#and the docs still have no idea what causes them

[phan3145]

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Cursing) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

Notes: Hello! Yada yada pregnant yada yada writers block yada yada lost 3 chapters and had to transfer everything I had left to a google doc from word. Anyway, ON WITH THE SHOW! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me thus far ❤️ Tagging @smashee0789

Chapter 15: Naïve

You

No sooner had the word left your mouth, did every ape around you, excluding Soona and the Matriarch, begin to speak and sign at once.

“Speaks! Echo speaks!”

“Elder…spoke true.”

“Is said…Echos cannot…speak.”

“She…spoke…heard her!”

“Say more…say more Echo!”

You were suddenly surrounded, the young apes no longer keeping a respectable distance. Some tapped your leg while others circled you. E, no, Eden was fighting her way through bigger apes to get to you. The overwhelming feeling of being cornered wasn’t as striking as it probably should have been, but it was still there as a tingle at the base of your spine. You couldn’t even think of words to appease the chanting around you. The only thing you could think of was the turn the events of today had taken. You didn’t sign up for this.

Eden had grown frustrated at fighting for a place next to you. You saw her huff in anger before charging over to Soona. She kneeled to pick up Eden, but was just as surprised as you when Eden began to climb up her legs, waist, and back. Soona stood as Eden centered herself on her shoulders, a vague idea of what she was about to do tickling your brain. Then, without further preamble, Eden leapt off of Soona with a force that startled both you and ape.

“Eden no- fuck!” You screamed without really thinking. You had just enough time to hold out your arms to catch her before you were toppled to the ground from the impact.

Your pelvic muscles screamed at you, not as loud as your back, but enough to make you wince and whine. Eden was standing on your chest, looking at you now with concern as she wondered what had caused you to cry out in pain. She patted your cheek and moved hair that had fallen into your face. You winced again, hissing as you took in your next breath. Soona stepped closer then, face showing concern the longer you remained flat on your back.

You huffed out a breath, testing your shoulders to make sure nothing was broken before raising a hand and showing a thumbs up. “I’m alright.”

“Can speak…can speak!”

The chorus started again. You internally groaned, the noise becoming an external one when you heard one of them ask, “Fuck?…what does…fuck…mean?”

“Echo word.” Another added.

“Echo word…Echo what does…fuck mean.

Greeeeeat. You’re around children for two minutes and you already taught them how to swear.

You sit up slowly, holding Eden as you do. She was spirited for one so small, you’d give her that. She hissed and swiped at any ape that stepped too close to you, not needing words to communicate to the others that they needed to back off. You appreciated the effort as you caught your breath, trying and somewhat failing to calm your racing heart. All in all though, the situation could be worse.

You looked up then, to find the Matriarch staring at you. You fought the urge to swallow. Though she was an ape, and that fact alone intimidated you, she had a very calm presence about her that told you that you were in no danger. Whether that was due to her obvious age, or the softness you saw in her eyes, you were unsure. She did her best to smile at you, “Our youngest…seems…attached…to you.”

The other apes around you had quieted to a hush, stepping back in what felt like respect as the Matriarch began to shuffle towards you. You nodded, Eden remaining fixed in your lap while her head glanced back and forth from you to the Matriarch. “I suppose. I found her by the water. Soona said she wandered off…?”

The unspoken question was obvious. The Matriarch simply hummed, “Youngling…may have…mis-under-stood…my teaching.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Which was?”

“All life…holds…intelligence,” The Matriarch began. “From boar…to Eagle…to Echo…speech matters not…all must be…respected.”

You nodded, not quite sure where she was going with this. She offered you her stick, which you took with a signed Thank you from your free hand. As you stood, Eden clung to your clothes, until she was hanging off of your back by your shoulders. Your instinct was to brace her, but by the way her head rested against you, you were sure she was just fine. The Matriarch spared Eden a single glance before continuing, “Echos…are not respected…seen as…pests…I say Echos…can be as…smart as ape…Master of Birds…befriended one…planned to meet Echo…downstream…today…to discuss…im-por-tant matters.”

“That’s right,” you agreed. You noticed the stinted way she talked, slower, not nearly as clear as Noa or Soona. You wondered if it was due to her age or if it was a personal choice, similar to Anaya often speaking in the third person. It was almost soothing, the way she spoke. You felt comfortable enough to ask, “Where did the misunderstanding happen?”

“Younglings,” she continued. “Did not believe…an echo could…speak…but…Master of Birds…would not speak…downstream with…a silent Echo…if they could…only see…they would know.”

You arched your neck slightly to look at Eden, “Did you take that as an invitation or a challenge?”

Eden’s lips thinned, refusing to acknowledge your question. Of course her hands were busy, but she also refused to nod or shake her head. You simply shrugged your shoulders, a task much harder with her weight hanging off them. “Suit yourself.”

The Matriarch hummed, “Think she…saw lesson as…permission…she is small…easy to miss...I am…grateful…that you found her…comforted her.”

“Oh,” you said, stunned by her thanks. “It was no problem, really. I’m just surprised you knew Noa and I were planning to meet downstream.”

“Have heard…much…about you.” The Matriarch chuffed, “Especially…before this sunrise.”

“You’re an elder!” You guessed, lowering your head and bending your knees in some show of respect. “I am sorry if I offended you or your clan yesterday by not showing. I was…I was not prepared to do so.”

You heard Soona and the children begin to hoot behind you, a few discreet sounds coming from Eden as she trembled against your back. The Matriarch simply shook her head, signing as she explained, “I am not…elder…though I am…old…am known as…honored teacher.”

“Honored teacher,” you repeated and signed at the same time. “My apologies. I guess…I’m more well known by your clan than I originally thought.”

You gave a sideways glance to Soona, feeling slightly betrayed. You couldn’t fault her though, or any them for that matter, when it came to the clan knowing about you. In a way, you were more protected should a random ape stumble upon you. It hadn’t happened yet, no sign of any others except the usual trio, but that could change now that Summer was in full swing.

“Known?” The Matriarch parroted. “By some…yes…more gossip…and guess…from most.”

“Oh,” you responded dumbly. You wanted to ask how the idea of you had been received, but fear acted as a lead weight to your tongue. Fear of being seen as a nuisance or a pest. Or worse, a threat. The vague notion of you might be better than the clan outright knowing how imbedded you had become within the life of their Master of Birds.

Your thoughts were interrupted then by their Honored Teacher, another hum leaving her as she made a vague gesture to the young apes. “Have much to…teach…but thought…you would…like to…help.”

It sounded more like a question. Were you being told or asked? The younglings began to hover around you once more before sitting near the edge of the bank in a lineup…all still staring at you. Even Eden tumbled from your shoulders to join the group. You looked between their tiny, expectant faces, Soona, and the matriarch. What were you meant to do here? You shifted from one foot to the other, watching Soona seat herself on the ground next to the students. The look she fixed you with was curious, as if in this moment you knew more than she did.

Were they waiting for your answer?

The silence stretched another heartbeat before you cleared your throat, “Sure. I don’t know how much help I’ll be…but I can try.”

At that, multiple tiny arms went up, waving frantically while the children hooted for attention. Your eyes widened slightly at their enthusiasm, Soona seeming just as surprised as you. Their Honored Teacher used her staff to point at one of the children, who proudly stood and asked, “Does Echo have a name?”

“I do,” you answered just as proudly. You gave your first name, letting the information be absorbed, even commented on before you asked, “What are your names?”

The largest of the young apes stepped forward, the one who had scented you earlier, pointing to himself as he said, “Able.”

You nodded, watching as he pointed to the slightly smaller ape next to him, “Atlas.”

A hoot of excitement drew your attention to three clustered apes, who answered one after the other, “Juno.”

“Sky.”

“Ravi.”

You mouthed each name after it was said, trying to remember faces with names. Their features weren’t too distinct yet, seeing as they were young, but a few had arm bands or fur markings that caught your eye. Able was the easiest, seeing as he was the biggest, but the three female apes had very little in terms of distinction. You turned then to the two remaining apes. They looked between each other skeptically, before the one on the left pointed to himself, much like Able had, “Breeze.”

The final one mimicked his friend, “Ford.”

That was a lot of names, unusual ones you knew you would struggle to remember. Too bad you couldn’t write them down. Ford’s head turned slightly to the side then, studying you, before he asked, “Why do you only have hair on head…are Echos meant to be bald?”

