#requested titles

[queersrus]

I’m looking for true punk, rebellious titles!

Thank you so much! ^^

hell yeah

titles!!

the non-conformer, the non-conforming one, the one who doesnt conform, the one who refuses to conform, the anti-authority, the anti-authoritarian, the one who hates authority, the anti-consumerist, the anti-corp, the anti-corporate, the one who is true to themself, the punk, the true punk, the truest punk, the one who takes action, the rebel, the rebellious one, the rebellion, the anarchist, the anarchy, the anarcho-punk

(prn) who doesnt/refuses to conform, (prn) who is against authority, (prn) who stands up against authority, (prn) who is against consumerism/capitalism, (prn) who is against corporations, (prn) who hates corporate greed, (prn) who stays true to (prns)self, (prn) who is (a) punk, (prn) who is (a) true punk, (prn) who takes (direct) action, (prn) who is a rebel, (prn) who rebels, (prn) who is part of/leads a rebellion, (prn) who is rebellious, (prn) who follows anarchy, (prn) who is an anarchist, (prn) who commits anarchy, (prn) who is an anarcho-punk

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, ��Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[missusruin]

patreon sketch requests for april ended up not being sketches at all ┌( ´_ゝ` )┐

[seraphwires]

　　　　𓂃　†　religious [ christian ] NPTS ˳

             requested ┈ @anon

names　┈

apostle ; gabriel ; ciaran ; michael ; michaelle ; exodus ; confesse ; divine ; rosary ; rosarie ; lamb ; evangeline ; cassian ; priest ; prophet ; prophette ; vincent ; spirit ; sin ; ezra ; valentine ; adeline ; adelina ; sariel ; hymn ; genesis ; silas ; acolyte ; crucifix ; crucifixe ; laity ; remiel ; bishop ; cathedral ; cathedra ; vow ; baptiste ; cardinal ; cardinalle ; chalice ; edenne ; sacrament ; sacramentte ; ambrose ; friar ; homily ; cross ; crosse ; saint ; preachyr ; prayer ; lucian ; vicar

pronouns　┈

hy // hymn ; hymn // hymns ; pray // prayer ; cross // crosses ; saint // saints ; holy // holys ; wor // worship ; sin // sins ; priest // priests ; divine // divines ; heaven // heavens ; father // fathers ; thy // thym ; one // ones ; eucharist // eucharists ; son // sons ; reverent // reverents ; nun // nuns ; spirit // spirits ; lamb // lambs ; altar // altars ; church // churches ; sacred // sacreds

titles　┈

prns holiness ; prns eminence ; prn who receives the eucharist ; prn who sits at the right hand of god ; the heavenly father ; prn who sings prns praises ; prn who has atoned for prns sins ; the heavenly disciple ; prn who art in heaven ; prn who is a part of the clergy ; the lamb of god ; prn who preaches the word of god

[neeeooon]

Hello!

I am currently obsessed with WindBreaker sooo could you maybe write a Kiryu Mitsuki fluff oneshot please?🥹

I love him but don't see much oneshots for him.....you can write anything as long as it's fluff♡

Thank you so much already!

Have a great day!🥰

I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD REQUEST FOR HIM CAUSE SAME HES ON MY MINDDDD THANK YOUU

bus stop meet cute

kiryu mitsuki x gn!reader. fluff! very meet-cute

kiryu hummed once in disappointment when he drifted the wrong way and left a gap large enough for three players to slip past, dropping him from 1st place in mario kart to 4th.

the bus came to a slow but jerky stop, one he was used to whenever this specific driver was on duty. kiryu pressed the wired earbud further into his ear when it threatened to slip out and let his head fall gently against the window.

he honestly didn’t pay you much mind when he spotted you at the bus stop. you were scrolling through your phone, and he had just finished 6th in his race.

but you looked up, and the weight of your state was enough for kiryu to flick his bright green eyes in your direction. when your gaze connected, you shamelessly tapped your earbud in question and mouthed, what are you listening to?

kiryu blinked. he was tempted to check if anyone had moved to his empty side of the bus, but no one had. he pressed his phone against the window, revealing the song he put on to cheer himself up after his loss, and tipped his head in confusion when your eyes suddenly went wide.

hurriedly, you flipped your screen to face him, and kiryu was just barely able to make out the album cover. it was identical to his. he had to push his glasses down from his hair to read the title, but sure enough, you were listening to the same song.

his smile was slow as he thought, what a coincidence? but you were already darting for the bus entrance, the slam of your shoes echoing throughout the relatively empty vehicle.

ten seconds after showing you his music, you were seated beside him.

your shoulders rose and fell with gentle pants as you stared at him, smile blindingly wide. “how crazy is that?! we’re listening to the same song!”

kiryu wanted to ask if you had somewhere to go or if you jumped on only to talk to him, but he decided he didn’t really mind either way. his head tipped back, causing a few strands of his cotton-pink hair to brush against his cheekbone. “how fun. i needed something to cheer me up after losing in mario kart.”

“i love mario kart! quick, what’s your tag so we can play together?” your eyes sparkled. kiryu didn’t realize eyes did that outside of cartoons.

he watched as you typed his id in with flaming fingers. “wow, your scores are not great. that’s okay! we can team."

your shoulders and thighs were touching from how close you were sitting, and kiryu could smell the faint scent of strawberries in your shampoo or perfume.

as if you could feel him staring, you turned to face him so suddenly that kiryu almost flinched. “oh, i’m y/n, by the way!”

kiryu smiled. “mitsuki.”

“nice to meet you and your wonderful taste in music. now, let’s get your score up and win some games!”

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ But The Night, He Calls Me — Bruce "Batman" Wayne x GN Civilian!Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It was hard to imagine a time where anything noteworthy in Gotham didn't happen during a dark and stormy night. The city was a pretty big pull for raincoulds, low hanging fog, and a general morose look. But above all else, it was your home, though you didn't prefer to walk out at night these days. With the notoriously shoddy work of the GCPD and crime rates almost triple as high compared to the neighboring cities, you didn't exactly feel the wet concrete and dark alley corners beckoning you anytime soon.

The roof, however, was a different matter. Your roof— or, well, the roof to the apartment complex you lived at— became a frequent spot to the one man who could ever make a dent in Gotham City crime. The very same man you could see perched on the edge of the parapet right now. You approached slowly, taking careful steps as to not make a sound. After painfully long moments of inching, you were almost close enough to reach out. You shuffled just a bit more, preparing to make yourself known-

"Go back inside" the dark figure cut in, low gravelly voice clear and familiar. You sighed deeply, giving up and moving to step up to the vigilante's side "How do you always do that?". "I'm a detective, it's my job" the Batman said flatly. You leaned against the parapet he was standing atop "It's uncanny is what it is. After all these months you'd think I'd be able to get the drop on you at least once". "Villains who have been chasing me since the beginning of my career haven't managed it either, don't be too discouraged" Batman replied.

You chuckled a little, looking over the edge of the roof. The crime fighter's dry humor was a reason the two of you got along so well. After meeting by chance a few times, it became a more regular occurrence to meet up like this. Sometimes you'd get to see him spring into action, or maybe even return from a fight. But tonight, it seems, was uneventful. "Slow day?" You asked. "There's never a slow day in Gotham," Batman responded "You just need to know where to find the action". You couldn't help but snort a little at the claim "Okay, tough guy, so why haven't you set off yet?". "There's no point to a stakeout if you jump in before the crook" Batman said, and you gave a thoughtful nod in reply.

