dick to get involved again. 

Like. To the fucking hilt levels of involved, specifically. 

Definitely to the fucking hilt. 

“Jesus, that noise is fucking adorable,” Bernard mutters under his breath, which is the only reason Kon notices himself purring again, which–oh. That wasn’t, like . . . on purpose or anything. Generally he tries to avoid any of the “don’t sound entirely human” vocal tics, though admittedly he probably does purr the most. Just, like . . . usually he decides to let himself do it, is all. 

“Vegas party favors don’t do ‘adorable’, man,” he hums around another purr, because . . . well, Bernard seems like he’s kinda into the purring, so it’s not like he’s gotta, like–stop, or whatever. And Tim’s heard him do it before and not gotten weirded-out, so . . . so it’s whatever, yeah. No big deal or anything. 

Anyway, it feels nice to, sometimes. Especially when he feels like this does it feel nice to. 

And, like, extra-especially when Tim’s still petting his hair for it. 

“I think I can literally feel the bed vibrating a little,” Bernard says, looking low-key delighted about it. “Definitely tell me how I earn this level of purring while TTK-cuddling, because that is very much my new goal for this long weekend.” 

“Mmm, s’secret lore, man,” Kon hums, letting his eyes close as he settles in a little heavier against the bed with a pleased little buzzing feeling in his gut and along his skin. “You gotta grind enough hours to level up and earn it.” 

“I will grind on you for all the hours that standard-build human stamina can handle and Konami code your ass if I gotta,” Bernard swears, and Kon laughs into his arms. Why is this dude so funny, Jesus. 

“That sounds kinda fun, what’d that involve?” he muses speculatively. 

“Some very specific and very decisive button-pressing, pretty much,” Bernard says, and Kon laughs again. “Maybe some converter cables and a rumble controller.” 

Kon sniggers. Goddammit, the bastard really is so funny, what the fuck. 

“I think the gay space rock’s done plenty of converting, but if you really wanna plug something in . . .” he hums, making a point of stretching out a bit more against the mattress, and accidentally purrs a little deeper without meaning to. 

“Desperately, yes,” Bernard says, sounding very feeling about it. So like, that’s another nice little bit of flattery. “Hey babe, how long do I have to wait to plug and play with your bestie? Like, ballpark it for us.” 

“Maybe eat breakfast first?” Tim suggests wryly. “I hear the chef makes pretty good waffles.” 

“Honestly they’re pretty mid compared to the cake that’s currently taking up a truly impressive amount of real estate in this bed,” Bernard replies frankly, making a point of reaching across Tim’s legs to grab Kon’s ass and give it a pointedly appreciative jiggle as he says “cake”, and Kon laughs helplessly into his arms. But, like–also tilts his ass up into said hand, obviously. Like, just a little. Bernard’s nice enough to give it an appreciative squeeze in response to that, so Kon figures that’s a win. “On that note, Tim, your bed is just not worthy of this long weekend, you really should upgrade. Like, no rush or anything, just maybe by Valentine’s Day. Your birthday at the latest.” 

At this rate, Kon isn’t gonna manage to stop laughing long enough to eat a single damn waffle.

[fanzou]

I know a lot of ppl write zoro vs sanji competing for the reader but what about zoro and nami both wanting the same girl. Just an idea, you don't have to do this request! Your writings great💕

The Girl is Mine

✗ Pairing(s): Sanji x Fem!Reader, Nami x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: You try resolving a conflict between your two very good friends, only to find out you’re the sole reason they’re having issues in the first place.

✗ Total WC: 4.1K

✗ CW: SMUT. Tipsy, slightly drunk sex, threesome, p on p sex, p in v sex, voyeurism (Nami), Sanji is a perv (a secret to no one) [Let me know if I missed any]

✗ A/N: Hi anon. I hope you don’t mind but, I did Sanji instead :3, only cuz I feel like the tension would be so much better. Might have to do Zoro soon though! I enjoyed this so so much. Thank you !!!

“S’cuse me Sanji, can I please talk to you for a minute?” Nami walks towards him in a confident stride, she settles her hand on her hip.

He looks at her with a warm smile, “You can always talk to me, love. What’s on your mind?” He puts down whatever he has in his hand, as to not given Nami any divided attention.

She chuckles, almost with underlying malice, “You know, I can see that you’re getting an awful lot closer to…” she takes her harsh stare off of him, and softly looks over to you, focused on your own little activity and completely oblivious to the situation unravelling.

Sanji is starting to pick up on what this about. "Oh yeah, we've definitely gotten close." he crosses his arms.

“I just wanted to let you know that she’s mine.”

He lets a sharp exhale of his breath out as an attempt to laugh.

“No no, she’s mine.”

-

It goes without saying that Sanji and Nami have been acting very weirdly toward each other these days.

Sanji, ever the sweetheart who would quite literally drop everything for Nami is now giving her the coldest of shoulders. You’d ask him and he would just wave you off, “It’s nothing, beautiful. Everything’s just fine.” But his eyes betray him; he’s glaring at Nami across the room who reciprocates his same stare.

You ask Nami the same, she gives you a very loving look that you don’t question, “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.” As she tucks your hair behind your ear with her delicate and soft hand. The gesture makes you blush a bit, but you don't let it get you sidetracked from the initial rising issue at hand; What happened between the two?

Everyone’s just as confused as the other, to tell the truth. It’s not news for Nami to act a little harshly towards him or anyone for that matter, but Sanji's new coldness was a different story. Sanji treated you three girls on this ship like you all were walking Goddesses and if you asked him, he would probably say that that was exactly what you all were.

It was out of character, and almost unsettling to everyone, even to Zoro, who would do anything but concern himself in the shitty cooks stupid troubles. His words exactly, when you tried talking to him about it.

Still he’ll make meals normally, set the plate down like he always would in front of her. Really the only new thing was the lack of word exchange, and you almost feel bad watching it unravel. What happened that was that bad? The thought made your heart ache.

-

Your turn for night watch was up, and you could finally go back to sleep, you weren’t so sure that you could though, with the tension amongst the ship giving you a foreign anxiety you didn’t think possible. You try shoving it in the back of your mind for now, for your hard work for the day was over, and you could finally rest up.

Robin took over and you kindly thanked her before making your way to your shared room for three.

The night air was chilly and even walking through the corridor to find your room made your body shudder, you quickened your pace and immediately twisted the handle to the door and there she was; Orange hair and body lost in the sheets, sleeping so soundly.

You and Nami shared a bed, it wasn’t weird. Practically everyone shared everything on the Sunny. Hell, sometimes you'd even bathe together with her or even Robin to perserve some hot water. Sharing a bed helped you sleep better due to an excessive amount of nightmares you had, and you insisted that since Robin was older than the two of you she deserved to get her own bed out of the sheer respect you had for her. So it worked out for everyone. Especially for Nami, who always needed you nice and close anytime you’d join her in slumber.

And when you decided to remove most of your clothing and tried your best to move as slow as possible as to not get her up, she wakes inevitably, pulls you impossibly close as she puts her leg around yours. “Missed you.” She says.

“You saw me not too long ago.” You giggle in response. But you tighten your hold on her, and you two fall asleep not soon after.

When morning came, you swore the most delectable smell came from the kitchen, it smelled so good that you almost felt like you'd fly following the string of air attached to it. You try peeling Nami off of you to see what Sanji made that you had the privilege of tasting today, but like always, she awoke with you.

“Morning Nami.” You say with your back turned to her trying to get your clothes back on. “Hey.” She says, stretching her arms out to help wake her up a little bit. “You wanna come eat?” You ask finally getting up, but her demeanor drops at the mention of food. It seems that way anytime you try mentioning anything that had to do with him, and your disappointed expression makes a return once again.