The question took you by surprise, and you would have felt insulted if it had come from anyone else…but coming from an ape child, it was almost cute. You heard a slight huff behind you from their honored teacher, who was clearly displeased with Ford’s question.

You simply smirked and shook your head, “Echos are not meant to have hair everywhere as thick as apes do. We are just different that way; like how fish have scales, and birds have feathers. We have hair in places that are vulnerable to cold, meant to help keep us warm. We also have more hair than what you see on my head. The other hairs are just thinner and harder to see.”

Juno’s hand went into the air then, so excited she did not wait for their Honored Teacher to call on her.

“How do you speak?”

You hesitated, wondering how best to explain it. They were children after all, so maybe a simple answer was best. “A long time ago, all Echos could speak. Now, only some of us can. I’m one of the ones who can, so I do.”

“Why? Why only some?” Able asked.

“Well, it’s complicated.” You bit your lip, hands tightening at your sides, “First, Echos became sick, and there weren’t a lot of us after that. We could still talk then, but many years- uh, generations later, Echos started to lose the ability to speak. We weren’t sure why or how to stop it. We just…kept to ourselves after that. The ones that could speak lived together, and the ones who couldn’t lived outside with…nature.”

Sky hooted, “Echo lived with other speaking Echos?”

“Where?” Able chimed in again, “Where are speaking clan of Echos?”

“Is Echo alone?” Atlas interjected. “Did your clan lose ability to speak?”

“Is Echo going to join our clan?” Juno said, “Master of Birds was meant to speak with Echo today.”

Your mouth felt dry then. You swallowed hard, willing the sudden sting in your eyes to go away. The children were still hurling questions at you, but you didn’t hear them. Your mind had begun to tune them out as your current situation was brought into focus. What you thought was going to be an impersonal lesson about Echos and coexistence, had suddenly turned into a very personal lesson about your life. At this stage you didn’t even have a response to the questions they were asking, mind too busy trying to figure out how to answer without causing more trouble between the species. You weren’t prepared to teach Echo 101 to children today. Again, you didn’t sign up for this.

That’s when an unexpected silence suddenly came over the group in front of you, another loud and very disapproving grunt resounding from their Honored Teacher. Or, so you assumed. Your eyes cut to her then, attention solely on you, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

You nodded, taking a deep breath through your nose as you tried to remember the multitude of things the apes had wanted to know. After another moment of silence, you replied, “My clan did not lose their ability to speak, but they did lose me. I travelled a very long way away from home, and found myself here living on the edge of your territory. I am alone now, but that’s okay. I’m an Echo, and Echos can be a clan of many or a clan of one. I choose to be a clan of one, because it makes me happy.”

You waited for more questions, but an unexpected lull fell over the group. The children were torn, looking back and forth between each other and the ground. That’s when you realized the tone of the group had shifted to something almost uncomfortable. Did you do that? What had you said? Was it just them reacting to being scolded?

No

Your eyes found Soona, who looked almost sad, but she wasn’t looking at you. She wasn't staring off into the distance either. Her gaze was clearly on something else, but before you could think more of it, another hand slowly went into the air.

It was Eden, who waited patiently for their Honored Teacher to point at her before she began to sign her question, Why does Master of Birds speak with Echo?

That was a complicated answer, one you weren’t sure you wanted to explain, when a familiar voice behind you chimed in, “Because I…enjoy what Echo…has to say.”

You turned sharply then, seeing Noa standing a few feet behind you. You had never seen him look sheepish before, but the way he stood reminded you of when you were a child being yelled at by your parents. He did not seem angry though, which put you at ease immediately, causing a smile to bubble up as you sighed out, “Hello, Noa.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up then, “Hello, Echo…younglings…honored teacher.”

Younglings? You assumed that’s what the apes call their children, and as you thought about it, Able had called Eden a newborn earlier. You also recalled Anya and Noa exchanging the same insult when they were teasing each other. You would need to ask about the different terms for apes and their ages, not wanting to offend anyone accidentally by referring to them as the wrong age class.

You heard their honored teacher chuff in amusement, “Son…welcome…younglings have…many questions…best for…another day…time for Echo…to meet with…Master of Birds.”

Son?!

Your head snapped towards their honored teacher so fast you thought you might have pulled something. If she noticed your confusion, she did not show it, simply nodding and hooting something you did not understand to the children. In turn, they all started to shuffle back up stream, running and chasing after one another in a way that was obviously playful. All except Eden, who tugged on your arm until you bent down to her level. She grabbed the back of your head then and crashed her forehead against yours, rubbing it back and forth a few times before pulling away. You rubbed the sore spot between your brows, watching Eden take Soona’s hand before pulling her along to follow after the others.

Soona did not pause to say goodbye, which was strange by itself, but then you caught her tossing a pointed look over her shoulder towards Noa. You couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind it, and before you could focus on it any longer, Soona’s head swiveled and she gave a last minute wave in your direction. Your hand rose slightly to return the gesture, before Soona’s attention was jerked back towards Eden. You snorted a small laugh, lowering your hand as you watched them go.

All too soon, you found yourself alone with Noa and his mother. You felt his eyes on you, but you could not meet his gaze, mind overwhelmed with everything you had just experienced. Did you just answer youngling questions about humans? As if you were some expert brought in to teach a class of students.

“You are…alright?” Noa asked, breaking the silence.

You turned to face him again, nodding silently before his mother added, “She is…very kind…very good…with younglings.”

“Thank you, honored teacher.” You replied and signed.

She nodded once, hand raising so her knuckles nudged your shoulder, “I am…called Dar…should you ever…need my name.”

You felt your eyebrows raise slightly, before replying, “Thank you, Dar. I enjoyed learning with your group.”

Dar hummed contentedly, eyes shifting to Noa, “I will…depart…return to…younglings…allow you and…Echo to speak.”

Noa grunted in understanding, before his mother turned back towards you, “I am…happy…to have met you…hope to see…you again…soon.”

You swallowed, trying to smile, “I hope to see you, and the younglings, again too.”

With that, Noa’s mother turned and followed the same path the younglings had taken mere moments ago. You and Noa remained quiet, exchanging patient glances until you both determined Dar was a good distance away. You raised both eyebrows at Noa then, as you asked, “You told your mother about me?”

Noa shrugged, face expressionless, though he would not meet your eye, “Echo is…important…mother deserved…to know.”

You nodded, suddenly aware of the midday sun beating down on you. The energy between you and Noa seemed to shift into a tense silence along with the heat. You supposed neither of you really knew how to start. Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Walk with me?”

Noa cocked his head slightly, but grunted in agreement before shuffling alongside you. You didn’t have far to go, but you wanted an excuse to move closer to the water, closer to your rock. Your feet toed the edge of the water before you turned back to Noa, “I’m going to cool off real quick, then I suppose we have some things to discuss.”

“Yes…we do.” Noa said, looking skeptically at the water’s edge.

There was a twinge of pain in your abdomen as you took your first step into the water, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you waded in up to your waist, cupping some water in your hand before splashing it onto your face. You sighed in relief, repeating the process and allowing the water to dampen your hair slightly. From the corner of your eye, you caught Noa staring, deep in thought as he watched you. Inhaling deeply, you decided stalling wouldn’t do either of you any good.

You carefully made your way back to the water’s edge, finding a rock slightly submerged in water, and just big enough to sit on. This allowed you to keep your legs in the water, which would keep your temperature down as well. Wrapping your arms around your knees you arched your back in a slight stretch before sighing, “I should probably start off by saying that I don’t want to fight. I just want to talk.”

“I do not…wish to fight…either.” Noa agreed. “I…regret yesterday…I was…wrong…came to say that…last night.”

You nodded, “I regret yesterday too.”

Silence engulfed you both once again. You wanted to apologize. Then, you remembered the look on his face after you had thrown that rock, anc when he found you on the ground with Anaya. The shame of it all practically clawed at the back of your throat. Where were you even supposed to start? Had things been permanently damaged between the two of you that now you couldn’t even speak to him like you used to?

“What does…” Noa pasused, the beginning of his question catching you off guard. “What does…naïve mean?”

Your brows furrowed, “I don’t understand.”

Noa’s jaw worked a moment before he explained, “You said…I was naïve…about other apes…accepting you.”

“Yes,” you drawled. “And you called me naïve for questioning the mark.”

Noa huffed, “Yes…but what does…it mean.”

You were confused for only another moment, before you felt laughter bubble up inside of you. “Wait. Did you call me naïve just because I called you naïve?”