"You should really go back inside" the caped crusader spoke up "It's late. You've got work, I'm sure". "Got the day off, actually, detective" You responded "And I can't sleep knowing there's a bat on my roof". That got a faint hum from the dark knight, the closest you got to an amused reaction from him. The wind picked up from the just-passed storm, bringing a chill that bit your cheeks and clung to your clothes in one large wave. You couldn't help but shiver, tugging your jacket tighter around your pajamas.

Batman kept his gaze on the streets below, watching as puddles rippled with the last few drops from the sky and lamps flickered from lack of care. He was in tune with every foot of concrete road, attuned to any and every movement. The only thing that pulled his attention was when feeling his long billowing cape being tugged. His head looked over, seeing you wrapping the inky black fabric around your shoulders. "What- what are you doing" Batman asked, mildly confused. "It's not really fair that you're the only one that gets to wrap up in this thing" you said, scooting closer to him for more coverage.

"I do that to cloak myself" Batman countered, sliding off the parapet to be standing on the top of the roof beside you. "Right. And I'm using it to warm myself" you said casually, shuffling to his side. You honestly expected him to give some gruff, witty comment and snatch the cape back. If it were any other situation, with any other person, maybe he would have. But instead, he just looked back to the streets, using an arm to hold out more of the martial for you. You smiled, tucking fully into his side and now being fully wrapped up. "Better?" Batman asked, avoiding looking down at you. You nodded, leaning on his shoulder "A lot, yeah. Thanks, Bats"

Batman gave a short 'hm' in response, going back to being silent. But he kept an arm around your lower back, keeping you held close to his frame. As much as he was trying to avoid it, it did poor things to his heart to see you shivering in the cold because of him. He very briefly placed his chin atop your head, using his free hand to tap your shoulder. "Ten minutes. Then you're going back to bed"

"Fine, fine" you said, nuzzling up to him a bit more "Ten minutes". Batman hesitated a little, before allowing himself to wrap his arms around you fully. He gave you a brief but strong embrace, letting you soak up his warmth just for now. He could spare ten mintues. It's not like any villain could outrun him for long, anyways.

[scribbling-one]

Sloop! Sloopis! Isaloop! Suck that spikey face!!

SIR YES SIR

[fruitheart]

can I request a afab nb reader x rex angst fluff fic? maybe like one of his explosives go off and injures reader and they lose their memory of who he is 😖

                       ․ ․ ․⸝⸝ I KNOW YOU ꪆৎ

                         REX SPLODE/SLOAN x NB!READER

note ; this was such a cute idea to me HEHE, of course, here you go.. ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) fyi reader is a super

Everyone told him it wasn’t his fault. They told him it was an accident, that he hadn’t meant to. He’d have never meant to. Rex didn’t need people telling him he would have never meant to do it to know that was the truth. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t evil. Never would he have done what led up to this on purpose.

Words of reassurance and attempted comfort from everyone trying to help him feel better, trying to prevent him from blaming himself any more than he already was fell completely through. He was good at acting unbothered at first though, worried, but unbothered.

It didn’t work, how could it? When he closed his eyes, he could see you. The realization, the complete fear in your eyes, then the small flash of acceptance before the explosion went off. It was his fault the explosion happened to begin with.

When he closed his eyes, he could hear your voice call out to him before the explosion engulfed you, before it consumed you whole. He could see the look on your face right before it happened, you knew he was going to blame himself for it.

Every time he slept, he dreamt of it. Every time he laid in his bed at night and found himself finally drifting off to sleep, he was quickly met with the memory of how everything unfolded.

“Quit being such a hardass!” You scolded him. “Just follow the plan, Rex! Stop being so annoying.”

He should have listened.

He didn’t.

“Quit being such a hardass.” He mocked as you flew off, “What a bitch, they think I’m annoying?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I mean, am I right?” Rex turned towards Kate, trying to get someone to agree with him.

“You should listen to them, Rex.” She glared, “Before you get one of us killed.” Running off before he could argue back with her.

He should have listened.

He didn’t.

Back-and-forth bickering between you two while in the middle of a battle. Maybe if he didn’t argue with you, he would have been paying attention to what he was doing. But that’s not how it happened.

“Damn it, Rex! Now’s not the time!” You called out from afar, busy trying to keep back Komodo Dragon. “Just shut up!” Senses overwhelmed, trying to keep up with arguing back with him amongst all the chaos.

“I’m just saying, you’re always giving me shit! You’re not exactly any better!” He shouted. Hands grasping one of the metal bars attached to his hip, charging it quickly and throwing it past you, creating a small explosion to back off the rest of the Lizard League. The explosion causing your ears to ring.

It was too much, you couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t your fault, Rex should have taken notice. He should have taken the situation seriously. Instead he was too caught up in a game of who can win the argument.

Charging another metal bar strong enough to completely decimate anyone near it, he should have noticed how disoriented you were. He thought you would have seen the explosive being chucked towards you both. He thought you would have moved out of the way in time. You were always quick with it, you were always well coordinated and aware of everything going on, you were always ready.

He should have paid attention.

You noticed the metal bar rolling towards you too late, you didn’t see it until it was already at your feet. Head snapping up at Rex, his face morphed from smug at his earlier retort, to complete horror. His lips parted and his voice screamed out your name.

Your hand reached out towards him as you attempted to move away, mouth opening,

“Rex–!”

The flash of the explosion lit your face before he could see nothing at all but the aftermath. Hands quickly wafting away the smoke as panic had his nerves shot. Ears ringing and eyes wide, he ran as fast as he could, stumbling over chunks of rubble and debris. Throat tight and scratchy as he continued to shout your name, calling out to you.

His brain saved every little detail to torment him. It saved every millisecond of it. It saved the way you looked when he found you. Bloodied and bruised, a nasty gash to your head that oozed blood down your face, patches of your skin reddened and burned. Even your suit was barely intact as most of it had been torn and burned.

Rex felt sick. How could he not? It was enough to make anyone hate themselves, it was enough to make him hate himself.

He replayed it again and again in his head until the thought made him feel like puking. He dreamt it again and again until he’d wake up gasping for air, muscles cramping and body shaking. Rex wouldn’t ever have done anything like that on purpose.

He’d have never hurt you. It didn’t matter how many times the both of you argued. How many times he called you names and how many shouting matches you had.

Weeks went by, weeks of watching you lay still in a hospital bed. In a cold white room with monitors that beeped and showed how your body was holding up.

Cecil told him how it was no surprise you survived, advanced durability, you were always able to take a nasty hit. But the damage inflicted was painful, especially the blow to your head.

It was enough to send you into a coma. They didn’t know what your status would be when you woke up, if you were to ever wake up. It didn’t matter to him, he would have sat next to your bed for the rest of his life if it called for it.

He told himself it was his fault. He didn’t care what anyone else said, he didn’t care about the reassuring remarks and pleas to just give himself a break. It was his fault he had to watch you lay there hooked up to machines. He was good at playing it off like it was no big deal, like he knew you’d come back from it, hiding away the worry.

Rex was a prick, he was a stubborn asshole, but even he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his ear up to your chest and listening to your heartbeat. And when someone walked in, he pretended he wasn’t just holding your hand in his.

He’d wait until others left before fixing your hair, brushing it out from your face and making sure you looked like you were comfortable.

