#i will never stop talking about chaos island

[ozarkthedog]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲?

summary: Dieter Bravo is freezing.

warnings: silly fluff. gn assitant!reader x boss!Dieter (platonic). swearing. Dieter talking about his cock -> he/him. half naked Dieter. no beta. w.c: 874

an: for @sp00kymulderr “Dick Pronoun Fic Challenge”. I had a ball writing this. 😆💙

I found the item that inspired this drabble over the weekend when I was hosting @seventeenpins and I had to write something feat. the chaos man himself. Pic of said item is in the header lmao 🙃

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

October in California has a way of catching you off guard. One day, it's sweltering; the next, you're bundling under the covers and wearing multiple layers of clothing.

The sun was hiding behind the clouds as it rose over the horizon. A salty breeze rustles the palms that line Dieter's property as you sit on the back patio. You hug the sweater around your body but sit comfortably in your jean shorts as you add events to his already chalk full calendar.

As much as Dieter was chaos, he was also serene. He didn't mind you showing up to work in whatever clothes you wanted, sometimes joking about wearing nothing at all. You always rolled your eyes, but half of you believed he was telling the truth. You've seen him half-naked, only wearing his iconic green robe, at least a dozen times.

Thankfully, you were becoming immune. The shock no longer stops you in your tracks.

"Dieter, pants" became your catchphrase. Too many times, you pointed your finger toward the immaculate staircase in his house, sending the artist off in a huff to be more presentable.

It never was a dull day working for Dieter.

"NOODLES!!"

You stop typing when you hear Dieter's panic-stricken voice echo over the balcony.

"Noodles" is his nickname for you. It all started one day after you ate a bowl of Ramen. He was mesmerized for whatever reason while you ate lunch at his kitchen island. He was stoned, having consumed an entire plate of Korean BBQ after a lengthy painting session. As much as you didn't want it, the name stuck.

"What!?" You crane your neck toward the balcony situated slightly overhead.

"HAVE YOU SEEN WALLY?!" Dieter leans over the railing with worry etched on his brow. His green robe graces his shoulders as he looks down at you, his soft brown curls naturally askew.

You think for a moment, puzzled, before looking up at him. "What!?"

"WALLY! I'M FUCKING FREEZING!" He cries before running back through the balcony doors.

What in god's name is a Wally?

"Why don't you put on some more clothes?!" You suggest, leaning back in your chair, thankful for the break.

You can only imagine what his neighbors must think.

"IT'S TOO WARM FOR CLOTHES!"

You raise your hands in frustration. There wasn't any way to subdue him.

Just then, a pair of leather pants lands in a crumbled heap on the stone patio.

The sheer black button-up Dieter wore to the premiere of The Bubble floats down and lands next to the pair of pants. The cowboy boots he got as a gift for working on an indie film, which he never wore, other than that time you found him in nothing but in said boots strutting around his studio with his fingers posed as guns, bounces off the stone and ricochets in difference directions.

You take a long swig of coffee and rub your temples as more and more clothing rain over the balcony. "WHERE IS WALLLLLLYYYYY?"

Finally, a cheer bursts from the bedroom and down to the patio as you start back on your task.

"NEVERMIND! I FOUND HIM!"

Great. The first crisis of the day averted.

Dieter races down the staircase and rounds the patio table with a bounce in his step. Thankfully, you had no more coffee, or you would've spit it all over your laptop.

Dieter proudly stands naked in front of you, wearing only his Crocs and sipping a fresh cup of coffee. His open green robe billows in the cool breeze leaving no inch of his golden body hidden as his cock and balls are wrapped in some bundle of red knit.

It looks like something your grandma would've made, and you instantly regret thinking of her in this situation.

"Dieter." All words cease to form as you stare dumbly at your half-naked boss.

"He's nice and toasty now." Dieter happily sighs and sits across from you, his robe parting directly down the middle. "He just needed his good ol' pal, Wally."

You notice his "bundle" through the glass table. It rests comfortably between his burly, spread thighs. A red knit bow is tied at the crest of his flaccid shaft. You'd never seen anything like it, and that scared you.

"Where did you get Wally?" You ponder before you can stop yourself.

Dieter purses his lips, deep in thought, before pointing to his lap, "He always gets cold whenever I wear my robe. So what's the best solution? A sock? Psh, it's not thick enough." He huffs, waving a hand like he's shooing a fly.

"Then I tried to wrap a knit hat around him, but the elastic acted more like a cock ring." He sends you a wink, and a playful brow twitches, rising and falling consecutively before leaning across the table like he's telling you a secret. "And then one night I was surfing the web and found this!"

His warm eyes beam with delight. "From then on, he's never been cold. Plus, I can move around without anything cramping my style."

You slowly nod. If there were ever a piece of clothing that was Dieter, this would be it.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. "Alright then. Let's make sure he's never without his Wally again."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[pastelspindash]

Once again i am thinking about sonic and tails in frontiers and how sonic goes out of his way to hide the pain he's in from tails because he doesn't want his little brother to worry about him but as soon as tails is in any sign of distress he immediately asks him if he wants to talk

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

#i am retconning the phantom ruby's only child status

[dlwritings]

November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron

masterlist found here

pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.

summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.

You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.

And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.

Until the next day.

Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?

Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?

You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.

It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.

You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.

Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.

You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”

You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”

“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”

Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”

“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”

Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”

“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”

You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.

“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”

“Ba-”

“I want you to leave, Rafe.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”

With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.

The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.

You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.

Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.

You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.

“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”

You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”

“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.

“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.

It is literally impossible to be a woman.

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

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@superhoorny4daddy

@misshale21

@mrsjna

@daisydark

Rafe Cameron:

@starkeybae

@drakestoes

@ethanthequeefqueen

@r1vrsefx

@angelsplnet

@alltomay

@immelissaaa

@tahliac11

@bibliophilewednesday

[almostgenerallyalways]

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door. 

2022

Jake UT  [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT  [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

 2012

 You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.  

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

 2022

 You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

.

.

.

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 9)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, language, the tiniest amount of alcohol consumption, digital penetration, masturbation, oral sex (fem rec), anal play, unprotected sex, etc

Okay, sweet peas, we’ve got one more chapter to go (maaaaybe two idk), but all your favorites will be back! Plus an epilogue. Thank you so much for sticking with me after I did sugar jake so dirty the first time around ❤️

The air is lush and fragrant with herbs, sizzling eggs, and Jake when you wake - though his side of the bed has already cooled.

He’s all around you. Clothes and scuffed boots tossed about the room. Guitar case propped open sans Gibson - where has she gone? The scent of his skin clinging to yours. The gentle bustle of him milling around in the kitchen. You roll over and shamelessly bury your face in the pillow he rested his pretty head upon last night. Drawing him in with a shiver of content…he is home and you are basking in the comfort that is the great return.

He’s humming something to himself, and though you can barely hear - and you certainly can’t place the song - you try to hum along, laughing quietly to yourself when it comes out sounding muddled and strange as you search for a melody you don’t know.

It doesn’t matter. If he’s humming, you want to hum along. You’d like to walk beside him always, twisted and tangled together like a silken braid of devotion.

Seduced by his silly siren’s song, your feet hit the floor as you search for something to throw on. You settle on the black blazer he’s tossed over the back of a chair and pad down the hallway. Lulled and lured by his quiet chaos.

You find him, back to the doorway, gingerly shaking a pan with one hand and tossing what looks to be diced veggies with the other, totally at ease and at home. A gorgeous, disheveled chef complete with yesterday’s sweats, t shirt that’s torn at the neck, and tangled hair.

Should you stand and watch him awhile? It sounds tempting…to watch him work, a sneaky, head over heels fly on the wall. The way he moves, every shift of muscle is intoxicating. Yes, you are bewitched, but even standing here bathed in his presence, you miss him, and that wins out.

”Morning, Jakey,” you smile, breaking his concentration.

”There’s my sugar,” he tosses you a look over his shoulder that stops your heart. “I’m making you breakfast, my love. Would you like coffee or tea?”

Bare feet dancing over chilled tile, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek between his shoulder blades, “Whatever you’re having.”

He backs up a little, no doubt worrying about your arms - though they are protected by his jacket - being too near to the stove, and turns, pulling you closer while walking you backwards towards the island, “How about we share a cup of tea? You hungry?”

Flashes of memories burn through your brain…last night, in the foyer wrapped up together on the floor while he kissed your body and wept. On the couch while you talked about how exactly this all might work. Later, in a bed that wasn’t yours, in sheets you wouldn’t wash.

You should be thoroughly sated, but yes…you are hungry.

”How’d I get so lucky, little girl?” His lips curve into a grin that derails your thoughts and replaces them with something much softer. Your heart is weak for the look in his eyes…the unapologetic, worshipful love that blazes there. “How did I manage to earn this?”

”Earn what?” You smile back, praying that the emotion pounding in your heart is as evident in your gaze as it is in his, “Us?”

His eyes duck away with a shy nod, “I just never thought I’d have you like this again. In my arms, not going anywhere. Staying.”

Your fingertips are at his cheeks, sweeping over the perfect warmth of his skin, soft as air, “Jake, you didn’t earn anything. You’ve always held my heart.”

Still unwilling to meet your gaze, he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “You took it away.”

”No,” you argue in a hush. Can he really not see? “I left it with you. You’re the only reason it beats, anyway. But if you don’t feed me soon, I fear I may perish.”

”Drama queen.” He grins, pecking your cheeks each in turn, grateful that you’ve eased his mind and calmed his tender nerves.

The kettle begins to scream and you patter off to the table tucked into the corner, homey and quaint, to watch him work to take care of you. Soon, you’re gifted a steaming mug along with another kiss dropped atop your head. “Splash of rum and a sprinkle of cinnamon, sugar. It’s 9 o’clock in the morning, you lush.”

”Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, Jake?” You tease back, watching as he moves to finish things up at the stove, throat seizing with aching affection…he remembers how you take your tea.

”I don’t have to get you inebriated for that,” he sounds gravelly and full of himself, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I could fuck you however and wherever I so felt the inclination, my lovely little doll, and you would grace me with your gracious and enthusiastic appreciation.”

You bat your lashes wildly at him as he presents two plates heaped with brightly colored, expertly sautéed vegetables and fluffy, scrambled eggs like cheery, sunny clouds. A bowl of swollen, fuschia raspberries deposited between your plates like a pile of sweetened jewels steals the show. “Oh, be still my heart…you know how I enjoy it when you speak like a dictionary.”

”I know, sugar,” there’s that beaming smile of his again as he offers you a berry, lightly teasing it at your lips until you open up for him. “plenty more where that came from.”

A comfortable quiet sparks to life as you both dig in and pass the teacup back and forth. He finally breaks it, speaking up around a bite of potatoes and peppers. “I spoke to Josh this morning.”

”And how is your missing piece?” You quirk an eyebrow over the top of the cup you have now commandeered.

He leans back in his chair and settles his gaze upon you, clocking your expression closely, searching for a reaction. “Obnoxious as ever. He’s annoyed with me because I haven’t looked over the lyric revisions he sent me, and I certainly couldn’t care less if I actively tried. However, he’s very excited to see you. Cross though he might be with his dear brother.”

”Hello, Oliver,” you wink, “Let’s have Jacob back, shall we?”

You haven’t forgotten Jake’s tendency for trotting out Mr. Reed when he’s dipping a toe or two into the waters of vulnerability.

“Do you miss him?” He asks quietly, “Do you want things to be the way they were before? Because I can live with that if it means you’ll stay.” He rushes on as if he fears he may lose his nerve. “I want you to be happy, whatever it takes, I just want you to be happy.”

Fork clinking lightly against your plate as your focus zeros in on his lovely face, you lean forward and reach for his hand “Did he tell you he came to see me? After I ran into Danny that day?”

His fingers slip into your waiting palm with a soft squeeze, “He mentioned that he found you and asked you hide away until we’d gone. I’ve never wanted to hurt him as badly as I did then. Not even when we were young and stupid. Not even that night, when he forced me to let you go.”

“He was only trying to protect you, jake.” Your head tilts, watching residual pain flare to life in his eyes. “I’ve done a great many things to hurt you, it’s a wonder he doesn’t hate me for it.”

“He could never hate you, sugar. Don’t say things like that, it would break his heart to hear them.” The conviction in his words is fierce, and that makes sense…they share a life force at times, it seems.

“He did ask me to hide away, yes…” you nod, wrapping your free hand around his knuckles, warming his touch with your own, “But did he tell you anything else about our visit? Did he tell you how easy it was for us? How we caught up and laughed and looked at each other like very old friends that had been lost to each other for too many years?”

His shoulders tense as though he’s bracing for a gentle impact, but on you march, whispering to him in this unfamiliar kitchen that feels fat full of love.

”Did he tell you that it didn’t even hurt, our being in the same room with everything so fucking different? Did he know that all I could do was sit there, falling silently apart and searching for you in his eyes?”

“But you loved him.” Now it’s his turn to search your eyes, but for what you’re not sure. “I don’t want you to have to tamp that out. Not ever. You love so beautifully, sugar. I can share.”

”I did love him,” you nod. “Very much. A long time ago. I love him still. Differently. And not the way I love you. I have never loved anyone the way I love you. You don’t have to share. Not anymore.”

His grip is pulling at you now, tugging you to your feet and into his arms, creaking the worn wood of his chair beneath the weight of you both as he buries his face into your bare chest, hiding his tears in the lapels of his blazer as he weeps into your skin.

“Shh, baby,” you soothe, stroking through his hair, holding onto him as he clings to you as if you might vanish like a sigh.

His face tilts upward, lips brushing over your chin and jaw, licking and tasting you through his tears. “I love you, sugar. Sometimes I feel like all this love I have for you is just going to break me into pieces, like I can’t hold it all inside. There’s no room for it. I’m too small.”

”Jake,” you feel like you could break into pieces right alongside him as he begins tugging his jacket away from your shoulders.

He shakes his head, hushing you silently, “So, I’m going to take all this love and I’m going to give it all to you. And I’m gonna fill our house with it, press it into the walls and let it seep into the floorboards. Every nail and every window is going to feel it. The pipes and hinges. The chimney is going to breathe it into the night when we light fires in the winter. And we’re going to have babies and I’m going to love them just as much, and I can’t wait to watch you love them…”

You feel baptized in his tears and the wet, warm press of his mouth as he tattoos beautiful promises into your flesh. How could you ever have believed that you wanted anything other than this?

“I’m going to exist for you every single day, sugar…” a sob escapes him, though he tries so hard to bite it back, “I already do…I always have.”

“I know, baby…it’s okay,” you’re kissing adoration into his hair, combing your fingers through the tangles, coddling him and cooing the softest endearments, desperate to mollify his soul, fraught to offer him peace. “Please don’t cry, jakey. You know I can’t stand it.”

Hearing his own words lilting off of your tongue, he pauses and gazes up into your eyes like he sees everything he’ll ever need in them, “When I said that to you, I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be…gone. I didn’t want to live in a world where you wore his ring on your finger with tears in your eyes. Will you miss him?”

Should you lie? Perhaps. But wouldn’t he see the untruths lying bare? Wouldn’t that hurt even worse? Your deception?

“Yes,” you nod, petting him as he presses in closer, “he was kind to me, and sweet. He made me laugh. He made me half-way happy enough to pretend. I’ll miss him sometimes…but never enough to look back and regret chasing after you.”

“I’m glad he was kind to you,” he whispers, kissing a drunken, winding path across the tops of your breasts, “you deserve kind. He loved you, I could see that. I didn’t want to, but I could. And maybe I hated that, but I would have hated the alternative so much more. I’m sure he loves you still.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laugh softly, “he wasn’t very pleased with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sugar,” he stares up at you with eyes laced heavily in adulation, “you don’t leave a man alone so easily. You linger and overstay your welcome in the worst way. Learn to leave a room, sweetheart.”

He has pulled another laugh out of you, louder and bell like this time…it twists his heart with heated, pulsing adoration.

