#but my hyperfixation won this time

[xec]

xec → karlaach

new url curtesy of @faarkas tysm ❤️

[thegreatyin]

regarding the caeru callout post. i- how. i am flabbergastered. how do you people write this shit??? i've been playing three bleeding years and all i have is a skeleton who pretends to be a genius but is in fact a buffoon who has no idea what he's doing, a gay whore of an author who throws elaborate and incredibly illegal parties at his lavish townhouse whenever he's not in exile or prison... and then there's just blackbeard the pirate sitting in the corner. what am i doing wrong pls help

genuine answer: do absolutely deranged roleplaying with your friends and it will all spawn naturally over time (trust me i have like. a decade of experience with this exact phenomenon. all rp inevitably evolves into kingdom hearts and/or homestuck levels of complicated interwoven plot if you give it enough time and blorboing)

equally genuine answer: be absolutely shameless and do whatever you think is coolest. hype yourself up. be your own biggest fan. kill the part of you that cringes. if you make (to use a completely hypothetical example) a semi-immortal homunculus who's made in the image of a man that died years ago and from his perspective has been resurrected against his will you have to Own That Shit. you can't turn around and mock yourself/put yourself down about it. you gotta be earnest and shameless and confident. eventually you'll fool everyone else into thinking you actually are all of those things. i don't know how else to express that besides It Really Just Works

also practice. lots and lots of writing practice and writing experience. but that's the obvious advice you hear from every creative ever

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[love-songs-for-emma]

looking at Bratz dolls listings on ebay makes me SO SAD. the unboxed ones go for 100s of US dollars... bbygirl you were meant to be played with,, not to sit in a box for almost a decade : (

[hplonesomeart]

HEY. HEY SO UH. SO UPDATE ON THAT SNATCHER ANIMATION I WAS MENTIONING UH JKSJKSJSP

[frizzyanya]

Me to my friend: I hope we can do the thing together, that would be so fun

Me internally: PLEASE COME OR I'LL DIE THIS IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS TO ME WHY AREN'T YOU FERAL OVER THIS IT MIGHT KILL ME

[bitchkay]

This whole fic series altered my brain chemistry.

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.��� The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

[jiminomenon]

tdwp is my newest hyperfixation omg they're actual cuties 😍 also, idk if you take req for that series but imagine if y/n calls 'ms.yu' jimin? what and how would it happen?

im so glad you asked bc i was actually gonna write smth abt this

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n was tired.

no, scratch that. she was exhausted.

jimin had been in a particularly bratty mood today—more than usual, which was saying a lot. from the moment y/n stepped into the penthouse that morning, jimin had been barking orders like a spoiled princess.

“y/n, i want coffee. but not the one from that café down the street. the one that’s an hour away.”

“y/n, i told you i hate this fabric. does anyone listen to me?”

“y/n, why is princess ignoring me again? fix it.”

the day only got worse from there. multiple meetings, a last-minute fitting, and a spontaneous decision from jimin to change her entire schedule had y/n running around like a headless chicken. by the time they returned to the penthouse, y/n was ready to throw herself onto the floor and never get up.

but, of course, jimin had one more demand.

“y/n, get me my robe.”

y/n, half-asleep while standing, barely processed the request. “get it yourself, jimin.”

silence.

the air froze.

y/n, brain catching up two seconds too late, immediately realized her mistake.

she never called jimin by her name. not once. it was always ms. yu, spoken with the perfect amount of indifference to let her know she wasn’t impressed by her diva behavior.

but right now? she definitely just called her jimin. and not in a professional way.

no, she said it—all casual, all natural, like it was second nature. like she had the right to.

jimin blinked, then turned slowly, her expression unreadable. “… what did you just say?”

y/n’s soul left her body. “nothing.”

jimin narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “no, no. say it again.”

y/n cleared her throat, standing straighter. “i said—uh—get it yourself, ms. yu.”

jimin scoffed, lips curling in amusement. “ms. yu? oh, no, no, no. that’s not what you said.”

y/n swallowed. “i think it was.”

jimin smirked. “you called me jimin.”

“no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“i think you’re hearing things.”

jimin tilted her head, looking way too pleased with herself. “so now you’re calling me by my first name? so inappropriate, y/n. whatever happened to professionalism?”

y/n groaned, rubbing her face. “it was an accident.”

“hmm.” jimin tapped a manicured nail against her lips. “i don’t know. sounded pretty natural to me.”

y/n scowled. “don’t let it get to your head.”

“too late.”

y/n sighed, shaking her head. “are you done?”

jimin pretended to think. “hmm… no.” she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something teasing. “say it again.”

y/n blinked. “what?”

“say my name again.”

y/n narrowed her eyes at her, before letting out a defeated and tired sigh. “jimin.”

“again.”

“don’t be a child.”

jimin clasped her hands together like she won, “ahhhh, music to me ears.”

“whatever.” y/n dismissed, rolling her eyes, fighting back that stupid tug on her lips that threatened to make her smile.

and from then on, it just… stuck.

calling jimin ‘ms. yu’ felt weird. forced. unnatural.

but jimin?

she loved it.

[volturissideslut]

Hiii I hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself!

I wanted to ask for a Volturi kings (poly or separate) with a mate who's hyperfixated on something and forgetting basic necessities like eating and drinking and stuff! Just how they'd help and deal with it

This may be spurred on by the fact that I've been hyperfixated on cars (lego cars and just model cars) and haven't slept for over 2 days straight 😭😭

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘

"Cara Mia, please" Aro implores. Desperation creeps it's ugly tentacles around his throat as he all but begs you to put down the fucking lego titanic model. "It's been three days. Come eat, come lay with me and-"

"-Yes" interrupts Caius, needy for you bet equally worried for your wellbeing. "yes tesoro, it is time you feed, time you look up from that- that- plastic!" He says the word with such disgust, in such an accusational manner you would believe the clipped together blocks of lego had murdered his you in front of him out of spite.

Marcus huffs under his breath and pushes Caius (and his dramatics) to the side. He crouches down to your eye level from the seat you had been on and gives you such soft eyes. "What my brothers mean to say," he glances behind himself to where they stand and then looks right back at you, "is that we miss you. And we're worried about you. Did you even notice it's been three days?"

And to Marcus you give in, putting down the pieces in your hands and giving him your full attention. He basks in it for a moment, smug, knowing he'd won already. "Has it really been three days?" You ask, genuinely confused. Just how long had you been building these ships?

When Caius hisses out a secretly upset yet that just comes out as irritated, you stand and kiss the top of Marcus' head. The brunette man finally stands and grins at having snapped you out of whatever trance you were apparently in. Aro zooms forward and takes you into his arms, hilding you close to his chest and giving you a swift kiss. When you pull back you happen to notice a certain blond with his arms crossed and lips pouted, like he's ready to throw a tantrum.

"I'm sorry my love" you say, taking the few steps it takes over to him and cupping his face in your hands. His resolve crumbles completely in that instant and he finds himself melting in to you. You pepper some kisses into his face and all is forgiven. Temptingly, his teeth drag alongside your marbled neck and you feel Aro and Marcus sandwich you in from behind.

"Now how about I find us a little snack to share?"

[sakuralovespossums]

Ever since I watched Randomalistic’s Turbo/King Candy video, I’ve been sinking back into my Wreck it Ralph hyperfixation which then made me come up with a crack au of dad Turbo

Like imagine if Turbo never went…..well…..turbo and his game remained plugged in the arcade with Felix over the years. He’s still an egotistic asshole but isn’t as murderous like in the film and sees himself as a role model/inspiration for the newer racing game characters.

But then Sugar Rush is plugged in and he now has a little hell spawn rival who is Princess Vanellope. She’s just as cocky as he is and they’re always spitting insults at each other with the little racer calling him “grandpa” and “bug face”. To her, it’s all fun and games while Turbo is so done with her!

But then he notices her racing and realizes she actually has skills. Maybe not as good as his (no one can ever be better than him) but still impressive. So he gives her tips on how to improve her speed, perform tricks, drive dirty and rough, etc. and then eventually bringing her to practice on his track in his game. Everyone is so astonished by this. Turbo not only openly acknowledging another racer but also teaching them?!

Whether they realize it or not, they develop a mentor/student or pseudo-father/daughter dynamic that has everyone in the arcade giggling at how funny and kinda endearing it is.

Every time Vanellope wins a race, Turbo brags about it to everyone, saying how “She learnt that from me!” And “Of course she won! I’m her teacher after all!!”

He is the ultimate soccer mom who brags nonstop about his winner child and is such a bad role model (encourages cheating and being a show-off) and always spoils her

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

That’s What I Call Repressed Sexual Tension - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Reader (Paladin)

Warnings: 18+, Pining, Baldur’s Gate 3 Act I spoilers (I’ve only just now gotten to Act II), Smut (Sub!Reader x Dom!Astarion) – Fingering, P-in-V, Breast Fondling, NOT proofread, Astarion’s a bit of a perv – but still gentle, Fluff, Astarion is whipped (and calls you sickeningly sweet pet names), you’re kind of oblivious; I tried to make this as body-inclusive as I could, but still Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4,230

Summary: You were nearly certain that you hated Astarion and Astarion hated you. Until one day, after battle, you decide to partake in a wash. So does Astarion, much to your surprise. The truth of yours and Astarion’s true feelings towards one another is revealed.

A/N: Hey guys, welcome to the new hyperfixation! Right now I’m doing a playthrough of BG3 and I’m OBSESSED with Astarion. I’ve also read quite a few stories on here, and felt the need to provide my own as well. Please let me know what you think! Expect to see more Astarion in the future on this page!

God, you loathed Astarion. Or so you thought.

He was a selfish, reckless, devious pig. And he knew it too.

Little did you know, Astarion’s behaviors were exacerbated due to, well, you. Obviously his aura of cocky arrogancy radiated regardless of who was around, but around you he felt the need to… cover, more. Secretly, he was quite smitten for you. But obviously, he didn’t need you to know that. You had just finished battling it out against the goblins, which had been a tiring battle. Now, you were headed back to Emerald Grove. “Darling, you know, you didn’t have to smite him. That was kind of a waste of energy for you” Astarion sauntered over, making a quip at you. “You know, Ass, we won, didn’t we? Does it even matter? We’re going back to camp now; I’ll be resting soon.”

Ass was the nickname that you had so lovingly given him one night after he had drunk from you for the first time. You woke up to find him leaning over you, fangs exposed, ready to press them against your neck. After you had willingly allowed him to continue, you woke up woozy and drowsy, almost unable to walk. He came to check on you, making fun of your trembling. “Wow, darling. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who got lucky last night.” He winked.

“Shove it, you ass.” You snapped back. “Eh, I’ve been called worse, I assure you.” “Well, say hello to your new nickname, Ass.” “Quite clever darling, it’s almost as if it’s a shortened ver-“ you cut him off. “You ever want a taste of my blood again, you shut your mouth.” He clamped his mouth shut almost instantaneously, his lips forming into an impressive pout.