You sigh, and decide to give an attempt to talk to her about it once again,

“Nami, I don’t know what he did to make you so upset but you know you can talk to me, right?” You walk over to the bed again and put your hand on her shoulder as a means to comfort her into the thought. Immediately picking up on your insinuation, “You worry too much. Nothings wrong, okay?” She takes the hand on her shoulder in her own and caresses it slowly.

You let out another sigh, but you guess you had to deal with it for another day.

Soon after you and Nami join the table together, you engage in conversation with the rest of the group while waiting for today’s starting meal that’s making all of your stomachs scream. But you feel unsettled, Nami and Sanji are yet again, still uncomfortable with each other. It’s making you zone out thinking about it. It’s making you think a lot more than you want to.

You feel her hand snake onto your lap, she sees the worry in your face. You turn to meet her eyes at the intimacy of her hand and you instantly feel so much better.

For a second, she’s a little too close to your inner region and you can’t deny the goose bumps that litter the skin of your lower body.

What caught you by complete surprise was the sudden movement of Sanji’s body between both of yours, setting out plates for the both of you.

“Alright ladies, you enjoy now.” He puts a hand onto your back and starts to move it in circles, completely neglecting the woman beside him in his presence. “Let me know if you want anymore, beautiful. I’ll always have enough for you.” He winks. And your face is dusted with an obvious red.

When you look at Nami, she's already picking off her plate a little too harshly.

You really do want to ask her if she was doing okay, you really do. You felt terribly about it. About being incapable of relieving her and Sanji from whatever stresses they had going on, but thankfully Franky’s conversation pulls you back into reality and you can forget about the awkward exchange for now.

You just hold her hand under the table for now.

-

The night wind is howling and the Sunny’s grass feels too comfortable to move away from, tonight you guys drink to your accomplishments as the crew goes another night without conflicts. You’re sprawled out on top of the grass, counting stars one by one with a bottle of wine in your left hand.

Zoro’s already plastered and he’s making it everyone’s problem, especially his blonde nemesis who he keeps taunting right now. Sanji just wants a way out so he can make his way towards you before a certain someone does. He’s relieved to see that she’s making an effort to chat it up with Robin in her already tipsy state. So he ignores Zoro harshly and without any guilt and makes his way towards you.

When he plagues your vision and you can no longer admire the beautiful stars, but instead his face, you feel equally satisfied.

“Feelin’ good down there, princess?” He’s looking at you with a cigarette in his mouth.

“‘Can’t even begin to explain it.”

Alas, all good things came to an end, you didn’t want to converse with your friend while you were about to doze off. So you sit up straight and cross your legs, urging him to sit next to you by patting the patch of grass. “How’s your night going?”

He tucks the cigarette between his fingers and lets out a huff, “Better, now that I’m here with you.” You giggle at that.

He really never fails to make you blush, especially now that you’re the slightest bit under the influence, wine bottle aside you as proof.

But inevitably, like you have been cockblocking him about this for the last few days, you ask him about Nami and, how you’re here for both of them and, how you don’t want anything to happen to either of them. It makes him draw a really strong pull from his cigarette, “Dear, there’s nothing wrong.” He looks away.

But you’re starting to get fed up with it at this point. Same answer from both of them, it’s tiresome. “Sanji, if you’re not gonna be honest with me you can walk away.” You say sharply, he can’t deny how the firmness in your voice didn’t turn him on a tad. Normally he would take you more seriously but because of his own excessive drinking, he really wants nothing more than for you to get more and more assertive with him.

He sighs, throwing the cigarette bud overboard. “You wanna talk about it in private?” He says, and you’re eager to pull him somewhere where he can spill his guts, finally. He guides you to the guy’s quarters, where he’s sure no one would be given that everyone was out on the deck either drunk out their mind or making fun of whoever was drunk out of their mind.

And when Nami no longer senses your presence, along with Sanji’s paired absence, she’s immediately on high alert. Out of their entire ongoing discourse, this was something she was immediately worried about. She excuses herself from conversation and tries to make it seem like she wasn’t about to explode from anxiety.

When she herself is out of sight from the crew, she immediately goes running through any room where it was a possibility she could try disrupting the two of you. When she finally reaches the men’s quarters, she finds you and Sanji in the middle of the room, yet to make yourselves comfortable enough to even start saying or doing anything.

“Nami? You okay?” You immediately leave Sanji’s side, removing his hand that he had on your hip. The sight alone made Nami’s breath pick up a little bit.

“Y-Yeah…” She fixes herself, and straightens up, “‘Just a little tired, m’not feeling too well. Can we go to sleep?”

You look back at Sanji with eyes that say sorry, and he shakes his head as a means to tell you that it was no issue for him at all. Only it was. It was his biggest issue. This entire thing with Nami. He didn’t want to be mad at her. He loved her. But he wanted you all for himself.

While you both walk away, she looks bad with a sadistic grin painted on her face. He balls his fist up and grinds his teeth together all before lighting up another cigarette.

Meanwhile, Nami has her hands on your hip as you make your walk back to your own quarters. And you don’t know it under the dark lighting of the room, but she’s ecstatic.

When you make it to your room, the dim lighting does well to emphasize your drunken state, you can't explain it. You feel woozy enough for some good sleep, and Nami and you undress in front of each other in preparation for what you've been waiting all day for, complete relaxation.

You break the silence, “Nami.” She replies with a simple hum to the call of her name, “You feel fine. You just wanted me to get away from Sanji, didn’t you? So he couldn't tell me anything?” Your shirt is off now, and you’re left in your bra and shorts, something she’ll never get tired of seeing. She not so subtly ogles your form, but she can thank the darkness of the room for not giving her away.

She sighs. Try as she might you were a sharp woman, “I’m sorry. I’m just mad at him right now. And I’m not ready for either him or me to talk about it.” She tries to dance around the true subject of why they were playing this game, you. You’re both sat up on your shared bed now, and she has a pitiful expression that you were to blame for, and you immediately feel the guilt in your stomach.

“Hey… I’m sorry Nam’, I didn’t mean to pressure you guys. I'm sorry for being so nosy.” You caress her thigh as an attempt at comfort, and her head slowly comes up to meet your gaze. Your beautiful, pure, gaze.

You could say the same for Nami, even in such a darkened environment her hair effortlessly shined and her face naturally glowed.

It might have been the alcohol in your system, or there must’ve have been an invisible magnet between you two, because the way you naturally gravitated towards her felt unreal, and she does nothing to fight it, neither do you—with a hand to your jaw and her eyes slowly closing, your lips meet. Her skin was so delicate, and it felt like second nature the way they moved against each other. The sound of your lips smacking against one another’s turned you on a bit, Reality settled in, you guys were making out—full blown making out. And it was hot.

It didn’t take much for it to escalate, and you to moan into her mouth, and her kisses go from your mouth to your neck, and then the fat of your breasts. And it all felt euphoric.

“N-Nami…” You moaned, “Robin c-could… mh, walk in.”

You both might've been a little tipsy, but it didn't take a genius to know that the predicament you both were in was far from innocent, and that whoever chose to mindlessly open the door would walk into something dirty.

“She won’t. She’s too preoccupied with Franky.”

Her hand does its own thing while she brings her mouth back to yours, a part of you has this small hunch, like this was intentional. Like she meant for it to happen, the way she came between you and Sanji, and the mention of Robin's absence being but a small conflict in your scandalous act--it sounded calculated, but it was a thought that came and went, you shove it aside to focus on the pure bliss you felt with her tongue now trying to fight yours for dominance.