Noa turned his head away, looking far upstream before he admitted, “…Maybe.”

You couldn’t hold it in, you started to full on cackle at the thought. You supposed that’s how mad he had truly been, deciding to just throw the word back at you instead of questioning what it meant in the moment. Truthfully, you probably would have done the same. Your side started to twinge from your laughter, and you noticed Noa had turned back at the sound he was so familiar with. He had that warm smile on his face, the one you had seen that night in your burrow.

“Missed…that sound.” Noa commented.

Your laughter died then, and the weight of yesterday hit you again with full force. So much had happened. Your attention was suddenly drawn to the water, fingers running through the sluggish current before you muttered, “Naïve isn’t bad necessarily. It sort of means…innocent thinking. You would call someone naïve who…doesn’t know or understand something because they haven’t had experience with whatever it is they’re talking about.”

Noa was silent, absorbing your words. Then, “Naïve is like…calling ape…a youngling.”

“Well, not…actually no, that’s pretty accurate.” You chuckled.

Noa chuffed in amusement along with you, before admitting, “I was…naïve about…you.”

That caused you to freeze, the hair on your arm standing on end. What did he mean by that? Did he mean about you being a good Echo? Had Anaya told him about Micheal and he knew you had hidden it from him?

Thankfully, Noa explained, “I thought…I knew…better…I was…wrong…Echo is not…pest…or member of…Eagle Clan…I can not…decide…for you…I am…sorry.”

You felt the tension in your body ease slightly. “I’m sorry too, Noa. I understand what you were trying to do. I just…I wasn’t ready. There are things I’m not ready to do…or tell you. I want to, and I will, just….just not yet.”

“Tell me?” Noa parroted. He shuffled closer to the water's edge then, voice softer as he assured, “Can tell me…anything…will listen…not get upset…understand now…you need…time…patience.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say to that. You were stunned by this sudden turn around. Then again, Noa always had been careful with you; could see what you needed sometimes better than you could. It made hiding things from him all the more painful. All you could do was nod, mumbling, “Thank you.”

Noa reached for you then, not suddenly or urgently, but carefully, as if you were the wild animal that may spook if any sudden movement was made. Perhaps in this situation, you were. The movement didn’t surprise you, but the action itself did as he grasped you by your elbow. You leaned in closer, mirroring his hunched position as his gaze focused in on your arm. There was a sort of wonder in his voice as he observed, “You are…more vulnerable…to cold…and heat…that is purpose…of thin…hard to see…hair.”

You blinked rapidly, noticing for the first time, the damp hair of your arm standing on end. How bizarre. It was such a small thing for him to notice. That’s when his words rang again in your ears, and something clicked in your mind. He had been listening when the young apes were asking you questions. Noa had been there.

That’s when all the oddities of before seemed to fall into place. You weren’t sure how long he had been there of course, but he had been there towards the end of the questions at least. When it started to become too much for you, he had stepped in. The disapproving grunt, Soona looking pointedly at something behind you, the young apes going quiet and not looking towards you anymore…that had been him.

Noa continued, not realizing you were having your own revelation, eyes still fixed on your arm. “The younglings…liked learning…about Echos…there is…much to learn…I want to…learn too.”

This statement shook you out of your previous thoughts as a new one took shape. You called Noa’s name, causing him to lock eyes with you, before you asked, “Do you know what a compromise is?”

[nicistrying]

Feeling lots of feelings again tonight so here are some cute pics of Maggie this afternoon

[ziyechs]

joe'marr bengals reunion — a (somewhat) comprehensive timeline

1 — “have you spoken to the cincinnati bengals and what would it mean to reunite with joe burrow there?” — “i have talked to the bengals. i don’t know how many times i’ve talked to them though. but, me and joe, you know, i wouldn’t mind going back with joe. if we go back together we’re trying to do nothing but get back our chemistry and have some more fun.”

2 — “i'm really excited for this draft. i don't really know what's coming but, you know, if me and joe could get back to it... i’d love to have some fun with him again.”

3 — “i assume you'd be okay with a potential reunion in cincinnati if that were to happen?" — "yeah, i wouldn’t mind.”

4 — “me and joe talked about [a reunion] maybe like three, four times actually. we talked about it a good bit of times. he texted me this morning, just letting me know: ‘get your bags packed’, so i guess that meant that was gonna be the pick. i don’t know if that was a hint or what. so, he sent me that little text this morning, i was like ‘okay… i'm ready, bro’.”

5 — “what was your reaction like when he was lowkey recruiting you?” — “i actually was believing him sometimes, sometimes i was like ‘stop playing with me’ and sometimes i was just like ‘okay bro, i gotcha, i'm ready now’ so. i believed him this morning when he told me, you know, pack my bags. so that's when i finally was like: ‘yeah he might really be calling this’ so that's when i took his word.”

6 – “jimmy burrow, did joe tell you—he’s always been kind of coy about what he said to the bengals—did joe tell you that he wanted the bengals to select ja’marr?” — “yes, i think we figured that… and eventually… yes, he pretty much told us that he wanted ja’marr.”

7 — “it was like a week before the draft, ja'marr said: ‘dad, joe texted me.’ […] he didn't say what he said, you know. but he said: ‘joe just texted me’, [...] so he had talked to joe like... or texted with joe once or twice that week. and then he told me, he said: ‘dad, if i get with joe, we're gonna kill’ [...] so he was all excited about getting with joe.”

8 — “what was the first thing joe texted you when you got drafted by the bengals?” — “make sure your bag's packed and ready. yeah, that was what he told me.”

9 — “the cincinnati bengals are on the clock now. earlier that morning, i had got a text from joe. he said: hope your bags are packed. i know it's me, at the moment, that's what i'm saying to myself. i can't wait to be a part of it.”

10 — articles: 1, 2, 3, 4

[todayisafridaynight]

i was playing about dropping Fifty Drawings onto everyone's dashboard this week but the unfortunate reality is i am in fact being assaulted with images

[techmomma]

Facts about your body after you turn 25, AKA things I wish someone had told me:

you will get hair in fun new places. this is normal and fine.

these places include (but are not limited to) if you don't already have them: your asscrack, your back, your ears, and moles. it's fine.

some of you, dick or not, will also lose hair. this is normal, but also if you have ovaries maybe get this checked out for PCOS.

your acne will probably change. some people get better. some people get worse. it's fine.

your nails will probably get an infection or a fungus at least once in your life. this is fine. (but also let your doc know).

how you gain and lose fat and where you do so will change. this is fine.

how you smell will change. this is fine. (fishy or rotten smells mean doctor time though)

if you have a prostate: it gets harder to pee. prostates enlarge as you age (get this checked regularly). this is fine.

if you do not have a prostate: it gets easier to pee but not in a good way. as in as you get older, your pelvic floor muscles tend to lose some of their strength. this makes it harder to keep pee in. this is fine.

all breasts and pectorals eventually sag, with the rest of your body. this is fine.

a decent percent of the population will experience a cyst at least once. some of you will make up for the rest with multiple. this is fine, but keep them checked out by a doctor. (sometimes this is a condition! get checked for that too!)

almost half of everyone gets hemorrhoids. it's a good idea to just expect them since your chances of getting them get higher the older you are. your toilet will look like a murder scene. definitely get your booty checked out BUT this is almost always perfectly normal. just eat more fiber. "but I already-" eat more fiber. and maybe suck it up and buy some hemorrhoid cream, you'll thank me later.

yes, this means you will probably need to make an appointment for a doctor to see your butthole. it's okay. not only do they really not care but 1. they've seen weirder that day and 2. they'd far rather you see them now than later when it's been going on for forty years and now it might be colon cancer. it's okay. consider it a rite of passage.

adults need more sleep than children. don't believe the myth that you need less than they do. that is capitalist propaganda to make you give up more of your life to the work grind, comrade.

vitamins and medicine, something you are more likely to take as you get older, sometimes make the toilet turn weird colors. it's okay.

if you still have your tonsils and get those little stones and get sore throats more than once a year you should plan on getting those suckers out before the tonsils cause an infection and go septic. if you're getting stones at all you should get those reevaluated every year, especially if the stones are bigger than a needlehead (or get bigger over time). it's gross and yucky. I don't care. get them looked at before you end up in the hospital.

you'll probably need to add foot support to your shoes if you don't already do. this is fine.

your body changes. sometimes it can feel sorta weird and upsetting that it isn't what it used to be. that is okay, and it is okay to be upset. just know that this is normal, it's normal to be upset or not upset, but don't let it hinder your quality of life. trans or cis, there is a certain level of acceptance you just gotta give your body and forgive your body for as you get older. it's okay.

it's okay. I promise.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Cabin Fever, Baby Fever

A/N: originally named this doc ‘a dawg gone wrawng’ so I hope that gives you some idea as to what hell this is. Thanks to the anon for Conan's name, I wrote this mainly for his haters! deadass not sure if the drama is worth keeping most interested so his next ringer will probably be smut.