He’d never show that he cared, you’d have teased the absolute living hell out of him for it, but when you looked like this, when the overwhelming guilt made itself known again… Rex caught himself holding the side of your face in the palm of his hand.

If it took living out the rest of his life sleeping in a chair beside you, he’d do so.

─ ୨୧ ─

When he walked in this morning, he was surprised to see a couple of people already standing outside your room. He was usually the first and only one to visit you at the start of the day.

“What the hell is going on here? A party? Move people!” He scoffed, trying to push past Kate and Eve.

“Rex, wait–” Eve reached for him, putting a hand to his shoulder, keeping him from reaching the door as she pulled him away.

Growing annoyed he turned to her, “What the hell, Eve? What?”

“I don't think it's a good idea seeing them right now–”

“Yeah, Eve’s right, Rex.” Mark added in.

“Huh? What is this? Move out the way, Jesus.” Rex shouted, brushing Eve’s hand off as he reached for the door handle, ready to barge in without so much as listening to them. Expecting the worst given how everyone was acting.

Swinging the door open, he was met with… Well, you. You were finally awake. He felt more than relieved, his body almost going weak at the sight of you awake and looking around. To hear your voice as you spoke to Cecil before cutting yourself off at his intrusion, eyes slowly glancing at him up and down.

Cecil turned towards him, before he could spare Rex from what was to come, he was already opening his mouth,

“Holy shit! You're awake! Oh my God, finally!” He beamed, quickly stepping to the side of the bed, grabbing your arms.

“You were out for weeks!” He laughed, “We can finally get you out of here! You don’t know how fuckin’ boring it was staying in here waiting on your ass.” His hands reached to help you out from the bed.

“Rex, I don’t think–”

“Who are you?”

At first it didn’t register what you said, not fully. He looked at you funny, like you were making some kind of bad joke, eyebrow raising and lip twitching into a smirk. Until he realized nobody had the same reaction as him. Looking back at you to watch as genuine confusion stayed on your face. His hands falling to his sides.

“What?” He laughed once more, disbelief, hidden denial.

“It’s… It’s me. Rex, it’s… I’m Rex– I’m,” He stuttered over his words, looking around. From you, to Cecil, to everyone standing outside your room.

“What the fuck is happening?” He didn’t want to face it. Not even when you looked at him wide-eyed and confused. “You know who I am, stop shitting around. I get it! I get it, I should have listened but don’t–”

“Rex.” Cecil spoke, tone stern, warning him to stop speaking. Motioning his head towards the door as he walked out, Rex followed right behind him. He spared you one more glance before closing the door behind him.

“They don’t remember who you are–”

“Bullshit!” Rex shouted, defensive and unwilling to believe it. Unwilling to accept it. “You expect me to believe this? I’ve been putting up with their ass for years!” He shook his head, looking from one person to another, desperate for some sort of support in his words. No one backed him up.

Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “They suffered a concussion, they were put into a coma– Rex, they don’t remember a couple of things. Alright? I understand it’s not easy–”

“My ass they don’t remember! You know, this is fucked up, alright? Whatever this game is, it’s fucked! And I’m not playing along.” He huffed, turning and reaching for the handle once more. Eyes peering through the small window in the door, watching as you looked around the room.

You looked so lost; you really didn’t remember. His jaw clenched, trying to keep it together. The look on your face when you caught him staring. You really did have no clue who he was, you didn’t remember him.

“Rex. It was an accident, it’s not your fault.” Eve tried to reassure, pressing a hand to his back. He couldn’t even take his eyes off you to look at her. “I’m sure somewhere deep down, they know who you are, they just can’t remember right now.”

“They’re suffering from memory loss.” Cecil spoke, “Their condition doesn’t seem too bad. They don’t recall who certain people are or the incident but the best we’re hoping for is that it doesn’t get worse and eventually they’re able to recover their memory.”

─ ୨୧ ─

He tried to pretend like it didn’t bother him. Like he was okay with you not remembering him. Not that he was good at pretending the more time went on. Yet he didn’t let it stop him from being right by your side while you were recovering. Rex was insistent on staying right by you, even if he still was being an ass.

He woke up rather early, back aching from sleeping in a chair that was far from comfortable. Letting out a groan, he stretched before settling back down.

Looking over at you, he hadn’t realized he was watching you sleeping peacefully for a bit now until he noticed one of your eyes open and staring right back at him. Earning an embarrassed reaction out of him as he cleared his throat.

You snorted, rubbing your face before sitting up. “How many more times am I going to catch you watching me sleep.” You yawned.

Rex turned away, flustered and slightly annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes, “...When did you wake up?”

“As soon as you started staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring.” He sneered.

“Uh huh, sure. You totally weren’t, stranger.”

“Shut up.” He groaned, slumping in his seat.

You rolled your eyes, laying back on your side as you pulled the thin sheet over your head and shielded your eyes from the light. The sound of Rex’s foot tapping against the tiled floor as he bounced his leg filling in the silence for a few minutes.

“I’m not a stranger.” His tone was almost upset. You were quiet for a bit,

“I know you’re not,” This was recurring between the two of you. He didn’t like it when you made those little comments, when you made it apparent you really didn’t remember who he was anymore. It made him feel bad. It made you feel bad. Even if you didn’t exactly remember him, you at least knew he meant something to you before.

From the way he talked about it, day after day in an attempt to help you recover what you lost, you knew you meant something to him too. He was arrogant, sure. Impulsive, full himself and a jerk, but something in you didn’t all too much mind. Like you knew he was capable of more than that.

“Sorry.”

He frowned, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel like anything was your fault. Especially when he was the reason you ended up here. If it were anybody else, he probably wouldn't have cared, but you weren't anyone else.

“It's whatever, It’s not like I’m upset or anything.”

You pulled the sheet down a bit, peering at him with an unamused look.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not lying.”

“Are too.”

He leaned in, glaring at you with a pout of his lip. “How is it that you forgot me but you haven’t forgotten how to be so God damn annoying.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “If I’m so annoying then why are you still here.” Sitting up once more as you leaned into him as well, expression smug and teasing. Rex faltered, heat rising to his face before he sat back and looked away from you. Trying to play off the way his face reddened.

In truth, Rex always thought you were really attractive, now he wouldn’t say it to your face, never would he admit it to you or anyone for that matter. It’d just feed your ego, ironically coming from the guy with the biggest ego out of the two of you. But he also refused to admit to it out of embarrassment.

Embarrassed to admit that the sound of your voice and the sight of you were all very attractive to him, comforting even. Back then he was able to ignore it but since the accident, he realized just how much he thought about it. Nearly losing you was enough to shove those feelings in his face and force him to acknowledge it.

It made him sad however, you were still the same, no doubt. From the way you got on his nerves and how he felt towards you, but you no longer knew him like you used to. It felt cruel, like this was his punishment for not listening.

If this was his punishment, then he’d stick through it until the day you do remember him.

The feeling of you pinching his leg pulled him out of his thoughts,

“Ow! What the fuck?! Asshole.”

“You were staring off again, I thought you were having a stroke or something.”

He glared at you, you responded with a sheepish smile and a shrug of your shoulders. He sighed, sulking in his seat, you couldn’t help but feel bad. It felt horrible to not remember anything, but you figured it must have felt worse finding out someone you’ve known for years one day forgot all about you.

“Do you really not remember me?” It wasn’t the first time he’s asked this.