Since that day, Astarion had been relatively whipped by you. The sight of you trembling, the actual kindness that you displayed towards him in allowing him his first taste of “thinking” blood. God, he would trade all of his meals just for a taste of your blood again. He hadn’t gotten a taste again, but he frequently inquired about the subject and whether or not you’d be willing to allow him to indulge yet again. The real reason he had even said anything about your energy level post-battle was due to the fact that he would prefer you to save your energy for other circumstances, namely him drinking your blood – or other things. Other, dirtier things.

The trek back to camp was long and tiring. But you were alive, and that was all that mattered. You had Karlach and Gale along with you as well, thankfully. So you weren’t alone with the vampire. Although, he would have preferred it that way. He was hoping that he would have a chance alone with you later in the evening. Typically, other members of the group would jump at the chance to simply be in your presence, so he rarely got the opportunity. Tonight would be different, he reassured himself.

You decided that this late afternoon would be a prime opportunity for a wash. You had slept for about an hour to regain your strength, and Shadowheart had used her magic to mend you. Of course, Astarion had kept a close eye on you to make sure you were alright. So, when you wandered off, Astarion followed. “She needs supervision” he had told the rest of the group. Then, he sauntered off after you, careful not to make his presence known. He was a stealthy one, that’s for sure, and it came in quite handy in situations like these.

The nearby pond was mostly still water, despite the glorious waterfall that fell from the rocks that formed above it, clearly streaming from a larger body of water nearby. The rocks were all fairly dark and gray. The pond itself had strikingly blue-green water, that was still clear mostly. There were spots where algae had developed and broken off, but the water still cleaned better than the majority that you had witnessed in your travels. This place had become your own personal spa, in a sense.

He watched from afar as you began to strip your clothing off. He hadn’t been able to make a full assessment on you yet, as he had only seen slivers of your bare skin between the top and the bottoms of your pajamas, although he always hoped to see more. And now, he was going to. Finally.

You began at the top, peeling the shirt from your bodice, revealing your bra underneath. It was a translucent-white, which effectively made Astarion’s breath hitch in his chest. He could have taken red, black, blue, whatever other color you desired. But – white? Gods, it made his mind wander. And his cock harden. He couldn’t help the way that you made him feel. He had spent too many nights alone in his tent, at least for his liking. Next to be revealed were your legs, which looked beautiful despite various scrapes, bruises and cuts scattered about them. His only wish now was to have them wrapped around him – anywhere and everywhere. Around his head, around his pelvis, around his legs as he cuddled you softly to sleep in his tent. Ran his hands through your locks. Kept on high alert – just in case. He always did, but it would feel more important if he had something so precious to protect.

Astarion’s daydreaming almost tore him from the sight in front of him. Almost. The next time he looked, you began removing your bra. “Oh Gods…” Astarion spoke, thankfully quietly enough to maintain the secrecy of his presence. Your breasts were no longer under their cover, and Astarion could hardly contain himself any longer. He cupped the bulge in his pants gently, he needed the slightest bit of friction in that area. The next to be revealed was your glorious heat, not entirely cleanly shaven, but clearly well-maintained.

It was within the next few minutes that you decided to indulge in the water, laying a towel out on a nearby rock for after your dip. He noticed you head towards the waterfall, your hips swaying generously for his eyes, and he almost let his focus falter.  Astarion then made the decision to make his move, sliding his shoes off, then stripping himself of his pants, shirt, and underwear. He also made the conscious decision to sneak your own clothes away from the towel you had to delicately laid out, perfectly upon the rock. Just because he was mildly infatuated with you, didn’t mean he would play nice. In fact, it made him want to play even rougher.

You were fairly oblivious to the rogue in the shade, currently your only focus was relishing in the waterfall and running your hands through your hair, combing it out gently with your fingernails. It was the most relaxed you had felt in the past 24 hours. Little did you know, a certain rogue had set his sights on you – hoping to relax you even further.

The water was lukewarm from basking in the sun for the majority of the day. Exotic flora surrounded the pond, making it look inviting and tropical. However, some of the plants could be deadly, which kept both yourself and Astarion from getting close to them. Astarion glided himself into the water, careful to maintain quiet and stealthy as to not alert you to his presence – yet. He glanced at your bottom again, taking it all in. Soon, he hoped you’d be all his. If everything went as planned.

The water barely covered Astarion’s pelvis as he floated over to you. His fingertips played along the surface of the water, taking in the beautiful scenery. It wasn’t often that Astarion was able to do so. But now, he felt relaxed, yet almost – nervous? For what was to come ahead. It wasn’t often that Astarion felt unnerved in this way. You just meant so much to him. And he didn’t want to lose that. He began to contemplate his current choices and whether or not this would end poorly for you both. Perhaps you would be enraged, forcing him out of the party and never to speak to you again. Perhaps you would denounce his desires and state that you longed for someone else.

To his surprise, you yelped and jumped, trying to cover yourself as much as possible. You had seen him. You hid behind the waterfall, sinking further and further into the wall of stone. You covered your bosom with your arms, much to Astarion’s disappointment. Astarion’s confidence rose again, approaching your form behind the waterfall. “No need to hide away, darling. It’s just me, after all” he tutted. By the time he had crept fully into the other, more secluded side of the waterfall, you had sunk into the water, on your knees now, merely your head poking out of the water. Your eyes looked up at him almost submissively, which nearly made his knees buckle in excitement.

“What are you doing here, Ass? How long have you been here?”

“Long enough, my sweet. Just out admiring the view, washing up, you know.” As much as Astarion longed to tower over you, he needed to get down to your level. He sank down himself, until his eyes were meeting yours, just above the surface of the water. You were always quick to spit back at Astarion, but given the nature of the situation, you simply couldn’t. Any thoughts that you had about snipping at him were completely and entirely blocked out of your consciousness. Instead, you uncertainly inquired “how much did you see?”

“Oh Gods, dear. I’ve seen everything.” His response made you shutter, although the smirk placed upon his lips led you to believe that he was indeed happy about this fact. You wondered why. “Let me help wash you, petal?” You shifted for a moment, pondering the possibility. Astarion had already seen all of you, hadn’t he? You wondered for a moment whether or not to decline. Maybe he was just trying to be helpful, you thought. Your mind raced through a variety of complex and simple possibilities, trying to track each one. Astarion caught on to this, merely catching your attention with a “dove?” “I- uhm- oo-kay” you responded slowly beginning to rise out of the water, and Astarion followed. You kept your arms firmly planted around your breasts, careful not to reveal yourself too much.

Astarion stood behind you, washing your back with handfuls of the waterfall that he so gently placed on your neck, shoulder blades, and spine. “Darling, you do know I have seen those breathtaking breasts of yours, correct?” You nodded hesitantly in response, still in moderate shock from the present situation. You thought you absolutely detested Astarion, and he you. But, here he was, helping you wash blood and dirt off of your back, so – intimately. You had been intimate with people before, however, this felt slightly different. And it felt different to Astarion as well, unbeknownst to you. Good different. Slowly, you began to drop your arms from your breasts. Astarion watched intently as your nipples were freed once more, it was pertinent that they were chilled from their prominence. “You know,” he whispered into your ear from behind “if you are scared of anyone happening to see them – I could hold them on your behalf.” Astarion’s voice sounded as if it was winking at you. Truthfully, now that Astarion was aware of how shell shocked you were, he knew he needed to be gentle with you. At least at first.

“Uhm – well I – uhm well sure” you managed to stutter out. “Good girl” Astarion whispered into your ear once more, bringing his hands to play with your nipples. You let out a soft mewl at the sensation. “Ooh, you like that, don’t you love?” Astarion teased, tutting his tongue again. You nodded feverishly, although this did not seem to please him. “Use your words, beautiful.” “Yes, I do Astarion. I-It feels g-good.”

Astarion’s hand molded and palmed your breasts, and he went to speak. However, you had beaten him to it. “Pl-lease m-more” you begged. He took one of his hands, bringing it down to your heat. You were nervous, as you were fairly sure you were embarrassingly wet down there, and your body began to reflect that. “Darling, why are you shaking? Please, don’t give in for my sake, I want you to want this.” Astarion spoke with more care than he ever had with you. You turned to face him “Ass, you fool, of course I want this…” you had built up confidence to divert back to his nickname, which he was glad for. But then you remembered the reasoning for your timidness. You were dripping. “I- just- well- I- I am really wet.” Your cheeks reddened as you spoke, you felt yourself sinking back into timidness in front of him, but you had nowhere to hide “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your desires, doll. I’m more than thrilled that I have been able to bring this out of you. That I have this effect on you. I was terrified of your rejection, darling girl.” Given Astarion’s newfound openness his emotions with you drove your desire for him to new heights. Your next move was to pull him into your lips, your hand wrapped around his neck as you did so. As your lips landed on his, you felt a rush of adrenaline surge through your body. Your confidence built once more, using your teeth to pull on Astarion’s bottom lip before finally releasing it. You winked, while Astarion stood in awe of your previous actions, finally stating “you cheeky little pup.” He took this opportunity to grab your waist, picking you up and lifting you out of the water. You yelped, surprised at his action. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. Astarion carried you over to where your towel lay, gently placing you down on it, then allowing himself to follow.

His leg hooked underneath you, and you willingly allowed it to push your legs apart so that he could hover between them. He leant down to place a gentle kiss upon your lips, which you welcomed. His lips were breathtakingly sweet and supple, you had felt them on your neck before, but that hardly amounted to the feeling you had now. Although his lips on your neck certainly did have the capacity to drive you mad. “Please Astarion, take me.” He wasn’t used to hearing the entirety of his name spoken from your lips. But it was a welcome thing to hear his full name fall from your lips. To know the full extent that you wanted him. Because he wanted you too. Desperately.

“Patience, my sweet.” He spoke, retreating from your form. You immediately tried to grab at him to pull him back, but then realized where he was headed. He tutted in response, speaking the word again “patience. Allow me to indulge in you.” Astarion’s lips peppered kisses along your upper thighs, before reaching his hands to assess the state of your heat. He used one hand to pull the folds of your labia apart, and the other to bring a finger to your clit. You were right, you were very, extremely wet. You whimper as his fingernail flicks across your clit. You tense, but his words bring you back down “relax, my dear.”

He spoke once more, this time with a proposition rather than a demand. “You can say no to this darling. But I would love to taste you, while I taste you.” “Huh?” For the first time, you were confused by Astarion’s words. “I would just place a little bite ‘here’ and ‘here’” he pressed into your inner thigh with two fingers, displaying where his fangs would penetrate your skin and release your sweet blood. “Then, I would drink from you while also sipping on your sweet nectar.” You nodded feverishly in response, eager for this stimulation that this would bring you. “Use your words, love.” Deviously, he placed his finger upon your clit, humming in contentment as he watched your body convulse in ecstasy in front of his eyes. “P-p-ple-ee-a-se.” You moaned out, barely able to make a single word out at this point. “I’m sorry, what was that dear? I couldn’t make that out.” “F-fuck y-you… t-te-ase.” “Oh, you will darling. You will. All in good time.”