Part 1 , Part 2

Synopsis: You and the werewolf that knocked you up (ahem, kidnapper) discuss future pup names. 

CW: Pregnant! Reader described as a future ‘mother’, past mentions of kidnapping, kidnapper/kidnapped dynamic, knives 

You weren’t trusted in the kitchen. The only reason he left the knives out, was because he knew you wouldn’t have the gall to mess with them; if you did, a small steak knife wouldn’t do much to subdue the punishment you would quickly find, whether it was aimed at yourself or him. Anything else though, he didn’t believe you could handle. Not when you ached about the balls of your feet hurting, your lower back tensing up as you sat to read for the evening, or the dark circles laden under your eyes that made him throw a look of misery toward you.

It wasn’t just the roundness of your belly or the shift in your hormones causing you to complain. In fact, if you had been doing this entire pregnancy alone, you would probably be fine going back into work, with a slight pain in your tailbone or at your knees, but nothing you couldn’t handle. His hovering though, that was something out of your scope, doubling down on your constant stress from him always watching you. Like he was waiting for you to try and pick at the new keypad deadbolt he bought (mostly as an intimidation tactic.) Truly, a deadbolt would prove useless as long as he was here to stop you. 

Considering your recent… adventure had left you both exhausted, enraged, and anxious, your body had been deteriorating. You’d have no appetite some days and others you’d spend an evening ransacking the kitchen, alongside sleeping the entire day away only to be up at night sobbing, wishing you were anywhere but here in this shitty one bedroom flat, with a werewolf who didn’t even know how to decorate a damn living room besides for his PlayStation and 50-inch TV. 

He didn’t like to dwell on the past, or really anything that showed how miserable you were. So instead, Conan, the great next-door-whore and soon-to-be father, left you resting at the kitchen island to watch him try to cook, pretending like the fatigue causing your skin to droop and the redness in your eyes could be fixed by a good ol’ home-cooked meal. 

“I was thinking about baby names,” He broke the apartment’s stale silence, the slight sizzle of a pan on the stove accompanying his low voice. Often it felt like he talked to you like a hunter would, trying not to spook a fawn he planned on becoming his next wall decoration. “It’s so hard to choose. I mean, our kid is gonna have that name forever, y’know? Don’t want it to get picked on or nothin’ for its name.”

Our kid. What a strange thing to hear. You had known it as a fact, but hearing it outloud was bizarre.

“Names, huh…”  You let out a thin sardonic hmph at the thought.. “I agree, there’s enough things it’ll get pushed around for already, don’t need to add another one to the list.”

You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but maybe it was the lack of concern for anything anymore that left you indifferent. 

Conan looked over his shoulder at you, his thickly haired arm still holding the pan’s handle. He was still chewing on the toothpick you saw him grab earlier. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You knew this tone, the one that said you were playing with fire. 

“How many mixed parents do you know? It seems like trying for kids in general could be a death sentence…It’s not normal, or even common. This kind of interbreeding…I mean.” The thoughts were building the more you spoke; how hadn’t you thought of some of this until now-- What would your life be after giving birth? Would there be one at all? Humans weren’t meant to carry werewolf pups. Instead of scaring you, the idea almost felt irrelevant; you were already here, caged. Death might even be a blessing.  “Either way, ‘our kid’ won’t fit in with either humans or werewolves. There’s no one for them, no place or middle ground.” 

The worries you conjured were so surface level compared to Conan’s influence. How’ll this child grow up to be a normal being with a father who won’t even let its mother out of the house? A mother who had other plans in life than this?

“We’re not all that different in species,” Conan argued, turning away from the steaming pan to look at you. “And I guess we’ll just have to be the ones who protect it. I’m not against beating up some snot-nosed brats.”

Finding your hands with his calloused fingers, Conan kissed your knuckles with a practiced gentleness. It was uncomfortably soft, not like the werewolf who once demanded you cry out his name beneath his sheets. He gazed at you through his overgrown hair with a sick sense of watching, like his eyes were trained on you. When was he going to trust you enough again to go out of the house for longer than twenty minutes, at the very least to get a haircut? It’d be a relief to have some time to yourself. To get away from his ever-prying stare. 

“The kid will be fine, i’ll teach em’ some fist fighting techniques, show em’ how to properly give a wedgie.Before you know it our kid’ll be the one bullying!” 

“Right.” You sighed, giving a small grin to offset the poorly disguised glumness in your voice. The idea was a small drop of water in the desert of your new anxieties. 

Conan would rather have you screaming and hitting at him than to see you slumped on the bed again, but it had become so routine at this point even he began to feel defeated. Maybe this was a good sign though, some light in your eternal pessimism at his lame jokes. 

He leaned over the counter to press a small kiss to your lips, not waiting for you to return the gesture before moving back to the stove. 

“Well, back to names, I was thinking a little Connie, or something badass... like Maverick.” 

You made a face at the names, shaking your head a bit. 

“I guess I haven’t given much thought to it, but even those don’t sound right.” 

“Then…” He did something to the cooked meat to make a sharp hiss of steam rise. “Why don’t we go with something easy, like Conan?” 

Conan said the name with a strange lilt, waiting for your response. He kept his back to you, biting at the toothpick in his mouth. Was he secretly hoping you’d pick that one?

“You just want a kid named after you,” You cracked a genuine smile. “Connie, Maverick, or Conan junior is the best you can think of?”

Conan gave you a teasing look, taking the mouthwatering steak out of the pan with a pair of tongs.

“Hey, I don’t hear you coming up with anything better.” 

Looking down at your stomach, the bump started to look more familiar. You didn’t know what to think about the creature occasionally kicking at your uterus and forcing you to vomit in the mornings; it seemed like it was more a part of Conan than it was you, especially with the way he tended to it with his ear pressed to your stomach, rubbing your belly like you were some magical human lamp. 

“Technically, I guess the name would be fitting. ‘Little wolf’ isn’t too far from the truth.” 

Conan placed two plates full of meat and salad on a round dining table across from the kitchen. 

“And we’ll do Conanette if it's a girl.” He quipped. 

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to get out of the kitchen island’s chair. “Alright don’t push it.”

As soon as you move to stand, Conan is quick to rush himself in front of you, blocking your escape.

“I’ll carry you to the table.” He places one hand on the counter and stares at you cautiously.

“It’s literally like three feet,” You look behind him at the food, the hole in your stomach desperate for something with flavor and not the mere Saltines you’ve been eating all day. 

“Just let me do it. Please?” He looked almost desperate, most certainly ready to brood if you dared to reject him.

The last time he carried you was… not a pleasant ride. Is that why he wanted to pick you up now, to repair what he’s done? You almost grew irritated at the thought. Did he really think picking you up with your consent this time was going to change anything? You were a prisoner here, not some sweet lover. Just another one of his one-night stands gone wrong. 

Well, at least this explained why the sadism and horniness he usually radiated had been partly snuffed. 

A hard kick in your stomach made you clench your teeth; seemed like the little monster was as hungry as you were. 

“So fucking persistent...” You mumble, hurrying him with your hand to get it over with. If you wanted to eat and not be brutalized by a fetus, there was a clear option to choose. 

Conan was quick to follow, putting an arm at your back and under your knees to pick you up bridal style. Your bump had gotten big enough to be uncomfortable if he didn’t hold you right, but his arms were overly heedful when picking you up. Laying your head to rest on his collarbone, he kept your thighs away enough from your stomach to keep you uncramped. The werewolf had deadlifted barbells twice your size, leaving you to be a solid, comfortable warmness in his arms; this was one of the few times his strength didn’t appear  to make you afraid, the image of your comfort practically egging on the hubristic grin that spread on his lips. 

“See, it’s not all bad being treated like royalty.” He smirked, watching you hold the satisfaction of a ‘thank you’ or a smile from him. 