Your mouths detach once again, this time with a string of saliva connecting between the two of you, and she moans at the sight. God, if you could hear that again. She's pushing you onto her pillow, and trying to remove your shorts. Nami always slept with a shirt on, no bra and panties, as did you. She takes a moment to scan the art-piece in front of her, your nipples were barely peaking through your lace bra, with your panties soaked solely from your make-out session. You were red from the alcohol, and the previous tongue fucking.

She takes her shirt off. And so, it's your turn to admire her beautiful body. You've undressed in front of each other so many times, but this was different. This made you so much more hot, so excited to finally get her body on yours.

Nami get's up out of her comfortable position and takes off her underwear, just as she then does for you and your bra. She takes no time in putting your leg over hers and you immediately feel the friction, the wetness colliding against each other. it's only when she starts to move on top of you is when you shake a little bit with excitement. You whimper and she moves a little faster. The sounds of your cunts making their move on the other is insanely lewd, coupled with your clit being grazed over and over again, your eyes roll back in your head.

It wasn't only your clit's being touched up against each other, but your chests as well. The feeling of your nipples lightly touching on the others was inexplicable. The feeling of pleasure exceeded the need to speak, because you both understood how the other felt. And you just wanted to bask in how good you both fucked each other.

You desperately chase Nami's mouth once again, and she's quick to lower herself for you. Again, your tongues do a dance for dominance.

It doesn't take long for you to both reach the raging desire to orgasm. Your pussies were grinding in the right spots and your conjoined moans were becoming eager, both reaching for the little knot to unravel.

It doesn't take long for that to happen, Nami cums first with you shortly after.

Her forehead is resting on yours while you both catch your breaths, she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, you finally speak, "How're you... so good at that?" She giggles at your obviously fucked-out state.

"'Dunno, you just bring something out of me." You breathlessly laugh at the comment, and you give her a kiss on the cheek before you gently remove her figure and onto your side of the bed.

She goes quiet for a minute, you're covering yourself with your blanket just to re-collect yourself again until you can stomach to get up.

"Sanji."

Nami calls out to the man who obivously wasn't in the room, "You can come inside if you want." She says, and you freeze up. Sanji?

With that, the door cracks open to reveal the man who had been spying on the both of you from the entrace to the girl's quarters this entire time. You're shocked, is the least you can say, and when you see the bulge in his pants that definitely wasn't there when you were with him not even an hour ago, you're even more shocked. You do the best you can to cover yourself in your shared blanket, but Nami just lays on her stomach completely bare to him rocking the most smug grin he's ever seen.

"She's officially mine now, so you can stop trying."

Sanji sighs and looks down to the floor in what looks like defeat, he wants to pull yet another cigarette out and just smoke it.

Inevitably, she was somewhat right. This was the deal they both made to compensate for the tense conflicts that rose between them.

You're a little sobered up, and you start piecing together what they were saying, mine? Stop trying? With the seemingly insane resentment they've harbored up for each other in the past week or two, you've finally cracked it. This was about you. It was only ever you. From the silent treatment they gave each other to the constant and excessive tenderness they both showed you, it explained everything you tried so desperately to talk out of them.

And honestly, you didn't know if you were angry or turned on. Maybe both.

"New deal," He says, and Nami gets up as a means to defy whatever dumb proposition he wanted to start again. "who can fuck her better."

With a shake of her head, "Uh-Uh! I got her first so she's mine!"

He laughs and his confidence is back up, "What? Scared you gonna lose her if she get's a taste of how good I feel?"

Its Nami's turn to put her head down, she looks at you, who can only stare at the cook's very apparent bulge in his pants and he's not blind to it "You want me to make you feel good, princess?" He takes off his coat.

Nami orders him to lock the doors.

He does what she asks of him, then immediately makes his way to you both afterwards.

He's quick on your lips, putting his gloved over your chin and he quickly makes it passionate in doing so. The mix of cigarettes and alcohol on his tongue isn't overpowering, if anything it turns you on even more.

Right beside you is Nami, who once held so much resentment for the blonde, is now slowly getting turned on by him making his move on her one and only.

The blanket that once covered you is now undressing you itself, coming down to reveal your breasts, much to his satisfaction.

Sanji wastes no time in pushing you down and inviting himself onto you bed. He looks at Nami, expecting her to be angry at the sight, but he's surprised to see her, massaging and pinching her breasts at the very sight in front of her. He looks back at you, "'Gonna make you feel good, okay? Yeah?" You nod.

He knows you're wet enough for him, but he fingers you anyway. He fingers your cunt enough to where your whimpering his name for more and to add another, but instead his mimics Nami in pinching your nipple and fondling your breast to add to your pleasure in a multitude of ways. Nami almost subconsciously moves her unoccupied hand to her pussy and starts playing with it at the sight of both of you.

Once he's done enough to ready you, in a swift motion he's taking off his belt, then he lowers his pants to his knees, then his underwear, and next thing you know he's lining himself up. You're grabbing on the pillow underneath you to brace for it. He put's it inside of you and with a satisfied moan, you look at Nami, who's looking at you, and you clench around him.

You look back to Sanji who's too happy about your warm pussy around him to notice the intimate moment you and Nami just shared, and he's already making his first thrust back in and out of you. His cock was long and thick, and you could feel every inch as it went inside.

The scene itself was so dirty. Both you and Nami naked with Sanji's pants pulled down inside of you while Nami shamelessly played with her cunt and tits to the sight. "Tell me how good it feels baby. Tell us." He says, with his thrusts becoming all the more brutal, balls colliding with your ass.

"It feels amazing Sanji. You both make me feel amazing." Followed by a whimper at the sound of skin slapping, you feel a second orgasm approaching you. He signals Nami to come over to his side, and to your surprise they start to kiss while his thrusts become a little more sensual, but he's hitting exact right angle now, and you feel like you're on cloud nine.

The sight before you, his mouth on hers while she chases her own pleasure in her fingers, gives him his own idea of snaking his hand on your clit and doing the same. By this point, holding off your orgasm was impossible. And you cum so hard you almost see stars in your vision. With the sound of your moans, Nami follows suit, and third, Sanji pulls out of you as his own finally approaches and rubs himself on your slit to get his liquids out and onto your body.

Everyones a mess, Nami and you lie down aside from each other again, only this time is Sanji laying on top of you. You bring your hands to his hair and play with the strands.

"I made her cum faster." she says.

"You kidding? Did you hear how loud she was when she was with me?" he says.

All you do is groan. Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.

[artemisadore]

🩸🐾 catcrow of course

This one got away from me! I hope you enjoy CatCrow pet names + patching up an injury, with a healthy dose of "I had no where else to go" 🩷

Rating: T

tw: mild blood, vague descriptions of injuries/first aid, references to abuse (physical and emotional)

x

Monty hisses through his teeth at the way throwing his body against the door of the cannery makes the pain in his side branch out like the gnarly limbs of a tree. He notes the pain, swallows it down, and braces himself accordingly when he does it again.

It's preternaturally quiet on the dock aside from Monty’s labored breathing, which would in theory be something good for Monty to note, if he weren't otherwise occupied with keeping himself upright.

“Come on,” he groans, beating uselessly against the door with his busted-up fist.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners, little bird?”

Monty whips around so quickly that the spinning in his head almost knocks him off balance. When his eyes finally focus in the darkness, he finds the Cat King watching him with glowing yellow eyes and a saccharine grin.

He continues easily, “Well, I suppose you were taken from your real mother as just a hatchling, hm? Plucked right from the nest by Esther dearest, caged before you even learned to fly.”