“Bite me, Astarion. Plea-.” You finally gathered yourself together enough to state it, and you felt his fangs sink into you before you could even finish your sentence. You whimpered as he fed from your thigh, holding it down with one hand, the other arm resting on your opposite hip. Gods, you were delectable. You had brought your hands to tangle within his hair, gently massaging as he began. He suckled your skin, allowing him to intake more blood, but also causing your skin to latch closely to his tongue, where hundreds of blood vessels burst and petechiae formed, leaving a carmine-tinged love mark. A small “hmm” of pleasure left his lips as he pulled away, the circular marks that his teeth left were prominent, and bound to leave a mark. You felt woozy, similarly to the other times he had fed from you, but almost blissfully so this time. “Mmmm” the moan left your lips easily, flooding Astarion’s ears with pleasure. “You alright my love?” He peaked up at you, and you nodded. “Just a little lightheaded is all.”

“Alright, my sweet. If you need me to stop, just say the word.” You nodded as he brought his tongue to your clitoris, circling around it in a perfect spiral, suckling on it whilst savoring the taste of your sweetness. “Mmmm” you whimpered, which made Astarion’s instincts nearly feral in nature. He brought a hand to play inside of your heat, which was still rapturously wet for him. He started with one initially, and nearly moaned himself as he felt your walls clamp around just one finger. He began to imagine what it would be like to have your core wrapped around his throbbing member. Even though he had released it from his undergarments, he was still desperate from the friction only you could provide him with, the only thing that could give him relief. But right now wasn’t about him. It was very much about you, and him providing pleasure for you.

As if you could read his mind, you used his hair to pull him away from you. “Astarion, please, get inside me. Now.” You demanded. “Although you are in no position to make demands here, my sweet, I wholeheartedly agree with you.” “Yes, sir.” You agreed with him. In this particular position, Astarion was completely and utterly in control. And you think you liked it that way.

Astarion towered over you for a moment, analyzing every bit of your form. He let his eyes roam over your breasts, stomach, thighs, and then back to your slick core that ached for his entrance. And who was he to deny you such pleasure? He hovered over you once more, placing a quick yet compassionate kiss on your lips. His penis sat in between the folds of your labia, the member wettened from the contact. He grinded down ever so slightly, allowing pressure to be placed on your clitoris yet again. Then, with one swift movement, he slid back, and then within the muscular cavern of your vagina. “Fuck” you responded, you were ready for him, or so you thought. He was huge, and you weren’t sure the last time you had taken a lover. He held himself inside of you, his tip nestled against your cervix, waiting until he could proceed. “Gods darling, you’re so tight.” Astarion prompted. His pelvis pressed perfectly against yours, your thighs spread to make room for his shape.

Once your muscles had accommodated him, you looked up at him with dangerously innocent eyes and simply nodded. He took this as his sign to continue, sliding his length out of you slowly at first, and then pressing into you once again. “Mhhm” you moaned wantonly, writhing in delight. Astarion’s movements became more fluid, rocking his hips so that he moved in and out of you with ease.

You moaned over and over with his rhythm, and he pulled your legs over his shoulders, somehow enabling him to pound into you even deeper. Your core quenched around him, tightening around him even further. “Oh, sweetness. Can you take me inside of you?” He asked, and your response was a ferocious nod. “Please do” you whimpered. “Are you close, my love?” he asked, seemingly very concerned about you reaching climax together. “Mhmm love.” Astarion’s heart fluttered, knowing that you too, were close, and that the pet name he so loved throwing out could also be received.

After several more pumps inside of you, your muscles began to convulse, writhing around Astarion’s member, holding him more tightly than before. Your shaking released Astarion’s own pleasure, and he flooded your cavern with ropes of cum as you finished together. You moaned wantonly.

Astarion pulled out, allowing his fluids to begin dripping out of you. He placed a swift peck on your lips, then sliding next to you on the towel. “Gods, Astarion, that was phenomenal.”  You spoke as you were finally able to catch your breath. You turned to face him. He placed a hand on your cheek, using his thumb to rub gently. “Thank you darling. That was… amazing.” His crimson eyes stared into yours, analyzing every breath, every possible thought going through that beautiful mind of yours.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind, my sweet?” Astarion inquired softly. Even though the intimacy you two had shared was incredible, he was still scared of the feelings – or lack thereof – that you may harbor for him. “Gods, I just- I didn’t think that would ever happen.” Astarion looked at you with a puzzled face, so you clarified, responding “I thought you hated me, and to be honest, I thought I hated you too, from how much we bickered.” “Ohhh, darling” Astarion sounded exasperated. “That’s what I call ‘repressed sexual tension.’” You smacked your face into your hands out of embarrassment. “I suppose you’re probably right” you mumbled. Astarion pulled you back upwards, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re just fine, my love.”

Your stomach rumbled, indicating to you that it would be desiring to eat soon. Astarion pulled you towards him, wrapping an arm around your bodice so as to keep you warm. That, and he knew that your time, for now, would be coming to an end soon. “Someone’s famished from battle today?” He asked, and you nodded. “I am quite much so, yes.” He savored himself in one final kiss on your lips. “Well darling, as much as I would love to lay here forever with you, I know you need nourishment to recover from today.” He winked.

“Yeah, yeah. One last thing before we go?” Astarion nodded, ushering you for your question. “What exactly are we?” You inquired. Your feelings were so jumbled you didn’t know what to think regarding the whole situation and where you were to stand with Astarion now. Was this just a once-off? What did he want from this? “Well, I had hoped that me marking you as mine would assert where I stand on the subject. I want you, in every sense of the word, my dear.” As he finished speaking, you had a giddy grin placed upon your mouth. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You almost shrieked in excitement, but then decided to restrain yourself. You were adorable. Truly. “Will you come to my tent tonight, after everyone has fallen into slumber?” Astarion asked. “As much as I would love that, I’m really worn out from today, and I don’t know if I could-“ he cut you off “just for a cuddle, my love.” You nodded in response to this.

You began to rise, moving your hands around you, trying to find your clothing that was scattered by your towel. “Ass, where the hell are my clothes?” You turned to look at him, and he merely looked at you with a cheeky, blushed look on his face. “I can’t tell you it wasn’t me.” He winked. “Come on, please…” you begged. “They’re by mine, over by that rock over there.” He gestured to the rock that he had hidden behind. Astarion got up as well, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around your figures as you waltzed over to the rock and began to dress yourselves, Astarion taking extra time to admire you.

You walked back to camp, and Astarion shortly after. You didn’t want to make things so dreadfully obvious to your companions. The regular bickering commenced shortly after. But only you two knew what truly happened behind closed doors. Astarion finally had you, and that was like a dream to him. As he was unwinding for the night, and the stars had settled in the sky, he heard footsteps approaching his tent and your whisper, stating “Hey, love, I think everyone’s gone off to bed.” He eagerly approached the curtain, revealing your beauty behind it. “Come in, please, my darling.” Astarion was happier than he had been in 200 years, as long as he was with you.

[in-halingstardust]

Hiiii congrats on your milestone!!! Here's to more in the future!!! may I have a match up? Super spicy edition!!! I am afab pussy boobs and all (I use they/them but they're optional!!) with a preference to guys but girls are great too!! For Kinks I don't like my partner being mean to me (very sensitive person emotionally) but I don't want them being too gentle either!! I can handle rough treatment but they should still be mindful of my limits and stop if things have gone too far since I can't tell my limits either 😅 (which is a discussion I had multiple times with my partner) So basically a service Dom through and through. Im a bit of a tease but not a brat so my partner doesn't have to worry about that LMAO

A very important thing to note is that I also very much enjoy monster fucking JDJEJEJWJW okay that's all!!

I FORGOT TO QUE OMG SORRY ANON!

Also monster fucking is also one of my favorite pastimes *cough* hyperfixations *cOUgh* i mean- stories I enjoy reading hehe. I think I'm going to write a small drabble other than your request one day so be on the look out for that this is just a taste! ₊⊹♡

I'm going to pair you with Aventurine!

Aventurine has always been a high stakes gambler. The smaller the odds the higher the payout. A ride or die type of high that you could never get enough of.

Your relationship to the public dazzles like diamonds under spotlights. The way he buys you imitation flowers handcrafted from gems and blown glass, the way you’re always adorned in gold necklaces and earrings as he holds you close by the waist.

What are you thinking of, my lucky girl? He whispers, hand caressing your thigh underneath the betting table throwing a handful of chips in. He’s not even counting the value but the gasps coming across the table means it must be a hefty amount. You promised if he won big you let him do anything to you tonight. 

Anything. 

It’s a win, red 37, the number of credits keep going up and up. You’ve never seen that many zeros before in your life.

❥ You promised and now it’s time for fun~. Aventurine says behind closed doors, leaving bruised kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. A sign of possession. He’s not gentle in the least, not that you mind. The way he opens you up with his fingers cooing at the sight of you struggling to take another one. He likes it when you're sucking on your mess after you cum.

❥ Overstimulated, broken a mess on the bed is the state you currently at when he truly starts to appropriately ‘fuck your brains out’.

↪You see the crackling of Preservation run through him through bleary eyes. The way his body grows and become more full, his voice having the tingle of mania behind it as he lines up to thrust fully into you.

↪It’s bigger than ever before, you're almost glad for the amount of times you came before as he stretches you out more than your body should take.

❥ Fucking you is a different story as he grips your wrists before slamming back into you. Your body is in rhythm with his the entire night.

[russsiangirl]

art donaldson x reader headcanons ( both young and dilf art.. ) both banners by me!

starting off strong with young art ( heheh )

i feel like y'all met for a goofy reason

either he asked you for a piece of gum in a class because he ran out

that boy NEEDS his gum he can't live without it ( oral fixation? idk )

OR he saw you on the tennis court when you were meeting up with a friend of yours

you had heard of him of course, he had won the one tournament with his friend

but,, he sadly had his eyes on tashi duncan, not that you could exactly blame him, you've seen her - all lean muscle and tan skin.

that is until tashi starts dating patrick

he's kinda like a kicked puppy , a very jealous one

he's desperate to get his mind off of them, so he finds you

you're perfect for him, you're sweet, pretty, kind. but you're also pliable.

art's seen the way you'd look at him with those pretty eyes when he asked you a question, the way you would slightly stumble over your words

he would wanna laugh sometimes, not in a mean way, more of a 'how cute..' kinda way, yk?

he's a mastermind,, maybe manipulative but that just makes it better

he taps your shoulder one day and is like "hey so would you like,, wanna go out sometime?"

now you thought that he was just gonna ask for help with the assignment, but this- this was unexpected, but good. really good.

you obviously say yes & it goes great! after a couple dates you two start something that resembles a relationship

art is a sweetheart, buying you gifts, treating you to dinner when he can, taking you to his games - model boyfriend!

he loves being romantic and spending quality time with you

also double dates with tashi & patrick ( tension )

you notice the way patrick looks at art and you suspect something. had something happened between them?

you had heard about how tightly-knit the two of them were and something just didn't seem right

so after the date and you two go back to the dorm or wherever y'all are staying you ask him what was up with him and patrick

art shuts down, not saying anything and goes completely silent.

he's not one to talk about things like these or his past

art likes to talk as much as he loves to listen

like if you found a new interest and/or hyperfixation he would listen to you and find so endearing

he loves the way you get so excited and you just beam at him whenever you do something that makes you happy, it makes him just as equally happy

art also loves when you wear his clothes, he finds it funny how they drape over you since he's like six foot.