“Can you please hurry, mini Conanette is beating on her cell bars,” You wince, the smell of the seasoned meat making your mouth salivate and your stomach twist. You weren’t willing to let him know, but the warmth of his arms beneath you, the smell of his skin-- it brought about a gentle comfort, accompanied by a kind of unfamiliar terror that made you want to crawl out of your flesh.

Conan pulled out a wooden chair by the table with his foot, leaning down to set you in it. 

“T’s because little Conan knows his daddy’s here.” Conan gets on his knees to be eye level with your stomach, letting his hand rest on your knee. “Stop beating on your mother, you brat. Once you get out here, you’re gonna have to fight me like a man for all the pain you’ve been causing.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you.”

His little remarks had forced a small laugh from your lips, making the evening like that more of a dream than reality. This was the same man who drug you back to his apartment, who won’t let you outside without a tight grip of his hand in yours?

You pull your chair in, searching for your fork and knife. Instead, a fork and a spoon were placed beside your plate, your steak already cut up in bite size pieces for you. Odd. 

That’s when you noticed it; the table was set up as per usual, but the tablecloth had been dry cleaned, and small candles were lit in the middle, a porcelain plate keeping the wax in a secluded pool. You even had a napkin at your side, something Conan didn’t particularly take note of often in bringing. 

The werewolf turned your face toward him with his large hand, careful not to strike you with his sharp claws. 

“Eat up, you need your protein.”

He almost sounded condescending, but the hard kiss pressed to your temple made you unsure.

This poor attempt at what looked like a date, an effort at putting back together something that never could be fixed, would not fool you. The missing knife was starting to make you nervous as Conan sat down on his side of the table, digging in, untroubled. It looked to be another freedom stripped away indefinitely, your food’s preparation an unfunny joke in how it was akin to being cut for a child.

Your laughter was gone, replaced by something sour bubbling in the back of your throat. You’d have to hope, to pray that today he just wasn’t taking any chances so you wouldn’t ‘ruin the evening,’, that you’d find the missing knife block back on the kitchen counter tomorrow morning. 

[chirpingchorus]

chirp

(long and silly rant in tags so maybe don't open them if you're scrolling at a leisurely pace)

[bloggerspam]

Not Exactly the Apple of my Eye

I wrote this for the @haunting-heroes-creative-games WWT Myths game last month, and subsequently co-won my first game!

Figured I'd post it here too, now that all the reveals have happened---have a DPxYJ/DPxDC Snow White AU Crack fic!

===

"You gotta be kidding me," Kon says as he looks down at himself, "this can't be real, right?"

"Feels pretty real to me!" Bart chirps happily, fiddling with his overly large green sleeves.

"Rad." Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and popping his hip and yawning like a disgruntled cat. Sarcasm practically drips from every orifice of his body language, even as he looks 2 seconds away from falling asleep.

"Is this what I think it is?" Cassie yells from further into the room, the sound of a small clamor echoing behind her words.

"If by it you mean some kind of inter-dimensional fucky wucky, then yeah!" Kon waves his arms around, gesturing to the room at large even if she can't see; Tim and Bart can, and that's all that matters. "I think so!"

"No, I mean is this Snow White?" Cassie clarifies as she comes huffing into the room. She too is adjusting her clothes as best she can, trying to figure out what to do with the glasses suddenly on her face.

The four of them stand gathered in the middle of the cottage they've been dumped into, freshly shrunken in height, stripped of their powers and gadgets and suits, and dressed in what seems to be simple cotton peasant shirts and work leggings.

They also have comically large and weirdly soft and sturdy leather shoes, of the Snow White Dwarf variety.

"Aren't there supposed to be seven of us?" Tim mumbles thoughtfully, another yawn causing him to slump and looking mad about it.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Kon huffs, picking up Tim with very little resistance for once and dumping the yawning boy onto a bed labelled Sleepy. Kon himself grumbles as he takes a seat on the next bed over labelled Grumpy.

An angry Kryptonian is not a great idea. Who let this be okay?

"I'm not calm about this…" Tim yawns once more, irritated, "I just can't think straight, I'm too tired."

"You don't sleep on a daily basis though?" Bart walks his way to his own bed, labeled Dopey and test bouncing it. "But it seems fitting at least. Plus, You're not straight anyway. Who's Cassie supposed to be?"

"Doc, I think." Cassie goes to her own bed, looking at it dubiously before deciding to ignore it completely. "He's the only one with glasses right?"

"That…" Tim is curled up on his side now, "still…doesn't answer…"

Soft snores start to drift through the room, another anomaly, considering Tim doesn't actually snore.

"What did the genie lady say?" Bart starfishes on his bed, making snow angels with no snow, "This is all because you decided to hit on her anyway."

"How was I supposed to know?!" Kon angrily pulls the covers off his bed to dump over Tim. "All I said was that she was pretty!"

Before anybody else can say anything, there's another clatter outside the cottage.

"Seriously!?" A voice screams, "Seriously?! Three years and you-" A violent sneeze interrupts the voice—"-still make fucking wishes?"

A small murmur answers the voice, barely audible.

Kon, Cassie and Bart look at each other, before scrambling over to the door. Tim stays dead asleep. When they burst out, tumbling over each other, they're met with the other three dwarves: A young gothic looking girl who keeps sneezing, an African American boy hiding behind another boy with a bedsheet of all things tied around his neck like a cape. The caped boy, with his black hair and blue eyes, looks like he's trying to be a knock off superman.

Kon does not like that. At all.

"Hey!" Rao, it's like he has no control over his temper, "Were you guys fucked over by the genie lady too?"

"Language~" Bart singsongs, giggling. The gothic girl whirls towards them, angry like spitfire, and sneezing just as violently.

"Hello, citizens!" Super-knock-off intones, "What brings you into the ill graces of Desiree?"

"If by Desiree you mean the genie lady," Cassie jabs a thumb at him, "then this guy hit on her."

"O-oh," The shy boy still hiding behind Super-knock-off is blushing hard enough that Kon can see it even with his darker skin, "w-wow, you're pretty…"

"Thanks!" Cassie smiles, winking at him. "The ladies love it, anyway."

The boy squeaks, hiding behind super-knock-off again. Goth-girl rolls her eyes before addressing Cassie.

"Desiree hates that-" a sneeze, "-kind of shit." Goth-girl rubs her nose, to which the bashful boy passes her a tissue from his backpack as if dealing with a rabid animal. The girl takes it with a scoff-turned-sneeze.

"Figured." Cassie shrugs, waving to herself. "I'm Cassie, by the way. Grumpy over here is Connor, and Cutie Pie down here is Bart."

Kon huffs, waving begrudgingly as Bart does a happy little wave.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Danny!" Super-knock off puffs out his chest, before gesturing to the once more sneezing Goth. "This is Sam, and behind me is Tucker!"

"We're not—usually like this." Sam sniffles, sneezing between pauses, "Danny's usually more chill, and Tucker's not this—shy. But if my—math is mathing, it's because—of the dwarf traits."

"Why does being Happy make him so…" Kon sneers, "Do-goodey?"

"Long story. We call him Super Danny in this state." Tucker smiles, peeking out a little more, "Fun Danny was better."

"Hey!" Danny wraps an arm around his friend to bring him up to the forefront, causing Tucker to squeak. "Super Danny had his moments!"

"Where's-" Sam sneezes four times in a row, "-Sleepy?"

"Our friend Tim." Bart gestures towards inside the house, "He's napping in one of the beds inside. He's usually an insomniac, so this is actually pretty great!"

"So," Cassie gets them back on track as they all convene around a sleeping Tim. "Do you guys know how to escape?"

"That is difficult," Danny hums, patting at Tucker who seems to be taking deep breaths to overcome his shyness. Kon tries to follow suit, to temper himself. "Did you perhaps make a wish when hitting on Desiree?"

Kon felt his face go blotchy red, rubbing at his cheek with the back of his hand and looking away.

"Connor." Cassie's voice goes threatening, hands on her hips like a mom scolding a child.

"All I said was Move over Snow White, 'cause you're truly the fairest in the land!" Kon grumbles, crossing his arms. "And that she made me all Bashful, or whatever! I didn't wish for anything!"

"All I did was wish Sam would lighten up," Tucker scratches the back of his neck, inching closer to Danny when Sam bears her teeth. "Normally Desiree would just make Sam glow, or something."

"Who is Desiree anyway?" Bart starts to frown down at himself, rubbing his tummy absentmindedly. "We were just having lunch with Tim's brother-"

Suddenly Kon, Cassie and Bart whip their heads towards each other, exclaiming at the same time: "Dick!"