”Jake,” you pause, waiting for him to give you his honey brown eyes, “You were right when you said none of it matters. This matters.” Your palm finds your heartbeat for a moment, and then his own.

”I know, my love…” tears skate along his lash line like blissful, shimmering quartz, “I know.”

~

His mouth is at your throat, gentle hand splaying out across your abdomen, holding you down against the cool, polished wood of the table.

Fingers playing at your lips, he breaks a raspberry apart between his fingers before sweeping it over your waiting tongue. “You’re so beautiful, sugar. Aren’t you? Aren’t you my pretty, pretty girl?”

His shirt has landed on the tile, forgotten and worthless to this task at shaking hand.

“Yes,” nails digging into his shoulders to remind him of where you’ve been, of where your touch belongs, you nod fervently beneath his kiss, “I’m your pretty girl, Jakey. I’m your girl.”

Lips beginning a path up your cheek to your temple, he hums euphorically and grasps at your ankles, tugging gingerly until your heels are resting on the table. “Will you show me?” His voice is silken and inquisitive, tongue fluttering over your earlobe to bring chills to life inside you. “Hmm? Will you show me how pretty you are for me?”

”Anything,” you pant, arching away from the table, desperate to be closer to him as he pulls back.

You watch on, body throbbing and screaming for him while he pops a raspberry into his mouth and settles back into his chair, legs spread wide, hands fisted into flexing balls at his knees, “Touch yourself for me, sugar. Rub your sweet little clit, nice and slow, just for me.”

Maybe you’d like to say your body protests, maybe you ought to say that you shy away, maybe if you weren’t so indescribably in love with him you’d do both of those things, but as it stands….

….as it stands, you give him what he’s asked for without thought. There isn’t a breath of hesitation. You simply roll two fingers over your tongue, reach down between your thighs, and begin.

The hushed moan that tumbles off the tip of your tongue tugs a sigh from his lungs that sets you further on fire. He sounds so beautiful, so wholly under a spell that you can’t fathom having the ability to cast over this deity of a man.

“There’s my good girl,” he is so quiet, you’d scarcely hear him were your focus not so completely honed in on jake jake jake, “Does that feel good, little girl? Is my sugar making that pretty pink pussy feel just so nice?”

He is an obscene angel staring you down with snarled hair and wicked sin in his wild eyes.

A trembling sound is all you’re able to manage as your touch dips inside yourself to draw slick back up to your clit.

”Yeah?” he tilts his head, watching you reverently, “It looks like it does. You’re dripping all over the table. I want to lick it up.”

“Please,” your fingers circle faster, but something is missing. He, close though he might be, is missing.

”Please, what?” He sounds as needy and hungry as you feel. “Tell me what you want me to do to you and I’ll do it, baby. Whatever you want…I’ll fucking do it.”

”Your mouth,” your legs spread wider until your hips protest, and then you spread a little wider in offering. “I’d like to have your mouth please, Jakey. Please. lick me, please, please.”

A groan rumbles out of his chest like pained thunder as he wraps his arms around your thighs, tugging you in and burying his mouth exactly where you’ve so politely begged for it. Another anguished sound pushes from his lungs as he drinks down his first mouthful of you.

The tip of his tongue teases over your shivering clit, and then slinks down to dip inside you, and then down farther still to lap against that heavenly little spot where it shouldn’t be.

He hums against you while you whine and yank at his hair, pulling his kiss in closer as your hips lift away from the wood you’re making such a mess of.

“Fuck,” your fingers lace through his hair perhaps just a bit too tightly, but a quiet grunt signals his appreciation, “right there.”

“I know where you like my mouth every now and then, sugar,” his words are hot against you as his thumb slides, warm and thick, inside your cunt “Dirty girl.”

Watching you shy away so endearingly squeezes at his chest. You have always given yourself to him so completely. You have always been his girl. His mouth has known every breathtaking inch of your body in a hundred different lifetimes. His heart has known your heart in a thousand more.

Your fingers search out your clit, neglected and crying out for attention, completing that lovely trifecta as you rock your hips, fucking his face without shame.

He is yours and you will take him.

Your belly is burning, white hot and tight, coiling and churning as your body begins to tremble and flush.

“Gonna cum…” A complete sentence seems an impossible task “I— oh, please, please, please,”

His fingers replace his thumb with a feral growl low in his throat, tucking up in behind your clit as you watch his arm begin to move rhythmically below the table.

”Don’t cum,” you order through whimpers and whines that sound anything but authoritative. How difficult it proves to be to be bossy when his tongue is warm and wet where you shouldn’t adore it so damn much.

”I won’t,” his promise is beautifully muffled. “But I want you to do it. Cum for me, fuck doll…give it up pretty.”

You tighten deliciously around his searching tongue and delving fingers as it crawls through you like sinking into a warm bath that swirls with glittering, lilac goldfish. They kiss your skin soft as monarch wings; strange, swimming beings in the waters that are Jacob. It is lovely, though given the filth that has ushered you into this state, maybe that makes no sense.

He works you carefully until your breathing begins to stutter and gasp uncomfortably, and then there is his striking and stunning face - cheeks blazing with desire - kissing and licking up your body as you squirm languidly.

“Was that good, baby?” His teeth are dragging against the swell of your breast now, igniting a fire within you anew.

Jacob, always so cocksure and confident, sounds famished for your approval. How strange.

You hand it over willingly and honestly, on a silver platter of affection, “So, good, Jakey…I love you so much.”

“You taste like fucking candy everywhere,” his praise is little more than a whispered murmur as he buries into the crook of your neck, “I want you in my mouth and under my fingertips forever, for fucking always.”

The tip of his cock, full and hot like velvet, sweeps across your entrance, teasing inside just a breath before pulling back and then nudging in all over again.

“Put it in,” your fingers are clawing lazily at his hips, silently trying to guide him into action, “Fuck Jake, please baby, just slip it inside and—“

He grinds his hips forward, cutting you off, filling you up, pulsing and slick and hot and…

”My girl,” his words are humid at your throat as he whimpers through a physical shudder. “My sugar, my love. That’s my baby, that’s it…taking it so well. You feel so fucking good.”

His wandering fingers find and sweep over your clit with a glide as sweet as satin, and it has you clenching down around him so wildly his eyes snap shut with a furrowed brow, mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Buried to the hilt now, those eyes lull open to stare down where your bodies connect. “Looks so pretty stretched around my cock. How’d this little cunt ever get so beautiful?”

Your cheek turns to meet the cool of the oak you're draped across, embarrassed in the most blissful way, but he is positively weak for the way his words cause your thighs to tighten around his waist.

His name begins to burn out of your lungs, smoking into the sun-soaked kitchen like a prayer.

”That’s it,” he sounds faraway, like he’s crooning to you from across the room, “My name, sugar…always my name.”

And then, there is his thumb, soaked in your need and brushing against that spot just below where his cock is dragging in and out of your cunt.

A wanton cry for more bleeds out of you, bringing forth another knit of his brow as he sinks inside you to follow the deep thrust of his cock, “‘Oh my’, right sugar? Isn’t that how my fuck doll reacts? All sweet like a lady, to being filled up so full?”

His loving, mocking tone snatches you back full circle to that very first night with him that seems so long ago…he has been all you’ve ever wanted, ever since. He is all you will ever want.

He is every direction, the night and the day, every song ever written…every poem ever wept onto pages, every star that will light the skyline tonight and all the ones that came before. He is every beat of your pulse, every breath in your lungs - and when you breathe your last, it will be his name on your lips.

White explodes behind your eyes as fireworks detonate down deep inside you, sparkling a crackling-like frenetic energy throughout your nervous system until you are tightened up and writhing with it…cumming so hard, so fucking hard, that you nearly force his beautiful cock right out of your body.

He follows your lead and pulls away, tugging at himself violently as you shower down over him like the filthiest, most exquisite drops of summer-of-love rain.

“Oh fuck, sugar, please,” he’s whining as his release lands hot and frantic against your quivering stomach, but for what, neither of you know.

You’re lost in his faraway expression, watching him fight for a deep breath as you search for your own composure when your fingers sweep through a milky ribbon painted across your navel…you want to taste him, but his grip is wrapped firmly around your wrist in an instant, with your fingers nestled against his cashmere tongue.

“I’ll clean my pretty girl up myself, if she doesn’t mind.” His mouth brushes soothingly at your hip just before he begins licking up his own release, eyes cast upwards to your own as you shake, stunned and blissfully shellshocked.

At last, you find your voice as his bubblegum pink tongue curls over the last drop, “You taste good, don’t you, Jakey?”

“Not as good as you, sugar,” His mouth is on yours now, kissing far too sweetly for what you know him to be capable of. “not even close.”

“Shower?” He pops another raspberry into your mouth and then nuzzles against your nose.

”Bath.” You correct, nearly melting into the table beneath his love.

~

A sponge, fresh out of its package and now smothered in body wash, drags across your chest as his chest rests against your back.

”We leave tonight?’ Your voice sounds unfamiliar…too content, too relaxed. It’s been such a long time since you’ve sounded this way. Since you’ve been so completely happy.

”I wish we could stay longer,” he kisses at your drenched, now squeaky clean hair, “just you and me.”

”Me too,” you sigh, settling back into his embrace even more, “but I’m also excited to see those idiots you call brothers. Especially the baby.”

”He’s missed you.” More kisses to clutch at your already stolen heart. “Nothing was the same without you, sugar. Time to come home.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove

[goingmerryfics]

HELLO, I was seeing that you were open to requests and I've had this in my head for a long time and I would really like to see something about this, a reader who has a huge scar on his face that is literally ugly, they got it as a child, apart from the fact that it shows part of the teeth of how serious it was and for this reason the reader wears a mask for fear of being told things about them face, I'm sorry if it's something explicit just that sometimes I feel like I don't explain myself

Reader with a scar - Luffy & Penguin

Content: reader is referred to as a ‘guy’ and a ‘dude’, reader wears a face mask, can be read as platonic, face scarring due to a past accident not specified, fluff and reassurance, a few mentions of Shachi in Penguin's part.

Notes* Hey there! There wasn't a character specified for this ask, so I chose two that I'm less experienced with to write out this prompt with :) male reader because of the pronouns used in the ask! I got really interested in this prompt right away and wrote it immediately upon receiving the ask and absolutely had to post it now so I apologize if the formatting is wonky! I'm on mobile haha

Luffy

When you first met Strawhat Luffy, it was while he was stopped at your home island along his grand adventure

You'd never really paid much attention to pirates and their lives- you had your own to live and figure out anyway

But as you and Luffy became closer- first as acquaintances, then as temporary allies, and then as friends as he boldly declared it in a short amount of time, you started to really like the guy

He'd only asked you about the mask you wore once. But the second you tried to answer him, he was distracted by dinner. After that, it was if he'd forgotten all about his question

It was kind of nice that way, not needing to worry about constant pestering or comments about it

Luffy truly didn't give a shit what you wore on your face at all. He cared about you (and your food, of course)

Luffy had a way of making you feel as if you could trust him to see your face. What you've kept hidden for most of your life, after a terrible accident had, in your opinion, ruined your life

But Luffy's care for you was unlike anything you've ever felt before. Luffy made you feel safe, protected, and just a little anxious at how willing he was to throw himself in harm's way to help you, the appointed new friend

One evening, you decide that you do in fact want to talk to him about your past. It's a decision you've been thinking over for a while, but actually getting up and moving to Luffy's room is such a sudden action, and then you're suddenly seeking him out in the dead of night on his ship to tell him about your scar.

The Thousand Sunny was still docked peacefully at the edge of the south side of your island, where you had originally met them what felt like so long ago. In reality, it had only been about a week since the Strawhats arrived, and yet it felt like so much longer in the chaos.

Their gangplank was pulled up, but before you could start trying to climb the ship's side, you spot Luffy out on the deck- evident by the straw hat on his head.

You call out his name, and he turns right away. With a grin quickly spreading on his face, he hops off the sunny and onto the grassy island floor. He calls your name happily.

“What are you doing over here? Is something wrong?” He asks.

You tell him it's not that, and he picks up on your unease.

“Well, what is it? It's hard to tell but you look like something's bothering you. Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, and you begin to explain. You tell him about your accident, about how your face was scarred and disfigured. You tell him about your upbringing, how hard it was to fit in with the other kids while you looked like that.

You can feel yourself getting emotional. Luffy can hear it in your voice, too. He calls your name in a stern tone- one he only seems to use when he gets serious.

“Listen, I don't care about all that crap.” He speaks. And though his words are blunt, you know he means them in the best way.

“I like you. You're a really nice guy, and you fight really well. So what else matters? You think I care if you've got a scar on your face?”

He stares at you, and you feel it in the center of your chest.

“You should feel free to do whatever you want! If you want to wear your mask then that's fine. But if you don't, then take it off! And if people don't like it, that's their problem! If they don't want to get to know you because of what your face looks like, then they're the ones that are missing out!”

You can feel tears in your eyes. There's something about the way Luffy says- no, declares it so passionately that leaves no doubt in your mind of his pure fondness for you.

Through your tears, you can see Luffy's smile, and your heart soars.

Penguin

You'd been a Heart Pirate for a short amount of time, but somehow you had made quick friends with many people on the Polar Tang- one of them being the man who called himself, ‘Penguin’ with the hat to prove it

There was something about him that was so easy to click with. Maybe it was your shared sense of humor, or the fact that you found it hilarious watching him and his partner in crime Shachi get into trouble for pulling pranks around your Captain (for the millionth time)

You weren't the only person on the crew who wore a full face mask, either. So while he was curious and questioned it in the beginning, one word from you to leave it alone and he backed off. Surprisingly.

Still, you definitely caught him eyeing you at times. The urge to pull the mask off your face to see what you were hiding was strong in him, but you two were friends and he wouldn't do that to you

One evening, Shachi had been pressing you just a little too much about the matter and he'd said, “What, are you ugly or something under there?”

Which earned a swift smack to the back of his head from Penguin, chastising him for saying something that insensitive

He'd noticed the way your teeth clenched, how tense you got. It had obviously hit home, and he made Shachi apologize for his rude joke right then and there

After that though, he found himself wondering why. Why did you think you were ugly? What were you hiding? Did you actually have a reason to be insecure, or was it something more?

He cared about you. He didn't want you to feel like you couldn't be yourself around them- the Heart Pirates were your family now, and a proper family didn't hurt each other for something so miniscule.

You had gotten over the comment, but Penguin had already begun his mission.

It was late into the evening. The chores were done for the day, and Penguin wanted to catch you before you went to bed. He wasn't really sure what he was gonna do or say, but he knew he wanted to address it before the worry drove him to insomnia.

He searches the halls for you and eventually finds you in the common room. He calls your name cheerfully, thankful that you're alone here- at least for the time being.

You greet Penguin, looking up from what you'd been doing. He takes a seat nearby and starts to make idle chatter, asking you about your day, telling you a bit of gossip, smiling when he gets you to laugh.

Then he clears his throat and switches gears, moving on to the conversation he really came here for.

“So, uh… There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You watch him fidget for a minute. He's not good with feelings at all, and he's trying to figure out how to bring this up without accidentally offending you. Eventually, he finds the words.

“So… About what Shachi said a while back. I was kinda worried about it.”

You quickly assure him that it was fine, that Shachi apologized and he only meant it as an, albeit bad, joke.

“Yeah, but… I don't know. It looked like it really bothered you. I hope you don't think that, like, we would think you're ugly or something! Whatever you look like under there, you're still the same cool dude we know. Nothing would change that. I guess I just wanted to say that.” Penguin shrugs.

You're not sure what to say to that. Your initial reaction is bitter- to insist that actually they would think you're ugly if they could see your face. But something stops you, and you get stuck just choking on your words.

“Look, I'm just saying, it bothers me to think that you don't like the way you look. I'm not saying you have to show me your face or anything, but just… If you choose to take your mask off one day, I hope you know that we'd love you all the same. You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like.”

You nod, because it's all you can bring yourself to do in the moment. It's nice, hearing that reassurance.