It wasn’t your first time responding, “I don’t.”

Rex looked at you, studying your face before averting his eyes as soon as you looked back at him.

“I really am sorry.”

“It’s not–”

“I am.” You tried not to tear up over it, you tried not to feel horrible for the way his eyes seemed glossy every time he remembered you didn’t know him anymore. Turning your face away, you took a deep breath before continuing,

“I know it’s not my fault or anything but it feels that way you know?” Looking down at your hands playing with the thin sheet of the bed. “I want to remember, I do– but I just, can’t. I’m trying… trying to remember.” Holding your breath to keep yourself from tearing up.

His hands gripped the arms of the chair, itching to reach out and hold you.

“Deep down I know you meant something to me before, everything you tell me feels right. I trust you, and I want to keep trying to remember–”

Rex stood from his seat, arms reaching up to wrap around your body as he held you close to him. Chin rested on your shoulder as one of his hands pressed itself into the back of your head. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you tried to ignore the burning sensation before eventually succumbing to it.

“Everything tells me I know you, it’s all I feel.” His hand buried itself in your hair, pressing his face into your neck.

Blinking away the tears in your eyes before he could see them when he pulled away.

He let out a dry laugh, “Talk about being fuckin’ sappy, jeez.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

─ ୨୧ ─

You’d spend a couple more days recovering, well, you had already recovered a bit ago but Cecil was insistent you stay just to make sure you’d be fine. Which you reluctantly agreed to.

Tonight was your final night here however, the thought made you relieved. Having been long tired of the stiff hospital bed and a sheet that made you itchy sometimes, you were happy to finally go back home.

Rex made sure you were comfortable, asking over and over if you needed anything, to which you responded with an exasperated ‘yes’ the more he kept asking, kicking his leg with your foot whenever you could tell he was about to ask again.

He was dead set on staying, even on your last night here. The thought made you giggle to yourself at his “hidden” worry.

You snuggled into the blanket, burying the side of your face into the pillow. Eyes just barely open to be able to still see him. Watching as he watched you. It made you feel warm, trying not to make it obvious you were grinning as you peeked at him. He would have never been like this before.

Oh yes, you remembered. Your memory had finally come back just yesterday, yet you held off on telling him as an ‘I told you so’ for not listening to you.

Watching as he squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable and tired. You rolled your eyes and sighed, sitting up and scooting over in the bed.

“Come here.”

“What?”

You patted the space next to you, “Come here you dumbass, lay down.” He hesitated at first before standing up and scooting next to you, laying on his side, facing you. “God, you’re dumb.”

“Shut up, man.”

Pinching him roughly as your arms slithered to wrap around his neck, face pressed comfortably into his collar. Rex freezed up for a moment, until he eventually found his arms wrapping around your back, pressing you into him as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You giggled to yourself, “You never would have done this before.”

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t even know that! I could have been a total sweetheart back then.”

Bursting into laughter, you held onto him tighter, “Yeah I do, total sweetheart my ass.”

“How? You don’t remember anything–”

You stayed silent, grinning against him as your legs entwined with his.

“Right? You still… don’t remember, right?” He asked, heart thumping against his ribcage. The sound of it comforting, making you giddy. Pulling your face away from him to look up at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

“Oh, you are… such a fucking dick.” He groaned, unable to hide the way his face softened. His hand made its way into your hair as he pressed you back into him. Relief washing over him as he realized you were finally back, really back. As he realized you finally remembered him.

Arms tightening around his neck, you pressed a soft peck to his cheek, noting the way one hand grasped onto your waist and wrapped around you tighter.

“You deserved it. Don’t blow me up next time, jackass.”

“I get it! Trust me, I won’t be doing that again any time soon.” He grumbled, pouting his lip.

Shrugging your shoulders, “I forgive you… obviously.”

Letting out a soft exhale through your nose, you listened intently to the way his heart slowed into a relaxed beat. Closing your eyes and slowly falling asleep in his embrace.

“...I–”

“I love you too, Rex.”

[silentsamlikesham]

Cat Got Your Tongue? - Zosan Temp!Mute Fic

Thank you to @gingeralejasminetea for the following prompt "sanji or zoro somehow becomes temporarily mute and the other just *happens* to be the only one on the crew that’s able to completely accurately interpret their facial expressions/gestures, leading them to be their translator until their voice comes back" I'm not going to lie I did STRUGGLE with having only one of these idiots being able to speak. I made the brave decision to have Sanji lose the ability to talk and like- Zoro is a man of few words :'D. I'm not fully satisified with the ending to this fic, so maybe someday (not soon) I mayyy write a part 2, we'll see. OKAY ENJOY!! **Not Beta Read. Please excuse any and all mistakes**

Words: 4,350

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Sanji tugged at his red checkered scarf, glaring at the faux grass on the Sunny’s deck as he listened to their tiny doctor finish his explanation to the crew. Chopper had gathered the crew to the deck after finishing his check-up on Sanji after the crew’s last fight. The air was tense from the fury radiating from the chef and he couldn’t bring himself to look at either of the crew’s two fabulous ladies to cheer him up, lest he’s met with eyes of pity.  

It was a burst of laughter that broke the silence, the sound reddening Sanji’s face as he turned to glare at the source. Of course, it was the mosshead doubled over the railing, tears streaming down his face as he laughed at Sanji’s expense.  

“Zoro!” Chopper chastised, as Nami slapped the swordsman on the arm.  

Luffy also began to chuckle from where he was perched under the ship’s mast, Sanji slowly dragged his gaze from Zoro to his captain.  

“Sanji, you can still cook meat, right?” Luffy smiled, wide and unapologetic.  

The chef nodded his head slowly, confused by the question before he had an armful of his captain to catch as Luffy catapulted himself straight into him. His stretching arms wrapping tightly around Sanji, but careful not to wring around his neck.  

“Then let’s have a barbeque!” Luffy decided, the crew laughing and cheering as the mood on the ship changed back to its usual chaotic state. 

“Luffy! Don’t squeeze his chest, coughing will be just as bad as talking for his throat.” Chopper wailed, pulling at his Captains foot until Luffy let go of Sanji, unraveling until he snapped back onto the deck.  

“Sorry Chopper.” Luffy smiled, not looking the least bit apologetic.  

“Does that mean dart-brows can’t smoke, Chopper? I bet that would really slow down the healing process.” Zoro grins, reveling in the look of horror creeping across the cook’s face, slowly twisting into rage as he began marching towards Zoro, his foot already smoking.  

The swordsman grinned, his hand going to his nearest hilt as Chopper dived between them.  

“NO!” The little reindeer cried out, tears forming in his eyes as he looked between the two of them, knowing the danger of getting in front of either of them when they were about to spar.  

  “No fighting!” Chopper did his best to keep a wobble out of his voice, relaxing a bit as the two, unwillingly, relaxed their fighting stances. “-and, no smoking.” 

Sanji waved his hands around in frustration, pleading with the tiny doctor with his eyes before running a finger across his neck at Zoro to let him know that the swordsman is dead as soon as he recovers.  

“Sanji, your throat is really swollen...there’s nothing I can do but tell you to rest it.” Chopper bites his lower lip as it trembles, his voice cracking like he’s about to cry. “Please, just a few days, no smoking, no talking, and-” The small doctor turns to meet Zoro’s eye as he finishes “-no fighting. Okay?” 