art does like being praised ( take that as you will ) but when you're reassuring him, especially after his games or practice or anything he just wants to shower you with all the affection he can muster <3

this is my late fathers day present to y'all.. enjoy

ah yes, art as a father, my favorite

he's not married at this point ( sadly no tashi, they got divorced )

he's a lot more tired than he was back in college, obviously

y'all definitely met at some sort of event, you were a reporter for a sports magazine who had sent you to cover whatever it was that you were there for

you just didn't know it would involve art

when you first see him, you didn't really know what to expect - but not this

art with his short-cropped sandy hair and pretty blue eyes and blonde lashes, he looks ethereal, almost like he doesn't belong here

he was distracted most of the interview, too distracted by you with your sweet voice and nice hands and silly questions

so you two rescheduled, over dinner! win-win, you get to spend more time with him and you get your job done

the two of you connect really easily and you agree to do this again, without the interview part

there's something about the two of you thats so entrancing to each other

IMAGINE WITH AN AGE DIFFERENCE

like you're 21 - 22 and he's like 32.. it only makes him crave you more, he can show you things you've never seen

you might be a bit skeptical, but art is telling you that you can trust him, he won't push boundaries, none of that and you do trust him

he does let you meet lily eventually and when you do, you're enamored with her, she's so sweet and you could see art in her

you knew about his past relationship with tashi, but you didn't mind

but older!art is also romantic, sure the paparazzi is interested in the two of you - so most of the dates are at home. he likes it better that way

ough,, this was a LOT - late father's day present yk.. i love you guys - enjoy this! like and follow if you enjoyed these hehe

[lumiolivier]

Cordially Invited

Series: One Piece

Chapter: One Shot

Word Count: 9796

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Cross Guild x Reader (YN)

a/n: This is it. My last post for the year. Thanks for sticking around with me while I ride the high of my One Piece hyperfixation. Especially with the Cross Guild. Here. I've been working hard on this for a while now. And uh...You know...For science...If someone were to draw Crocodile from this chapter, I'd be forever grateful...Happy Good Riddance to 2024 day. <3

You knew that your boys were not ones to shy away from a good party.  Given that Buggy was a natural entertainer, Mihawk was a slut for attention, and Crocodile practically lived in a casino in Alabasta, you knew there was no way you were getting out of a party.  Granted, you had your own plans.  You wanted a night of peace and quiet.  You wanted a night of some time alone with Buggy, Mihawk, and Crocodile.  And possibly Perona if she was feeling up to it, but for the most part, you wanted your boys.

However, you were not going to get that luxury.  Because Mihawk wanted to play.  Mihawk needed that attention whore itch scratched.  And as much as he loved you, he needed something more.  That also meant you going into hiding.  Mihawk’s castle was full of secret passageways.  Some of them, he didn’t even know about.  Even though he had Perona who had a working map of the place in her head.  And given her pension for making things messy, it made you need an exceptional place to hide. 

You didn’t want to party.  You didn’t want to deal with people.  You didn’t want a bunch of strangers in your home.  You wanted your boys.  And no one could blame you.  You were their greedy baby and they loved you for it.  But from the time you knew Mihawk would wake up in the morning, you needed to be up at least ten minutes beforehand in order to find somewhere safe.  Where there was a party at Mihawk’s castle, there was going to be three gentlemen who wanted to spend their time making sure their crown jewel, their special treasure, shine as bright as possible.

Whether that treasure liked it or not.

Which brings us to why you’re hiding in a cozy corner of the castle.  Why you’re currently living like the rats in the wall.  Why you’re hoping like crazy that no one finds you.  You could hear footsteps outside your hiding place.  The worst game of hide and seek ever, you thought to yourself.  And you weren’t wrong.  You just wanted a day to yourself.  You didn’t want to deal with a party.  You didn’t want to deal with a full house.  You wanted your boys.  And your boys alone.  But oh, no.  Mihawk’s too big of an attention whore to realize his own attention whore right in front of him.

Tap…Tap…

“Found you,” Mihawk spoke outside the wall.  Your hands immediately went over your mouth as your breaths grew shallower.  They had to.  Mihawk could hear a pin drop on the other side of the castle.  You breathing in the walls would be nothing.  Still, you managed.  As far as you were concerned, he had no idea.  You were still safe.

“Did you find her yet?” Ordinarily, you’d love nothing more than to hear Crocodile’s voice.  However, this wasn’t the context.

“I did,” Mihawk confirmed, sending your heart rate through the ceiling, “I think she’s hiding in the servant passages.  And if I hear correctly…”

Tap…Tap…Tap.

“There?” Crocodile assumed.

“There,” Mihawk confirmed, “YN…You need to come out now, darling.  We don’t have time for this.”

You stayed right where you were.  Although, you knew you weren’t going to stay there forever.  You wouldn’t be able to.  You needed to run, but they’d definitely hear you running.  And Mihawk and Crocodile were never ones to shy away from the chase.  They liked the hunt.  Especially when you were their prey.  It brought out something incredibly primal in them.  And competitive.  Because they both knew whoever got to you first was the winner.  And yet, you never won in that scenario.  At least not like this. 

“And it looks like she’s not coming out,” Crocodile noticed, “Would you like me to get her?”

“If it’s not too much to ask for.”

“She seems to think she can run…” A sudden rush of sand came through the crack in the wall.  And Crocodile apparated on the other end, “But she cannot hide.  Hello, Princess.”

“Hello…” You knew you were screwed.  You knew you were so screwed.  You weren’t sure if it was the smirk on Crocodile’s face or the smug sense of satisfaction you could feel radiating from Mihawk.

“Oh, YN,” Crocodile pulled you against his chest, “You know I love you dearly.  You know I want only the best for you.  But it’s not nice to not come when we call for you.  Especially on nights like tonight.”

“Oh, fuck,” you fell in Crocodile’s arms.  Because he wasn’t going to give you another option, “Fine…”

“You’re going to go play with Mihawk for a while,” Crocodile picked your chin up, forcing eye contact with you, “And you’re going to be his good little girl for a while.  Do you understand?  You’re not going to give him any attitude.  You’re not going to be a brat.  You’re going to do exactly what he says and you will do it whenever he says to.  Aren’t you, YN?”

“Yes, sir…” Because any other answer would’ve resulted in Crocodile taking you over his knee.  And he was in a mood already.  Any other time, you going over Crocodile’s knee wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing.  Today was not the day.

And so, Crocodile held your hand while he marched you back down the hall and out the servants’ door.  Was it a death march?  No.  Did it feel like one?  Kind of.  Would you live through it?  Yes.  Absolutely.  That didn’t mean you wanted to, though.  Once you popped out of the servants’ door, Mihawk waited for you, leaned against the wall.  He wasn’t overly thrilled about your sudden game of hide and seek, but the chase wasn’t the worst. 

“Next time, darling,” Mihawk took you off Crocodile’s hands, “Make it a little more of a challenge.  The servant passages seem a little…I don’t know.  Cliché.  You’re much cleverer than that.  You can do better.”

“I probably could’ve found a better beach to wash up on, too,” you sassed him under your breath.

“And I seem to remember someone waking up in a nice, warm bed,” Mihawk thought back, “with dry clothes on her body and the moment she woke up, she had warm food in her stomach after not eating anything in days.  And then, she ended up with a roof over her head and three men who fell hopelessly in love with her.  You live such a difficult life, don’t you, YN?”

“I’m going with you, aren’t I?” You really didn’t anticipate Mihawk hearing you, but you really should’ve known better.  Mihawk’s hearing was sharp as a tack.

“The way I see it,” Mihawk bargained, “This can go one of two ways.  Either you fully cooperate with me and this is a pleasant experience for you or you don’t cooperate and I make this experience a living hell.  Either way, it’s getting done.”

You may have not been overly thrilled, but it wasn’t going to be the end of the world.  So, you forced a smile on your face, “I guess I cooperate.”

“Good choice, darling,” Mihawk stole a quick kiss from you, “Now, you know where to go.”

“I know, I know…”

When you first ended up on the shore just outside the castle, you were hardly alive.  You were shipwrecked and barely floated to the beach on a piece of driftwood.  But you were tired.  Your will to live slowly slipped away.  Any hope of finding help was lost.  Until you nearly blacked out on that little strip of beach.  You didn’t know how long you were on that beach, but it wasn’t that you were worried about.  It was you waking up in what would eventually be considered your bedroom that had you concerned.  You saw the wanted posters.  You knew who stood around you.  You knew who the Cross Guild was.  It wasn’t every day you ran into warlords.  And you also knew they were the most beautiful bunch of pirates to sail the seas.  But you knew they were dangerous.  You knew you needed to be careful.  In those days, though, you didn’t have the energy to fight back.  And you didn’t regret it for a single second.

Until Mihawk brought you to his room where a seamstress was already waiting for you.  And because you made Mihawk a promise, you had to suck it up.  Through the invasive measuring, you gritted your teeth and let her do what she needed to.  And once she was done, you immediately went straight into Mihawk’s bed.  It’s all you wanted.  Just comfort.  And maybe the sweet smell you two leave behind in those soft, silk sheets. 

“Oh, darling,” Mihawk crawled in next to you, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Catching a brief nap until I’m needed again,” you told him, your eyes closed and your head on the pillow. 

“No,” Mihawk gave you a nudge, “You’re going to have to go through a few fittings and make some fabric choices before you can take any naps.”

“Perona!” you called out into the ether, hoping she heard you somehow somewhere.

“You bellow for me, YN?” Perona apparated in the middle of Mihawk’s room.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“No,” Mihawk already shot that down, “You’re not letting Perona be your stand-in.  Not happening.  Although, while I have you here, Perona, perhaps you could help me with something.”

“Sure, Mihawk,” Perona floated above him, “What can I do for you, oh great master?”

“Perona…”

“I know, I know,” Perona brushed him off, “What’s on your mind?”

“I may need a second opinion,” Mihawk explained, “And I trust your judgments.”

“Aww, Mihawk,” Perona melted inside, “That’s so sweet of you.  I’d be happy to be your second opinion.  What’s it for?”

“We’re putting a dress together for YN for tonight,” Mihawk explained, “And I’m a little torn on fabrics.”

“I can do that,” Perona leaned over his shoulder, “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking jewel tones,” Mihawk suggested, “YN always looks drop dead stunning in jewel tones.  Then again, she also looks her best in absolutely nothing at all, so you understand my dilemma.”

“Mihawk,” Perona squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to suppress what just came out of his mouth, “Come on.  What you and YN do behind closed doors is your business.  I hear enough of it through the walls.”

“Sorry,” Mihawk looked over at you.  Beautiful, wonderful you, comfortably laying on your belly, “But I’m not wrong.  YN in jewel tones is the ideal.”

“Big surprise,” Perona floated on her back, “Mihawk wants YN in jewel tones.  Probably the darker jewel tones, too, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Again,” Perona reiterated, “Big surprise.  Come on, Mihawk.  Do you not want YN to branch out?  Or hey!  Better yet, shouldn’t we let her have an opinion?”

“When she doesn’t hide in the walls every time we throw a party,” Mihawk shot you a glare that ran through your body in the best way, “That’s when she gets an opinion.”

“Fair,” Perona let it go.