Penguin quickly changes the subject to try and dissipate the tension in the room made by the serious conversation, going on about something stupid Shachi had done that got him into some shit with the Captain earlier, which makes you laugh.

His words stick to your heart -You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like- and you know that when you do decide to show yourself to them, that you'll be alright.

[suroweczka]

Zoro Proposes to you (fluff)

summary: Zoro gets caught by Nami and Robin while looking at engagement rings. With a little help of his crewmates, he proposes to you, in a Zoro way of course. Purest fluff 🩷 zoro x female reader

word count: idk, you’re welcome

“Alright, everyone! We’ve got some time to explore! I hope to eat some delicious meat!” Luffy shouted, filled with excitement, as The Thousand Sunny docked at a small island. The crew quickly disbanded, eager to enjoy their time in the new place. Zoro, however, felt a different pull that day.

The crew scattered into the bustling town but the noise and chaos of the main square didn’t appeal to him. Instead, he opted for a stroll through the quieter, narrower streets that meandered away from the commotion.

Here, the streets were lined with quaint shops, their signs creaking softly in the breeze. Zoro found this setting much more to his liking, a welcome escape from the chaos he had left behind.

As he wandered down the lane, a small jewelry shop caught his eye. Its window displayed an array of elegant pieces, each one glimmering under the soft light. Zoro paused, an unexpected sense of curiosity bubbling up inside him. Nothing on the display caught his eye in particular, but it reminded him how he had been thinking about taking the next step in your relationship for a while now.

He pushed open the door, his hand a bit shaky as he didn’t quite know what to expect. A small bell tinkled over his head as he entered. The interior was warm and inviting, adorned with beautifully crafted displays showcasing rings, necklaces, and bracelets.

As he wandered through the aisles, he felt a bit lost. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. He stopped at a display that featured an array of rings, the choice was overwhelming, he suddenly became anxious, hoping nobody would approach him.

“May I help you, young man?” a voice chimed, pulling Zoro from his reverie. “Looking for something special? Perhaps for a special someone?”

“Shit…” He mumbled to himself as he noticed an elderly man with a warm smile on his face walking towards him.

“N-not really… just browsing. Actually, I didn’t mean to end up here” he replied, his cheeks turned all red. “I better go now, goodbye” he said awkwardly and stormed out of the shop. 

As he closed the door behind him, he heard some giggles in the distance. 

“Have you got lost again?” familiar voice sounded and he realised it was Nami, accompanied by Robin, having fun of what they had just seen. 

“Just… Exploring” He tried to sound as casual as possible but puzzled face said everything.

“Interesting choice” Said Robin “I did not know you were into jewellery, engagement rings to be precise” Nami and Robin shared a glance, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

Zoro’s face turned all red. “What the hell are you talking about?” He barked, clearly annoyed. “I don’t have time for your crap”He turned away and rushed in opposite direction, hoping they would leave him alone and never bring up the topic again.

“Wait!” Nami shouted. 

Robin used her devil fruit powers to stop Zoro, a pair of hands emerged from the pavement and grabbed Zoro’s ankles, which resulted in him landing on the ground.

“Leave me alone you crazy women” He looked up from his spot, furrowing his brows.

“We can help, you know…”Nami leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially “We know (Y/N) well enough to say what she would like. Besides, I wouldn’t trust your taste”

“I do NOT need your help and it has nothing to do with (Y/N)!!” Zoro could not let them win, that would be embarrassing.

Robin chuckled softly, clearly not buying his act. “Don’t be so stubborn. It’s not a secret you two have been in a relationship and it’s only natural you want to take the next step” Robin said calmly, trying her best to encourage him “We can help you make it special. You want it to be perfect, don’t you, Zoro?”

After a moment of hesitation, Zoro nodded slowly, unable to deny the truth. “Yeah, I do.”

Nami clapped her hands together excitedly. “Then let’s go back to the shop! We have to find something that captures both of your personalities.”

“Personalities? It’s just a ri…” Zoro didn’t even manage to finish his sentence as Nami grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the shop.

“Show us the most beautiful and expensive engagement rings you have to offer here, sir!” Nami leaned on the glass counter, her eyes were sparkling, full of thrill.

“Expensive?” Sweat dripped down Zoro’s face, he was sure he would regret his decision to let Nami help him with the purchase.

“Relax, leave it to me” Nami winked

“I did not expect you to be back so soon, young man” the jeweller smiled, leading them to a display case filled with elegant rings. “Here are our customers’ favourite pieces, each and every one made with great precision, though a bit on the pricey side” 

“Pricey…” Zoro gulped.

“Perfect!” Nami squeaked but her enthusiasm was slightly suppressed by Robin, as she gently lied her hand on her shoulder.

“I know we offered our help, but I think Zoro should have a say as well” she said, glancing at his terrified face. “What do you think, Zoro? Anything you have in mind?”

“Ugh… I dunno… I didn’t want it to be very flashy to be fair…”

“What about this one?” The old man pointed to a delicate silver band adorned with a single emerald at its center.

“This one looks nice. Green is your colour which will make the ring remind her of you” Nami pointed out.

Zoro stepped closer, his heart racing as he imagined slipping the ring onto your finger, seeing your eyes light up in surprise and joy. “I’s alright I guess”he said quietly. “I will take it”

“Very good choice, sir. I shall pack it for you”

It might have not been the most expensive ring, as originally planned by Nami, but still not quite cheap. She guessed Zoro didn’t have enough money as he nervously started counting all the Berries he had in his wallet, all covered in sweat. 

“I got you” she whispered 

“Thank you, but it is my responsibility to pay for my woman’s ring”

“Oh, I will make sure you pay me off, don’t you worry” Nami winked.

“I have no doubt about that. And how much interest will you charge me?”

“Well, as it is for (Y/N) and it’s such a special occasion, let’s say 0%...” Nami smiled ominously “…As long as you pay me off within 3 months. Then it’s 50%”

“Jesus Christ woman… I shall make sure I pay you off within that time then…” he sighed.

“All done. Thank you and please visit us again soon” the elderly man handed a small bag to Zoro.

“I am not planning on proposing again in the near future” Zoro muttered which made Robin chuckle. “Hopefully it will be your first and last time”

After finalizing the purchase, Zoro felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. The hardest part was yet to come.

“Sooo… How are you going to propose?” Nami asked as they were all heading back to Sunny. 

“What do you mean? I will just give her the ring” Zoro replied like it was very obvious.

“You can’t be serious”

“What else am I expected to do?” He was not ready for what Nami would come up with.

“Proposals aren't as straightforward as a fight. You’ll need to think about the setting, the words, and also the timing”Robin smiled gently.

“Why is this so complicated? I already bought the damn ring." Zoro groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

The girls giggled at his cluelessness.

“I would suggest finding some quiet spot, far away from nosy people, so you can both savour this intimate moment in peace”Robin said.

“Yea! And it will be less embarrassing if nobody sees you when she says no” 

“Nami…”

——

As they walked along the path leading back to Sunny, the group stumbled upon a charming clearing in the woods. A quaint little bridge arched over a quiet river, surrounded by tall trees that swayed gently in the evening breeze. The scene looked like something out of a dream.

"This is perfect," Robin murmured, her eyes lighting up as she observed the peaceful ambiance.

"Even you can’t mess this up, Zoro," Nami added, nudging him with her elbow. "Just propose here.”

Zoro gave the scene a brief glance, scratching his head. "Y-Yeah, I guess this could work."

"Here’s what you do," Nami began, holding up her hand as if to count the steps. "Step one: ask her to go on a walk. Step two: lead her here without acting suspicious. Step three: say something from the heart. Not about swords, by the way. Step four: kneel when you give her the ring.“

Zoro frowned. "Why would I kneel? I’m not bowing to anyone."

Nami rolled her eyes. "It’s not bowing; it’s a romantic gesture! Just do it."

Zoro gave her a big sigh but didn’t say anything.

As they made their way back to the ship, Zoro’s thoughts wrestled with the advice. He didn’t want to mess this up, but all this planning was starting to make his head spin. When they reached the Sunny, his focus snapped to you, standing at the dock, gazing out at the horizon. The light of the setting sun bathed you in a golden glow, and Zoro felt his chest tighten.

He approached you casually, trying to act as if his heart wasn’t pounding like he was in the middle of a battle. "Hey," he called out, his voice gruff. "You wanna go for a walk tonight? Got somethin’ to show you."

You turned to him, surprised but smiling. "Sure. Where to?"

Zoro shrugged, keeping his tone even. "You'll see."

As you nodded and walked off to prepare, Zoro felt the weight of the ring in his pocket. He muttered under his breath, "Step one down, I guess."

——

Zoro walked beside you, his hand clasping yours tightly. His palm was sweaty, a rare sign of nerves that immediately caught your attention. You glanced at him, noticing the tension etched on his face.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine," he replied gruffly, his eyes focused straight ahead. But his tone betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow, stopping in your tracks. "Are you sure? You seem… distracted."

He glanced at you briefly before looking away. "Just walk, will ya?"

Suspicious but deciding to let it slide, you followed him through the quiet woods. The sun had set, leaving the clearing bathed in soft twilight. When you reached the charming little bridge, you stopped, stunned.

The gentle sound of the river flowing below, the glow of fireflies flickering in the air, and the serene quietness made the place feel almost magical. You stepped onto the bridge, leaning against the railing, and gazed out at the scenery.

"This is beautiful," you murmured, completely taken in by the moment.

Behind you, Zoro shifted awkwardly, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he was supposed to say something. There was supposed to be a lead-up, something heartfelt, and maybe even—ugh—a kneel. But every piece of advice Nami and Robin had drilled into him fled his mind.

Before he could overthink it, Zoro reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. Without a word, and with his face burning red, he slipped it onto your finger while you were still admiring the view.

The sudden sensation of cool metal against your skin made you freeze. You looked down at your hand, your breath hitching when you saw the simple, elegant ring now resting on your finger. Turning slowly, you found Zoro standing there, stiff as a board, his arms crossed and his face an alarming shade of crimson.

"Zoro…?" you started, your voice soft with disbelief. "Is this… what I think it is?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess so," he muttered.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. "You guess so?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "You’re going to have to be a little more specific, swordsman."

His glare snapped to you, embarrassed and annoyed. "Don’t wind me up! You know what it is!" he barked, though his tone held no real heat. “Just stop teasing me and give me the answer!”

You laughed again, covering your mouth with your free hand. "The answer? How can there be an answer without the question?"

Zoro groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You’re impossible," he grumbled. For a long moment, he said nothing, and you thought he might refuse. But then he took a deep breath, glancing at you with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability.

"Fine," he said, his voice low but steady. "Will you marry me?"

The way he said it—so blunt, so utterly Zoro—made your heart swell. You smiled, your laughter softening into something warm and tender. "Now, was that so hard?" you teased gently, stepping closer.

He grunted, still avoiding your eyes. "So… what do you say?" he asked, clearly flustered but trying to sound nonchalant.

You smiled even brighter, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Of course, it’s a yes."

Zoro exhaled, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all evening. "Good," he muttered, his lips quirking up in the faintest of smiles.

As you admired your ring, Zoro shifted awkwardly, still feeling the weight of the moment. He glanced down at your hand, then back at you, his expression hesitant.

"Uh… do you want me to kneel or something?" he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with genuine uncertainty.

Your laughter burst out before you could stop it. You shook your head, wiping away a tear of laughter.

"No, Zoro," you said, still giggling. "It’s not necessary. I wouldn’t expect that from you."

He blinked, looking almost relieved, and a small, genuine smile crept onto his face. His hand came up, rough and calloused, to gently stroke your cheek. The action was tender, so unlike the usual brusque swordsman you knew.

"I love you," he said simply, his voice steady and sincere.

Your heart fluttered at the words, a warmth spreading through your chest as you leaned into his touch.

"I love you too," you replied softly.

Zoro leaned in, closing the small distance between you, and kissed you. It wasn’t dramatic or overly passionate, but it was perfect—grounded and filled with quiet conviction.

When he pulled back, his smile lingered, his eyes holding an unusual softness. "I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us," he said, his voice low but filled with certainty.

You smiled back, your hand finding his. "Me neither."

As the two of you stood there on the bridge, the quiet river flowing below and fireflies dancing in the air, you felt nothing but peace and joy. For all his cluelessness, Zoro had shown you exactly how much he cared in his own unique way—and that was more than enough.

[haikirii]

Thinking about q!Cellbit's life: before, during and after the war

Recently, q!Cellbit talked a bit more about his wartime background alongside q!Badboyhalo - let's pretend I'm not freaking out about my hcs being canonized - and I wanted to reflect a little bit on everything he said. Mainly, reflecting on how tragic q!Cellbit's life is and how he can only have a normal routine after arriving on the island.

First of all, I would like to remind you of a rather sad fact that gives us some clues about your childhood that is still a mystery. One day, q!Cellbit was having a picnic with Richarlyson and he says "Did you know I've never been on a picnic before on this island?", which made me think about something so simple never having happened even in his childhood. Maybe I'm making a simple sentence a lot deeper than it should be, but when q!Cellbit confirmed that he entered the war at just 14/15 years old, my mind can't help but wander to that sentence and that day.

Come on, from what little q!Cellbit elaborated from the war for Richarlyson - which I'll talk more about later - leads me to believe that at the very least you'd have to have some heavy training to survive in it as an average soldier. However, q!Cellbit was not just any soldier, he was one of the best of his time at just 14 years old. How long did he train? Who trained his? How intense and cruel does training have to be for a 14-year-old teenager to be a killing machine amidst the chaos of the battlefield? What all this makes me think is that he was specifically trained from childhood to be a soldier. Sure, the training might not have been able to erase his teenage recklessness and rebelliousness, but it's still the only thing I can think of for him to have been such a good fighter. q!Cellbit didn't have comfort, he didn't rest, he never did normal child things and maybe that's why he values so much that Richarlyson lives like a normal child even with all the dangers of the island. Even though Richarlyson would also have to have been raised as a warrior to protect himself, q!Cellbit still doesn't want him to have the same fate as him.

And then we go to war and that's when q!Badboyhalo enters. He confirmed, once again, that the demon was with him and that they fought side by side. Of the things that q!Cellbit told him, one of them was that he was an Endergage - outside of roleplay: one of hg's classes. With that, I can only think of a scene where a hyperactive teenager goes around teleporting everyone close to him and killing them with impressive skill while an ancient demon screams at him to be careful and stop cursing while delivering blows. Because killing is OK, but swearing was the limit - and of course q!Cellbit was terrified of q!Badboyhalo cleaning his mouth with soap after battles.

He also mentioned a little bit of how the war worked, which was literally the hg: they were thrown into the arena, without resources and either you were the last one to survive or you would die. q!Cellbit told how there were cowards - his words - who hid in block towers. He seems to hate Stompers quite a bit, citing how he hunted them and how they didn't expect him to be so good with his teleportation power.

And then q!Cellbit tells Richarlyson that "These were simpler times, where I had to fight for my life every day." How troubled does your life have to have been for THIS to have been simpler times? Fight for your life in a cruel battle of life and death every day. He said it was fun days even with fear plaguing his skin, his fun time was on the battlefield.

After that, he says "Then I went to jail […] it has more or less to do (with the war)". And that's what intrigues me the most: even in Fuga Impossível, we never found out why he was arrested. This information is completely new, which leads me to believe in two things: war crime or that he is too strong to let him free in society. I think a lot about the possibility of war crime due to cannibalism, but he himself said he didn't actually commit that much - I just honestly don't know how much we can trust q!Cellbit's words on this because of how unreliable he is when it comes to some prison stuff, tending to smooth things over to his side. Aside from cannibalism, which we're not sure he actually committed in the war as only q!Pac's bites and leg have been confirmed, I think about how he was a good enough killing machine to have a special government interest in leaving him in jail.