Sanji looks briefly to the sky, searching the clouds for some strength before he nods at Chopper.  

“Whatever.” Zoro yawns, over the whole thing as he realises there’s no more fun to be had. “Not like Curly-brows ever has much to say anyways.” 

Sanji’s hands curl into fists as Zoro walks by him, flashing him a shit-eating grin as he knows Sanji can’t bite back with his usual banter and shitty nickname.  

“You’ll heal fast, Sanji.” The cook looks down at where Chopper had stopped beside him, looking up at him with his wide eyes and child-like face. “And I’ll check on you every day, so you’ll know when it’s over!” 

Sanji lets out a small sigh through his nose, wanting so badly to comfort the little doctor and tell him ‘I know Chopper, you’ve done all you can.’ Instead, all he can do is pat Chopper’s hat and motion for him to follow Sanji into the kitchen. He can’t comfort the doctor with words, but he can give him some chocolate instead.  

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

Sanji was doing his usual lunch time rounds, dropping drinks and nibbles in front of his different crew mates. He spun out of the kitchen with his customary enthusiasm and excitement. At the last island they’d stocked up on, he’d managed to pick up some local honey and he had spent the afternoon making sweet protein balls out of it, mixing the honey with oats and some with chocolate.  

He skipped over to the ladies first. Robin hiding beneath the cover of an umbrella while Nami lay out in the sun, tanning beneath the relentless rays, her skin sparkling from the sunscreen she’d lathered on her skin.  

Sanji was swooning from the sight alone. His throat was aching, twitching as he blew a heavy breath from his lungs, longing to serenade the ladies with an onslaught of compliments and small talk.  

Instead, as he approached the ladies with his usual twirling and dancing, he could hear the familiar sounds of sniggering and noticed Usopp, Luffy and Chopper hiding nearby. 

“Ooooh Nami-Swannn your skin is as radiant as the sun, let me refresh you with the coolest of drinks and the most divine snacks the new world has ever seen.” Usopp did a terrible impression of Sanji, pretending to hold a cigarette in his fingers as he spoke.  

The impression had Luffy and Chopper cackling and rolling on the floor as Sanji sent daggers through his eyes at them. Robin chuckled at the sight, leaving Sanji deflated and flustered as he left her drink and nibbles in front of her. She smiled up at him though, thanking him with a warm look in her eyes. It was enough to easily snap Sanji back from his mood and had him twirling around Nami again.  

He managed to make his way over to Usopp while the sharpshooter had his back to him, continuing his poor imitation. Sanji felt marginally better as he got to kick the sniper in the back of the head, sending Luffy and Chopper running in fear and leaving Usopp groaning and overreacting on the ground.  

He didn’t even kick him that hard, but still Usopp cried up at him and clung to his leg, begging him to stop.  

Sanji tried to shake him off, anxiously glancing at the tray of food and drink as Usopp unbalanced him, dragging him left and right. Sanji didn’t easily drop a tray, and Usopp wasn’t that strong, but fear made the sniper erratic, and Sanji would probably cry in frustration if his shitty situation with his throat led to any food waste. 

“Oi, Usopp, knock it off. Curly’s gonna kill you if he drops that tray.”  

Sanji froze at the words, startled that he was hearing his thoughts spoken aloud.  

He glanced over to the swordsman leaning against the mast, he’d been convinced Zoro had been asleep in the shade. But now the mosshead was watching the pair through his one eye, the gaze feeling more intense and violating than usual. 

Usopp squeaked in response, throwing himself off Sanji and scampering several feet back from him. Sanji frowned, glaring at Zoro who held his gaze for a mere second before he shut his eye again. Sanji wasn’t used to losing Zoro’s attention so quickly, usually the pair would be foot to blade by now. Even if Zoro had just helped him out, he would have told the Mossball to shut it and keep out of his business and they’d be several bruises deep into an argument by now. 

Instead, Sanji had to swallow the comeback he couldn’t speak and continue upon his deliveries. He handed Usopp his drink with a cold glare, earning himself an apology and flurry of excuses before Usopp insisted on helping him hand the rest out.  

He served Zoro last, as usual, and the idiot must have been using his haki because he didn’t wait for a kick to the head to wake him up. His eye opened as Sanji got close, the distance at which Sanji would have usually insulted him and called him a name to get his attention. Zoro put a hand out for his drink without being asked and accepted his plate of blander, unsweetened protein balls without a word. 

Sanji stared at him, resisting the urge to bite his lower lip in thought as Zoro eventually gave him another glance.  

“What, Curly? Cat got your tongue?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened, his brows knitting together before he let out a tsk and stomped towards the galley. Once inside, he fiddled with the scarf around his neck, loosening it and letting the fabric fall into a long loop. He looked at the dark line of bruises in the reflection of a hanging pan above the stove, willing the purple and blue skin to heal.  

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

It was day three of Sanji’s induced muteness and he felt like he was really starting to lose his mind. He’d never appreciated how often he used his words to convey things, to join in on the fun around the ship and to stand up for himself.  

The last three days had felt like a comical silent movie, chasing Luffy around the ship when he snuck into the galley, rolling his eyes at his ship mates annoying antics and last night, having to throw Usopp from his bed to wake him up to dispose of a spider in the bunk room.  

It was infuriating, it was tiring, and Sanji could feel a headache pulsing behind his eyes from the toll it was all taking. On top of the muteness his sore throat was making it difficult to drink, to sleep, to eat. Pain, Sanji could tolerate, but the hunger pangs he was feeling in his stomach were unnerving.  

Needless to say, Sanji was on edge. In fact, he was beyond the edge. He was clinging onto his sanity by his fingernails and right now, his current predicament might just be the final straw.  

If Sanji cries in the galley because he can’t find the knife Zeff gave him, the one he uses every day, the one that is basically an extension of his hands, then he might just throw himself off the side of the ship.  

He was staring at the kitchen island like he was going mad. His hands moving over the cold marble and brushing over the vegetables that were waiting there to be chopped. 

He’d just had it. How could a knife grow legs and walk away? He started lifting any plates and tea towels around him, sure he must have thrown them on top of it by mistake.  

A hand curled into his fringe, pulling slightly as Sanji let out a huff of pain. He needed a smoke, he needed a cigarette so badly, but he refused to make the healing process go any slower. There was no way he was going through this for more than a few days.  

Right as he was about to bang his head off the marble, someone spoke up from the corner of the room. Sanji flushed red as he jumped, he’d been so engrossed in his search and his poor mood that he hadn’t noticed the Mossball slide onto the couch the far side of the dining table. 

“It’s by the sink, Cook.” Zoro scoffed, folding his arms and tucking his chin against his chest, clearly about to nod off for a nap. He doesn’t usually do so in the galley but one glance at the falling mist of rain outside, and it made sense.  

Sanji stared dumbly at Zoro for a moment. What was the idiot talking about? Beside the sink? He turned his head, his eyes catching the glint of steel as his knife lay just beside the drying rack. He must have left it there when he threw the pans into the sink to soak.  

He looked back to Zoro with a raised brow and a wide eye. How the fuck did he know he was looking for his knife?  

But Sanji couldn’t ask and from the soft snores filling the galley, Zoro wouldn’t have replied anyways.  

Sanji picked up his knife, spinning it gently in his hand as he fiddled with the handle. He chopped up the vegetables in his usual rhythmic routine, but every time he scooped his prep into a bowl, he snuck a glance at the swordsman.  