“Fair?” you whined, “Perona!  I thought you’d be on my side.  What happened to you being a girl’s girl?”

“I still am,” Perona assured you, “But Mihawk’s got a point.  If you were acting up, who am I to stop him from punishing his little brat?”

“Perona!”

“Thank you, Perona,” Mihawk pulled a few fabric swatches and handed them off to her, “Go on.  Pick your favorite.”

“Will do,” Perona thumbed through her options.

“Traitor…” you growled at her.

“I wouldn’t say traitor,” Perona held up a deep red silk to your face before grimacing a bit, “No.  Not that one.”

“Really?” Mihawk wondered, “Why not?  Honestly, that was my first choice.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Perona brushed him off, continuing through her choices, “Don’t get me wrong.  I do love a good dark red, but not for tonight.”

“Understandable,��� Mihawk backed off.

“Hmm…” Perona held up another swatch to your cheek.  A deep green that she was seriously considering, “Mihawk?  What are we thinking?”

“Too subtle,” Mihawk shot her down, “YN is definitely stunning in green, but it’s not doing anything for me.”

“Alright, alright,” Perona kept going, this time, pulling a deep navy that nearly bordered on black, “What about this one?  How are we feeling?”

“You know,” Mihawk thought it over, “It’s not bad.  That one?”

“You don’t think it’s too subtle?” Perona wondered.

“Don’t you think YN should get a say in this?” you chimed in.

“Not now, darling,” Mihawk hushed you, “Perona and I are in deep collaboration.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you groaned, falling back onto the bed.

“No, no, no,” Mihawk smirked, “I like that.  As much as I love the thought of making YN stick out like a sore thumb, she’s still my sore thumb.  And everyone in the room needs to understand that.  No one needs to be making cheap passes at her.  And she certainly doesn’t need to stray.”

“She has no intention of it,” you nestled your face in Mihawk’s thigh, making yourself comfortable…and hopefully in his good graces.

“I know,” Mihawk ran his fingers through your hair, “I know.  Because cheating on me would mean cheating on Crocodile and Buggy, too.  And we all know that wouldn’t end pretty.”

“I’m not going to cheat on any of you,” you promised, “Mihawk, I love you.  And I love Buggy and Crocodile, too.  I’m not straying.  No matter how much this party is going to make me want to leave all three of you.”

“What did we do?” Mihawk wondered, “What did we possibly do to make you want to leave us?”

“You and Crocodile ganged up on me this morning,” you reminded him, shoving your finger in his chest, “Buggy was complicit.”

“Buggy’s been holed up in his room for the last hour,” Mihawk rolled his eyes, “You think I’m dramatic for things like this.  Clearly, you’ve never dealt with the clown when there’s promise of an audience.”

“He is kind of an attention whore,” Perona agreed, “But I hate to break it to you, Mihawk.  You’re just as bad.”

“Bullshit.”

“Really?” Perona floated on her belly, “Are we really going to go down this route?”

“YN,” Mihawk gave you a little nudge, “Stay in the castle.  Perona and I need to have some words.”

“Oh, boy!” Perona giggled, “My favorite.”

A sudden groan from down the hall caught your attention.  You figured that would be somewhere better than Mihawk’s room.  A room you didn’t expect to go into.  Crocodile grumbled curses to himself while the sound of falling objects clattered on the floor.  When Crocodile got into a mood, you knew to tread lightly, but something about this one felt different.  You’ve seen him in moods before.  You’ve never heard him in a mood coming out of his bathroom.

“Crocodile…?” you spoke softly, kindly, “Is everything ok?”

“Not now, YN,” Crocodile shooed you away, “It’s not the time.  I don’t want to deal with you when I’m pissed off.”

“What happened?” you tiptoed into the bathroom where Crocodile sat on a stool in nothing but a towel.  You’d be lying if you didn’t appreciate the sight.  Under any better circumstances, you would’ve been into it.  But seeing Crocodile with his face in his hands killed the moment.

“Don’t worry about it, YN,” Crocodile’s irritation only grew, “Go.  Aren’t you supposed to be with Mihawk right now?”

“He’s tearing Perona a new ass,” you filled him in, “He told me I could walk around the castle all I wanted.  I’m sure he’ll yell for me when he needs me again.”

“Then, shouldn’t you just stay with him?” Crocodile scoffed.

“Why would I do that,” you draped your arms over his bare, solid, and still slightly wet from his shower shoulders, “when you need me more than he does?”

As infuriated as Crocodile was, he couldn’t help but hold your hands against his chest, “Thank you, Princess.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“So,” you hoped you had him calmed down enough to get him to talk.  Just a little, “What seems to be the problem?”

“It’s something incredibly stupid to get this pissed about,” Crocodile sighed out, “But I’m out of gel and it’s kind of getting to me.  I don’t look right without it.”

“That’s what this little tantrum was all about?” you stared blankly into the mirror, “That’s what’s got you so bitchy?”

“I told you it was stupid,” Crocodile got defensive again.

“Stupid, no,” you laid your head in his neck, “Nonsensical, yes.  So, you ran out of gel.  Find something else.  Or improvise.”

“There isn’t anything else around the castle,” Crocodile pouted, “There aren’t any supply ships running for another couple days.  Everything for this party came this morning and I didn’t realize how empty my jar was.”

But that’s when you had an idea.  You knew exactly how to fix everything, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do,” Crocodile pulled you into his lap, “Why?”

“Because,” you kissed his cheek, “I have a plan.  Stay here.  I need to go steal some things from Buggy real quick.”

“What would you need to go steal from the clown?” Crocodile started to sweat a bit, “Unless he’s got a spare jar of the goods, I don’t see you needing to see Buggy, too.”

“Just trust me,” you left Crocodile alone in the bathroom and bolted down the hall, nearly tripping over your own two feet.  You had a plan.  And a good one at that.  But before you could enact your plan, you had to go and grovel at Buggy’s feet.  But considering he had a very soft spot in his heart for his special little doll, that wasn’t going to be much groveling.

When you poked your head into Buggy’s room, he, too, was in the middle of preparing for the evening’s festivities with outfit options on the bed.  You didn’t even have to knock.  Buggy was always more than happy to have you in his room, “Hey there, doll.  What brings you center stage?”

“I need a little something, something from my favorite ringmaster,” you draped your arms around Buggy’s shoulders, stealing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“My, my, YN…” Buggy clutched his chest, “You realize if we’re not downstairs by the time this party starts, Mihawk’s going to have our asses mounted over his fireplace, right?  And I’ll admit it.  If we’re only here for a quickie, anything under five minutes would just be an unnecessary blow to my ego.”

“I’m not here for sex, baby,” you assured him, “I need about a dozen clear elastics.  You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

“In the bathroom,” Buggy directed you, “Top drawer on the far right in the back.  Those don’t get used often.  Besides, there’s nothing wrong with you having a little color.  What would you want the clear ones for?”

“They’re not for me,” you went digging around in Buggy’s bathroom drawers for your elastics, “Crocodile’s having a mini tantrum and I’m about to make it all better.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Buggy followed you into his bathroom, “You didn’t say anything about this being for Crocodile.”

“Oops,” you grabbed a fistful of elastics and started heading out.  Only for Buggy to grab you by the shoulder, “Come on, Buggy.  Even though I want to go to this party as much as I want to go to a slumber party at the Marine base, I want to have a good time.  And I can’t go have a good time if all my boys aren’t at their best.  Besides, you have a thousand of these things.  A few of them going down the hall isn’t going to kill you.”

“Let me rephrase this, sweetheart,” Buggy cradled your cheek in the palm of his hand, “Crocodile’s mean to me and I don’t want him to have any of my things.”

“He doesn’t have them,” you clarified, “Right now, I do.  You can live with that, can’t you?  I’m not mean to you.”

“I don’t know, doll,” Buggy thought back, “I seem to remember someone dropkicking my already severed head down the hall once.”

“That was one time,” you rolled your eyes.  But you pulled yourself together and snuck in one last kiss, “Thank you, Buggy.  I’ll be sure to repay this favor later.”

“Well…” Buggy smiled a bit, “If it’s getting repaid, I suppose I can let you go off with them.  Besides, it’s just the clear ones.”

“Thank you.” And with your little success putting a pep in your step, you headed back down the hall.

“YN!” And there went your mission busted.  Mihawk’s voice echoed through the castle.  And you knew you needed to go back to his room.  However, you had more pressing matters to attend to.  You stopped off back in Crocodile’s bedroom.  And you wanted nothing more than to crawl back into Crocodile’s bed and take a little nap before the evening’s festivities.

“YN?” Crocodile poked his head out of the bathroom, “I could’ve sworn Mihawk was yelling for you.”

“He was,” you nodded, “But right now, Mihawk is the least of my worries.  Right now, I’m more concerned with you.”

“Uh-huh…” Crocodile saw through you like a sheet of glass, “You just don’t want to go deal with whatever bullshit Mihawk has for you, do you?”

“No, sir,” you shook your head, “I would much rather be here.”

“Go, YN,” Crocodile insisted, “I’m sure it won’t be long.  And I’ll still be waiting for you.”

“Fine,” you begrudgingly made your way back into Mihawk’s room.  Mostly to avoid any sort of punishment he may have had ready for you, “You call for me, Mihawk?”

“I did,” Mihawk nodded, a needle between his teeth, “Come here.  I need to see if this fits you.”

“I’m sure it does,” you saw a big, beautifully made hoopskirt in that deep, navy blue that Mihawk and Perona had picked out while you were still in their clutches, “I mean, you do have my measurements, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Mihawk nodded, watching you wiggling into the skirt, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t occasionally make mistakes.  Or perhaps your body changed a bit here and there since the last time I took your measurements.”

“Are you telling me I’m fat?!” you squeaked.

“No, darling,” Mihawk settled you, “I’m not saying anything of the sort.  I’m merely thinking about inevitabilities.  Your body is going to change.  That’s just an unfortunate fact of life.  Kind of like when it’s toward the end of the month and some of your bustiers fit a bit more snug than they usually do.”

“That’s not my fault,” you grumbled.

“And if somehow, we’re blessed with a baby,” Mihawk added, pulling away some of the fabric, “It’s going to change again.  That’s not something to be ashamed or offended by.  It’s merely part of you.”

“And that,” you stole one last kiss out of Mihawk, “is why I keep you.”

“Because it’s not you being on this island with us and having no other options?”

“That’s just a bonus,” you smiled, warming Mihawk to his core.  But you were there for a reason, “Well?  How are we feeling about the skirt?”

“It suits you,” Mihawk approved, “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“I do,” you stepped out of the skirt, “I don’t know how to break this to you, Mihawk, but…There’s another man.”

“You have two other men than me,” Mihawk rolled his eyes, “Which one is trying to get their hands on you?”

“Crocodile,” you started walking out, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a big baby to take care of.”

“Baby?” Perona perked up, “What’s got Croccy all pissy?”

“He’s out of product and needs me to save the day,” you pushed Mihawk’s door open, “Yell if you need me!”

And so, you walked back down the hall to Crocodile’s room armed with a fistful of clear elastics and a dream.  Sure enough, Crocodile hadn’t moved.  Not for a change of scenery.  Not to get dressed.  He stayed in the bathroom right where you left him.  You left the elastics on the counter and draped yourself around his shoulders yet again, “Something still bothering you, pookie?”