Think with me: he entered the war at 14/15 years old, but a lot of things lead me to believe that he was arrested at about 18 years old. He talks about how he and q!Badboyhalo broke up after the war was over and after that the arrest occurred. Maybe that break after the war has made him even more mentally unstable? q!Cellbit still spent a few years in Alcatraz, but we don't know if he was already unstable when he arrived in prison or if the prison messed with his head over the years. His behavior may have been generated as a defense mechanism against other more aggressive inmates along with a reflection of the traumas of battles, he barely had time to process all the years he lived there.

q!Cellbit emphasizes the "kill or die" a lot, it hurts to imagine what that did to his mind. On how after parting with q!Badboyhalo, he was alone and with no one to trust again. He dominated the prison alone, made protection pacts with other gangs alone without being able to really trust them. I've already talked about how important trust is to q!Cellbit, and now it just makes me think that he only had one person to really trust before his arrest.

Quoting myself:

"In Fuga Impossível, the only thing he asked f!Tazercraft was "Don't break my trust". I mean, we can't judge them because f!Cellbit wasn't the sanest person to have a relationship with inside the jail - considering the events that followed and the consequences like f!Felps killed in a riot, f!Pac having his leg eaten, f!Jvnq murdered and f!Celbit abandoned on an island.

However, he still tried to trust in f!Tazercrat. he tried to take a chance, even if you can't see that chance with the best of intentions."

Trust is the central point of this character, it's something essential for him. And he eventually escapes from this other hell he got himself into, alone and with no one to trust after being betrayed and also doing horrible things to his fellow escapees because q!Cellbit is no saint. And once again he has to get back on his own.

And a great deal of time has passed since then. He does some miraculous therapy and gets better, q!Cellbit finds the q!Tazercraft on the ship but they still maintain that distrust from years ago. He also has q!Felps to rely on now and is introduced to q!Forever, nothing is the same as years before.

q!Cellbit finds q!Badboyhalo, his war buddy. Two wounded veterans who've been through life's hell before and after everything, who've split up. Where q!Badboyhalo sees that already grown teenager, full of scars, dark circles and trauma and thinks "What happened to you all this time?".

And it hurts me a lot to think that only now q!Cellbit has found the happiness and confidence he's always been looking for. That being forced onto this island where he was tortured, tricked by the federation several times; kidnapped; had parts of his memories erased from the time he worked there; he suffered for having broken his family at the time of the betrayal; it was only on this damn island that he managed to find people to love and trust.

q!Cellbit loves his family and would do anything for them. He loves his son to the point of considering giving up everything just so he can have a better future than he had; he loves his Guapito, who has his full trust and unconditional love to the point of almost having a relapse when their relationship was threatened.

His Guapito, who was your anchor. The one who trusted and defended him when everyone was against him, the one who supported him in everything he did. The one with whom q!Cellbit made a mistake, but was forgiven and tries to be someone better every day so as not to fail anymore.

q!Forever, who trusts him SO MUCH to the point of not even being interested in knowing information if that put his family at risk. The one who even after hearing so much shit coming out of q!Cellbit's mouth, still had a glimmer of hope that it was all a lie for trusting him.

q!Tazercraft, who forgave him even after everything he'd done. After he killed his friend, who help him because they know that family is all they have.

q!Felps, who is the person he knows best. His best friend who made him go through hell just to find him.

It is on this island, with codes, with a cruel organization that manipulates everyone, with unbelievable entities and mysteries, that he can finally have a normal life. He can finally wake up and have coffee with his son and husband, q!Cellbit can finally just build his castle and do things he never could like a simple picnic with the other eggs on the island.

And when he told q!Forever that "I don't have anyone off this island, everyone I love is here" he was right. Even if he was pretending to infiltrate, that sentence was totally true. q!Cellbit has no one outside Quesadilla Island, he has no reason to want to leave it.

But even so, all he wants is for the people he loves the most to be free. And that's what I love most about this character. I love how he suffered so much, how he saw the worst in people and still wants the best for them.

I love how flawed he is, how he fucks up and acknowledges it. And even when he doesn't recognize it and tries to smooth it over, to me that just makes him even more real. q!Cellbit is full of flaws and full of love, he understands others, he takes care of what is his.

q!Cellbit is human.

tradução pt-br

Recentemente, q!Cellbit falou um pouco mais sobre o seu passado na guerra junto de q!Badboyhalo - vamos fingir que eu não estou surtando pelos meus hcs serem canonizados - e eu queria refletir um pouco sobre tudo o que ele falou. Principalmente, refletir sobre o quão trágica é a vida de q!Cellbit e sobre como ele só pode ter uma rotina normal depois de chegar na ilha.

Primeiro tudo, gostaria de relembrar um fato meio triste que nos dá um pouco de pistas sobre a sua infância que ainda é um mistério. Um dia, q!Cellbit estava fazendo um piquenique com Richarlyson e ele fala "Sabia que eu nunca fui em um piquenique antes dessa ilha?", o que já tinha me despertado uma pulga atrás da orelha sobre uma coisa tão simples nunca ter acontecido nem em sua infância. Talvez eu esteja tornando uma frase simples muito mais profunda do que deveria, mas quando o q!Cellbit confirmou que ele entrou na guerra com apenas 14/15 anos de idade, minha mente não pode deixar de vagar para essa frase e esse dia.

Vamos lá, pelo pouco que o q!Cellbit elaborou da guerra para Richarlyson - que vou falar mais sobre depois - me leva a acreditar que no mínimo você teria que ter um treinamento pesado para sobreviver nela como um soldado mediano. Porém, q!Cellbit não era qualquer soldado, ele era um dos melhores da sua época com apenas 14 anos de idade. Por quanto tempo ele treinou? Quem o treinou? O quão intenso e cruel um treinamento tem que ser para um adolescente de apenas 14 anos de idade ser uma máquina de matar em meio ao caos do campo de batalha? O que tudo isso me faz pensar é que ele foi específicamente treinado desde a infância para ser um soldado. Claro, o treinamento pode não ter sido capaz de apagar a imprudência e rebeldia adolescente, mas ainda assim é a única coisa que eu consigo pensar para ele ter sido um lutador tão bom. q!Cellbit não teve aconchego, não teve descanso, nunca fez coisas normais de uma criança e talvez seja por isso que ele preze tanto para que Richarlyson viva como uma criança normal mesmo com todos os perigos da ilha. Mesmo que Richarlyson tenha que também ter sido criado como um guerreiro para se proteger, ainda assim q!Cellbit não quer que ele tenha o mesmo destino que ele.

E aí vamos para a guerra e é nesse momento que q!Badboyhalo entra. Ele confirmou, mais uma vez, que o demônio estava com ele e que eles lutaram lado a ladoDas coisas que q!Cellbit contou, uma delas era que ele era um Endermage - fora de roleplay: uma das classes de hg. Com isso, eu só consigo pensar em uma cena onde uma adolescente hiperativo saindo por aí teleportando todo mundo para perto de si e matando eles com uma habilidade impressionante enquanto um demônio milenar gritava para ele tomar cuidado e parar de falar palavrão enquanto desferia os golpes. Porque matar? Ok, mas palavrão era o limite - e claro que q!Cellbit morria de medo de q!Badboyhalo limpar sua boca com sabão depois das batalhas.

Ele também citou um pouquinho de como funcionava a guerra, que era literalmente o hg: eles eram jogados na arena, sem recursos e ou você era último a sobreviver ou você morreria. q!Cellbit contou como existiam covardes - palavras dele - que se escondiam em torres de blocos. Ele parece odiar bastante Stompers na real, citando como ele os caçava e como eles não esperava que ele fosse tão bom com seu poder de teleporte.

E então q!Cellbit fala para Richarlyson que "Eram tempos mais simples, onde eu tinha que lutar pela minha vida todos os dias." O quão conturbada a sua vida tem que ter sido para ISSO terem sido tempos mais simples? Lutar por sua vida em uma batalha cruel de vida ou morte todos os dias. Ele ter dito que era dias divertidos mesmo com o medo assolando sua pele, seu momento de diversão era no campo de batalha.

Depois disso, ele diz "Depois eu fui pra cadeia [...] tem mais ou menos relação (com a guerra)". E isso é o que mais me intriga: mesmo em Fuga Impossível, a gente nunca descobriu o porquê de ele ter sido preso. Essa informação é totalmente nova, o que me leva a crer em duas coisas: crime de guerra ou ele ser muito forte para deixar ele livre em sociedade. Eu penso muito sobre a possibilidade do crime de guerra por conta do canibalismo, mas ele mesmo disse que não chegou a cometer tanto assim - só que sinceramente não sei o quanto podemos confiar nas palavras de q!Cellbit sobre isso por conta do quão pouco confiável ele é quando se trata de algumas coisas da prisão, tendendo a amenizar situações para o seu lado. Fora o canibalismo, que não temos certeza se ele chegou a cometer na guerra já que apenas foram confirmados mordidas e a perna de q!Pac, penso em como ele era uma máquina de matar boa o suficiente para ter um interesse especial do governo em deixá-lo preso.

Pensa comigo: ele entrou na guerra com 14/15 anos, mas muita coisa me leva a crer que ele foi preso com uns 18 anos. Ele fala sobre como ele e q!Badboyhalo se separaram depois que a guerra acabou e depois disso ocorreu a prisão. Talvez essa quebra depois da guerra tenha tornado ele ainda mais mentalmente instável? q!Cellbit ainda ficou alguns anos em Alcatraz, mas não sabemos se ele já era instável quando chegou na prisão ou se a cadeia mexeu com a cabeça dele durante os anos. O seu comportamento pode ter sido gerado como um mecanismo de defesa contra outros presos mais agressivos junto de um reflexo dos traumas das batalhas, ele mal pôde ter tempo de processar todos os anos que ele viveu ali.

q!Cellbit frisa muito o "era matar ou morrer", dói muito imaginar o que isso fez com a mente dele. Em como ao se separar de q!Badboyhalo, ele estava sozinho e sem ninguém para confiar de novo. Ele dominou a prisão sozinho, fez pactos de proteção com outras gangues sozinho sem poder realmente confiar neles. Já falei sobre como confiança é importante para q!Cellbit, e agora isso só me faz pensar que ele apenas teve uma pessoa para realmente confiar antes da prisão.

Citando eu mesmo:

"Em Fuga Impossível, a única coisa que ele pediu para os moços foi "Não quebrem a minha confiança". Quero dizer, não podemos julgá-los pois f!Cellbit não era a pessoa mais sã de se ter uma relação dentro da cadeia - considerando nos fatos que se sucederam e nas consequências de um f!Felps morto em uma rebelião, f!Pac tendo sua perna comida, f!Jvnq assassinado e f!Cellbit abandonado em uma ilha.

Porém, ainda assim ele tentou confiar nos moços. Ele tentou dar uma chance, mesmo que você não possa ver essa chance com a melhores das intenções."

Confiança é o ponto central desse personagem, é algo essencial para ele. E ele eventualmente foge desse outro inferno que ele se meteu, sozinho e sem ninguém para confiar depois de ter sido traído e também ter feito coisas horríveis para seus companheiros de fuga porque q!Cellbit não é nenhum santo. E mais uma vez ele tem que dar a volta por cima sozinho.

E um grande espaço de tempo se passa desde então. Ele faz alguma terapia milagrosa e melhora, q!Cellbit reencontra os q!Tazercraft no navio mas eles ainda mantém essa relação de desconfiança de anos atrás. Ele também tem q!Felps para confiar agora e conhece q!Forever, nada é o mesmo que anos antes.

q!Cellbit reencontra q!Badboyhalo, seu companheiro de guerra. Dois veteranos machucados que passaram pelo inferno na vida antes e depois de tudo, que se separaram. Onde q!Badboyhalo vê aquele adolescente já crescido, cheio de cicatrizes, olheiras e traumas e pensa "O que aconteceu com você durante todo esse tempo?".

E me dói muito pensar que apenas agora q!Cellbit encontrou a felicidade e confiança que sempre procurou. Que sendo enfiado a força nessa ilha onde ele foi torturado, enganado pela federação várias vezes; sequestrado; teve partes das suas memórias apagadas do tempo que ele trabalhou ali; sofreu por ter quebrado a sua família na época da traição; foi só nessa maldita ilha que ele conseguiu encontrar pessoas para amar e confiar.

q!Cellbit ama a sua família e faria de tudo por ela. Ele ama o seu filho ao ponto de cogitar desistir de tudo só para que ele tenha um futuro melhor do que ele mesmo teve; ama seu Guapito, que tem sua plena confiança e amor incondicional ao ponto de quase ter uma recaída quando seu relacionamento foi ameaçado.

Seu Guapito, que foi sua âncora. Aquele que confiou e defendeu ele quando todos estavam contra, aquele que lhe deu suporte para tudo o que fizesse. Aquele que q!Cellbit errou, mas foi perdoado e tenta ser alguém melhor todos os dias para não falhar mais.

q!Forever, que confia TANTO nele ao ponto de nem ter interesse de saber uma informação se aquilo por sua família em risco. Aquele que mesmo depois de ouvir tanta merda saindo da boca de q!Cellbit, ainda assim tinha uma ponta de esperança de que era tudo mentira por confiar nele.

q!Tazercraft, que o perdoou mesmo depois de tudo o que ele fez. Depois de ele ter matado o seu amigo, que ajudam ele pois sabem que família é tudo que eles tem.

q!Felps, que é a pessoa que ele mais conhece. Seu melhor amigo, que fez ele ir ao inferno só para achá-lo.

É nessa ilha, com códigos, com uma organização cruel que manipula a todos, com entidades e mistérios inacreditáveis, que ele pode finalmente ter uma vida normal. Ele finalmente pode acordar e tomar um café com seu filho e seu marido, q!Cellbit finalmente pode apenas ficar construindo seu castelo e fazer coisas que ele nunca pôde como um piquenique simples com os outros ovos da ilha.

E quando ele falou para o q!Forever que "Eu não tenho ninguém fora dessa ilha, todo mundo que eu amo está aqui" ele estava certo. Mesmo que estivesse fingindo para se infiltrar, essa frase era totalmente verdade. q!Cellbit não tem ninguém fora da Ilha Quesadilha, ele não tem para quê querer sair dela.

Mas mesmo assim, tudo o que ele quer é que as pessoas que ele mais ama sejam livres. E é isso que eu mais amo nesse personagem. Eu amo como ele sofreu tanto, como ele viu o pior das pessoas e mesmo assim quer o melhor para elas.

Eu amo como ele é falho, como ele faz merda e reconhece. E mesmo quando ele não reconhece e tenta amenizar, para mim isso só faz dele ainda mais real. q!Cellbit é cheio de falhas e cheio de amor, é compreensível, é preocupado com os seus.

q!Cellbit é humano.

[starhvney]

um.... what if gene x fem reader that got stuck during the starlight ultima incident with his friends 🥹 what's he feelin... what if they reunited..

Sorry if this is cringe 🙏

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet gene x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: gene and the rest of his trio made it to starlight, but as soon as they arrive, they’re told they’re trapped on the island. amid the chaos, gene finally finds you, only for you to be ripped away from him once again

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst, hurt/comfort, zenix being slow(in the head), lowkey wingwoman sasha, gene crying and whimpering >:), could be seen as slightly ooc but i traumatized him for the plot so :3 oopsi!

𝐂𝐖: mentions of character death and violence, getting shot

𝐀/𝐍: did someone order a gene fic, extra angst? i haven’t caught up on rewatching the later seasons of mystreet, so i’m sorry for any inaccuracies in the lore! anyways another gene banger had to do it to em

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

it had happened so quickly. one moment, his eyes had landed on yours, the corners of his lips raising as he started to walk towards you. it had been too long since he’d seen you, and he couldn’t help the almost childish excitement he felt in his stomach. his mouth had only barely opened as he was about to call your name, when he realized the panicked expression on your face, your head shaking at him to stop. it stopped him in his tracks, the way your eyebrows were pinched together and your eyes were wide in… what was it? shock? fear? 

it was then he realized people were shouting and pointing in your direction, drawing the attention of some nearby soldiers. the ones who trapped everyone in here in this big mess.

“isn’t she one of the ones with the ultima?”