Since when was Zoro a mind reader? 

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

By the fifth day, Sanji felt like he was really going insane. No longer because he still couldn’t speak or smoke, but because Zoro was creeping him out. Every time they were in the same room Zoro was making small jabs and comments to Sanji that were almost perfectly in line with the running monologue in Sanji’s head. 

It was unnerving to see the Mosshead so aware of someone else. Usually, Zoro brooded in the corner, unmoving in his preference to exclude himself from most shenanigans and conversations on the ship. Now, Sanji was starting to realise the Mosshead was completely aware of what was happening around him and of his crewmate’s thoughts. At least, he seemed to know exactly what was going on in Sanji’s head. The cook was used to feeling that connection with the Mosshead in battle but for the day-to-day stuff, it was startling. 

The weirdest thing to happen so far, had happened today. The crew had docked at a small island, inhabited by a group that lived in a village on the southern side of the island.  

The log pose was going to take over a day to reset so Luffy had decided they should spend the evening partying on the island and spend a night at a local inn. It hadn’t been an easy thing to arrange with the lovely Nami worried about their budget, but there was no arguing with the captain when he wanted to party, and the rest of the crew were happy to get black out drunk and pass out in a bed that didn’t sway with the ocean.  

They’d gone to the nicest restaurant on the island, mainly because Zoro pointed out that Sanji had his eyes on the building from the moment they found the center of the island. 

That had been strange enough, that Zoro was actively pushing for something Sanji wanted. But the weirdest part was when they had to order. Usually, Sanji would order for most of the crew. He was easily able to tell what each of them would want most from whatever limited menu they had to order from. Tonight, Zoro hadn’t even paused after his order when he added- 

“The curly-brows wants the spicy seafood dish, and a glass of whatever wine will go with it.” 

It wasn’t as refined an answer as Sanji would have given the waitress, but it was close enough to the mark that Sanji’s jaw had unlatched as he stared dumbfounded at the brute. 

“What?” Zoro scoffed when the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, and he noticed the cook’s eyes on him.  

Sanji looked even more pissed off then, wishing more than he had this entire week that he could speak and ask the Swordsman what the fuck was going on.  

Instead, the crew interrupted them with their own chatter and chaos and Sanji was forced to sit back in silence for the following hours.  

It was only when everyone was heading towards the inn that Sanji had a moment to confront the mosshead. He fell into step with him at the back of the group as they all made their way to the inn. Zoro barely even glanced at him as they walked, and Sanji could feel the tick of annoyance on the back of his head as Zoro stayed silent for nearly the entire stroll.  

As they arrived at the inn, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s arm and physically held him back from following the crew through the main entrance,  

“What?” Zoro groaned, glancing longingly at where a bed was waiting for him. “What do you want, Cook? Not like you have anything to say.” 

Sanji continued to glare at him, his gaze hardening at the callous words.  

Zoro eventually glared back, letting out a frustrated tsk as the silence stretched on and Sanji did nothing more than angrily huff at him.  

“Look, are we going to fight and not tell Chopper or are you going to let me go the fuck to sleep?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been thinking of kicking the moron. He looked away, almost embarrassed by his persistence when he knew he couldn’t voice his frustration. But eventually his glare returned to the Marimo. 

He crossed his arms across his chest and tapped his foot insistently, giving Zoro an unamused look. The Mossball just raised his brows in response, like he was egging Sanji to try speak his mind.  

“What? What do you want Cook? I’m not a mind reader.” 

Sanji groaned angrily at this, waving his arms at Zoro, trying to convey this is exactly what Sanji was trying to speak to him about.  

“What? You think I’m a mind reader?” 

Sanji just glared in silence now, pursing his lips further.  

“Is this about dinner? I should have known you’d be fucking weird about it. You order for me all the time, what’s your problem, did you not like your food?” 

Sanji sighed, running a hand through his hair and now deciding it was easier not to look at the Mosshead. He stared stubbornly at one of the lamps hanging off the wall of the inn as he tried to come up with a way to respond.  

“That’s not it...” Zoro grumbled, earning Sanji’s attention again as the Cook whipped around to look at him.  

Zoro studied him properly then, his one good eye analyzing Sanji’s body language from his feet to his face. It was intimidating, almost embarrassing to have Zoro’s eyes so intensely focused on him, inspecting every shift in Sanji’s stance and ever bounce of his brow. 

“Curly, I don’t fucking know what you’re so annoyed about. It’s not my fault you can’t speak.” Zoro sighed, looking tired all of a sudden.  

The first mate’s eyes went to Sanji’s scarf. It wasn’t an item of clothing that was remotely needed given the climate of the island, but Sanji had refused to take it off. He didn’t want his cremates staring at the dark reminder of the bruising around his crushed throat. That part, Zoro could understand. Not wanting to show a clear weakness to a crew that often relied on you. He didn’t know why the Cook was bothering him specially though, forcing him into an awkward standstill outside the inn.  

At this stage, the pair will be forced to room together, something both of them actively avoided and argued against. By now, the rest of the crew would be buried deep beneath rented duvets as they drifted off to sleep. No one would be willing to swap or listen to Zoro complain.  

Sanji sighed loudly in response, looking at Zoro with what he hoped was an exasperated expression. Then, it came to him, the one thing he never needs words for when dealing with Zoro.  

He motioned for Zoro to stand still and then made his way around the oaf. He stopped behind Zoro, facing away from the brute and leaning his back against the others. 

He can feel the muscles in Zoro’s back tense as he leans his weight against him, can hear the sharp intake of breath the Mossball draws in. Sanji raises his leg gently, the same way he would in a fight and on instinct Zoro’s hand goes to his hilts. As Sanji changes his stance and turns slightly to the right, Zoro automatically reacts, dropping a foot back to cover the left side Sanji opens. 

They continue this strange waltz for almost a minute, Sanji almost losing himself in the rhythm as he practices his fight style for the first time since the crews fight several days ago. He pushed himself with a wide arcing kick and as he drew his knee up, he rattles his lungs, forcing an unexpected haggard cough from his throat and ruining his balance as he flinched from the pain of it.   

He sways dangerously to the side, his shoulder slipping off Zoro’s and for the first time since he was a kid he feels himself falling from his stance. Before he can crumble to the ground, Zoro shifts behind him, twisting half around until a large hand wraps around Sanji’s bicep, steadying him and stopping his fall.  

Sanji blinks owlishly up at the swordsman, holding his breath as he meets a curious but annoyed stare. His face heats up and Sanji hopes the lamp light hides whatever colour is dusting his cheeks. 

Sanji doesn’t rush to fix his stance, instead he lets himself hang by Zoro’s grip and brings a finger up to poke pointedly at Zoro’s chest. This is what I’m talking about, shitty Swordsman. He tries to convey the thought in his eyes, in the way he let himself hang there, unfazed if Zoro was going to drop him. It wouldn’t be out of character for the Mosshead, but he knew Zoro would understand the significance of the moment and wouldn’t do it.  

He was proven right by Zoro grunting and averting his gaze, a faint blush on his cheeks now complimenting Sanji’s own. He tugged at Sanji’s arm and eventually pulled the Cook to stand upright again, dropping his arm like it burned.  

“Cook.” Zoro sighed tiredly, wiping a hand over his face and pushing his knuckles against his eyelids in the hope of focusing his mind a bit. “Are you freaking out because I can read you like an open book?” 