"Language?" Tucker, who had startled at the sudden yelling and is firmly hiding behind Danny again.

"No, Tim's brother, Richard—he goes by Dick." Cassie explains as the three of them separate to look under furniture and through the house for the older man. They collectively ignore the whispered on purpose? from the other trio.

"He was with us when we got snapped here." Tim yawns, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "Who are you?"

The new trio introduces themselves to Tim as the rest of them split. Kon is looking under the beds, Bart is upstairs, and Cassie is opening cabinets in the kitchen, if the sounds are to be believed.

"This doesn't really feel like Desiree's usual fare." Sam taps her foot, for some reason the only dwarf who was able to keep her own black studded combat boots. It looks comical paired with her brown shirt and red pants. At least the black belt matches?

"How would you," Tim yawns, standing up and leaning heavily against Kon when he comes back around. "Usually…get rid of her?"

"Usually Phantom would deal with her." Tucker mumbles as Sam starts to pace. She's no longer sneezing now that they're inside, which seems odd.

"Who's Phantom?" Bart's voice bounces as he descends the stairs back to join them. "He's not upstairs, by the way."

"He's Amity Park's local hero!" Danny flashes a gleaming smile, before frowning. "Truly a mystery why she's hanging out around Bludhaven."

"What were you guys-" Kon is interrupted by Sam, who knocks twice on the window she's stopped in front of.

"Uh, guys?" She's staring at something confusedly, "Is Dick…uh, black haired, wearing eye-searingly ugly patterns?"

"That's…" Tim yawns again, sluggishly making his way over to Sam, "probably…him."

"I think he's in the backyard?" Sam tilts her head, "and I think we've found our Snow White."

The seven of them gather quickly around the window, pushing and shoving and…

"Is that a fucking glass coffin?"

===

Jazz has fucked up.

Oooooh she's definitely fucked up.

How was she supposed to know Ghost Writer and Desiree just wanted to hang out?

How was she supposed to know that Desiree's cousin was Scheherazade?

How was she supposed to know Ghost Writer knew that infamous One Thousand and One Night's protagonist?

She just wanted to finally meet her online friend and talk about Jane Austen books, have dinner with her brother and his friends in Bludhaven after!

She really should have aimed better. Stupid thermos, Danny always made it seem so easy!

Now she's running around in this random forest trying to find her brother and his friends dressed like some kind of Prince.

Why do Princes wear such white tights? It's impractical is what it is, there's already a bunch of dirt on the back of her calves!

She's been in this forest for what feels like hours when she hears it; sweet salvation in the form of other people. Jazz frantically makes her way towards it.

"—Snow White?" A boyish voice asks.

"Well, he's certainly—achoo!—pretty enough for it." Sam is saying—is she with the others? "Even with all…that going on."

"At least Danny isn't in the coffin this time?" Tucker sounds unusually shy and timid—it makes Jazz quicken her steps and almost trip over tree roots at least twice.

"Hey—" An unfamiliar feminine voice cuts in, "Tucker, what does that mean?"

"Worry not, Cassie!" Danny! Oh sweet souls, Danny!! "It's an inside joke!"

"It's not really funny…" Another voice, sounding sleepy beyond compare and yawning like a "…is it?"

"Believe it or not," The mysterious feminine voice, Cassie cuts in. "He's usually the one in charge of the brain-cell. We're smart too, he just has no humor."

"I…" Another yawn, "...resent that."

"Tim just doesn't have that sense of whimsy!" That first boyish voice cuts in, ignoring who Jazz presumes is Tim.

"Does that mean we have to find a Prince?" Another masculine voice, angry and fed up, "In the forest?"

And, well, there's never been a better time for Jazz to stumble ass over kettle into the clearing.

"Jazz!" Her trio yells in greeting, rushing over to her as she rights herself. She blinks.

They're all…a lot smaller than she left them. No matter, hugs first, confusion later. (And crying/yelling much much later after that).

They're small enough for her to hoist all three into her arms, even as she notices the other four dwarves and the…glass coffin housing a fully grown man.

"What the—" Jazz whispers, eyeing the strangers.

"Are you the Prince?" Danny asks, and in this form he reminds her so much of when he was little—she wants to squeal but she won't, she won't.

"I think I am." Jazz answers, putting everyone down as they clamor to introduce the new kids and update her on the situation. Jazz, through years of dealing with her brother's trio, manages to understand and reciprocate the exchange of information.

"So I have to kiss him?" Jazz looks at the man, Dick, in the glass coffin dubiously. "I don't even know him?"

"This might be the first time someone's seen him and not kissed him on sight." Bart jokes, "Or, at least, not wanted to."

"Consent is important." Jazz scrunches up her face in consternation. "I will not subject someone to a kiss when they cannot consent."

"What about a kiss on the…hand?" Tim yawns, desperately trying to stay awake. "Nobody…said you had to kiss him on the…lips."

Jazz makes a face in thought. Hm. "What about you?"

"What…about me?" Jazz gestures at Dick when Tim looks at her in confusion.

"He's your brother, you love him, right?" Jazz picks up the sleeping man's hand. "Nobody said it had to be romantic love. Besides, again, I don't believe in love at first sight. I'm demi."

"Demi like, demigod?" Cassie's brow furrows. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Demi as in demi-sexual or-" Sam sneezes, "-demi-romantic."

Tim seems to think on that a moment, before shrugging. "I do love him. And I used to have a crush on him when I was little, before I got adopted." He picks up the hand and kisses it lightly.

"Oh dude, same." Connor laughs, turning to them. "I think everyone's had a crush on Dick before."

"Not me!" Cassie harrumphs to Bart's laughter and agreement. "Though I do love the guy."

"That doesn't count!" Connor huffs, "Lesbians and Aces are obviously excluded!"

"I'm Ace…" Tucker shyly raises his hand, making a little eep! sound when everyone turns to him. "And I, uhm, have eyes. He's real pretty…"

"Fairest of them all," Sam sniffles, sort of agreeing. "And all that."

"I think," Danny cuts in, "That you have no choice here Jazz. I'm sorry, but it doesn't seem like Tim's kiss is the solution!"

Jazz eyes the sleeping man once more, pursing her lips. No, she really doesn't think she'll do that. Pretty as he is, he's a stranger. And bodily autonomy is important, even if it's just his hand. It sounds like this guy has a lot of admirers, but nobody's actually said anything about how Dick himself feels about it.

Plus, he definitely looks at least a couple years older than her. Though it's hard to tell when you're in your mid twenties.

"Just think of it this way, Jazz." Danny tries to gently say, "You're saving his life, sort of. Like CPR."

Jazz hums, leaning over the man and observing the man's throat. Hm...

"What's she taking so long for?" Cassie whispers, to which Sam only sneezes in response.

Jazz grabs the man by the shoulders, sitting him up and…whack!

"Jazz!" The chorus of children yell at her, some even grabbing at her but she ignores them.

She gives the man's back another smack! And then another, and another until—

Hack! Dick coughs out the piece of poisoned apple lodged in his throat, taking in deep breaths as Jazz rubs his back in support.

"Th-thanks." Dick wipes at his mouth, smiling up gratefully at Jazz. She smiles back, before stepping away to let Tim and his little friends crowd over Dick and give him hugs.

Sam, Tucker and Danny make their way to Jazz, and they watch the reunion fondly.

"How'd you know that would work?" Danny asks her, laughing as Jazz shrugs.

"In the original fairy tale, the Prince discovers Snow White in her glass coffin and decides to keep her because she's so beautiful." Jazz bares her teeth in disgust. "The guards that were with him were kind of clumsy and dropped the casket on its corner, dislodging the apple piece from Snow White's throat. She wakes up, and then they get married."

"That's…" Tucker whispers, shuddering.

"Yeah." Jazz rubs her arms. "Figured I'd give it a shot. Thankfully it worked."

Just as Dick gets out of the coffin, the world around them starts to waver. The dwarven teenagers flicker until they're bigger, almost glitching into their original sizes and proportions. Sam stops sneezing, Tim stops yawning and falling asleep (though he still sports eyebags the size of Guam), and Danny's little blanket sheet disappears.

Jazz, Dick, and seven 17 year olds suddenly find themselves in the middle of the streets of Bludhaven, in the outdoor seating of the local restaurant all of them were eating at before the whole debacle.