“right here! guards!”

then it was chaos. the crowd around him screamed and pushed him further away from you as armed men swarmed the area. he had started to push back, confused and dazed as he finally caught a glimpse of you again, running in the opposite direction.

then there was a loud popping noise, one that echoed across the plaza, and he watched your body drop and disappear amongst the crowd. loud, panicked screams sounded muffled in his ears as he stumbled back, the blood in his face draining.

why was his vision blurry? where was he again? 

he couldn’t breathe. he can’t breathe.

familiar hands pull him out of the crushing pushes of the crowd, keeping him upright as he gasps for air. when did his ears start ringing?

“gene! gene! come on man, let’s go, we need to get back to the room.” he’s finally able to focus on a voice, his normally narrowed blue eyes blown wide in shock.

zenix felt disturbed, looking at the state of gene in that moment. he had never seen his friend like that, his mouth was agape in shock, chest hitching unevenly as gene’s glazed over eyes looked straight through him like he wasn’t even there.

“what happened…?” he trails, before shaking his head and dragging his paralyzed friend through the crowd. “come on, sasha is back towards the condo. she’ll be worried.”

it was a blur, the next week. the guardian forces sent out a curfew, only letting people out of their rented residences if they were getting food or necessities and arresting anyone they deemed “suspicious”. he couldn’t sleep, eye bags darker than usual and skin gaunt from exhaustion.

anytime he closed his eyes he saw your face, his heart twisting at how anxious you had looked in that moment. were you able to get away? or did you bleed out on the concrete, losing consciousness as the crowd kicked sand in your face? was it instant instead, sparing you the suffering and pain? what if he was able to make it to you before you were shot, could you be here with him right now?

regret ate him alive, every moment he had spent with you replaying like a movie. your smile when you’d lock eyes with him. your eyes when you were talking about the things you liked. how he had hesitated telling you how his heart sped up when he was around you, knowing you would be leaving on vacation. what if he told you, that day?

a faint but rapid knock interrupted his thoughts, his eyes darting up to meet the wary looks of sasha and zenix. After a moment of contemplation, he gets up slowly, approaching the door and grabbing a kitchen knife from the counter. it doesn’t matter if it was the soldier who fired the shot at you or not, his jaw clenched as he hardened his resolve to plunge the object right into the throat of…

just as you were anxiously questioning if you got the condo number right, the door in front of you slightly opened, revealing the man that you had been looking for. a second passes as he stares at you, dull blue eyes boring into yours with an unreadable emotion in them. you hear something metallic drop to the tiled floor behind him, tearing your attention away from him for a split moment.

before you can say anything his hand reaches out, grasping onto your hoodie and yanking you into the room with unexpected force. shaky arms wrap around you, tight enough to almost be near painful. you register the door shutting behind you, but your focus falls on gene’s hitched breaths hitting your ear, his body feeling slightly weaker and thinner than you remember.

“who…? oh shit, she’s alive.”

zenix’s voice disappears as soon as it had appeared as sasha dragged him into another room, her voice hushed and muffled.

“gene…” you cautiously call out, earning you another tight squeeze.

your feet drag as his back hits the wall, sliding to the floor and taking you down with him. his legs trap you against him, keeping you completely crumpled in his lap. just as you’re about to say something again, you feel his entire torso shake with a silent sob, an almost inaudible whimper meeting your ears. his quiet gasps for breath hit your hair, tears dampening your neck and hoodie as his whole body continued to shudder against yours.

for a moment you’re left frozen in shock. you can’t remember one time you had seen the man cry, let alone break down as he was right now. you move your arms as much as his unyielding hold would let you, trying your best to return his desperate embrace.

“...were dead.” his voice cracks out hoarsely, only letting you hear the end of his sentence.

“...what?”

“i thought you were dead.” he shudders out another whimpered breath. “i saw you get shot.”

one of his hands that was clutching onto your shoulder moves up, shifting his grip to the back of your head and tucking you closer to the crook of his neck. he presses his nose into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo before placing a teary kiss against your head.

“i was grazed by a bullet, but i’m okay.”

his other hand finds your cheek, moving your head back enough for your eyes to meet. gingerly, you use your thumb to wipe the remaining tears from under his eyes, frowning at the swollen dark circles underneath them. his dark eyebrows are uncharacteristically upturned, and his eyelashes wet and stuck together.

midnight blue irises dart down to your lips before he meets them with his own. it’s desperate, the way he tilts your head back, one of his hands threading through your hair and the other rubbing and pinching the skin on your cheek–as if he were checking that you were really there. his lips taste salty, his tears only slightly hiding how chapped they were from a lack of hydration. he parts from you to rest his forehead against yours, his breaths finally steady and full. you stare up at him in a surprised daze, feeling the pieces of a large puzzle begin to click in your head.

slowly, the two of you rise to stand again, his hands still clinging to you as if you would disappear from them if he let go. you hear soft footsteps enter the room again, and turn to see sasha peeking through the doorway. she scans you with her eyes, before her downturned lips stretch into a rare smile.

“i’m glad you’re okay.”

zenix appears behind her, arms crossed and lips pressed together in thought. sasha kicks his shin with her foot, causing him to curse under his breath at the sharp pain.

“me too, obviously.” his eyes narrowed. “but… how did you find us, exactly?

“it’s a long story, but i came to get you guys to bring you back to where we’re all hiding out. if michael or the gf finds out you’re associated with us… you guys are safer if we’re all together.” their eyes stare blankly at you in confusion. “i can explain more later, but you should pack what you can and get ready to sneak across the island.”

“sneaking into places we’re not supposed to be is the one thing we’re good at.” sasha smirks before she and zenix retreat back into their rooms.

you glance back at gene, only to see he was still staring down at you. you raise on your tiptoes, pressing a short kiss to his lips. he leans down as his lips try to follow yours, eyes hesitating to open again 

“and when we get back, you can explain more about this later.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[aetherdoesthings]

Love triangle with nami and sanji (not poly) both in love with a fem straw hat reader (maybe the crews seemstress or botenist?) I just think it would be really funny to see those characters go against each other competing for a girls love😂

elo anon! i had a fun time writing this one. just two people competing for your love and doing everything in their power to win you over is just 🤭

forethoughts: just two lovestruck hooligans trying to win your love 😁

notes: oblivious reader, a lot of pampering from both sides, competitive nami and sanji, robin being a third wheel but loving it

You were the new botanist of the Straw Hat Pirates (for some reason Luffy deemed the job useful for his crew and ship)

You spent your days tending to the plants in a greenhouse Franky had built for you that had vegetables and fruits growing

You thought your life was going to be boring, even though you were on Monkey D. Luffy’s ship. You didn’t necessarily have the capabilities to fight, so mostly you just stayed behind and guarded the ship. 

But you never expected life on the ship would be chaotic.

The first day you had joined the crew, Nami and Sanji already had their eyes on you, their minds set on getting as close to you as possible.

Of course, seeing that you were a girl, Sanji was already lovestruck. 

Nami was ecstatic that a. another girl was finally going to be joining the crew (aside from Robin who she considered to be a sister), and b. you were cute and adorable.

Nami and Sanji knew that they had a crush on you, but blinded by their love, they were prepared to fight to gain your love. Sanji was even willing to put aside his love for Nami for the sake of yours.

Since you were a girl, you shared a room with Nami and Robin. That gave Nami the upper hand, as the two of you were the same gender. And of course, Nami abused this advantage as much as she could. Every time the Sunny landed on a new island, she’d take you shopping, calling it ‘girl’s day’, while Robin just walked a few feet behind the two of you (She knew Nami was in love with you, and decided to just stand back and watch the chaos unfold). Nami would let you use her money without reimbursing you at all. Every night, she’ll always stay up talking to you about anything you wanted until the two of you fell asleep. She always lets you borrow her clothes, use her hair products, makeup, etc., anything that you wanted.

Sanji knew about Nami’s advantage, and hated it, but he found his own way. For every meal of the day, he made the most luxurious, gourmet food for you (and only you), while everyone else got the remnants of your gourmet dish. Robin still had better food than the boys, but Nami got a more subpar dish than you and Robin. It wasn’t bad, it was just not as good as before you joined.

After every meal, Sanji would wait for an hour or two to pass, before entering your greenhouse and bringing a small plate of desserts or treats for you. In exchange, you’d always give him your fresh and finest crops ready for the kitchen. Oh, how weak Sanji felt when it was always 3pm. 

You were completely oblivious to Sani and Nami’s actions. You had initially asked Robin if Nami was ‘always like this’, and Robin simply smiled at you, telling you to just go along with whatever the navigator wishes to do. And you always assumed Sanji was just this gentleman-like, according to Zoro and Usopp.

To this day, they still haven’t stopped their fight against each other, and the oblivious soul you were, you just continued on with your day, appreciating the clothes and gifts Nami would get you and the food Sanji would make for you.

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: SDR2 Boys x Reader - Marshmallow Hell Scenarios

Details: For those who don’t know, Marshmallow Hell is an anime cliche/trope where someone falls face first into/is smothered by someone’s breasts. Also, this is for anyone with breasts, no pronouns are mentioned

Warnings: language and lewd suggestive scenarios but its kinda PG-13/Teen

SDR2 spoilers in some sections, but some will be implied to be Island Mode/no despair

Word Count: 4.5K words - around 500 for each boy

Byakuya Twogami

It was normal for you and all of your classmates to convene in the hotel restaurant every morning. You ate breakfasts handmade by the Ultimate Cook, discussed the day’s plans, and just caught up with each other. There were already cliques and little sub-groups within the whole - people who favored each other. Nekomaru could often be found getting stronger or training with Akane, Sonia and Gundham spoke of their interest in the occult, and Hajime and Chiaki had grown quite close. Ibuki had developed a fondness and sort of infatuation for the group’s self-appointed leader: Byakuya Togami. It seemed natural to want to be closer to someone titled the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, as he held wealth, status, confidence, and yet a bit of mystery. Ibuki, however, seemed to take to him more than the others. She was constantly asking him questions, playfully praising him, following him around.

This morning in particular, you were minding your own business, in the corner talking about beach-going plans with Chiaki after having just finished your breakfast. Ibuki, loud and boisterous, was trailing behind Byakuya, asking after what their esteemed leader had planned for the day, and Hiyoko, short-tempered as ever, was slowly losing her patience with the noise so early in the morning.

You actually had to commend Byakuya on his own patience. For someone who would be easy to judge as pompous and stuck-up, he actually was quite good at keeping his cool and naturally taking up his post as leader. He passed by Chiaki and yourself on the way back to the kitchen of the restaurant, and you nearly felt bad for the man who appeared to still be groggy from sleep and yet was being bombarded by conversation. He handled Ibuki well. Hiyoko, however, had enough it seemed.

“Ugh! Shut the hell up! I just woke up and you’re being annoying! Go talk to Mr. Ham Hands in your private cabin if you wanna suck his gross, cheesy dick that bad!” Clenching her teeth in frustration, Hiyoko reached out and shoved Ibuki as hard as she could with her angry little hands. The strength such a hateful little body could produce was actually quite surprising. Ibuki screeched, stumbled abruptly forward into Byakuya, who, taken by surprise, tumbled forward onto you. Like a stack of dominos you all went down with quite a bit of commotion.

With the hefty size and height of the Affluent Progeny before you, you were easily taken flat to the ground with a gasp. Everyone turned to look at the situation: Ibuki collapsed across Byakuya’s ass and legs, and Byakuya smothered head first into the plush front of your breasts. Time seemed to stop for a second, and Byakuya raised his head, cheeks aflame with embarrassment at the undignified position. You looked back into his eyes with just as much shock. Hiyoko covered her mouth with both hands, holding back how devilishly delighted she was at the chaos she’d just caused.

“Well, well! If the big rich boy wanted some play that badly, he probably could’ve just asked (Y/N)! I must say, I’m quite jealous of his position!” Teruteru teased, wiggling his fingers, imagining himself switching places with Byakuya.

Byakuya scrambled to his feet, lifting himself off of you in a hurry while sputtering defensive, angry retorts about how a gentleman of rare stock such as himself would never stoop so low and something about not being a common rake like the promiscuous chef.

Teruteru Hanamura

Teruteru was playful, unserious, relaxed in most aspects of his life and personality. However, you noticed he was fiercely serious when it came to cooking. It was his passion, his life’s work, something he didn’t play around with. You admired how much time and effort he put into his craft, and loved to watch him work. He spent every breakfast, lunch and dinner period making a literal feast for all of his classmates, and you often liked to either watch him work his magic in the kitchen, or get more hands-on and actually help him. You found him funny and knowledgable, and liked learning little recipes and cooking methods as much as eating the finished works. However, it was nice to be complimented, compared to delicious dishes and praised for your cooking assistance skills. You found yourself having a lot of fun with him.

At the moment, you were helping Teruteru in the dining hall of the old building by the hotel. Your class had prepared a little party of sorts for tonight, a little feast and get-together to chat, have fun, and just be carefree for a night. Now done with the dishes, it was all about plating and arrangment. He wanted the dining hall to stun your peers when they arrived in the next ten minutes or so.

He was up on a ladder, piling up a tower of sashimi and nigiri a mile high. You spotted him, nervous about the height he was at, especially with his short frame. You had your arms out in preparation, ready for any spills or to catch stray strips of fish meat. Everything had to be perfect. He took pride in that. Ice on the bottom, a cold room, fresh meat, the proper placement.

Teetering to place a bit of yellowtail and red snapper on the top of his masterpiece, you heard him gasp a bit, one foot stumbling over the other on the top step of the ladder. Determined not to crash into and therefore ruin his mountain of fish, he quickly shifted his weight, twisting so he instead fell away and off of the ladder and unfortunately, onto his gracious helper. You grunted with the impact, slamming flat onto your back on the hard floor with Teruteru on top of you. With his height and the angle of the fall, his face planted so very conveniently into your breasts.

It was almost a little too perfect of a scenario for someone like him, and you flustered up immediately, questioning if he’d done it on purpose as he took his good old time getting up. Of course, lewd remark after lewd remark ensued, as he took advantage of the situation fully. How often would he get an opportunity as lucky as that?

Nekomaru Nidai

Nekomaru had many more positive traits than negative ones. You absolutely loved spending time with him, as he radiated positivity and pushed all of those around him to be their best self and train their bodies and minds. He was all about mental and physical strength, as was expected of the Ultimate Team Manager. Nekomaru trained champions, and so he could never just let his friends go without realizing their full potential. You very much enjoyed his presence, his overwhelming energy, hearty laugh, encouraging personality.

Spending time with Nekomaru often meant also spending time with Akane. The two walls of muscle often bonded over their shared interest in being strong in body and mind, and today you’d agreed to train with them. Nekomaru was good at reading people’s insecurities - better to help overcome them - and today, he insisted on honing your senses, as the killing game left you feeling vulnerable and even a bit useless. There’s no one you trusted more to help you get out of those feelings. It was good to get your mind off of things while training to become less of a target for a killing. Two birds, one stone and all that.

Nekomaru had all four of you blindfolded: you, Nekomaru himself, Akane, and Hajime Hinata, who often got roped into silly activities with whoever seemed to be available to hang out that particular day. Nekomaru insisted he could use the training as well, so here he was. The next hour or so was spent dodging light attacks, relying on hearing and sensing danger when sight was not an option. Nekomaru always went easier on you and Hajime, saving the harder hits for Akane, who would never accept any less. Out on the beach behind the diner, you felt the sand between your toes, the wind on your face, the blindfold forcing you to perceive your surroundings in a whole new way.

You swivled on your heels, hearing someone new approach from the south, and you assumed everyone else heard them, too. It was Ibuki, as you easily reognized from the voice.

“There you guys are! We couldn’t find you for like, forever! Anyhoo! Teruteru sent me to round y’all up! Soup’s on! Come on back to the-” before Ibuki could even finish her words, Akane was bolting, blindfold still on, toward the first island, and only Ibuki would actually see what happened next:

Akane, all speed and no sight, plowed into Hajime and pushed past him. He yelped, splatting onto the ground at full-force.