“Just one thing,” Crocodile admitted, looking at you strangely in the mirror, “I just recently found out you call me pookie and I’m not totally sure how to feel about it.”

“Just accept it,” you insisted, “It’s not hurting anything.  I could be calling you worse.”

“Like what?” Crocodile wondered, “What could be worse than you calling me pookie?”

“I could’ve come in here,” you looked around the vanity for a brush for the sake of getting started, “And said, shut the fuck up, slut.  We got work to do.  But I didn’t.  Instead, I called you pookie.  Does that not sound a little better?”

“I guess,” Crocodile caved, a hint of a smile on his face while you raked your nails over his scalp, “So, what did you say you were doing?”

“I didn’t say anything,” you started separating your sections out, quietly grateful that Crocodile’s hair was still damp.  Just for the sake of making things easier, “But lucky for you, your girlfriend…That’s me, by the way.  Hello.  Your girlfriend’s braiding skills are top notch.  And I can make you still look like you, just in a different way.”

“I don’t remember asking for braids,” Crocodile thought back.  However, he wasn’t going to fight you.  At this point, he was desperate.  And look at that face.  Crocodile couldn’t say no to that cute little face.

“Put it this way,” you already started one just above his ear, getting it as tight as you could, “I’ve done this for Buggy a million times.”

“Oh, great,” Crocodile grumbled to himself, “So now, I’m on the same level as the fucking clown.”

“No, no, no,” you knew he was going to take that derogatorily.  Fortunately, you knew how to dig yourself back out of the hole.  By using the stairs, “Crocodile, you can’t do that to me.  Do you know how big of a prissy bitch Buggy is when it comes to his looks?”

“No.  And quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck.”

“You should in this instance,” you kept going, regardless of what Crocodile said, “Because even though it doesn’t seem like it, Buggy is the prissiest bitch when it comes to his looks.  He’s worse than Mihawk and that is a hill I will die on.  If he’s going to perform, he will trust me to do his hair and makeup for the night.  That right there should tell you all my credentials I’ll ever need.  Because he wouldn’t go on if he wasn’t into the look.  I’ve seen it happen.”

“Why don’t I remember this?” Crocodile wondered, finally succumbing to your love and affection.

“You weren’t here,” you explained, “Mihawk either.  Mihawk wanted a drink, so he had gone to the Baratie for the night…And a couple days after.  And you wanted to check up on the rogue Baroque Works agents that still blindly and loyally follow you.  So, it was just Buggy and me home.  And much like teenage children who are left alone while Mom and Dad are gone, Buggy decided to throw a party.  Or, in this case, Buggy decided to put on a show.  His makeup wasn’t setting right.  His hair was a disaster.  And he got super bitchy and I had to be the one to deal with that.”

“Oh…” Crocodile’s face fell, “I’m sorry, Princess.  I didn’t know you had to handle Buggy.  I thought that was the other way around.”

“That’s what he says,” you clarified, tying your first braid off, “But no.  I don’t get that lucky.  I had to deal with his Primadonna ass while he threw a tantrum.  But while he was busy pouting, I was busy fixing.  And by the time he was done with that tantrum, he looked fantastic.  Better than he planned.  And I was the one responsible.  And now, every time something isn’t working right…”

“YN!” Almost as if it were on cue, you heard Buggy’s voice down the hall.

And you let out a heavy sigh of sheer exasperation, “I get to be the one to fix it.  I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Crocodile leaned back in his chair, feeling around the counter for his lighter.  Because nothing would’ve made him feel better quite like a bathroom filled with steam and cigar smoke.

“Thank you,” you snuck a little kiss on his cheek and headed down the hall.  Because the day couldn’t have been more hectic.  And you knew that once Mihawk entered the mix, it was only going to get worse.  And yet, when you walked into Buggy’s room, he was still staring down wardrobe options on the bed, “You call for me, sweetie?”

“I’m torn,” Buggy sighed, “I got nothing.”

“Yes, you do,” you assured him, “You just need to find a way to combine in that makes your sad little brain happy again.”

“You’re not wrong,” Buggy agreed, “But where is that winning combination?”

“It’s somewhere in this pile,” you promised, already halfway out the door, “Love you!”

“Wait a second, YN!” Buggy stopped you, “I called you in here for help.  How am I supposed to do this all by myself?”

“Well,” you suggested, “You pick up one piece of clothing.  Find another one that could go with it.  And hope that sparks some kind of flood of serotonin in you, sad clown.  Ok, love you, bye!”

“But wait!” Buggy took your hand, “What if I need your opinion?”

“Look, Buggy,” you held your face in your hands, “I’m not going to be the one to beat some sense of self-esteem into you.  You don’t need my approval.  You don’t need anyone’s approval but your own.  If you’re into it, then fuck what anyone else has to say.  Has that not been your entire business model since the day I met you?  I’m pretty sure it is.  Now, put on whatever the fuck makes you feel good and call it a day.  Ok?  We got it?  Good.  Wonderful.  Now, again.  Love you, bye!”

“Hold on, doll,” Buggy wrapped his arms around your waist, “I appreciate it.  Thank you.  But you’re still going to give me a pass or fail on it, right?”

“If it gets me out of here quicker,” you nodded, “Yes.  I will.  Just not right now.  I’m in the middle of something.”

“Fine,” Buggy let you go.  But not without a little kiss first, “Love you.  Go on.  Go show someone else all of your attention.”

“Don’t you try and pull that bullshit with me,” you rolled your eyes, “My attention is split three ways and you know it.”

“Ahem…”

“Four…ways…” you growled.  But then, a lightbulb flickered on in your head, “Hey!  Wait a minute, Buggy!  Since Perona’s not helping Mihawk anymore, she can help you!”

“Wait, what?” Perona made herself known a little better.

“Huh?” Buggy was just as lost.

“Hold on, YN,” Perona tried to backpedal, “I didn’t say I was done with-”

“Yeah!” you sang, nudging her forward, “Perona can help you, Buggy.  And she’d be happy to.  Isn’t that right, Perona?”

“No,” Perona scoffed, “No, it’s not.  It’s not right at all.”

“Great,” you praised, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.  Love you both!  Bye!”

And before anyone else could stop you or think about protesting, you left Buggy and Perona alone in Buggy’s room to sort out any outfit dilemma he may have had.  In all honesty, you were grateful Perona’s ego decided to make an appearance.  She gave you an out without even realizing it.  And that meant you getting back to Crocodile a little faster.  It felt like you hardly got to spend any time with him anymore.  Sure, you had your Crocodile weeks, but even those didn’t feel like enough anymore.  And for something so intimate like this where you’re making him feel all better?  You ate this up like it was your bread and butter.

“YN, dear…” But as you told Buggy, your attention was split three (possibly four, but only Perona was counting) ways.  And lucky for you, it was Mihawk’s turn.

“Yes, Mihawk,” you poked your head into his bedroom, “What can I do for you?”

“It’s not necessarily what you can do for me,” Mihawk clarified, a fistful of fabric in his hand, “But what I can do for you.”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” you put a hand to his cheek, “But I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“What?” Mihawk looked at you strangely, “What could you possibly be doing?”

“You’re not the only one in this castle,” you pointed out, “Buggy’s having a wardrobe situation.  Crocodile ran out of gel.  And then, there’s you.”

“The only one not asking something of you,” Mihawk wrapped his arms around you, “The preparations for this party were supposed to be a way to help you relax.  And it’s been nothing but chaos for you.  I’m so sorry, darling.  You deserve better.”

“What I deserve and what I have right now are two different things,” you argued, “But that’s just life.  We don’t always get what we deserve.  And right now, I’m in the middle of fixing that situation for two of the men in my life that I love most.  Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“YN, wait,” Mihawk took your hand, “You’re spending all this energy, all this effort in taking care of them.  What about someone who just wants to take care of you?”

Mihawk’s words hit you like a cannonball.  Because you knew how much you did around the castle.  For Crocodile, for Buggy, even for Perona.  And occasionally for Mihawk, too.  Sure, you wanted to sit down for a while and get off your feet, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the direction life decided to take you.  Instead, you nestled yourself into Mihawk’s chest, “I know you want to help me, Hawky.  And I love you for it.  But I just have one thing I need to finish first.  Then, you can have me all you want.  As long as you promise me one thing.”

“Of course, my love,” Mihawk brought your hand up to his lips, “What is it?”

“That you don’t go overboard,” you shoved a finger in his chest, “I know how you can be.  It seems innocent enough, sure.  YN, let me help you get dressed.  YN, let me do your hair today.  YN, it’s my week.  Let’s go take a bath together.  And then, all of a sudden, I look like I’m ready to femme fatale for the Cross Guild.”

“Be honest, though,” Mihawk smirked a bit, “You do make an excellent femme fatale for the Cross Guild.”

“I do,” you agreed, “But that’s when I’m actually doing femme fatale work.  Not when we’re just spending the day with some downtime in the castle.”

“Alright, alright,” Mihawk backed off, “I understand.  I have a bad habit of going overboard.”

“Thank you,” you got one more kiss from Mihawk, “But I need to go back to Crocodile.  Ok?  Is that something we can both agree on?”

“I suppose so,” Mihawk let you go, “But if he was so pressed for product, he could’ve asked me.  I have a small stockpile that he’s more than welcome to.”

“Probably because he knows you’d go overboard, too,” you giggled to yourself.

“Am I really that bad?” Mihawk scoffed, “Surely not.”

“Just out of curiosity,” you wondered, “This party…You wouldn’t have happened to invite the Strawhats this way, would you?”

“Only one of them.  Why?”

“Ask him,” you smiled a bit, “Ask him when he gets here if you go overboard.  And very carefully, study his expression.  That will tell you all you need to know.”

“Don’t you have another boyfriend to go contend with?” Mihawk knew you were right.  That didn’t mean he wanted to be called out on it.

“Yes, I do,” you stole a quick little kiss and headed back into Crocodile’s room.  For some reason, you had that feeling that this was the end.  That once you were done with Crocodile, you’d finally be able to relax the way Mihawk intended.  You followed the cloud of smoke back to the bathroom.

“Where the hell have you been?” Crocodile asked, much calmer than the last time you saw him.  For a brief moment, you almost wondered if it was more than just a cigar he was smoking.  But you knew better.  Weed was more of a Buggy thing.  Not Crocodile.

“It feels like I’ve been everywhere,” you admitted, twisting your fingers back up in his hair, “Buggy needed me.  Then, Mihawk needed me.  And now, I’m back to where I’m needed most.”

“You are a life saver, YN,” Crocodile cracked a little smile, “Thank you.”

You debated for a moment or two whether or not to tell Crocodile what Mihawk told you.  Did he know Mihawk was well stocked?  Or was this just an excuse for you two to spend a little extra time together?  You may never know.  But you kept Mihawk’s offer to yourself.  Mostly because you had already started.  And you were three braids on the left in already.  You went up another three on the left and then, another six on the right, leaving some of his hair alone on the top.  And once you were done, you knew giving Crocodile some Viking braids was most certainly the move. 