“God, you love to hear yourself talk,” Monty rasps, bitterness lacing his tone.

“I do indeed,” the Cat King preens, sauntering around Monty, who vaguely wonders if the monarch is only doing so to make him shift his weight if he wants to keep the predator in his sights. “And so must you, little bird, because I can't think of any other reason why you'd show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Uninvited.” His expression falls to a mocking pout, one that makes Monty want to peck his stupid eyes out. “It's past the cats’ bedtime, you know.”

Monty takes in a steadying breath, again swallowing his pain and now also his frustration. “I—I need you,” he grits out.

The Cat King's eyebrows shoot up toward his slicked-back black hair. “My, my. I suppose I have to give you credit for your good taste. First Edwin, now—”

“Not like—fuck,” Monty groans between shallow breaths. “You're just—you’re the only one who—” Monty lets his eyes slip shut in resignation.

Submission, his prey-brain supplies.

“I had nowhere else to go.”

The admission feels acidic on his tongue.

He may have had somewhere to go, once. But now that place is an entire ocean away, full of people who either left him behind or forgot about him entirely, and he isn't sure which one hurts worse.

When Monty opens his eyes again, the Cat King is gone. But just as panic seizes his chest, he smells the familiar scent of incense he's grown to associate with the use of magic.

The Cat King has transported him somewhere — presumably in the cannery, though Monty has never been inside to know for sure — and left him perched on the edge of bed, awash in the glow of red and blue neon. In a quick flash of purple, the feline is back again, holding what appears to be a first aid kit.

Monty blanches at the sight. “Woah, hey, I just need a place to stay!” he says, hastening to make himself as small as possible.

The Cat King pays him no mind as he opens the kit on the bed. “Your knuckles are bruised, your ribs are broken, and you’re bleeding on my good furs from that gash on your side,” he snips cooly, picking his tools and materials with practiced ease.

The sight of it all makes Monty nauseous for reasons he'd rather not consider at the moment, so he pointedly looks away.

“For future reference, you don't get to be the idiot who gets the shit kicked out of him and the idiot who walks right into the lion's den with a broken wing. After tonight, you have to pick a struggle.” Monty’s skin prickles, which must mean the Cat King's eyes are back on him. “Shirt off.”

Monty winces, but he thinks better of arguing. It's a painful process, but he manages to rid himself of his blood-soaked t-shirt, which he discards with a small joy directly on the Cat King's floor.

The joy dissipates when the shirt disappears into thin air in a purple puff.

There's no preamble as the Cat King sets to work, manhandling Monty this way and that as he assesses his wounds. Monty stares past him through it all, unable to bring himself to meet his eyes. When the Cat King gets to the gash on his side, he hisses in what might be sympathy.

The sympathy, if it existed at all, is short-lived. The antiseptic applied to his side stings like a knife — a pain with which Monty is all-too familiar.

Monty expects the Cat King to chatter through it all, but the monarch works silently with a focused precision Monty didn't know he was capable of. It feels strange, being in such close proximity to a creature who could tear out his throat just as easily as he now mends his side.

But Monty has learned that it isn't always the animals that rip out your heart.

Sometimes it's a ghost.

When the Cat King is through, he steps back to examine his work. “Oh! How could I forget the most important part?” To Monty's surprise, the feline leans down into Monty's space once more, so close that he can see his pupils dilate in interest.

Monty isn't quite sure if they dilated before their first kiss, if you could even call it that — it happened so quickly.

But this isn't quick. The Cat King takes his time cupping Monty's cheek, sending a shiver down Monty's spine, one of both fear and intrigue. Monty lets his eyes flutter shut, anticipation taking root in his chest.

But instead of lips, it's the pad of a thumb that traces the space above his upper lip. Monty’s eyes blink open at the tingling sensation and, once again, the scent of incense.

“Wouldn't want a scar to mess up that pretty face, now would we?” the Cat King purrs, his smirk only growing as he pulls away triumphantly.

Monty touches his fingertips to his lip in awe, the skin as smooth as the day he was created. “You healed me,” he murmurs.

Esther healed him once or twice over the years, so it's not like he wasn't aware that it was possible.

Monty just wasn't aware that healing didn't have to hurt.

“It's a good thing you're cute, little bird,” the Cat King scoffs, “‘cause you sure ain't quick. It's sweet that you thought you'd get a repeat of our little forest ménage à trois, but I've done you enough favors tonight, wouldn't you agree?”

Monty wants to hate him — his stupid leather skirt and dumb combat boots, his infuriating smile and his cocky attitude, his chiseled jaw and his muscular arms and—and oh. Monty recognizes that feeling, the one that is so distinctly human, the one he swore he would never feel again.

Suddenly, something dawns on Monty. “Hold on. You have fucking healing magic. You could have just healed me!”

The Cat King's answering grin is Cheshire. “How would you ever learn to fly if I gave you all the shortcuts, birdie?”

Monty isn't sure whether he wants to kiss the Cat King or pummel him.

But the night is young — he may very well end up doing both.

[kawoala]

hiiii meeya i’m ready to place my order!! could i please have haikyuu (sugawara) and… enemies to lovers? and i was thinking something along the lines of a canon-compliant written piece where reader is either a player on the women’s team or a manager of a rival school, but honestly i don’t mind if you want to change anything! thank you soso much 🫶 this place is beautiful 😍

RIDICULOUS; sugawara koushi. burger—haikyuu. drink—enemies to lovers.

contents word count ; 1380. reader is on crutches. ooc! sugawara. profanity. oh also reader is on the vball team. arguing. confessions.

authors notes this is so dramatic for nooo reason 😭 hope u like this may!

this blows.

usually, you’re vocabulary is a little more mature, but this—standing on the sidelines while your teammates lose to a team they could be winning against—it blows.

and your ankle injury? it blows. the fact that you’re out for the rest of the season, the fact that you know your teammates are blaming you for their losses, the fact that this is your last season and you can’t even finish it—yeah, it fucking blows.

and to top it all off, sugawara’s staring at you from the other side of the gym. he’s sitting with the rest of his team, who are all chatting about something, but his eyes are locked on you. he’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands interlocked, glaring.

you know he’s judging you. you can feel it radiating off of him. even when you resist the urge to stare back at him, you know he’s got his eyes on you.

and the thing is, you don’t know why. since first year, sugawara has had some sort of issue with you. it started in a photography class, when he outwardly refused to be your partner for the semester. and then you noticed that he was avoiding you in the halls. and when the girls and boys volleyball team had their shared team dinner, he didn’t even go near the homemade noodles you brought.

it’s embarrassing, mostly. sugawara is the nicest guy in school—except, apparently, when it comes to you. he’s nice to all of your friends, and when you show up to the conversation, he leaves. immediately.

you’ve tried to be nice. even when people snickered at you in that stupid photography class, you had just laughed it off, saying you’d work by yourself. that semester had been gruelling—even as a first year. and at that team dinner, when you complimented him on his dish and he’d outright ignored you, you’d brushed it off with a small sigh.

for the nth time tonight, you look back up at him. his posture shifts a little bit as you meet his gaze, but he doesn’t look away. you tilt your head to the side, as if asking “what.”

he does the same, but his eyes narrow. a challenge. you scoff and roll your eyes, focusing back on the court. and then, you make a decision.

you’re going to talk to him after the game, ask him what the hell his problem is.