“Ouch! What the fu- ah!” Hajime was cut off as Nekomaru, who also was now heading in the same direction as Akane, tripped over Hajime’s prone body on the sand, tripping face forward onto you, innocent of the chaos and unsuspecting while still blind to the world around you.

“Gah!” Nekomaru’s deep voice rumbled, clumsily taking you down with him, his huge mountain of a body easily smashing yours into the sand below him. Ibuki could only laugh at the cluster-fuck in front of her, the chain of events that lead to Nekomaru face planting directly into your chest. His exclamation of surprise was muffled into your soft mounds of flesh. You were speechless, just wondering what the hell was going on.

“Aww man, sorry, Hajime!” Nekomaru, hearing Hajime yell out beforehand, assumed it was the skinny brunette crushed below him. He reached up for the blindfold, lifting it and immediately feeling a rush of embarrassment set his cheeks ablaze. The tips of his ears were on fire and his heartbeat was racing, now making eye contact with you.

He wasn’t oblivious to his size, knowing whoever he’d fallen on top of was almost certainly pinned and unable to get up until he moved, so he scrambled to is feet, apologizing profusely and helping you to your feet while Ibuki made teasing remarks just a short distance away.

Gundham Tanaka

It was a rare stormy night on the beautiful tropical island. All outdoor activities were off the table, and so you and your good friend, Gundham, decided on spending time in his cabin. It had taken a lot of work to get Gundham to this point, where he let a “mere mortal” into the safe space of his private quarters, and he was still closed off in some ways. He had walls up: about his heart, his past, his Four Dark Devas, and you’d slowly broken many of them down. He still was his own quirky, awkward, edgy self, but around you, he was slightly more relaxed. He didn’t usually let others interact with his Devas, and he still insisted they could turn on even himself in a moment’s notice as they were powerful beasts and truly their own masters, but he was more comfortable letting you hold and take care of them than anyone else. You’d earned that right. You were worthy in his eyes.

You loved his personalized cabin, overrun with hamster tunnels and pet care items. It was so cute and cozy, a stark contrast to his own presentation to the world. Tonight, he regaled you with embellished and dramatic tales of his past feats while the Devas crawled all around you. One was under the collar of your shirt, trying to siphon away your body heat, another used your shirt sleeve like a tunnel. One sat in your lap, eating a seed you offered. Gundham’s storytelling was so entertaining to you because he was so effortlessly good at it. It was an accident that he was so alluring.

Without warning, lightning cracked outside and the lights went out. It was pure black all around you, and you assumed your peers in their own cabins were experiencing the same thing.

Freaking out a bit, Gundham yelled for his Devas, calling them back to his own side. Again, though he trusted you, and didn’t want to admit any faults in his breeding and training methods, at the end of the day, the Devas were animals with instincts and wild at heart. He feared them panicking at the sudden darkness and lashing out to scratch or bite you. He could handle it, as his bandaged arm proved, but he didn’t want that happening to you.

He reached out frantically for the Devas in the dark, lunging forward, scrambling and stumbling until he accidentally toppled you over. Clumsily, he fell forward onto you. You yelped at the impact, not seeing but feeling the Devas scramble for cover away from you before they could be crushed by their owner. Now flat on your back in the darkness, you smelled a masculine, fragrant gel product as a coif of hair tickled your nostrils. Quickly you realized that Gundham Tanaka had pinned you, his face smashed into your bosom.

The monitor that adorned every individual cabin flashed on, the monochromatic, evil bear appearing with a sheepish look across his mischievous face.

“Sorry there, kiddos! Backup generator comin’ at ya!” As if he even cared in the first place, he giggled before disappearing off the screen once again.

The lights shuttered and then flashed back on, Gundham now able to fully take in the situation. His eyes met yours, and widened in absolute horror, mouth agape. He shoved himself off of you immediately, crawling back to his side of the floor and gathering his Devas into his arms. He preferred to pretend the whole thing never happened, hiding his now tomato-red face behind the folds of his scarf.

Nagito Komaeda

Nagito was acting weird. Like, weirder than usual. You were all in the hotel restaurant for your morning meeting as always, save for Fuyuhiko, who was in the hospital after Peko’s trial the day before. Nagito was a clammy, sweaty mess, ranting and and raving about the most random things, and just… lying a lot?

You knew Nagito a little better than the others in the group, actively choosing to befriend and get to know him as much as he would allow, but one didn’t need to know Nagito well to know that he was lying. He was saying the most outlandish, obvious lies in rapid succession.

“Nagito, is this a joke? What are you up to, now?” Hajime, ever cynical and suspicious questioned the pariah of the group, who held himself in a crazed embrace, arms wrapped around his shaking form as he rambled on.

You also knew from spening time with Nagito that he was ill, extremely ill. He was so physically ill that it extended into affecting his mental and emotional wellbeing as well. It wasn’t like he didn’t lie to push his own goals from time to time, but this was different. Something was wrong. You’d all observed that Ibuki and Akane were acting strange as well, and so Hajime, kind of the default leader of sorts, put his flat palm to each of their foreheads and found them ablaze with heat. Ah ha! So there was an illness on top of the illness. Nagito was lanky and pale as it was, but today, he was a ghost of even that.

The group discussed what to do, trying to figure out what was wrong with your three obviously ill classmates, when Nagito, chuckling in a frenzied, unstable way, started to wobble on his feet. You saw his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he stumbled, beginning to drop. You swept forward and moved to catch him before he could hit the floor and take some real damage. With someone as sickly as him, a good fall would probably mess him up big time. Losing consciousness, his dead weight fell face forward, directly into the cushion of your breasts. You fumbled with his weight, struggling to keep him up while he nearly suffocated into the plush surface that smothered his face. You panicked, looking around for help, humiliation in your expression. He was heavier than his gangly frame suggested.

Hajime Hinata

You had the despair disease.

And you had it bad.

Forced into the hospital on the third island, you, Nagito, Akane and Ibuki had been quarantined, separated from most of your healthy classmates. Only Mikan, Fuyuhiko and Hajime visited the four of you on a day-to-day basis, both to care for you until you were better and to protect you from being victims of the killing game. Hajime, being closer to you than the others and someone who considered you a true friend, also just wanted to be there to keep you company. If he caught the disease trying to protect and visit you, so be it. He wasn’t really worried about it.

Little did Hajime know, you very much saw him as more than a friend. Although you’d never admit it to him, you were head over heels for your intelligent, perceptive, caring classmate. Your crush couldn’t have been bigger. When the disease first began to manifest and you were in the more mild stages of it, you tried to keep him away from the hospital, because it was clear to you which form of the disease you’d caught.

Akane had cowardice, Nagito lying, Ibuki gullibility, and you… 

It was most definitely love… or lust, or infatuation… you couldn’t quite tell. You’d like to think it was love, because if it was just lust or infatuation, you’d think you’d be climbing all over Fuyuhiko and Mikan when they came to visit, too, but so far, your grabby hands had only been reaching for Hajime. Your mind had been infected with an all-encompassing passion for Hajime Hinata, and Hajime Hinata alone.

Again, when you were more conscious and healthy at the begginning stages of the disease, you could recognize the involuntary increase of feelings swelling in your heart. You tried to warn Hajime to stay away, fully aware of what was happening to your body. He insisted on taking care of you just as he would help Mikan take care of the others, regardless of your warnings. As your fever burned and the sickness ravaged your body, you found it harder and harder to not grab at him when he approached, to not flirt shamelessly, to not look him up and down and imagine him without his shirt on. On days when the island felt hotter than usually, you subtly even suggested that he just be rid of the white uniform shirt altogether. Hajime had been a blushing mess around you all week, but had done his best to ignore the touches and advances, as he knew you weren’t in your right frame of mind. Though he secretly liked you more as a friend as well, he’d never take advantage of your predicament.

On this day in particular, the disease seemed to be at its climax. Your body was going through waves of heat flashes, sweat pouring from your hairline and onto your face.

As soon as Hajime opened the door to your hospital room, you leapt out of the bed before he could even speak a word. Your heart burned with affection as you latched onto him, jumping into his arms and smushing his face into the crevice of your breasts, very much on purpose.

“Hajime~ I missed you~” You crushed his nose into the sweaty cleavage of your bosom, wanting him to feel the warmth and love you held for him.

“(Y-Y/N)!” Hajime sputtered, stunned at the surprise attack, could barely breath, smothered into the embrace.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

You really admired Peko for her strength, skill and silent grace. She was strong and knew she was strong. She didn’t boast, she was confident in her art form. She was truly the Ultimate Swordswoman. Although it was quite hard at first, you’d managed to get close enough to her to consider her a friend. Being close to Peko by default meant you’d have to get a bit closer with Fuyuhiko as well. The pair were inseparable it seemed, and you didn’t mind that. Fuyuhiko, despite his fiery, spiky exterior, was actually much more thoughtful and kind that most people knew. You’d grown to realize that those who earned a modicum of his trust and friendship would not be disappointed in the type of man he could be. He often tagged along, pretending he didn’t want to be there when you hung out with Peko.

You stood on one side of the beach with Peko across the way on the other side. Peko took up an offensive stance, preparing for a head-on attack. She’d agreed to teach you some swordsmanship and martial arts basics here and there after seeing your interest, and so here you were, on your third lesson. Today’s learning goals included the basics of defensive stances, blocks, counters.

You weren’t picking up the skills as quickly as you’d like, though Peko always encouraged you to press on in her sisterly, stern, blunt way. Fuyuhiko stood nearby, reading some old book from the enormous library while leaned carelessly against the outside wall of the diner. He looked up occassionally to watch you two and comment, to scoff or tease when you messed up or express concern begrudgingly when he felt like Peko was going a little hard on you. Though she was supportive verbally, it seemed that she sometimes forgot her own strength compared to a beginners when it came time for action.

Frustrated with your own skills, you spaced out a bit, sighing and dropping your guard for just a moment, the wrong moment. Peko surged forward for an attack, noticing your lack of focus just a second too late.

“(Y/N), block!” Peko spoke curtly as she approached. With that wake up call, you brought the practice sword up at the very last second, just barely avoiding a head-on attack from the master swordswoman, one that probably would’ve knocked you out cold. Your pathetic excuse for a block took away a bit of the brunt impact, but Peko’s pure strength had you stumbling back still, knocked backward off your feet.

Fuyuhiko, softer in the heart than he’d like to admit, looked up upon hearing the commotion and, in an instinctual moment of reaction, dropped his book and lunged forward, ready to break your fall, if even just a little. You made eye contact with him on the way down, dropping hold of the sword and twisting to grab onto his petite frame. 

You easily tipped over his small body, taking him down with you. You instantly smothered him - your chest lining up perfectly with his nose and mouth - cutting off his airways as you two hit the ground. You were crushing him.

Profanities and protests fully muffled against your chest, Fuyuhiko struggled and swore, insulting you and hurling hateful curses from his compromising position.

Kazuichi Souda

You were making your way to Strawberry House from Grape House. In the elevator beside you was your good friend, Kazuichi, or just Kaz’, as you’d affectionately taken to calling him. You two often moved together, hanging out nearly every day, and now that you were all locked inside the funhouse, nothing had changed. In fact, with the danger of the killing game motive, you probably spent even more time linked at the hip with Kazuichi, as you liked to have each other’s back. He was a true friend to you.

Not only did you find Kazuichi’s unique style intriguing and his personality hilarious, but you really respected his unmatchable skill in engineering. He was a master, able to fix, take apart, and fix again nearly every machine or piece of tech that was thrown at him. He often, in fact, didn’t see just how amazing he was. Sure, he bragged at times, but you sensed a lot of insecurity under the surface, like he would never know just how valuable and important he actually was. You would often ask for his help fixing things or beg him to teach you some of what he knew.

On what you expected to be a short ride in the elevator, you were chatting it up with your best bud, complaining about the lack of food and the eye-strain caused by the bright walls of the fun house. One thing you two loved to do was complain together. You both just seemed to get each other.

Quite suddenly, the elevator stalled. Stopping mid-sentence, you grabbed onto Kazuichi’s forearm for reassurance as the elevator shook and thrusted to an abrupt halt with a jolt, knocking you into him. The lights flickered and went out.

“This is my worst fucking nightmare…” You chuckled nervously, grabbing onto Kazuichi tighter. He was panicking too under the surface, but being the Ultimate Mechanic, knew he was well within his skill set to fix the situation. Grumbling in displeasure, he sighed.

“Yeah, this fuckin’ sucks, but…” he started reaching out in the dark, looking for some kind of control panel or buttons, “I can probably get us outta here. Shit! If only I had just a speck of light!” You relinquished your hold on him so he could crouch, looking for some way to start his work. The panic was starting to really set in for you. What were the odds of this happening?

With a groan, the elevator lurched and shook again. 

“Kaz’!” You shrieked in the dark, leaping forward to grab onto Kazuichi, not caring one bit if you were impeding on any progress he had made. He yelped as you suctioned yourself onto him, tackling him to the ground.

“H-hey!” Kazuichi’s voice was muffled below you. You could barely make it out. “I can’t breathe!” He struggled beneath you, locked in your vice-like, terrified embrace as you ashphixiated him into your chest.

[casiavium]

I wrote a fanfic based on the twitter/tiktok takeover instead of working on my master's thesis, which is due in two weeks. lol.

Title: Chaos Theory

Rating: G

Pairing: Sonic the Hedgehog/Shadow the Hedgehog

Tags: Sonic, Shadow, Cream, Cheese, Slice of Life, Rivals to Lovers, Babysitting, Amusement Parks, Awkward Dates

Summary: Everything's a contest with Sonic and Shadow, even babysitting... learn to expect the unexpected.

Sonic watched the small rabbit bounce down the path, jabbering away to her friend as it floated alongside her head trying to keep up. Carnival music filled his ears, bright lights flashed from every corner, and even the threat of water rides didn't mess up his good mood.

Beside him someone who was decidedly not having as great a time finally broke his silence to complain, his rough whisper just barely heard above the roar of rollercoasters in the distance.

"So we're really doing this?"

"Well, yeah, I wasn't joking when I said I'd be great at this, and Vanilla seemed pretty happy when I offered to take her to the park. The new kiddie ride opened last week and she hasn't stopped talking about it."

"Your first instinct was that we'd be protecting milk."

"... like you've never misunderstood someone." Pouting, Sonic ignored Shadow's further jabs as they caught up with Cream at the entrance to the park. A bored teenager sat at the ticket desk, typing aimlessly on a computer as he glanced at the group.

"Entrance is free for cute couples, but the kid and the chao are going to have to pay."

"Cute couple? We're not—"

"Opposed to that!" Pushing Shadow out of the way, Sonic forked over the cash and smiled wide. Through clenched teeth he hissed, "Shut up and take the discount, tickets are expensive."

Four tickets were pushed into his hand, and the worker mumbled something he didn't quite hear. It didn't matter enough to bother him, and soon enough they were all inside the park. Spread out before them was a sticky wonderland of possibilities, kids running around screaming while tired parents followed behind. Paradise.

"Okay, Cream, what do you want to do first? Games? Rides? Ice cream? Chili dogs?"

"Can she even eat those?"

"Shadow, she's six. Of course she can eat chili dogs."

Cream thought for a moment, looking towards her chao for support. "What do you think, Cheese?"

Cheese just bobbed around saying 'chao chao', but somehow that was enough of an answer for her. "Games!"

"No problem-o, just point me to which one you want." Her tiny paw shot out towards the nearest stand, covered in stuffed animals from wall to ceiling. "Basketball? You sure? You're so..."

Short, he meant to say, but Shadow interrupted him. "Let her play the game, Sonic, what harm can it do."

"Okay, but..."

Cream had already darted off, Cheese floating after her. "Oh, that prize looks just like Cheese!"

At the basketball stand, Cream had been unsuccessful and missed each goal she needed to win a prize. The counter at the top sat at a big fat 'zero'. Her ears were dropping, and she looked very upset as she longingly stared at the largest stuffed chao Sonic had ever laid eyes on.

The guy behind the counter shrugged, tucking the money Sonic had paid for her to play into his apron. "Aw, tough luck kid. Try again next time!"