Sanji snorted at the phrase, crossing his arms tightly across his chest in distress. Zoro could not read him like a book, Sanji was not that straight forward a man. Zoro clearly was just...just...fuck, what was Zoro doing? 

“Curly, you’re not fucking subtle. You express every little emotion in that frantic head of yours the second you think or feel anything.” 

Sanji scoffs in disagreement, his eyes narrowing at Zoro’s words as he fiddles uncomfortably with a thread on his suit’s sleeve. The Swordsman was talking nonsense. 

“Like right now, you act like you don’t believe a word I’m saying but you’re ripping your sleeve apart because you know I’m right and that makes you freak out and fidget with the nearest thing possible.” 

Zoro takes a step closer to Sanji then. His words force Sanji to drop his sleeve and rest his hands by his side, his fingers twitching at the loss. He glares up at the ever so slightly taller man and meet’s his eye without hesitation. Their chests are almost touching, their foreheads inches from one another and Sanji is swallowing every bit of panic swelling in his chest because if he backs down from Zoro now, then it’s going to seem like Zoro is right. 

Which he’s not. He’s not freaking out over what Zoro is saying. There’s no way it’s true, Sanji may have his heart on his sleeve for the ladies but otherwise he’s a secretive guy. He’s hidden his upbringing from the crew, hiding his surname from the entire world, fooling even those who print the bounty posters. He’d lied effortlessly in the past, getting the crew out of some tough spots. Sanji was clever, he could be sly, secretive, a mystery.  

No one knew what was going on in his head. They might think they do but no one could guess what he was really thinking most of the time. Except apparently, Zoro could. Zoro who hated Sanji most days and who he had thought only understood him when Sanji’s shoe was buried in the side of his head.  

“You can deny it all you’d like, Sanji.” Sanji choked on his own spit, coughing brutally as Zoro just grinned, leaning in closer as he reveled in catching the Cook further off guard. 

“But I see you. I see right through the bullshit.”  

With that, Zoro flashed him a chesire grin, ruffled a hand through Sanji’s hair and brushed past the red-faced cook without another glance.  

“Don’t wake me up when you come into the room, or I’ll skewer you.” 

The sound of the inn door opening and closing echoed through the empty street. Sanji stayed standing in the center of the cobblestone lane, trying to catch his breath after his mini coughing fit and doing his best to will the flush from his face.  

Maybe he could blame that part on the alcohol.  

I see you.  

Sanji groaned, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he doubled over on the street. What the fuck did that mean? Also, using his real name like that? The bastard had to have known that would get to him.  

What an asshole. There’s no way Zoro was intelligent enough to understand a fraction of how Sanji felt or thought about things. He was just getting lucky and using the coincidence to rile the cook up. You can deny it all you’d like- That fucking smug- Sanji wished he could scream at the twinkling stars above. 

Sanji spent far too long loitering in the street before he could force himself to march into the inn and face sharing a room with the guy. Hopefully, he was asleep by now, and Sanji knew for a fact he’d be gone long before the oaf woke up in the morning.  

He decided the next time he was willing to face the Swordsman, was when he could speak again. Then he could give the asshole a piece of his mind, put the brute in his place and let him know just how wrong he was about everything.  

That, or he could just smother him in his sleep.  

That would be easier than admitting to himself that his entire perception of the brute had been flipped on its head tonight.  

[discardead]

···　✧✦✧　···　Cutesy Idol + Nurse themed NPUT

Requested by @selysie

Idolla. Idoliesse. Idolesse. Idolessa. Idolfie. Idollina. Idolline. Idollyn. Idolette. Idollyie. Idollsie. Idollurse. Idoliure. Nursidol. Nursaidol. Nursie. Nursiene. Nursiesth. Nursette. Nursethe. Nuriesth. Nurseumi. Nyurse. Nyursie. Nyursin. Nyursith. Nyursett. Nursyne. Nursynth. Nursei. Nursyie. Nursaide. Nursina. Nursine. Nurisse. Caremi. Careine. Curidol. Curemia. Cureia. Curesea. Curesime. Curesyie. Curefia. Serucyre. Serume. Serumsie. Serumsyie. Serumyn. Medi. Maddie. Medilyn. Medika. Medicoa. Medidoll. Mediuse. Medicae. Medikae. Medikaye. Medicute. Medicure. Medikyure. Bandamie. Bandyne. Bandysth. Healure. Healine. Heala. Healsie. Healsing. Hieal. Healico. Healiko. Ribboine. Riboine. Ribyon. Ribbun. Ribun. Ribonette. Ribonesth. Ribbsone. Ribonurse. Frillurse. Frill. Frills. Frilly. Frillyta. Frillysita. Frillsyta. Frillsyth. Frillyne. Frillyse. Frillure. Muse. Musea. Museia. Museine. Musette. Museth. Myurse. Myursie. Syriesse. Syrina. Syriena. Syringette. Syringesth. Syreina. Syrifiene. Syricure. Syridol. Syresth. Syriesth. Syricute. Cutsieur. Cutie. Cutesyie.

cu/cure. cyu/cyure. cwu/cwure. cy/cyr. kyu/kyure. ky/kyr. kyr/kyrs. ido/idol. nu/nur. nur/nurse. ny/nyr. nyr/nyrs. ny/nym/nys. ny/nym/nyr. nwu/nwur. nwu/nwurse. nie/nier. nie/niem. sy/syr. sy/sym/syr. syri/syringe. medi/medical. medi/medis. med/medic. my/myr. mei/meir. mu/muse. myu/myuse. fri/frills. frill/frills. he/heal. hea/heal. hea/ler/healer. rib/bon. rib/ribs. rem/remedy. rem/edy. sie/sier. sie/siem. hie/hier. hie/hiem. thiey/thiem. thiey/thier. sin/sing. sing/song. la/lala. hu/hum. song/songs. pop/star. cli/nic. cu/cute. cyu/cyute.

idolnnurse. idolnnrse. iidolnurse. idollica. idollish. idollysh. idolcure. idolcwure. idolcwre. idolligf. idollibf. idolbfie. idolgfie. idolboyf. idolgirlf. idolfriend. idwlfriend. idwllish. idwlnurse. idolification. idolyfication. idolettsia. idolesth. idolinjcted. nursic. nurseish. nursidol. nwursecure. nursecwr. nurseing. nursesing. nwrsesing. nrrsey. nursiey. nursyie. nursellith. nwrseinjccted. nurseinjct. frillynurse. frillnwrse. frillnyrse. frillidol. frillsyrnge. frillinjcct. curenurse. cwringnurse. cwringidol. curingidol. cwuringbf. cwuringf. cwuringbfie. cwuringfie. cwuringboyf. cwuringgirlf. curebf. curegf. curebfie. curegfie. cureboyf. curegirlf. curefrill. curefrilly. cyuresth. curesthing. curesthe. cwureinjcct. cureinjectd. mediccre. medicwre. medicwl. medyringe. medsyrie. medibbon. ribcwre. ribbonure. healwst. hwealie. hwealing. healibf. healigf. healibfie. healigfie. healiboyf. healigirlf. healsyng. healsyringe. healinjccted.