—

the game is over quicker than you thought it would be. seijoh wins and you pretend not to notice the way they sneer at you and your teammates, throwing a cruel laugh at you every so often. you’re so wound up, you almost go after one of them—their libero. feisty little thing. she sticks her tongue out at you as she walks by, like she’s a child.

you walk behind the others on your way back to the locker room, head down. your careful not to trip over your crutches, or get in the way of anybody, but somebody walks by you and their scent hits your nose and you fumble.

your crutches skid to the other side of the hallway and you fall to the ground with a oomf. you sit there for a moment, contemplating even getting back up. and then a pair of shoes appears in front of you, followed by the same scent from before.

”that looked like it hurt.”

the voice hits your ears and you want to throw up. sugawara. you look up and he’s staring down at you, holding your crutches in one hand. “yep,” you say, strained. you help yourself up, putting the weight on your none-injured foot. “can i have my crutches back now? thanks.”

he hands them back with an almost inaudible scoff. he starts to walk away, but then you remember. “wait,” you call out, maneuvering until you’re turned to face him again. “can we talk, actually? i have something i need to discuss.”

he stops and he states before turning around. there’s a look on his face that you don’t recognize. impatience, maybe? he raises his brows expectantly and it only pisses you off further.

”okay, dude, what is your problem with me?” you can’t help the bite in your tone. “like, since first year, you’ve had this unspoken issue with me. and i tried to be nice, don’t get me wrong. but you just absolutely refuse to reciprocate. so, please, just tell me what i did wrong so i can apologize and we can stop this feud we’ve had for three fucking years.”

the outburst surprises him, and it even surprises you a little bit. his mouth opens and closes, like he can’t decide what to say. finally, he squares his jaw and shakes his head. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

your jaw drops. he starts to turn, and your first instinct is to drop your crutches and hobble over to him before he can walk away. you grab his arm and spin him around. “don’t play stupid, sugawara. today, when you were sitting on the bleachers, you were glaring at me. like- like i’d killed your puppy or something! and first year, in that stupid photography class, you stood up in front of the whole class and told the teacher you didn’t want to be my partner.” you pause, chest heaving. “do you know how embarrassing that was? how much i got teased for it? you’re nice to everyone you meet—except for me. don’t pretend you don’t hate me now that i’ve confronted you about it.”

for a long, stretched out moment, he’s quiet, staring into your eyes like he’s searching for something.

”well?” you prompt, brows furrowing in frustration.

“i don’t hate you,” he says quietly. his eyes dart away from yours and suddenly he’s embarrassed. “i don’t hate you, i-“ he cuts himself off, rolling his eyes. “whatever, this is ridiculous. i don’t hate you, okay? there, feud over.”

”don’t give me that bullshit, sugawara.”

”what do you want from me? do you want me to apologize? do you want me to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness?” he rips his arm out of your grasp and his gaze hardens. “you piss me off. that’s the story. that’s why i have beef with you. first year, when we got sat next to each other, you pissed me off. when the teacher said we were partners, i knew you’d distract me and piss me off. is that better? there is no specific reason, you just make me mad.”

you blink. once. twice. three times. “are you fucking kidding me? what, it’s just my presence? the way i smile? the way i make small talk?” you scoff and cross your arms. “you’re fucking ridiculous.”

”yes,” he huffs out. your brows furrow again, this time in confusion. “it’s the way you smile, it’s the way you make small talk, it’s the way you carry yourself, it’s the way you’re too nice to people even though they don’t deserve it.” he takes a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. “i hate it. every time i see you, i get this pit in my stomach. i avoid you in the hallway because every time i see you, i get the urge to talk to you. to tell you to stop smiling at people. to tell you to pull down your skirt because other guys are looking. you think this is ridiculous? i’ve had a thing for you since the first time i saw you and the only way i can deal with it is by being a massive dickhead to you.”

again, all you can do is blink at him. what is this, a rom-com? he can’t just confess in the middle of an argument like that—also, how did he know angry confessions are your favorite trope?

”what the hell are you talking about”

he sighs, heavy and long. “nevermind.” he shakes his head, then steps around you to pick up your crutches once again. he hands them to you silently, then continues past you, towards the exit. 

he leaves you standing there in the middle of the hallway, face scrunched up, jaw dropped, a million thoughts running through your mind.

what the hell just happened?

[grim333z]

Bandages~

Ftm!Carl x Ftm! reader 

[ this was intended to be ftm reader but honestly it works for anyone really.]

{Tw: mentions of unsafe binding, scars, gender dysphoria}

"Don't believe what they say

We're dead flies in the summertime

They leave us all behind

With duct-tape scars on my honey"

"hey,?" Rings out from the entryway, the quiet gentle tick of the latch hooking as the door closes, its the Grimes boy, you'd seen him around every so often, preferring to bury yourself in your studies rather than engage with any of the other teenagers in the area. "Hm?" You hum as a gentle response, watching his figure soon appear across the counter to you. 

"Can I help..?" You query, looking at him looking uncomfortably out of place, he'd been in the infirmary for a gunshot wound not long back, way back when Denise hadn't got a clue to even start training someone, letting you linger but not touch. Being fascinated by everything she did, but being shut down after asking any questions, distracting her from her work unintentionally.

"Is Denise here?" He glances around with his one none bandaged eye, before his gaze falls back on you again,  you shake your head in response, shutting the book in front of you. 

"She isn't here, is there anything I can help with...?"  Your eyes focused on him, as he looks down at the floor in front of his feet, you can practically smell the embarrassment radiating off him, like he's only in their for a really stupid reason. "I just, needed some bandages...please" He hums quietly, glancing at the storage cupboard, "Why?" You huff in response, garnering a look of confusion from the boy; who'd now clearly never been challenged for needing medical supplies,

"For my eye...?"He hums, to which you nod in response, letting him wander over to the cupboard grabbing a bandage which was far to long and far to wide to wrap a couple times around his head, while the bandages that he usually needed sat unacknowledged beside the one he'd picked up. "Wrong one, you need the one to the right," He turns to look at you, the roll sitting limp in his palm, "What, oh.. right" He responds picking up the right one.

"Unless you need the other one, but if you did it wouldn't be for your eye... too long to wide to sit comfortably on your face." You ramble, looking at him. Watching him debate about which one's he actually needs. "You can tell me you know..?" You breathe, trying to coax whatever it is out of him. 

"I just, I just need these okay.." He says shovelling the roll into his pocket before making a B-line to the door. "What for." You say, not letting up, "I have to tell Denise, and she'll get an answer out of you anyway." 

"Just drop it." You say, watching him glare at you, before the pale white roll falls from his hands, slipping out his grip accidentally. He bends down to pick the thing up, wincing on his way down ."I didn't mean actuall- are you alright...?" You ask... as he attempts to straighten out in front of you. "m'fine, just some side pain, its nothing." He brushes you off. 

"Side pain?" You ask, feeling the curiosity rise within you, the un-satiable need for explanations, and there really was no Denise to take this patient from you, she was out. 

"Rib pain..?" He breaths, like he almost doesen't want you to hear. 

"You're not..?" You question, glancing at the bandages in his hands before back up to his face as he nods. "Ah...Right, you're... ok I get it, just... you're in pain?" Letting your feet fall against the floor as you walk around the kitchen island to stand in front of him, watching him nod. 

"You could be bruising your ribs. Especially if you're going out on runs with it on, How long...?" You hum, as he pauses for a moment to think before responding, "A couple years." Your eyes widen.. "Years..?" blinking at him for a moment before continuing "Without a break?" 

He nods, a faint look of guilt crossing his face, "Its, just not safe. I'm gonna say take a break, hell stop using them, we have some sports tape you could try, its kinda fiddly but its less pressure on the ribs if you wanna give it a go..." His eyes look up at you, intrigued by your suggestion, 

"Sports tape?" He questions, making eye contact for the first time, slightly confused on why you haven't bombarded him with questions, just taken the information and offered help. 