"One more game!" He had a crazy idea, but it would stop tears and save his reputation as best babysitter this side of the islands. "Shadow, distract the guard while I win this for her."

"Not very heroic of you to cheat, Sonic."

"And not very heroic to let Cream leave without a prize she really wants!" Lowering his voice, Sonic muttered, "Do this for me and I'll win you one of the keyring black and red ones."

Shadow rolled his eyes, but grabbed the nearest stuffed animal and tugged it off the wall anyway. "Hey! You! You call this a fox? I've seen roadkill that looked better than these things?"

While Shadow argued with the attendant, Sonic spin-dashed to the top and slid through the hoop. The game counted it as a score, and as Shadow kept up his distraction, Sonic racked up the points.

The timer went ding-ding-ding! again, and this time, the score was almost as high as it could go. Both feet on the ground, Sonic stood proudly as Cream jumped up and down in delight.

"What? When did you...?" The attendant looked from Sonic to Shadow to Cream with narrowed eyes, but his shoulders fell with a sigh. "I don't get paid enough to deal with this. Fine, I guess you win."

One ultra-large chao and one smaller keychain in hand, Sonic and company wandered away from the game stand with smiles on their faces (save a certain member of the group), laughing about how the rules never explicated stated you couldn't use yourself as a basketball.

"Mr. Sonic, can we go to the new merry-go-round now?"

"Sounds good! You lead the way!"

Cream had already started to run off, her outline disappearing into the crowd, when Shadow grabbed Sonic's arm and pulled him back. Holding a paper map in open in one hand, he was eyeing the park diagram with his characteristic fun-killing skepticism. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Sonic scoffed, shoving him away. Already revving up to race him after the rabbit, he shrugged, "C'mon, it's just a merry-go-round, how bad can it be?

--

"I'm not getting on that."

"Oh yes you are." Shadow grinned, swatting him in the head with his map. One long line later they had finally reached the gate keeping them from getting on the ride, and it was like walking into a nightmare. A dozen carriages lazily spun around a beautiful fountain, some shaped like swans, some cute colorful ducklings. Though they each followed along the track, nothing was connecting the carts to each other or to the ride. Instead, they were floating about two feet off the ground. And what was between the ducks and the ground?

Water.

It was a water ride.

The ride attendant pushed Cream, Cheese, and her large stuffed chao forward into a pastel pink duckling, giving the car a push.

"Hey, wait! You can't make her go by herself!"

"Two to a car." The gruff man ordered, pointing at the duckling as it drift away. "Stuffed chao counts."

Cream squealed as the duck meandered ahead, cooing at the flowered arches and hanging vines dangling over her head.

"Next."

"I'm not getting on that—!" Shadow's hand covered his mouth as he wrapped an arm around him, pushing him into a large swan.

"You're embarrassing me."

The boat rocked as he nearly fell out of it, crystal blue water on either side of snow white wings. When they lurched forward along the lazy river, he tightened his arms around the figure he was holding onto (probably the swan's neck), and squeezed his eyes shut. If he let out a terrified squeak, no one but him would know.

"Sonic, you can let go now."

"What? Oh, uh, yeah..." His arms didn't seem to work anymore, so unlatching his grip wasn't going to happen. "Hmm, I don't think so."

"Can you at least open your eyes? What's the point of babysitting if you're not even going to watch the kid."

Sonic peeked open one lid, colorful scenes of flowers and marble statues around him. The ride would have been gorgeous had it not been on a rotating river. Something Amy would have drug him on, to be honest, not something he'd have chosen, but he could understand the artistry of it all the same. Cream was laughing from the pink duckling in front of them, her ears popping into his vision from either side of the swan's neck. Which meant that...

"Crazy blue hedgehog." Shadow murmured, leaning away but not removing Sonic's arms from his person. "It's two feet of water, you're not going to drown."

"You can drown in two inches! I'm not taking any chances."

He felt the rumble in Shadow's chest as he groaned, but wasn't pushed away. Surprisingly, the steady rise and fall of his breath was calming him, and Sonic could take a moment to really appreciate the design. There were enough flowers to fill Tails' workshop, and that was only in the area he could see. Tiny statues of chaos with wings aimed bows and arrows at the riders, their smiling faces surrounded by roses and lilies in every color imaginable. Not a ride he'd have chosen by a long shot, but maybe it wasn't that bad.

The entrance gate came into view again, barely three minutes since they got on.

"Half an hour of waiting for this?"

"Too long, in my opinion," Sonic grumbled, jumping when the boat rocked in the water, "and I wouldn't call this a 'merry'-go-round."

The final archway was upon them, enough vines crossing overhead to block out the sun. The scent of the flowers was nauseatingly strong, but Shadow took in a deep breath.

"Lavender..." Reaching a hand out, he brushed against the delicate purple flowers as they passed. "Hm. Maybe it wasn't all that bad."

"And maybe the moon's made of cheese, let's get the heck off this thing." Clambering over top of him, Sonic fought his way out of the ride tooth and nail. He'd go down screaming if he had to, ready to be back on solid, dry land, and—

"Relax, you're away from the water. Can we accomplish what we came here to do and get the hell out of here?" Shadow's sudden hostility shocked him back to reality, his senses returning to him from the total shut down the water had caused.

"What?"

"Ice cream, seagulls, something about handling oddly specific situations. I'm done babysitting."

Sonic looked from Shadow to Cream, who was staring at them with her wide brown eyes. Even Cheese looked like they knew something Sonic didn't, a trickster's smile on its round blue face.

"Let's just get our ice cream and go."

"Fine, I guess?" Taking Cream's stuffed chao for her, Sonic watched as Shadow stormed ahead towards the nearest ice cream stand. Cream was halfway between the two when a group of older kids ran in front of her, not noticing the smaller kid as she was pushed out of the way. Her shout as she fell to the ground alerted Shadow, who turned around quickly enough to watch her fall.

"Chaos cont—!"

But at the same time that Shadow raised his hand to dramatically yell, Sonic had already spun forward, trying to catch Cream before she hit the ground.

"I got it!"

He did not, in fact, have it. He crashed headfirst into Shadow, who had appeared out of nowhere. Both rolled to the ground as Cream landed on her knees, crying out.

From on top of Shadow, Sonic mumbled, "Okay Mr. I-can-keep-control-of-any-situation, didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Shut up and take care of the kid."

"Right. Uh, Cream? Are you okay?"

It was clear she wasn't, her lip trembling like she was going to cry, but she was hugging her chao as it cowered in her arms. "I'm okay, Mr. Sonic, but Cheese is scared. Can you carry them please?"

"I'm already carrying the other Cheese. Shadow, you do it."

Shoving him, Shadow tried and failed to get Sonic off him. "I didn't sign up to babysit chao. Get off me."

Sonic dug his elbow in, squirming as Shadow tried to kick him away. "Well what did you sign up for if you were just gonna be sour about it all day?"

"Not this! Now get away from—" Their positions flipped, Sonic slammed to the ground as Shadow pulled his fist back. They were at each other's throats when they heard a faint sob, twisting to see Cream wiping off her cheeks.

"Shadow, you made her cry!"

"And?"

"Shadow!"

"Stop fighting!" Tears in her eyes, Cream stomped her foot, unable to keep silent anymore. "Mr. Sonic, I wish you had taken Amy on this date!"

They immediately stopped fighting, Shadow's fist inches away from Sonic's face.

"Date!? This isn't a—"

"Oh, no, no no, Cream, we didn't mean to—"

The rabbit ran off before he could get another word in, unable to chase after her as Shadow still held him down by the throat. When he finally released him, Sonic could see Cream sitting by herself on a park bench as she rocked Cheese in her arms.

"Ugh. We screwed up."

"Yeah. We did."

The irony of the situation made him snort. "Well, guess we agree on something."

Shadow made a noncommittal grunt, but didn't argue. "We should make it up to her."

"Any ideas?"

"Do what we came here to do." Glancing at the ice cream stand, Shadow sighed again. "I don't know what she likes."

"Twelve scoop ice cream with one scoop strawberry, two scoops chocolate, one blueberry—"

"You seem to know her well." His eyes darted from the ice cream stand to the girl on the bench. "You should get the ice cream, I'll... go talk to her."

"Sounds like a plan." Sonic started to head towards the ice cream stand, but he noticed Shadow wasn't moving. "You good, man?"

No answer. Shadow squeezed the chao Sonic had given him, pretending to inspect the keychain to buy himself time. "I don't know what to say. What if... what if I make it worse?"

Jokingly, Sonic shoved Shadow with his elbow. "I would never have guessed the 'Ultimate Lifeform' would be too scared to talk to a child."

A hint of a smile ghosted his lips, barely a twitch. But Sonic saw it.

"Fine. I'll go talk to her." Yanking the stuffed animal out of his arms, Shadow shook his head. "And I'm taking the chao."

--

Sonic balanced three ice cream cones between his hands, one precariously teetering tower of flavors and two smaller ones to hold it in place. He slowly, for once, approached the bench that Cream and Shadow were sitting on, the smaller Cheese sitting on the lap of the big Cheese between them.

"So... how's it going?" He asked hopefully, not wanting to cause an already shaky situation to explode again. "Cream, I wanted to say that Shadow and I are really sorry for the way we were acting. It's never nice to fight with your friends."

"'Friends'." Shadow huffed, but Sonic glared at him before it got out of hand. He leaned down to give Cream her cone, who was still sniffly but not full-out crying anymore.

"Thank you, Mr. Sonic. Mr. Shadow was telling me how sometimes people get into fights because they don't understand how to use their words, and that it's not okay to use their fists instead."

"Oh, he was, was he?"

Shadow rolled his eyes, but Sonic could swear there was a hint of blush under his fur.

"Mhm. He said that he..." She glanced to the side, continuing at Shadow's slight nod, "he said that even though you fought, he was happy to be invited to our play-date."

"Really?"

Giggling quietly, she added, "And he was happy to be the one to go on the merry-go-round with you."

"I didn't say that." Shadow quickly interrupted, but Cream kept on giggling like she knew something they didn't.

"Thank you for the ice cream, Mr. Sonic!"

"Yeah, of course. Move over, Cheese II, let me have a seat." Shoving the stuffed animal aside, Sonic plopped down next to Shadow, grinning as he offered him the ice cream cone.

"What was that about the merry-go-round you were saying?"

"It doesn't mean anything." Swiping it from his hand, Shadow took a small lick before his face scrunched up. "Coffee... with extra beans."

"Yeah, well." Sonic shrugged, his own cone melting down his palm. "Thought I'd say thanks for helping me through the water ride. Not really a merry-go-round, but, hey, I'm all for innovation on classic designs. If there's no water involved."

"Tunnel of love."

"What?"

"It wasn't a merry-go-round." Shadow spit through gritted teeth, a crumpled up map in one hand. "Its technical name is a 'tunnel of love'."

"Oh." Cream's quiet giggle cut through the silence again, and Sonic's eyes widened. "OH. Okay, well. Yeah."

Everything from the ice cream to the chao keychain to the free tickets felt a little suffocating. Sonic looked to Shadow, who wouldn't meet his eyes, and for the first time, felt his behavior was making a lot of sense. Not necessarily in a bad way, though. If the flutter in his stomach wasn't from the fear of being clobbered if he admitted it out loud, then maybe... maybe his own behavior was making a lot of sense, too.

"Maybe this was a date."

Shadow pushed his face into his hand, and Cream couldn't hold back her laughter any longer.

"Just shut up and eat your ice cream before a rogue seagull gets it."

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 4

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,332

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), fluff, PDA, fake dating chaos, mention of cramps and throwing up because of the pain, bad sex joke, use of emojis (I have no clue how else to explain the exact reactions other than the emojis), drinking/being drunk (I’ve never been drunk, so forgive me if my portrayal is off), Not Edited

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, I’ve literally been locked in my room for two weeks with no motivation. I really hope that y’all like this chapter. I’m also hoping to work on some other stuff coming up soon. 😁

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

Nick and Matt stood at the island as me and Chris walked into the kitchen. I caught Nick’s eye as I set down enough food to feed a small militia. He just stares.

Matt hits him in the shoulder, prompting him to give him a dirty look before speaking. “I’m sorry…” He looked like he wasn’t sure what all he needed to apologize for. “I’m sorry that I punched you” he nodded toward Chris. “I’m sorry that I made you cry, I feel really bad about that.” He averts his eyes, and I think I see a small glint of shame.

I physically can’t stay mad at him, and I make it very obvious when I envelop him into a rib crushing hug. He whispers a small thank you in my ear before I walk back to the other side of the island to unpack the food. As I start unpacking breakfast I feel arms wrap around my waist, and a chin resting on my shoulder.

I freeze up, and Chris mumbles a quick “is this okay?” Into my hair. I look around realizing that Matt and Nick don’t even notice, much too invested in their food to care. I nod my head, trying to will the rosy shade to leave my face.

I’m failing miserably.

after breakfast me and Chris went upstairs to watch a movie in his room. Matt was quick to respond in the worst way possible.

“Sock that wang before you bang… and please be quiet, I don’t want to hear my brother doin it”

Y/N: 😨

Chris: 😮

Nick: 😟

Matt: 😁

needless to say, me and Chris practically teleported upstairs and away from that mortifying experience. We enter his room in a fit of laughter, practically collapsing onto the bed.

After a second I noticed that Chris had stopped laughing… his laughter is addictive, and I already missed it. I turned to see him staring at me with a look in his blue eyes that I couldn’t quite grasp. He looked happy and sad and something else all at once.

“What?” I giggled as I said it, still thinking about what Matt said only a few minutes earlier.

“are you doing okay?” This question again… I never know what to say when people ask me that. Right now I’m doing great… but in 30 minutes, or a week, or even a month I might break down again.

that’s never the answer that people want. They want something simple, yes or no. He stares at me patiently waiting for my response, it makes me feel bad for not having one.

“I’m okay right now…” he gives me a quick nod before speaking again.

“Okay, will you tell me when you aren’t doing good?” Why is he offering this, he doesn’t want to deal with me. “You need a safe space, and you clearly aren’t going to tell Nick. Let me be your safe space.”

“okay”

With that we got comfy on his bed and found a movie.

“”“”“”“”“”

things carried on like this for months.

doing good.

going down.

running to Chris.

repeat.

he was always so sweet and caring. He would hold me while I cried Myself to sleep, he would walk me home early from an event if I wanted to leave, he would hold my hair back and get me a heating pad when my cramps got bad… no matter what, he was there. He had also started being more touchy in public, leaning into the fake relationship for those around us. It made me feel things that I tried to avoid for years.

I think I hate him… how DARE he make me fall in love with him, knowing that none of this is real. How dare he kiss me at parties, and hold me during movie nights, and make me feel safe when none of it is real for him.

“you okay baby?” He snaps me out of my thoughts with the use of his new favorite nickname for me. I melt when he calls me his baby, unfortunately a small part of me also dies inside every time I hear it.

“yeah, just a little tired.” We’ve been at this party for like three hours, and I haven’t even touched my drink. When Chris is tipsy he get more brave with his PDA, I don’t want to risk forgetting a single moment where he is touching me.

“do you want to walk home?” He doesn’t want to leave, he shouldn’t have to leave because I’m sad that he doesn’t love me.

“no. we should stay, you’re having fun. I’m actually going to go get a drink, maybe it will make me feel better.” He looks at me for a second before letting go of my hip, allowing me to grab a drink.

“”“”“”“”“”

How did I get here?

It’s like one second I was listening to Chris tell a story, and now I’m dancing to some annoying pop song. I need to find Chris, I definitely had a few too many drinks.

I stumbled around for a minute, everything is spinning and making me want to throw up. I don’t know if I can walk all the way home, but I don’t want to make all of them leave early. I grab my phone in an attempt to call Chris, but by the time he picks up I’ve forgotten what I was doing.

“”“”“”“”“”

Chris’s POV

I look down at my phone to see that Y/N is calling me, and it makes me a little worried. I pick the phone up to my ear, trying to head over the sounds of music and talking. I don’t hear her, only making me more worried.