The Idol-Nurse. The Star / Idol / Nurse of the Show. The Nurse-themed Idol. The Idol of Nurses. The Singing Nurse. The Idol who's also a Nurse. The Nurse who's also an Idol. Prn* who's an Idol. This Idol. This Nurse-Idol. This Idol-Nurse. The Curing / Healing Idol. Prn* who can Cure / Heal. The Frilly Idol-Nurse. Prn* in Frills. Prn* with a Healing Melody. Prn* Healing Melody. The Idol in a Nurse Uniform. Prn* Heartbeat Serenade. The Nurse of the Glittering Stage. Prn* who Heals through Singing. Prn* Glittery Syringe. The Pop Star's Stage. The Idol-Nurse's Stage. The Idol with a First Aid Kit. Prn* who Cures with Cuteness. The Nurse in the Spotlight. The Nurse who can Sing. Prn* who Sings prn* Heart out. Prn* who wrapped in Ribbons / Bandages. The Cutest Idol-Nurse (ever).

[potatoplace]

🧡❤️‍🔥🔥

Eris deserves some love 😔❤️

-🪐

Delicious

Alpha!Eris x Omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, omegaverse, kinda dub-con cause it's a surprise heat

🧡 Eris | ❤️‍🔥 Smut | 🔥 Omegaverse

Notes: I hope you like this one 🤭 it took me far longer to write than it should have cause I was distracted by greys anatomy... 🤷‍♀️ oh wellll I'm happy with how uhhh. Horny this turned out 😂 love you boo 🫶

🧡🤍❤️‍🔥🤍🧡

You were currently in the orchard picking apples, already far behind your daily quota with how feverish you had felt since waking. Yet you persisted, unwilling to let your family down and not have a large enough harvest to present to the High Lord.

The orchards were where you preferred to spend your time, breathing in the soothing scent of crisp autumn air. Harvest month was your favorite time of each season, the air sweetened by grown fruit.

Today though, you could hardly smell anything, a rarity for you nose. You supposed you might be coming down with a cold, given the fever you had.

You were halfway through picking your third basket when it hit you - the mouthwatering scent of crisp leaves, apples, and a hint of smoke having your head turning to find the source without a thought.

It took a moment, but between the trees in the distance you spotted him - an auburn haired male dressed in Autumn Court finery.

You began moving on instinct, dropping the basket in your arms to the ground and starting towards the male. When you were within fifty paces of him, his head turned, fiery amber eyes meeting yours.

His scent was stronger now, an irresistible pull as you approached him without hesitation, arms circling his neck and your face resting in the crook of his neck. You took in greedy lungfuls of his scent and let out a relieved sigh, the fever in your body abating slightly.

A rustling noise behind you elicited a growl from the male's throat, sending a lick of heat straight to your core. You melted further into him, sighing when his arms lifted your legs to hook around his hips, his hands gripping your ass.

"Sweet omega, is this your first heat?" He asked sweetly as he moved to a tree, resting your back against it. When you didn't answer, merely began licking at the skin of his neck - he tasted even better than he smelled - a firm hand pulled your face from his neck, eliciting a whine from you as you licked your lips, desperate to taste more of him. "Omega, is this your first heat?" He asked again, looking you in the eye until you answered.

You nodded, though you weren't *entirely convinced you were an omega.

He was just... delicious.

"Do you need alpha's knot?"

*Alpha? The burning ache within you grew and you nodded again - if he was suggesting it, surely it was what you needed.

"Good omega," he purred, the words only fanning the flames of your arousal. With one arm, he was able to hold you to the tree, the other hand working to shimmy the skirts of your dress up to your hips, only your underwear covering your center now. Amber eyes watched your lids flutter as one long finger ran up your clothed slit, heady arousal blending perfectly into his scent.

Two careful fingers pinched your panties between them, a flame incinerating them the next moment. Autumn air hit your glistening cunt, slick slowly leaking from you already.

A groan came from the male's throat, his free hand already springing his cock from his trousers, dragging the head up and down the length of you. You moaned when he slid across your clit, your head falling against the tree trunk behind you.

"Alpha," you whined pitifully, needing *more. "*Please."

"Since my omega asked so sweetly," he said teasingly, before slowly pressing the head of his cock to your entrance, slipping inside an inch.

The stretch to accommodate him added to the burn already coursing through you, white hot pain lancing through you for a moment as he pressed in further. The pad of his thumb rubbed your clit, soothing away the hurt and turning it to heady pleasure as he continued forging his way into you.

Your head tilted forward, forehead falling against his shoulder once he was fully seated within you, feeling fuller than you'd ever thought possible.

Lips pressed to your neck softly, a sigh leaving you at the tenderness of it. "Such a sweet little omega, hidden out here. So sweet for her alpha, hmm?" The alpha asked, and you just barely managed to nod before whining at the fire coursing through you still. "Don't worry, alpha's going to make it all better."

His hips started moving slowly, each thrust more heavenly than the last. Your pleasure built quickly, aided by the teeth grazing the sensitive gland at the base of your neck, so obvious now that you've presented.

Moans and the slapping of skin filled the orchard around you, the cool air doing nothing to ease the ache within you like the drag of his cock against your inner walls was.

Pleasure overtook you when his cock angled just right, hitting a sweet spot just right. You keened loudly into the air before letting your teeth dig into his shoulder, a hiss the only warning you had before your alpha picked up his pace, thrusting into you as quickly as he was able in this position.

The base of his cock began to swell, catching on your entrance with every pull, until he pushed into you one last time, his thumb circling your clit as his hips twitched, knot inflating within you as you crested the edge again from, set of teeth biting into your neck while wave after wave of cooling pleasure washing over you.

Some time later, you came back to awareness, laid on your side with your alpha's knot still locked inside of you. Now, though, you were laying atop a soft bed, thick red woolen blanket pulled over the two of you.

"Keep sleeping, 'mega," your alpha said, the gentle command in his voice enough to have you obeying, drifting back to sleep with his scent ingrained in your nose, the feel of him etched permanently into you.

🧡🤍❤️‍🔥🤍🧡

[queersrus]

i need names, pronouns, and titles for a wolf loverboy

names:

wolf, wolfe, wulf, wolfram cannon, cathwulf, connor, conchobhar, conri, cuan randy, rolf lupe, lupeta, lykos ingo, ingolf howl, howle, howler ulfr fenrir, freki, feilan, faelan, fael geri, grey/gray beowulf

more here

prns: - 3rd p

wo/wolf, wolf/wolfs, wo/olf, wolf/wolfing, wolf/wolves, wolf/raven, wolf/lover, wolf/loverboy pack/packs hunt/hunts, hunt/hunter, hunt/hunting, how/howl, howl/howls full/moon moon/moons grr/grrs, grr/growl, growl/growls, grey/wolf claw/claws bite/bites arctic/wolf raven/wolf lover/boy, loverboy/loverboys

titles:

the lover of wolves, the wolf lover, the wolf, the wolf loverboy, the loverboy, the boy who loves wolves

(prn) who loves wolves

wolf lover, lover of wolves, loverboy of/for wolves, wolf boy

[eggplantgifs]

Chaeyeon Kim: Whispers of the Heart, Love Dance » 2025 Korean Nationals

[priceofreedom]

Zack's limit break Requested by anon!

[ritahayworrth]

Dexter, this is Ms. Imbrie and Mr. Connor from SPY magazine.

SPY? Your tastes have changed a little, haven't they, Sam?

HIGH SOCIETY (1956) dir. Charles Walters

[mellohiizz]

havocduo tonight 👀❔

havocduo!! ^_^