"Kt tape, people use it to like support muscles after sustaining injury's in sport, Denise always puts it on the lists for run's since someone's always pulling something when on runs or working on something." he nods in response to your words, mulling them over in his mind.

"Doesn't it just work like bandages though...?" You feel his gaze on you as you head to the cupboard to grab a decent size roll of pale flesh tone KT tape, "Nope, it doesn't compress...? it kind of just moves it, to look flatter... so there's no pressure on the ribs. Its a little fiddly, but once you've got it, it'll stay there for a bit then you change it." He look perplexed at the small roll in your hands, nervously chewing his bottom lip. 

"Uh, right, thanks" He quietly accepts the roll, heading for the door. "I'll give it a go..."

"You sure you don't wanna try it in the bathroom, you know in case you need any help" You hum as you resume your seat in front at the counter, Carl stammers unsure on how to respond, seeming eager to escape this incredibly awkward situation, however deep down knowing he's more than likely got no fucking clue where to start. "I don't-" He stumbles over his words, unsure on which option is gonna work out most in his favour.

"I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm a doctor not a creep." Your fingers idly trace the raised letters on the cover of the incredibly worn medical textbook in front of you, noting the distinct look of hesitation plastered across his face. "hm?" He poses the sound like its a question but you aren't entirely sure what he's trying to ask. "I'm- I mean I don't really know what- how to... you know" he sucks in a deep breath, feigning composure.

You click your tongue, before signalling him towards you. Standing up to find a pair of scissors, watching his awkward form linger where you once stood, upon your return, he passes the roll over, watching you cut off a decent strip and round the edges, doing that three more times before passing them too him, "You just kind of" You hum making the motion he'd need to follow, a confused but almost understanding look on his face. "It'll be weird at first, Just give it a go...?" 

"uh yeah, I- uh still haven't got a clue." He stammers holding the strips you'd cut off like they're inches away from exploding, "I can do it for you, you just don't seem the most comfortable right now, let alone-" He nods, before you can finish talking.

"It's fine, just get it over with" He rambles.

Sliding his Shirt down, running the pale palms of his hands down the front of his shirt. You watch as his eyebrows wrinkle before softening before looking up at you with a gentle momentary smile on his face, hardly even their. "Thanks.." He breaths, looking in the mirror as you collect the backs off the tape and throw them into the small trash bin beside the toilet, nodding "It's fine, dude I get it." He looks at you in confusion before clocking your words, smiling at you before walking out. Leaving you to clean up, which you didn't really mind, there wasn't really much else to do. 

Over time he develops the habit of coming to you to change it, trusting you more than himself to apply it right. 

He stands in front of you, gently tracing the buds of his finger tips around the edges of the fresh tape, looking at himself in the mirror, "They're not to tight are they?" You query, noting him fussing over them longer than usual, he shakes his head, blue eye tracing his own bare pale torso in the mirror, "Are you okay...?" You whisper, receiving a hum in response. Passing over the grey button-up he'd come to the infirmary in, slipping it on loosely, he hesitates glancing at you. "I- thanks for doing this for me... I really appreciate it" He hums, unsure where to look though his gaze always seems to land on your lips, only for a brief moment though you're so sure of it, "It's fine honestly, isn't much else to do around he-" You ramble being cut off by his lips against yours, feeling his arms either side of you as he braces himself, it's messy and clumsy like he's really acted on impulse here, though it doesn't lack emotion, you can tell whatever has brought this on has been building for some time... Though when he pulls away he looks thoroughly ridden with guilt, fingers fumbling to  button up his shirt as he fiddles with his free hand to get the door open. Leaving you left confused, leaning against the cool granite counter in the bathroom,  blinking at the empty space where he was just stood. 

The rest of the day you spend spaced out staring at the words in the notes Denise gave you to study; which in all reality were just a distraction to keep you out of her way. Eyes going over the words over and over without them ever actually being absorbed. This spaced out state doesn't seem to dissipate on the walk home either, until you spot him, knees drawn to his chest atop the gazebo he usually sat with Enid on, however this time he was alone. 

"Carl?" You pause your movements yelling up to him, just faintly you see his eye widen as it clicks in his brain who you are. "Uhm...uh shit- I uh.." He stammers, meanwhile you're climbing up to sit with him, hearing the apologies start the moment you take seat beside him "I uh I'm sorry I just don't know what I was thinking... I just, I'm so-" He stumbles being cut off as you pull his face towards you, looking into his eye, the warmth of his face radiating into the palms of your hands "Carl, Dude" He blinks at you, chewing the dry skin in the corner of his mouth; radiating some uncomfortable almost fear. "You never gave me a chance to respond, you just took off...I didn't mind it..." You whisper, watching his gaze fade into something more relaxed. "Really?" His words are filled to the brim with uncertainty, the gentle almost child like uncertainty faintly lingering in each of his words. "Really." You whisper, brushing some of his loose hair behind his ear. The faint pink edges of his lips raise slightly, illuminated by the subtle blue glow from the moon. 

[boozerbooz]

..He’s my collar

Part 2 of Lovesick Fool

Pairing: Arisu x Male reader

He/Him pronouns for reader, somewhat fluff, kissing(its literally a peck on the cheek..), light internalized homophobia(again), cliffhanger, and a bit of angst

M/n was so distraught by the fact of Arisu and Usagi together. In fact, M/n did like Usagi! She was a really nice girl and they both could get along easily, her presence was almost the same as Arisu’s, but more comforting. But the fact of seeing them together wasn’t a pleasant sight for him, he wasn’t mad at them. it was simple, maybe if he was a girl, he would have loved him.

And for that one, stupid reason, M/n started ignoring Arisu. He decided it was smarter to just forget about him, leave Arisu in the past. But M/n’s thoughts tortured him, it was crazy. These thoughts were horrible to the point where..

Oh.

Oh.

M/n was still coming back to Arisu, even in his dreams. It was absolutely terrible, poor M/n.

Days had passed as M/n ignored Arisu, it was torture for the black haired male. He tried to initiate conversations with M/n, but when he would respond, it would be a short answer like “ok”, “sure”, “mhm”, or some times just a nod. Arisu felt hopeless after the conversations, he was wondering what happened to the nice, listening, and charismatic M/n.

A few days had passed by before M/n had given up on ignoring Arisu, he couldn’t just leave him behind. It was 2 days before the beach incident where M/n would confess to Arisu, to try and get rid of his feelings.

“Come to my room later, please, don’t bring anyone or anything.” M/n said, looking away from Arisu as it pained him to even look at him. Arisu only nodded and then the both of them went their separate ways.

A few hours had passed, it was night and the moon was shining, M/n was sitting on the edge of his bed before he heard a knock on his door.

“Coming!” He said, he got up from his spot and went up to the door, unlocking it and opening it before it revealed a tan, dark haired boy.

Arisu quickly hugged M/n, he had been missing him for days and was wondering what had happened to their bond. M/n closes the door whenever they stop hugging and they both sit on the bed, Arisu on the right and M/n on the left. M/n was looking down at his hands on his lap, his fidgeting fingers made it obvious he was anxious and nervous. “I have something to tell you..”

M/n said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Arisu had been looking at the other male for a little bit, trying to figure out what had been going on with him. Arisu stayed silent before he spoke, “What do you wanna tell me?..”. He said, his voice gentle to calm the other male down a bit.

“The reason Ive been avoiding you.. is because..”. M/n felt his eyes tear up a bit, he was trying his hardest not to break down right there and then. Arisu quickly took notice and put his hand on the other males head, running his hands through his hair, trying to calm him down. Obviously, Arisu was nervous about this, his cheeks were a rosy pink color and his hands were shaking. M/n finally gained the courage to say it.