Ghost Writer and Desiree are sitting at one of the tables, having tea.

"Well, that was certainly quick." Ghost Writer mumbles, Desiree groaning as she puts down her cup. "I thought we'd have at least a couple more hours."

"I knew I shouldn't have set win conditions." Desiree pouts. "We were just getting to the good part!"

"Every story has to have some kind of conclusion." Ghost Writer argues, jabbing his mug at her. "Besides, I can just-"

"Yeah. Nope." Danny deadpans, grabbing his backpack and jabbing a hand into the bag. "Fuck you."

Before Ghost Writer Desiree can do more than charge an ecto-blast, Danny pulls out a Fenton Thermos and aims it expertly at the two, sucking them up with very little fuss and muss. Jazz is not jealous or mad about it. At all.

As long as she doesn't have to wear those stupid white tights again, everything is A-OK.

"Well." Dick breathes, putting his hands on his hips like some kind of mom. "That was...anti-climactic."

"What the hell was that?" Tim asks Danny, trying to get a closer look at the thermos, "Is that a thermos?"

Jazz looks up at the restaurant, waving over a sever as she takes a seat and beckons for everyone else to do the same. The others start to squish in a couple tables and take seats.

"I'm sure everyone has questions," Jazz smiles up at the waitress in thanks as she passes out menus. "But first, since it's still…" She checks her watch, "just past three, lets have a late lunch, shall we?"

"As long as there's no apple pie for dessert." Dick laughs, opening up his own menu to peruse.

"As you wish!" Jazz rolls her eyes, grinning. Everyone at the table groans.

[200mark]

⌗ i know it’s not much but .. lee jeno

SCENE .. in which jeno turns his living room into a makeshift restaurant for a cozy at-home date.

꒰ DETAILS ꒱ boyfriend!jeno & fem!rea ⋮ ♯ file 001. established relationship, scenario, petnames && fluff ᵔⰙᵔ wc .. {929} 𓂃🖊

♡ entry .. hello again! i had this sitting in my docs for a while so i decided to kind of rewrite it for jeno, originally writing this there was no one in mind and just wrote it as “he” this idea was going to be like a full on date night idea but i like small intimate things so this was really cute idea that i had thought of mid writing. proofread but may still be errors! i apologize in advance.

more of nct dream

jeno had been planning this all week, he knew you were coming by his place all week, so he made sure he kept it tidy, even washing the dishes everyday. the faint smell of vanilla lingered in the air from the candle in his bedroom, he glanced over to his room seeing that it was the only room in the house that was a mess he rushed over and closed the door “well so much for lighting that candle,” he murmured to himself before walking back into the living room sighing running his hands through his hair.

he went out and bought a table and chairs, a white tablecloth that draped over the table which was too small but it’s the thought that counts he kept reminding himself. the table was round and black and it took him a few days to build only because he read the instructions step by step, the table and chairs had been built since wednesday and he left it all set up in the living room just going straight to bed when coming home from work, afraid to mess up his set up.

“should i light these candles now or wait,” he was referring to the candles placed on the table, he was definitely starting to over think this whole thing now maybe he went in over his head. “i’ll light just one since the one in my bedroom is still in there, and put the others away.” he quickly lit the candle and placed the candle in the center of the table, turning it slightly to face towards the chair you would be seated in. 

he rushed into his bedroom tossing the candles onto his bed, which wasn’t a smart decision since they were glass but he managed to get them both on his bed. he went back into the living room looking at the set up one last time before going into the kitchen checking on the pasta he was cooking. 

the knock on the door startled him, he looked at the door then down at his watch it dawned on him that you’re now here and he rushed to the living room straightening up pillows on the couch and adjusting the rug under the table with his foot behind letting out a stressful sigh, “i hope she likes this..” he mumbled to himself.

he makes his way to the door, “who is it?” he said jokingly causing you to laugh “maintenance!” you shout back and he opens the door, “maintenance be looking a little different here” you giggled and without a word, jeno reached out, gently pulling you into a hug—tight, warm, and exactly what he needed.

“you smell amazing,” you said, pulling away and making your way into his apartment. “wait wait wait,” he gently grabbed your arm, turning you around hoping you didn’t notice his set up in the living room. you looked up at him “everything okay?” and he nodded “i have a surprise,” he smiled covering your eyes “trust me, okay?” “of course, i trust you jeno.” 

“it smells great in here. are you finally burning those candles i bought you?” he heard the excitement in your voice which made him smile, and he nodded as if you could see him before saying yes. he’s guiding you to the living room one hand on your hip the other covering your eyes.

“okay are you ready…? i’ve had this plan in motion all week so if you don’t like it you don’t get to eat delicious food with me,” he lets out a little chuckle and you gently nudged him with your elbow he removed his hand from your eyes and placed it on the other side of your hip.

you open your eyes allowing them to adjust to the lighting before taking in the scene around you, “is this the surprise…?” you say attempting to sound disappointed but he could practically hear you cheesing behind your words.

“no yummy food for you then,” he removes his hands from your hips and walks into the kitchen, “baby i’m joking, i love it! very thoughtful and cute.” you wrapped your arm around his following him into the kitchen, “yeah, i know it isn’t much but-” you cut him off “it’s more than enough jeno.” you said smiling and he kissed your forehead, “i’m glad you like it baby.”

after a while you’re both seated at the table set up in the living room, eating your pasta, sharing a laugh and just enjoying each other’s company. “so you really had this table built basically all week?” and he nodded, taking a sip from his cup. “mhm, i usually sleep in the living room when i come home from work but i was afraid of ruining the whole set up so i was forced to sleep in my bed, very worth it though.”

“i almost forgot,” he said standing up from the table disappearing into his bedroom and you just watched him “i know you’re allergic to roses… and i still wanted to get you some flowers so i bought you some stargazer…? i’m not sure the lady at the flower shop helped me pick them out i just told her your favorite color and…” he kept rambling on he did notice you were standing in front on him smiling from ear to ear, 

“they’re beautiful jeno,” you laughed softly, clutching the flowers to your chest, eyes shining. when your lips met his, he was smiling—soft, giddy, and full of happiness. 

“well, beautiful flowers for an even beautiful woman.”

[dooberific]

I absolutely love your writing!! Idk if you're open for request, but if you do, can I request doctor!reader with Harumasa? He loves to go to infirmary not only he can pretend to be sick but also just to see them

Double trouble cause I thought it sounded like a fun combination. Does using a 1988 song name as the title make me sound old? 🤔

❝ 𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 ❞

harumasa x afab!doctor!reader

genre: fluff, I projected a little bit into this???

summary: if being in love with your cute doctor wasn’t bad enough, she’s completely clueless when it comes to romance

wc: 1.6k

The end of your pen tapped thoughtfully against your plush lower lip as you skimmed your notes. Once. Twice. Your eyes dart to the opened paper file on the counter beside you.

 Even cracked it was a solid two inches high and crammed full of health histories, specialty consult results and prescription sheets all bound haphazardly with what looked like ties from a bread bag. You really needed to get an actual binder to hold it all, but as of now you had other problems to address.

“Well,” you swiveled your chair around as you clicked your pen, eyes still skimming your intake sheet before you looked up with a smile, “Good news is nothing seems to be wrong. Well, let me rephrase that, wrong when compared to your baseline.” 

It was an important differentiation to make when you were dealing with one of your most tasking patients. In your two years of clinic practice in the city you had never needed to spend a series of days pouring over a patient file, heck, even before you graduated and were staged as a resident in the clinic in the Outer Ring it wasn’t so extensive. 

Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome was a bad actor, and Asaba Harumasa seemed to be its favorite role to haunt. 

He coughed pitifully, a hand splayed over his chest as he shook his head. “Are you sure, Doc? My body’s aching all over and my head feels funny, and I—,” he coughed again, “can’t seem to shake this cough.” 

You frowned, scribbling another note on your papers. “Have you been taking all your medications as indicated?”

“Just as the doctor ordered…actually,” a pensive expression decorated his face as he fisted the fabric of his work shirt, “maybe I have a deficiency in something, I think I ran out of some of my vitamins.” 

You perked up immediately, flipping quickly to his laundry list of medication and supplements. “Which one have you been missing? A? C? K?”

“I think it was vitamin you.”

“Oh.” You pulled your prescription pad off the desk. “I’m going to write you an order for  Vitamin U. Try adding some cruciferous veggies to your diet, leafy greens, broccoli, stuff like that. Call me if it starts giving you stomach problems.”