“Well?” you asked, leaning over Crocodile’s shoulders, “I told you.”

“In all honesty,” Crocodile admitted, “I wasn’t expecting to like it.  But I suppose it’ll do.  For tonight, anyway.”

“Bullshit,” you draped your arms around him, getting a little kiss out of him, “You love them and you know it.”

“I love you,” Crocodile took your hands and held them against his chest, “I know that’s for sure.”

“I love you, too.”

“YN!” And yet again, you were summoned.

“Go,” Crocodile insisted, “I know you said Buggy was the bitchy Primadonna, but I don’t want you to have to deal with bitchy Primadonna Mihawk.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” you started heading out and ran down the hall where Mihawk stood in front of a dressmaker’s mannequin, beyond proud of himself with the navy and gold ballgown he put together himself.  Because…Well, it was you.  There was nothing Mihawk wouldn’t do for you.  And the man could put a ballgown together in his sleep, “Mihawk, this is incredible…”

“Thank you, darling,” Mihawk took your hand, “I want you to try it on.  Just to see if there are any adjustments I need to make.”

“Ok.” Very carefully, you slipped the dress on.  Despite that corset making it a bit more difficult to breathe, you weren’t mad about it.  You checked yourself over in the mirror, loving what it was doing for your body, “Mihawk, this…I can’t even begin…”

“Nor can I,” Mihawk gave you a little spin, “Damn, I’m good.”

“Yes, you are,” you gently sat at the edge of his bed.

“It’s such a shame…” he let out a heavy sigh, “I put in all this work and all this effort.  And tonight, you have to go to the fucking clown.”

“Sorry, baby,” you giggled a bit, “Don’t worry.  It’s just a week.”

“Maybe you could sneak across the hall,” Mihawk insisted, “I wouldn’t tell you no.  Who could turn away a pretty face like that?”

“Mihawk,” you put a hand up to his cheek, “You know you have to wait your turn.  It’s Buggy’s week.  Then, it’s yours.  Got it?”

“Very well then,” Mihawk took your hand and brought you back onto your feet, “You really are truly a vision, YN.  You quietly wanted it to be Mihawk’s week already.  However, you also knew that after your bout of being sick, Buggy had a little something special for you.  And you couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for you.  But first, you had to get through this party.

And before you knew it, the party was in full swing.  The music was perfect.  The food was perfect.  Everything was perfect.  Because Mihawk would never allow such a thing.  You had watched as he meticulously planned this party for the last week.  The late nights he spent micromanaging the decoration of the ballroom.  Everything was just the way he wanted.  However, that didn’t mean he could have his perfect night. 

“Heyyyyyy!” a familiar, overexcitable voice broke through the string quartet.  Not only did it put a vein in Mihawk’s forehead, but you watched as it became the thorn in Buggy’s side and pain in Crocodile’s ass, “You threw a party and only invited one of us?  Come on, Hawk guy!  You could’ve invited all of us!”

It had been a while since you saw Mihawk’s protégé.  And you weren’t too terribly upset by the rest of the crew coming along.  You never had any problems with them.  Your boyfriends, on the other hand…That was a different story.  Mihawk wanted nothing more than a nice, classy evening.  And yet, who shows up on his front door but the one and only future king of the pirates himself?

“Monkey D. Luffy,” Mihawk grumbled.  Although, you knew the truth.  Mihawk may not have been able to stand being in the same room as him for long, but that didn’t mean he didn’t keep his ear out for any little scraps of gossip on him, “What the hell do you think you’re doing in my house?”

“This is your house?” Luffy gasped, getting a good look around, “This is a whole castle!  This is so cool!”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Buggy stepped in, “Mihawk, you didn’t do something stupid like-?”

“Of course, I didn’t invite him, you fucking moron,” Mihawk snapped at him.

“What are you doing here?” Crocodile joined them, just as ready to tear into Luffy as the others.

“Hey!” Luffy’s grin was unwavering, “Binky!  Croccy!”

“It’s fucking Buggy, you little shit!” Buggy growled.

“Buggy,” you had to step in before things got ugly, “Play nice.”

“Sorry, Mihawk,” Zoro came in, “I made the mistake of leaving the invitation on the table.  And asking Nami for a ride.”

“You brought this plague upon my home,” Mihawk shot Zoro a glare.

“Hi, YN!” Luffy waved to you.

“Hi, Luffy!” you waved back, pulling on Buggy’s arm, “Excuse us…Crocodile?  Do I need to pull you away, too?”

“I need a snail,” Crocodile walked away on his own accord.  Which, in all honesty, you were impressed with his restraint.

“Who you calling, Croccy?” Luffy wondered.

“A certain revolutionary,” Crocodile stormed off, his heart a little heavy.  You made a mental note to go check on him later.

“Now, you…” You dragged Buggy to the bar and poured both of you a drink, “Here, sweetheart.  For what ails you.”

Without hesitation, Buggy threw back whatever it was you made for him and pulled himself together again, “Thanks, doll.  I needed that.”

“I figured,” you gave him a little kiss right on the end of his nose, “You’ll be fine. It’s just for tonight.  By the end of the night, I’m sure he’ll go back to his ship.”

“I wasn’t expecting a night with the fucking Strawhats, though,” Buggy pouted, taking your drink from you.

“What the hell?” you took your empty glass back, “I don’t remember where I said you could have my drink.  I made that one for me.”

“And now, it’s for me,” Buggy sat down and rested his head in your shoulder, “You know, YN, you and I should find a way to sneak out of this party early.”

“Well,” you started racking your brain for ideas, “I could always say I got my period a week early.”

“So, I’d have to let you be in your room for my week?” Buggy scoffed, “Try again.”

“Dammit,” you went back to the drawing board.  Only for the true bolt of lightning to strike your thoughts, “Hold on.  Why would we have to sneak upstairs?”

“You think Mihawk’s going to just let us waltz upstairs?” Buggy pointed out, “No way.  We need to be down here and sociable apparently.  I’m not thrilled about it either.”

“Well,” you sat in Buggy’s lap, “We could always just say we’re tired.”

“Oh, YN…” Buggy awed, “My dear, sweet, little doll that you are…I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Buggy,” you melted in his embrace, “Where did that come from?”

“We couldn’t say it’s because we’re tired,” Buggy kissed the back of your neck, “It’s your first night with me again.  You really think we’re going to sleep?  Especially with that new little toy I got just for you?  Oh, no, no, no, baby.  That’s not how that’s going to work.  It’s going to be a beautiful disaster to see you come fucking unglued.  It’s going to be a spectacle for an audience of one.  How lucky am I to have the front row seat to that?”

“The luckiest,” you couldn’t keep a smile off your face if you wanted to.  You had a feeling something special was going to go down tonight.  You just didn’t anticipate it being Buggy.  Not that you were complaining in the least bit.  You knew what waited for you.  Somewhat, “You better be a gentleman about it, clown.”

“When you say gentleman,” Buggy moved in a little closer.  Sure, he could be an absolute mess more often than not, but you had to admit…He could flirt like no one else, “You want me carry you over the threshold?  Cuddle you after?”

“I mean, if you come first,” you threatened, “We’re going to have a problem.”

“Ooh,” Buggy clutched his chest, “You know I love when you talk dirty, doll.  What were you thinking?  Torture?  Maiming?  Cutting me up?”

“You are a sick bitch,” you giggled, “Did you know that?”

“What can I say?” Buggy shrugged, “I’m into some things.  Sue me.  But please don’t.  Most of my money ends up going to Croco-douche, so…”

“Hey…” You knew your boys were no strangers to their petty squabbling.  But you weren’t overly fond of them dragging you into it.  Whatever they did amongst themselves was their own business.

“Sorry, YN,” Buggy immediately bit his tongue, “I guess that means I’ve been a naughty boy…”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, “The naughtiest.  And you know what that means?”

“Naughty boys get punished?” you could see Buggy crossing his fingers with anticipation.  That was yours.  That was your clown.  That you agreed to let into your life.  Somewhat.  But that was all yours.

“Naughty boys should get punished,” you left a little kiss on his cheek and started walking out to the dance floor.  Because what better way to punish your naughty boys (who ALL have been naughty in one way, shape, or form this evening) than to cross enemy lines?  And with you spending as much time as you did with Buggy, you were getting a taste for putting on a show.  And you had your eyes on that kid in the straw hat, “Hey, Luffy?”

“Hi, YN!” Luffy perked up, his cheeks almost stuffed to capacity.  But you knew those cheeks could stretch a little more.  He swallowed hard, “How’ve you been?”

“Come with me,” you took his hand and led him to the middle of the floor.

“Ok,” Luffy was a touch confused, but bless his heart, he had the spirit, “What are we doing?”

“You’re helping me enact a little vengeance plan.” The two of you started moving together while a soft, romantic concerto played through the room.  And you could feel it.  Both Buggy and Mihawk were watching intently.  All while Luffy was blissfully ignorant.

“What kind of vengeance plan?” Luffy wondered.

“Well,” you explained.  Because you weren’t totally going to keep Luffy in the dark, “Buggy’s being kind of an ass.  Mihawk’s being kind of an ass.  I’m sure Crocodile’s done something to be kind of an ass.  And if I had to find someone in this room who is public enemy number one to all three of them, who do you think that would be?”

“Probably me,” he assumed.  That’s when all the tumblers fell into place, “Ohhhh.  So, you’re dancing with me to get back at them?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, “Is it a dick move?  Yeah, but it teaches them.”

“Well,” Luffy decided, giving you a little spin, “If you wanted someone who’s a better dancer than me, I could point you in the direction of someone else.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him, getting a quick look at Mihawk and Buggy.  Mihawk and Buggy exchanged glances with Buggy giving Mihawk a little nod.  With a dramatic flourish (because you’d expect nothing less), Mihawk went off to, no doubt, find Crocodile.  You knew better, though.  It was Luffy.  Luffy wasn’t going to do anything stupid.  Nor were you.  At this point, you were merely dancing with a friend.  If they couldn’t accept that, that was on them.

“I’m serious, YN,” Luffy insisted, “If you really want them nervous, he’d be much better than me.”

“I don’t think I could,” you backed off, “Zoro might be pushing it.”

“Who said anything about Zoro?” Luffy scoffed, taking a quick look around the room before his eyes falling on his target, “Hey, Sanji!  There’s a lady that wants to dance with you!”

“Why, hello there, YN,” Sanji apparated in front of you with a rose in hand seemingly out of nowhere.  It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate Luffy coming in clutch for you, but you knew how Sanji could be.  Sure, he wasn’t hard to look at, but he wasn’t your type.  At least not when you had the likes of Mihawk, Buggy, and Crocodile at your disposal.  They ruined you.

“Hello, Sanji,” you took his hand anyway.  You knew this was playing with fire, but you were looking to stoke some flames.  And if all else failed and your boys didn’t want to get their hands dirty (but since it’d be for you, of course, they would in a heartbeat, but in a hypothetical scenario where you weren’t within their eyesight), you knew Zoro would step up for you.  Maybe not necessarily for you, but you two never had a problem with each other.  And Zoro knew Mihawk would see him hung in the courtyard of the castle if he didn’t defend you with his dying breath, “Care to give a girl a dance?”