She almost never drinks, because she has a very low tolerance. Last time I saw her, she was already three drinks in and proclaiming her love for the song that was on.

That was an hour ago.

I quickly scour the crowd in an attempt to find her face. And when I do my heart drops.

There she is in her skin tight jeans and corset top, looking lost with tears in her eyes. I rush to her side, immediately pulling the drink from her hand. She looks like she’s about to start crying.

“hey baby, can you look at me please?” When I say that she starts crying and she doesn’t seem like she’s stopping any time soon. “Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to find somewhere quiet so that you can sit down for a minute?” She nods her head aggressively before stumbling towards the bedroom of whoever is hosting.

The Golden Trio

From: Chris

can y’all meet me in the master bedroom, Y/N is really drunk and needs to go home.

From: Nicky Bo Bicky

for sure, I’ll bring some water for her.

I turned to Y/N, she looked out of it. Then all of a sudden life came back to her eyes in the worst way possible. She almost fell down in her attempt to get to the bathroom.

“it’s okay baby” I whispered sweet nothings to her as I held her hair and rubbed her back. Nick and Matt showed up shortly after she finished dry heaving, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drink anything as fast as she drank that water.

If I thought it was a hassle trying to get her in the car, I had no clue how hard it would be to get her up a flight of stairs. She giggled as I picked her up bridal style… it made me so happy to hear her laughing.

once she got into more comfortable clothes, she fell asleep in no time.

as she held onto me and nuzzled into my side, my heart shattered. All I want is for her to be happy, but I know that I can’t fix everything. I kiss her on the forehead before rolling over and going to sleep.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 11

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

WC: 3000

Taglist: @cottoncandyloverrrr @zoros-fourth-sword @nothing-but-brass

Burning Hearts Chapter 11: Coffee Break

— — 

Law was a creature of habit. Your training begun every morning, Monday through Saturday, at 8 AM sharp in the clearing in the forest. It would end promptly at noon and the two of you would return to the base together for lunch. Law didn’t wear a watch, he was so meticulous that he could run his daily routine in his sleep. 

The opposite of how you were. Your body was finally used to having a strict wake up time, but even then Ikkaku would often have to bust through your door and hoist you out of bed when you were feeling extra lazy. You missed your life on the Sunny with your friends, there was organized chaos every day. You could roll out of bed at 6 AM or noon, Sanji would make your favorite breakfast anyway. You could spend your days sparring with Zoro, doing makeup with Robin, or playing Go-Fish with Chopper… no one breathing down your neck about what to do and when…

“Why can Bepo talk?” You ask, trailing behind Law on your way back from training. It was a few days after your confrontation with him on the submarine and you had continued your training without addressing it again. 

“What?” Law replies. 

“He’s a bear… but he’s also like… a person? I’ve seen him swim so obviously it’s not a devil fruit situation…” 

“You’ve never seen a mink?”

“A who now?”

“A mink? The people from Zou?”

“Nope.” 

Law sighs. 

“They’re a race of bipedal animal beings. History says humans evolved from them, we just became less hairy.”

“So everyone there is a polar bear?” You cock your head. 

Law sighs again, frustrated. 

“No. They’re all different mammals. How have you not heard of this? I thought you said your doctor was deer?”

“A reindeer. And no, Chopper’s a real reindeer, he just ate the Human-Human fruit.” You respond. 

“Hmm… Interesting.” 

Several more minutes pass with no sounds except the squelching of your boots in the mud underneath you as you made you way back to compound. Law glances back at you. 

“So… ah..” Law begins, uncomfortably. “Do you like to have coffee?”

You furrow your brow. 

“Like… in general? Do I enjoy coffee?” You respond, confused. 

“No, shit, I mean like…” Law stumbles over his words. This was very much not like the composed, mysterious pirate captain you trained with. “What I mean is, do you want to have a coffee later? In my office.”

Those last words almost looked like they pained him to get out. 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

“Oh! Well I…” You begin. 

“I got some books when we went to town the other day, I want to show you a few things from them. It might help with developing your devil fruit ability.” Law quickly interrupts. 

“Right, well… it’s tomato season so I’ve got a bunch of work to do in the garden, then I’ve got kitchen duty for dinner… but if you can put one of the guys on dishes I think I can stop by afterwards.” 

“I can do that.” 

— — 

“Daisyyyy! Shachi is hogging the sandwiches!” 

You spin around with a grilled cheese in your mouth. 

“Shachi if you don’t let that plate go I’m going to set you on fire!”

“Jeez, okay mom.” Shachi rolls his eyes and passes the plate of sandwiches to Penguin.

You wolf down the rest of your dinner and pour a hefty bowl of soup to set on a little tray. You place a spoon and a napkin on the tray. You ball up the dishtowel on your shoulder in your hands and throw it at Shachi’s head. 

“Your greedy ass is on dish duty tonight, I have a meeting.” 

“Oh a meeting?” Ikkaku raises an eyebrow over her bowl of soup. 

“Yes a meeting to make sure your captain doesn’t die of scurvy and malnutrition. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You push out of the galley with the tray of soup and head to Law’s office. 

Upon reaching his door, you knock with your heel due to your hands being full. The door cracks open with some unseen force… oh yeah.. the room thing…

“Supper’s on!” You smile while pushing the door open with your shoulder. You see Law at his desk with stacks of old, coverless tomes surrounding him. The books had notes crudely shoved into certain pages. He looks up from the text briefly to beckon you into his office further. You set the bowl of soup and a spoon in front of Law on his desk after folding up the book he was actively reading. 

“Eat. You’re borderline skeletal.” You meet his eyes then nod towards the food. 

Law hums and picks up the bowl.

“Its tomato and egg soup, I grew the tomatoes myself and I added some white pepper and ginger. Tell me if you think it’s-“

Law gulped down the entire bowl in a few seconds and wiped his mouth with his hand. He placed the empty bowl back down on his desk. You raised your brow in surprise. 

“Gods when was the last time you ate?”

“Hmm… yesterday?” Law grabs one of the books from his many stacks and opens to a marked page. 

“These are texts on medieval creatures. It’s not devil fruits, but it might help us figure out what you’re capable of. If you look here- wait. I promised you coffee, didn’t I?”

You smile a little. 

“That you did.” 

“Well, excuse me then.” Law stands, shut the book and moves towards his coffee maker in the corner of his office. 

As Law fiddles with his espresso machine, you take the time to get a good look around the room. You had barely spent any time in here so you wanted to see what Trafalgar Law, Surgeon of Death keeps in his safe space. It was bookshelves, mostly. The antique wood of the bookcases and the worn leather and suede of the furniture was sure a stark contrast to the cold steel flooring and walls. Everything was meticulously clean and organized, except there were tiny little human touches that didn’t go unnoticed by your. His wastebasket was full of empty shrimp-chip bags, crushed energy drink cans, and salt water taffy wrappers. This must be what he lives on when you don’t force him to eat. 

“For a doctor,  your diet sucks.” You chuckle as Law returns to the desk with two cups of coffee in hand. He hands you one and sits back down in his desk chair. He smirks. 

“I forget about food.” 

“That’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Food is… so important! It fuels your body! Your brain! You can’t live off caffeine and carbs… but I think you know that, doc.”

Law rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the soup.” He opens a drawer in his desk and roots around before pulling out a small bottle of whiskey. He pours a shot or two into his coffee before handing you the bottle. 

“Is this a good idea, after what happened the last time we drank together, Mr Trafalgar?” You smile cheekily at him before grabbing the bottle and pouring some into your cup of coffee. 

Law blushes. Oh gods you had never seen him blush before. He was quite adorable when he was flustered… 

Law makes a hand gesture as if it say “shut up” and cracks his book open again. 

“A wyvern is much like a traditional dragon… scales, breathing fire, long tail, but the difference, as you know would be the wings. It’s clear you’ve harnessed quite a few of these attributes, but you’ve failed to unlock your full Zoan form. I think if you look at these pictures and notes, you might find some information that might help you.”

You look down at the dusty page. It was filled with vicious, fire breathing dragons ripping the heads off unsuspecting villagers. 

“I…. I don’t know if I was to be just like… that…” You point down at the page. 

“Of course not. That’s why you need to learn to control yourself and your abilities before you assume your final form and-“ 

“So I have to stop accidentally burning your eyebrows off?” You interject.

“That would be appreciated, yes.” Law responds, playfully annoyed. “Once you can burn my eyebrows off on purpose, we can move forward.” 

You snort-laugh into your spiked coffee. Was he funny? Or was it the whiskey talking? First you think he’s cute, now you think he’s funny? Was it a full moon? Were you finally losing it?

“What’s with all those newspapers?” You take another sip of your drink and stand up. You walk towards the stack of old newspapers at the bottom of one of Law’s bookcases. 

“It’s not for the newspapers. It’s for the comics.” 

You nod your head down and give him a look. 

“The comics?”

“Sora, Warrior of the Sea. It’s the greatest comic ever made. I have ever single issue ever made.” 

“hmm… never heard of it.” You say as you flip through the stack. 

“What? You’ve never heard of Sora? Stealth Black? It’s been running in the WENP for years.” Law asks. 

“Nope, nothing rings a bell.”

“Grab the bottom one. Bring it here.” 

You oblige and carefully pull Issue 1 from the bottom of the stack of papers. You bring it over to Law’s desk and he flips open immediately to the beginning of the comic strip. “See look, this is Sora. He’s a marine hero, and he fights against Germa 66. He’s got this robot here, see?” 

Law points at the comic on the page and you listen intently. As he explains the years long lore of this fictional hero, you notice a certain sparkle in the pirate captain’s eye. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the figures on the crusty old newspaper page with awe and splendor. You listened for what felt like ages about this nerdy comic strip, but you were mesmerized at the sight of Law finally showing interest in something. 

“So who is this guy?” You point at a character on the page. 

“Good question, this is a new character in this chapter so… wait you’re actually listening?” Law turns to finally meet your gaze. 

“… yes? Why would I not be?” You cock your head. 

“I-I just thought you’d be.. bored… or something..” Law still looks at the page. 

“I’m not bored. I’ve never read this before. It’s interesting. Can we read one more? Tomorrow’s Sunday… no bed time, am I right?” You ask. 

“O-Of course! If you want to!” Law quickly moves from his desk and grabs Issue 2 from the stack. He hurries back to his desk and opens up to the first comic panel. 

“I-If you really want to see the art, you can move your chair over here…” Law scoots his desk chair over to make space for you on his side of the desk. 

You oblige and move your chair to the other side of the desk so that you and Law were sitting shoulder to shoulder. He points to a character in the comic. “So if you see here…” 

Law rambles through the entirety of the comic book with great interest. You alternate looking from the page to his shining face as he smiles, explaining the deep lore behind the story. You had never seen Law so impassioned about anything, let alone a nerdy piece of print media. The hour was drawing late and you yawn involuntarily. 

“Hey, you should get to bed. You worked hard today.” Law closes the old newspaper. 

“Hm. Thanks. You know I really want to hear more about Sora. Maybe we can read more another time?” You ask.

“R-really? I mean.. Yes. We can do that. Enjoy your day off.” Law replies with wide eyes.

“Goodnight, Law.” You smile as you head towards the door of Law’s office. 

“Goodnight.”

You shut the cold steel door behind you and return to your room. Halfway through trudging through the base you realize you had a stupid grin plastered across your face. It was so fascinating to see such an uptight and cold man let loose and info dump about his special interests. He liked superhero comics. How were you supposed to ignore how cute that was?

You sigh and push open the metal door to your room. 

“Well, well, well.” 

“Ah!” You jolt in surprise. 

“It’s 12:30 AM. Where were you, miss girl?” Ikkaku cocks her head as she closes the gossip magazine she was reading while lounging on top of your bed. 

“I-I told you I had a meeting!” You respond defensively. 

“Alone? With the captain? Until the wee hours of the morning? Hmm?”

“OK don’t ‘miss girl’ me! He had some books he needed to show me!” You unzip your jumpsuit and start to brush your hair out for bed.

“That man doesn’t let anyone in his office for more than 10 minutes, let alone several hours! What the hell were you talking about!” Ikkaku asks you in an accusatory fashion. 

“Oh my GODS, nothing! He wanted me to learn about my devil fruit powers and we got side tracked talking about that weird comic he likes!” 

“Sora?”

“Yes, Sora. The Sea Warrior guy.” 

“Damn.” Ikkaku opens up the magazine again and looks down. 

“What?” 

“He didn’t tell us about his boy-crush on Sora for YEARS! And you’re already reading it with him after a few months? You think I’m stupid?”

“What do you mean? Of course I don’t think that!”

“He likes you. Clearly. Do you like him?” Ikkaku cuts straight to the point. 

“I… I don’t know yet.” You sit down on the bed next to her as you stripped yourself of your clothes. Ikkaku wraps an arm around you. 

“And that’s okay. Just… be careful. You’ve been through enough, I’d hate to see you get your heart broken too.”

You sigh, relaxing into your pillows. 

“I know… Hey… please don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You look at her. 

“of course.” Ikkaku holds out her pinky to you and you smile and hook it with your own. You press your foreheads together and laugh. 

“Shit, if he starts getting laid it might be a lot more chill around here.”

You smack Ikkaku on the shoulder and the both of you fall into a fit of laughter. 

— — 

The next morning you wake up at your own pace, thrilled to not have to train. You throw on some sweatpants and decide it’s time to get some breakfast. As you swing open the door to your stateroom you notice an ugly, dirty glass vase filled with marigolds and coneflowers at your doorstep. 

You lean down and pick up the bouquet. It was put together haphazardly, but you recognized the blooms. These were from your garden. You pick up the arrangement and bring it to your nose, inhaling its fresh airy scent. You turn back and place the flowers on your vanity before heading to the kitchen for breakfast. 

Ikkaku was at the stove making rice and eggs. You come up behind her and pinch her hip. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning, sunshine!” Ikkaku turns her head and smiles at you. “I made a plate for you and one for the captain. Can you drop it by his room?” She smirks. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Yes ma’am.” You grab both plates and head to Law’s office. 

Once reaching his door you shout instead of knocking. 

“Chow time, Cap!”

The door opens and you push yourself in. 

Law raises his head from his desk and clears it from the medical journals he was reading. 

“Good morning.” You smile. 

“Good morning, back.” Law looks at the plate you placed in front of him. “Guessing you weren’t on kitchen duty this morning?”

You laugh. 

“Ikkaku makes a fine breakfast, you’re just getting spoiled.” 

The two of you eat breakfast in silence for awhile. 

“Y-You saw the flowers?” Law stutters out in between mouthfuls of rice. 

“I did. They’re lovely.” You smirk. “So you snuck out into my garden and picked my flowers to give them to me?” You ask with a playful smile. 

“T-that’s… the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.. when you say it like that…” Law puts his fork down and rubs his eyes. Your heart pangs with sympathy. The man had tried. 

“Hey, it’s the thought that counts. I loved them.” You finish your plate of food. 

Law still doesn’t meet your gaze. 

“Thank you for breakfast.” He says while finishing his plate. 

“Thank you for the flowers, Law.” You picked up his plate and stacked it with yours. Before grabbing the tableware you make your way around Law’s desk. 

You grab Law’s cheek in one hand and lean forward to kiss his other cheek. You let your lips linger on his skin before pulling back. Law freezes. 

You take the dishes out of his office and back to the kitchen to clean. As you wash the dishes, you can’t help but worry… were you really going to get involved with this man? This relationship would have an expiration date… would that be fair to either of you? Did you care? He made butterflies erupt in your chest simply by being vulnerable… there was no denying that you felt something from that kiss, too. The noise in your head was too loud. It was time to take your red satchel and head out to the garden shed…

xx

Authors Note:

chapter 11! it's here! If you guys have suggestions on where you want this to go from here, I'd love to hear them! I have a few thoughts floating around but I'm open to suggestion! Law is just such an awkward loser nerd in my head that's why I simply have to write him as one. (He might close the deal soon thought hehehehe)