“I like you, Ive always like you, Arisu..”. M/n said, his voice a bit shaky as a tear rolled down his cheek. He was shaking a bit too before Arisu took a breath and hugged him, his arms wrapped around the other male’s body.

“M/n..” Arisu said, rubbing the back of the h/c male’s neck. “Shh..”, was all he said, his only goal was to calm M/n down. After a bit, M/n calmed down and Arisu grabbed his chin gently, making him look at Arisu. His eyes were puffy and a bit red before they flicked to Arisu’s lips, then back to his eyes.

It felt like time stopped as soon as Arisu leaned in and kissed M/n’s cheek. M/n’s heart was beating faster than ever before, his cheeks had quickly turned a rosy pink color along with Arisu’s.

“I like you too, M/n..”. Arisu said, his heart was also beating fast, his body was shaking nervously from the kiss and how close they were. Later that night, they slept in the same bed, hugging each other, this would only last for 2 days before something ruined it.

This would be the one of the last times M/n would come back for Arisu.

Sooo.. how we feeling 😈😈🤗🥹

[snalsupremacy]

Feel free to add others btw

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; "the one where Kon's soulmark is fake". I remembered that, like, SEVERAL of my older WIPs are just a hot mess at the starts of their tags and also realized that I had posted like, very little coherently-connected parts of specifically this one's beginning, for some reason? Despite the fact that I love hurting and being hurt?? Somehow???? TERRIBLE oversight on my part, gang, sorry, here y'all go, enjoyyyyy~ 💙 (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon is sort of fucked-up in a lot of ways, but he didn't deliberately get the tattoo. Like–he's not that fucked-up. Hell, even Black Zero wasn't that fucked-up. 

Black Zero's Westfield didn't even give him the tattoo, actually, so maybe that's part of why they had a better relationship than Kon did with his version of the guy. Kon would also have hated the asshole a lot less if not for the tattoo, probably. 

But his Westfield had made damn sure to give it to him.

Kon doesn't remember much before he got broken out of the cloning tube, but he does remember getting the tattoo. It'd taken a really long time, and it'd been the first time he'd ever felt pain. So like, it'd made an impression. 

He hadn't even known what it was for, then. Hadn't even known what it was supposed to be. A brand? A method of identification? Some kind of weird serial number analogue? 

Not so much, it'd turned out. 

Superman's soulmark is a gorgeous Kryptonian sunrise spread out across his chest, bold and bright and beautiful. It looks like the rising truth and the clarity of a new beginning and the very literal physical manifestation of hope. 

And Kon's tattoo looks exactly like it. 

Except for the part where it's obviously just a tattoo, of course. 

Tattoos don't pass for soulmarks, after all, which is the only reason Kon has the damn thing to begin with. Westfield hadn't wanted him to make the mistake of thinking that he was a real person, or to make the mistake of thinking that anyone was ever going to give a fuck about him as the person that he was. He was a clone, an experiment, a weapon, a thing. He didn't have a soul or a soulmate. Didn't have a mark. 

He got over that. Like, it sucks? It really sucks. And he still hates it. But he'd gotten over it. 

Or he'd thought he had, until he'd found out who Superman's soulmate was. 

"What?" Kon says, staring blankly. 

"Dad's my soulmate," Jon repeats, pointing at the Kryptonian sunrise spread out across his chest, brightly illuminated by the noontime sun as they stand on the dock at the edge of a little pond on the outskirts of Smallville. "Why, who's yours? Or don't you know yet? Like, has it not come in?" 

"Clones don't get soulmarks," Kon says, wanting very, very badly to just throw up and die. 

"Huh?" Jon says, looking actually surprised. Kon continues to want to throw up and die. Or maybe bury himself in magma in the center of the planet and stay there 'til he suffocates. "But I thought everybody got soulmarks!" 

"Naw," Kon says instead of fuck you, because the kid's ten and doesn't deserve that. 

"Why not?" Jon asks, because again, he's ten. Ten and apparently as emotionally intelligent as a pudding cup, but whatever. Not like Kon's never had this conversation before. 

Never with Clark's kid who is apparently so much his kid as to be his literal fucking soulmate, which no one ever thought to mention to the stupid shitty clone in the past like four months since Clark had finally admitted to the secret identity that Kon had long since figured out thanks to Hypertime bullshit, but whatever. He only even officially met Jon a couple months ago. 

Probably they all figured it just wasn't his business, he guesses. 

Which–it's not, really. It's not his business. It never has been. 

It's not. 

"I mean, I'm sentient or whatever, but I'm manufactured," Kon tells the kid with a shrug. "Therefore no soul, therefore no soulmate, therefore no soulmark. That's all." 

"You don't have a soul?" Jon asks in bewilderment. 

"Naw," Kon says again, with another shrug. "So like, we gonna swim or what?" 

"Oh, uh, yeah," Jon says, still looking bewildered. 

So they swim. 

Kon, obviously, doesn't take his shirt off for it. 

Jon, mercifully, doesn't ask why. 

It's fun, aside from being the worst afternoon of Kon's life. They fuck around for a couple hours, then fly back to the farm after and mostly dry off on the way, and Clark comes out to meet–well, not them, obviously, but Jon. Jon lights up at the sight of him and throws himself straight into his arms like he's never once had to question whether or not Clark would ever want him there, and Clark smiles down at him like he's the most important person in the world. 

Kon should just count himself lucky that Clark trusts him enough to leave him alone with his kid for more than thirty seconds and be grateful. 

What Kon actually is, of course, is jealous and angry and fucking heartbroken. 

Jon is ten. Kon was manufactured two years ago. Clark had a real kid long before Kon was even a theoretical spark in a scientist's eye. 

And Jon had Clark the whole time Superboy was just desperately hoping that Superman would decide he was worth his attention. Worth the "S". Worth . . . 

When Clark had offered him a name from his family–specifically a name from an adopted member of his family–Kon had been . . . stupid, a little, and thought that it might've been, like . . . another step. Like he'd hoped that Superman even letting his weird stupid clone wear the "S" to begin with might've been.  

He hadn't been a complete idiot or anything. He'd known Clark would never, like–want to keep him around or have him too close or anything. He'd just thought that maybe he'd . . . that someday he might've . . . 

Kon isn't a real person. Like–obviously he's not. It isn't subtle. Hell, he'd have known it even if Westfield hadn't bothered tattooing him with a copy of Clark's mark. And really, he guesses he should be grateful Westfield didn't tattoo his own soulmark on him, whatever it was. 

Just, like, of course he's not Clark's . . . family, or whatever. Of course he's just like that one weird kid from down the street that somebody occasionally invites over out of pity who only learns the family secrets by accident or through osmosis and isn't actually kept in the loop or anything. Kon knows that. 

But watching Jon beam up at his dad and Clark smile down at his son is still making him want to curl up and die right here and now. 

Kon does kind of wonder what it's like to be, like . . . loved, or whatever. 

Everybody always makes it sound really nice. 

"Dinner's about ready," Clark says. "You two mind setting the table?" 

"Sorry, I gotta get going," Kon says instead of admitting he has no idea how to set a fucking table, especially not to whatever Martha Kent's standards are. Cadmus did not actually see fit to educate him on typical household chores and he has very rarely ever sat down at any semblance of a normal family dinner. Like, in Hawaii they all just ate wherever and not even all together half the time, and Cadmus has a cafeteria, and Young Justice just dumps a pile of junk food or takeout on the nearest unoccupied surface and they all just go to town on it like the weird gaggle of semi-superpowered and usually-ravenous teenagers that they are. 