“It’d be my honor,” Sanji clutched his chest, carefully spinning you around the floor.  And you could see it all over Buggy’s face.  Both he and Mihawk were ready to burn the world down around you.  Not even hesitating to watch Sanji be engulfed in those flames.  But they also weren’t going to cause a scene.  If Mihawk didn’t have Buggy on a metaphorical backpack leash, he would one hundred percent have killed Sanji with no remorse.  With every step, every turn, every spin, you weren’t expecting to enjoy yourself so much.  And with Sanji, of all people. 

“Thank you,” you gave him a little curtsey and started walking off.  You needed somewhere quiet for a while.  Just to recharge.  And the study sounded like a good idea.

“YN,” Mihawk stopped you before you could find your solace, “Are you alright, darling?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, gently shaking him off, “But I’ll be right back.”

“Ok,” he let you go.

You wanted some peace and quiet.  And in all honesty, you were hoping Buggy caught the little glance you gave him over your shoulder.  You made your own out.  And as long as Buggy played along, you two would get what you both wanted from the beginning.  Still, you made your way through the castle and into the study.  Although, you weren’t expecting to hear a voice still dripping with bitterness.  Then again, you knew where the nearest communicator snail was. 

“No.  When he’s being a pain in my ass, he’s your son…I don’t care if you’re staging a coup in the North Blue.  Get your ass here and pick up your son!  Oh, look at that!  Father of the year doesn’t want to come back with the milk!  Who would’ve thought…?  Oh, really?  That’s how you’re going to be?  Uh-huh.  See if I ever do that little tongue thing you like ever again…Now, I’m the one playing dirty?  You’re damn right, I am!  And I have every right to!  I had no idea he was going to show up here tonight!  Mihawk’s pissed.  The clown is pissed…And I’ll admit.  Any other time, it’s amusing as hell.  Tonight?  Not one of those times!  Now, like I said before.  Get.  Your revolutionary ass.  To Mihawk’s.  And pick.  Up.  Your.  Son…!  Well, he sure as hell isn’t crashing here!”

“Crocodile…?” you spoke softly, just so you wouldn’t startle him.  And you knew he was riled up enough.

“Shut the fuck up for a second!” Crocodile put the receiver down and tended to you, “Hi, sweetheart.  What are you doing in here?  The party’s downstairs.”

“I’m hot and needed somewhere to recoup,” you told him, “I’ll be ok.”

“YN…” Buggy poked his head in the door, “Sorry.  I couldn’t help but hear the bitching from the hall.”

“Buggy,” you stepped between them before Crocodile could choke him out.

“Alright, alright,” Buggy stopped before things could escalate, “Come on, YN.  I know it’s my week, but I think it’s time I get you to bed, too.”

“But there’s still a whole party downstairs,” you protested.  But in all seriousness, you didn’t want to go back downstairs.

“No,” Buggy scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder, “You’re coming with me, young lady.”

“Buggy, put me down!” you started your tantrum, “Put me down!  Put me down!”

“See what I mean?” Buggy turned his attention to Crocodile, “She’s clearly got the tired crankies and needs to go to bed.”

Crocodile picked your chin up and stole a little kiss from you, “I hate to admit it, Princess, but the damn clown is right.  You should go to bed.”

“I’m not tired!” you whined, “I’m fine!”

“YN…” Crocodile lightly scolded you, “Time for bed.”

“What’s going on in here?” Mihawk joined in, catching an eyeful of what you had up your skirt, “Mmm…You look lovely in black lace, YN.”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

“Now, that wasn��t nice,” Mihawk took your face between his hands, “Say you’re sorry, darling…”

“You were just looking up my dress!” you argued.

“Don’t take it personally, Hawky,” Buggy brushed him off, “She’s tired and needs to go to bed.”

“Very well,” Mihawk allowed, “Crocodile, you need to-”

“I’m already on a call,” Crocodile nodded toward the also tired communicator snail, “And I’m sure he’s GETTING AN EARFUL!”

You could’ve sworn you heard laughter on the other end of Crocodile’s call.  But you weren’t going to think too much about it.  Still, you felt Buggy’s hand on your backside.  Not that you were really complaining, but you also weren’t expecting it, “Well, I should probably be getting the little one to bed.  Good night, gentlemen.”

“Good night, Buggy,” Mihawk let him go.  But not without one last kiss from his favorite, “Good night, YN.  Sleep well, darling.”

“I’m not tired, Buggy!” you continued to flail.  And at that rate, you’d be exhausted by the time you got to Buggy’s room.  You squealed and squeaked all the way down the hall.  You weren’t tired!  You didn’t want to go to bed!  You caused such a scene, but you didn’t care.  You knew that if the baby threw enough of a fit, Buggy would do what any decent parent would do.  He’d get you out of the situation.  It wasn’t necessarily the party you wanted to get away from, but the anticipation of starting Buggy’s week was killing you, “I told you to put me down, you son of a-!”

“The door’s shut, doll,” Buggy pointed out as he threw you down onto his bed, “We’re in the clear.”

“Ok,” you let your body go limp, quietly celebrating your success, “So, we did it?”

“We did it, baby girl,” Buggy flopped down next to you, “We did it.”

“Thank God,” you sighed out, immediately kicking your heels off, “My feet were killing me.  Don’t get me wrong, it was nice dancing with Sanji.  And believe it or not, Luffy, too.  But goddamn…Mihawk needs to learn to not put me in heels that high. I was lucky I could walk, let alone dance.”

“About that,” Buggy pulled you into his chest, “What the fuck was that all about?”

“Mihawk told me he wanted me to have a good time tonight,” you explained, “And in order to do that, I needed my boys to have a good time, too.  And I need you not to be so bitchy, but at the same time, I needed you to unclench.  Especially when the Strawhats show up.”

“By the way,” Buggy cut you off, “You may need to take stock of any knickknacks you love and hold dear.  The girl with the tattoo on her shoulder has sticky fingers.”

“Noted.” But you knew Nami wasn’t going to steal from you, “Sanji wasn’t my idea, though.  That was all Luffy’s idea.  But I don’t think he fully understood the ramifications of that.”

“More importantly,” Buggy asked, a little smile on his face, “Would you like to see what I have for you?”

“I’d love to see what you have for me,” you cuddled into him, “What’s my present?”

Buggy turned on one of his spotlights, showing a long spool of ribbon hanging from the ceiling, “That.”

“You got me silks?” you got up from Buggy’s bed and went to go see it for yourself.

“That’s part of it,” Buggy nodded, already running his fingers down the buttons of your dress without even getting up from the bed, “I hope you’re not afraid of heights, YN.  Because I was thinking we give suspension a try.  How are we feeling about that?”

“Hold on,” you thought it over for a moment or two, “Are you saying…Did you get us a sex swing?”

“I might have,” Buggy got up and wiggled your dress down to your ankles.  And he loved what he saw, “Damn, Mihawk was right.  You do look phenomenal in black lace.”

“Not you, too,” you blushed a bit.

“Get in the ribbons, doll,” Buggy ordered, running his finger down your chest and just over your nipples, “Because I’m about to make you put on one hell of a show…”

[star143gallery]

I made this in March on the 8th, now the context is that I was talking about how after Beast Yeast was finished for the time being I stated how i was getting bored of Cookie Run and @firedraws43 and @puppermation didnt take this lightly and attack me with my two favorite hyperfixations, The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde with pure vanilla and Shadow Milk. I stared at them in call and all the thoughts started to flow in and i made this.

So what I came up with was that Shadow Milk had won and in victory he took over the Faerie Kingdom along all of Earth Bread soon turn it into a full on Universe of Theater and torments each ancient in putting them in Musical Theater and starts with Pure Vanilla in Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde musical. I know call me cringe but this is who I am! I probably will finish the cast when I get to it.

[pixiedustjellicle]

I have such a difficult time connecting with the Cats community now. Part of me feels like maybe I'm too old for the current fandom(I don't feel old, but I'm certainly not 19 anymore). Or that perhaps it's because I don't much care about ships. Sometimes I worry that I intimidate people, and I'd hate that. Let me introduce myself and how Cats has shaped my life, and maybe I can find my people?

I first saw Cats at a tiny local theatre when I was eight. I fell in love with it, and even though I didn't have the movie yet, I spent months afterwards with just the poem book and highlights album. Eventually I got the 98 VHS too- and then another local theatre put it on when I was ten! I got to see it twice there. And afterwards, I made up my own attempt at a costume, turned our spare room into my attempt at the set, and put some chairs in there to put on the highlights show for some friends of my mother. The CD was worn out, I went on with the show, and they even gave me a card and a new CD afterwards- the London 2 disc set! Looking back, I think how embarrassing it probably was, but I was so happy and proud of myself in the moment. Two more years later, US Tour 5 came through Nashville, and I got to go and stagedoor for the first time. I wore a tail I made and one of the actresses told me I had a perfect Bombalurina tail twirl. For all those years, I worked Cats into school projects, I drew nothing else. My mom put up with it for so long, and I still thank her to this day.

And then I went into middle school. New school, new students, and I started getting bullied for it. I found other musicals I didn't get bullied for- Phantom, Wicked, and Sweeney- to latch onto, and I kinda put Cats in the back of my head. I still loved it, but my hyperfixation had waned thanks to mean kids, and other than occasionally watching the 1998 movie, I didn't think much of it for years.

But the US Tour 6 announced a date in Nashville. I hadn't seen the show in eight years, and I wasn't about to miss it. I had already started taking an interest in cosplay, but I'd never made a costume like that. I remembered admiring the CCDB as a kid though, and I told myself I was totally capable of making my own, just to go see the show in costume. And I did.

And the cast were SO sweet, and I started finding Cats fans on Instagram. I thought I could do better on the costume, so when the show stopped in Chattanooga a couple months later... I did it again.

The pandemic hit and I lost my job. Immediately I started getting work making Cats cosplays for others, and I haven't stopped since. And when the show resumed, I made an overnight trip to Memphis to dress up again!

And then, I saved until I could finally go see the Royal Caribbean production (front row all three performances), and got to cosplay on the cruise and get a picture on stage with the cast! This was absolutely everything to me, especially seeing the original choreography as opposed to the revival. I definitely cried. (I'm in the middle bottom row!)

I've gotten to make some costume pieces for three regional productions of Cats, in the Dominican Republic, Atlanta Georgia, and most recently Georgetown Texas. I've won some local cosplay contest with my costumes, too! And I'm lucky enough to own a few original pieces- though I've had to part with some too.

My love for this show has spanned just over 17 years now. I adore the story, the costumes, the choreography, the sets, and the characters. It's part of how I learned I am autistic. It's given me confidence I didn't know I could find. And every time I get to see it live, I feel like I'm where I belong. The fandom has felt quiet. And I'm not sure if that's just because I don't know where I fit in? So here's hoping I can find my tribe.

Favorite productions: Original Broadway, Moscow, and Mexico 2013/2018

Favorite Cats: Jemima/Sillabub, Bombalurina, Demeter, Munkustrap, Tumblebrutus, Jellylorum

Favorite songs: Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats, The Song of the Jellicles and the Jellicle Ball, Macavity

Favorite cats to cosplay: Etcetera and Victoria