He could look it up on his phone, and he probably will later, but there's no way he's gonna run the risk of getting caught looking it up on his phone. Like–no. Never, thanks. Miss him with that particular little bit of "further proof of being a fake person" humiliation. 

So it's . . . whatever, he guesses. 

"Well, that's alright, we'll just have to catch you another time," Clark says with a polite smile that looks nothing like the one he was just wearing for Jon, and doesn't even fake like he's disappointed or like he's gonna miss him. Because like . . . why would he, after all? 

Kon misses him all the time, but Kon's the pathetic counterfeit of a person with a copy of said person's soulmark tattooed on him. 

"Yeah, sure," Kon says, thinking longingly of suffocating in the center of the planet. 

Sometimes he thinks about what's gonna happen when he finally gets his dumb ass killed and whoever, like, autopsies or embalms him or whatever sees the tattoo. Thinks about what they're gonna think, if they . . . 

Superman's soulmark isn't a secret or anything. Clark's gotten smashed around too often for the suit to have kept it covered all this time. So like, if someone ever saw the tattoo on Kon's chest and didn't know that Cadmus put it there . . . 

Like . . . well. The natural assumption would be that Kon got it on purpose, obviously. That Kon was actually, like, that fucking pathetic and disturbed of a person. 

He never wants anyone to see it. Never wants anyone to know. Never . . . just never. None of it. Ever. 

And Clark will never smile at him like he smiles at Jon, so maybe Clark will just never know about the tattoo either. Maybe that's a thing that Kon can manage. 

He's managed it so far, at least. 

Kon goes back to Cadmus and buries himself in his eternally unmade bed in his cramped little disaster of a room and desperately tries to not be the absolute fucking freak that he is. 

He definitely fails at not being the absolute fucking freak that he is. 

He cries about it for a little bit, like that's something he even has the fucking right to do, and tries so fucking hard to forget how Jon's very real soulmark had looked when he'd stripped his shirt off and bared it so unselfconsciously. Not even deliberately or proudly–just as a simple, inalienable fact. A thing that he knew. A thing he just had. 

Although Kon wouldn't even care about the stupid goddamn mark, if Clark would ever look at him even a little bit like the way he looks at Jon. 

He tries not to think about the way Clark would actually look at him, if he ever found out that Cadmus had tattooed his fucking kid's mark on him. 

Kon's never let himself think too much about Clark's mark, on account of not wanting to torment himself that bad. He'd just vaguely assumed that it was Lois at some point and then just shoved said assumption in a box and drowned it in concrete and made sure to never, ever take his shirt off in front of anyone else or any possible cameras or spy equipment or anything similar. Ever. 

He should've known it wasn't Lois. It's a Kryptonian sunrise. Why would it be Lois? 

If it were Lois, though, Kon wouldn't care this much. If it were Lois, it'd be a romantic mark, and Lois is straight-up gorgeous and a total fucking badass, yeah, but Kon doesn't, like, want her or anything. There's nothing to be jealous of there. 

So of course it's not Lois. Of course it's not romantic. 

It's Jon, and on top of that it's a mark that only actual Kryptonians would ever share. 

It's Clark's real kid. The one he had long before Kon was even a single strand of stolen DNA or a cell in a cloning tube or even a scribbled theoretical on a whiteboard or in somebody's notes. 

The one he actually wants. 

Not for the first time, Kon wishes that prick Westfield weren't too dead to punch. 

And while he's wishing for completely impossible shit that’s never gonna happen, he wishes he could've been able to stay in Smallville for that stupid dinner without fucking embarrassing himself, too.

[dragolord19delta]

Mephiles stared at the door. The door behind the two beings that had defeated him slept. The door his fathers slept. Staring at it didn’t help the twisted feelings within his chest. The emotions that boiled within his soul, within his very mind. For that door held more than just the ones who had destroyed him, it also held two beings who loved him. Who did so much for him, even if they didn't know their son's previous life was one of destruction and darkness. He remembered the warmth of being held to their chests when he could not stand yet, feeding off what they gave to him. The feeling of love that radiated from them and filled him with peace and warmth. The same sensations they filled him with today, to his dismay. How can beings destroy you, yet still act with such kindness? Their past actions, the kindness shown, the hatred burning away the coldness, the lack of reason in destroying him once more, the burning fire within him growing with his confusion. The warmth and the cold, clashing and at war with each other to decide his path. And these feelings will make the outcome unpredictable. But one thing was known. What a strange fate, for a shadow like himself to become so warmed by those who snuffed out his darkness. The door he stared at cracked open, his Bab-Shadow standing there, his own glowing eyes spoting his son standing in the hall. "Suriel, what's wrong?" The name didn't click. But he did feel shame burning. "…bad dream" Mephiles mumbled, "Sorry. Just a stupid nightmare…" "…" He felt his Father hold the door wide, walking out and kneeling. It wasn't as if Mephiles was small by any means. So his Father looking him in the eyes while kneeling down made his guilt stronger. As if his heart was slowly breaking him. A gentle touch. "You shouldn't be embarrassed by nightmares." "…" "It's an expected emotion." A hand. Guiding him toward the opening. His Father held his hand gently. "…" "You don't need to deal with these emotions alone, Sur." His Father smiled as he lead Mephiles inside their bedroom, the door shut behind him as he was guided inside. He watched Dad-Sonic stir awake as they came inside, "Whuzz goin' on?" "Suriel had a nightmare." Shadow replied. "Oh. Well he needs his Daddy-o to make it all better." Sonic smiled and sat up, holding out his arms as to indicate him coming over, "Bring it in, kid~" Mephiles let the actions just happen to him, letting himself just sink into his parent's touch as they hugged him. How? He remembered being trapped into the scepter, his mind boiling in anger at the time of his loss. He remembered killing the hedgehog who was now cuddling him to his chest, the black one's rage the next day. He remembered this all, he shouldn't like their hugs. They destroyed him! Destroyed his plans! But that didn't stop his body from relaxing, or from enjoying their touch, their care, their warmth. "…F-Fuck…" What did these idiots do to him?? What have they turned him into?? … Shadow poked his arm softly, "Bad language," Suriel didn't know if the tears rolling down his face were in anger, grief, happiness or remorse. The closest word he could find for this emotion, however, was a sense of longing. To what? He didn't know, he just knew he never had felt like this, at least not since being reincarnated by their souls. "…Sorry…" He muttered Why did he need their approval? Why did he care if his bad attitude upset them? … why?

****

I may have wrote a little something @jesterjesteringjesterly

I love your dark reincarnation au!! Does Mephiles still has his memories? It would be funny if it was like Goku where he used to be a violent baby until he completely chill out and forgot who he was.

Oh he remembers alright

It’s actually kinda the opposite. He had none of his memories as a baby/small child. But as he grew his memories came back to him, he remembered who he was, who he IS. And that’s really what makes his reincarnation a “Punishment” of sorts. Reincarnated as the child of the two people that destroyed him but also that he now CARES about them. He is still their son after all, they showed him love only a parent could but he is now aware that they destroyed him previously.

It’s easy for him to hate and wail on Silver because he just showed up one day when he had his memories back, remembering Sonic 06 and those feelings are still fresh to him. He doesn’t CARE about Silver like he does sonic and shadow and Silver doesn’t care about him either. But this is truly his punishment, to suffer the fact he is no longer just mind and will but he has feelings that get in the way of his logic. His logic that he should despise the people who blew out the flame of his original life. The feelings that make him love them and the knowledge that they love him too.

I turned this funny question into a angsty lore dump whoops. I just love being asked stuff about my aus hehe :3