You tore the slip off your pad as you extended it to him, the paper decorated in your curling and messy script. 

“Do you need a work excuse?”

Should he just quit? This was the question he asked himself every time he stepped out the door of the clinic back onto the street, paper bag of medication in his hand. 

White coat syndrome was a very real affliction, though his heart wasn’t racing and his blood pressure wasn’t spiking because he was anxious. After the fourth visit you just assumed it was his baseline response to see his pulse spike randomly through the exam, after all, his syndrome mainly seemed to impact his heart and lungs. 

What you didn’t know was that wasn’t his baseline, nor was it a mutation of his syndrome not documented by his past physicians. It was simply a biological response to something else you conveniently seemed to not notice: the raging interest he had in you.

Rest assured he was absolutely mortified when he figured it out himself, laying on his back staring at the ceiling in the dark as he realized he was enthralled by the very idea of you. Your intelligence, your nimble hands, the way you tapped your pen against your lips when met was a challenge you hadn’t quite deciphered, your warm smile.

It wasn’t a complete lie when he would tell you he felt feverish, or that his stomach felt sick and his heart was racing, he felt all those things with horrifying clarity tenfold when your hand pressed against his forehead after noting aloud that his skin seemed flush and clammy. 

Was it crossing a line to be flirting with your doctor? Definitely, he was sure he was toeing some doctor-patient professional relationship line, but if he ended up in someone else’s care later then there really wasn’t anything holding him back. 

But he was growing increasingly convinced that if you weren’t intentionally playing dumb that you might be a little thick when it came to the nuanced science of flirtation because he had shifted from casual to nearly outright and you never batted an eye.

How else could you have misinterpreted his texts from last week? He was half-giddy with excitement, sure he had you this time.

I miss you.

Your appointment isn’t until next week, you didn’t miss anything. Have a good night :)

It haunted him nearly as much as the day he forgot his work excuse and asked you to text it to him, how proudly he had flipped the phone screen to show Tsukishiro until she squinted and asked, “Why do you have heart emojis around your doctor’s name?”

A devastating blow to his ego. But so was every failed attempt to catch your eye. 

“Do you have an inhaler? Cause you just took my breath away.”

“Hold on, I’ll grab one from the cart. You’re supposed to carry your own inhaler, Mr Asaba!” You scolded, disappearing for a moment before tossing him an inhaler. 

“You look a little under the weather yourself, Doc. Sure you aren’t deficient in vitamin M E?”

“Ah, I didn’t put as much makeup on today.” You cupped your cheeks with your hands thoughtfully. “I feel fine though, thanks for your concern.” 

“I’m no organ donor, but I’d love to give you my heart.”

“Your medical condition prevents you from joining the organ donation program.” You didn’t even bother to turn around when you acknowledged him.

“I think my heart just skipped a beat when I looked at you.”

“You’re on a medication that regulates heart rhythm, should I write you a cardiology referral?”

He went to text you again as he walked home for the evening. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. You just weren’t getting it, or maybe you were just too kind to tell him you weren’t interested or even that you had a boyfriend already on his numerous visits. Maybe he should just give you some space?

But maybe that would be cruel when you were standing on the sidewalk waiting for the light to change, mascara smeared down your cheeks as you sniffled. He pocketed his phone.

“Hey Doc, you alright?” 

You tensed, head swiveled in his direction before you quickly turned your face away, hands swiping at your cheeks before wiping them on your dark scrubs hastily.

“Oh, hey Mr. Asaba.” He frowned at your attempt at a cheerful tone, your voice still wavering from your tears before you cleared your throat. “You, uh, don’t have to call me Doc when the clinic is closed.” 

“And you don’t have to call me Mister when I’m not sitting on your exam table.” He retorted, catching the little quirk at the corner of your lips as they quivered in a small smile.

“Want me to walk you home? It’s kinda late.” 

“No, but thank you.” You peered over your shoulder towards the restaurant just behind you. You gripped your bag tighter, inching closer to where he stood beside you on the curb.  “Actually, would you mind..?” 

He didn’t have to ask you what was wrong, within the first five minutes of your walk you had apologized to him multiple times, started crying again, and spilled your heart out.

Six bad dates in the span of a couple weeks came to a head over a plate of chicken parm, your date kicking back as he declared you to be dull, hopeless, slow, and much uglier in person than your dating profile picture (which was your clinic profile photo). 

“He said that I “couldn’t take a hint”, whatever that’s supposed to mean!” You cried indignantly before you turned to him, eyes puffy and wet from your tears. 

“Am I that bad?”

He sucked a breath between his teeth. “Well, not to play the devil’s advocate but I’ve been flirting with you for weeks and you didn’t notice.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. “What?!”

He held up his hands defensively, but before he could say anything your head had already hung low, shuffling your clinic sneakers on the dirty sidewalk outside your apartment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small as your shoulders sank. “I’m not very good at stuff like this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers grazing his choker. “I noticed, but it’s fine. You just need things to be a little more straightforward.”

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together as he pointed at you. “I think you’re very pretty and charming in your weird doctor-y kind of way, so I would like to take you out for dinner sometime. Like, romantically.”

He was sure you gave yourself whiplash for how quickly your head snapped up, eyes wide. You brushed your tousled hair back from your face, cheeks flushing brightly enough he could see them burning under the streetlights.

“Oh, okay….when?”

“Tomorrow after you get off? I’m dreaming of beer and fried chicken if you aren’t opposed.”

“Of course not!” 

He was a little taken aback by how aggressively you answered, your hands clasping around one of his as if he was about to dematerialize before your very eyes.

“Great, then I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Doc—I mean, (y/n).”

“Good night to you as well.”

He turned to leave. He was practically screaming inside like a teenage girl you just secured a prom date, a new lightness to his step in the wake of his victory.

“Harumasa!”

He paused in his step, head whipping around to face you. You still stood on the stoop, a smile plastered across your face like he hadn’t seen before, one that lit your eyes up and dimpled your cheek.

“Thank you!”

He gripped his chest over his heart as it flipped wildly in his chest. His grin was pained when he looked up at you. 

“Doc, I might actually need emergency care this time--,”

Rey 2024

[thewertsearch]

JOHN: what i'm wondering is, once we crashed through that window, weren't we supposed to like… JOHN: enter a new game session? the reset one? JOHN: and meet up with karkat, and vriska, and all the trolls, and i guess maybe also a bunch of dead trolls too??? like troll ghosts or such. JADE: yes that was the basic idea

Hm. That might be a problem, actually.

These two are flying directly from one Fourth Wall to another, presumably emerging in post-Scratch Derse at some point during the B2 session. It doesn't look like they'll be able to take a quick detour to the Furthest Ring, except perhaps by taking a nap - so unless they find another solution, we'll be forced to split the party for a while.

I thought Jade might be able to teleport them directly to Rose and Dave, or vice-versa - but if she could do that, the two groups would already be united. It can't be that easy.

There's probably some restriction on Jade's powers, which prevents her from taking this obvious course of action. Like, maybe if she teleports someone who's moving at 99% the speed of light, it causes some sort of nuclear explosion.

JOHN: oh god, rose and dave!!! where are they now? did one of them do the suicide mission thing? and what about the other? did they get scratch'd??? […] JADE: they did not actually destroy the sun. trust me, i would know if it was gone. now that i know what i know, it was kind of silly of us to think it would ever be destroyed…

Are you sure?

Doc Scratch - if we assume his 'honesty' schtick was legit - certainly seemed to think it could be destroyed by the Tumor. It was created by the Tumor, after all, so it makes intuitive sense that a bomb on the same scale could at least fuck it up a little.

...god, I still haven't even begun to digest the implications of Scratch creating the Sun. It's yet another hint that English is motivated by more than just his appetite, and is working on something much, much bigger behind the scenes.

JADE: and as it happens, rose and dave are not dead either! i have received very reliable reports that they survived

...when?

JADE: when i was dead there for a few minutes, i had one last very informative nap

Oh, ok, that makes sense.

So - from now on, every time our heroes fall asleep, Aradia et al. can reliably fill them in on what's been happening in the afterlife. Everyone say thank you, Feferi!

JOHN: so is this place like that yellow lawn ring thing karkat was talking about? […] JADE: its the yellow yard JADE: we have to cross it to break through the next wall […] JOHN: thats not a yard. JOHN: yards are like these flat wide patches of grass, surrounded by fences and stuff. JOHN: if anything, it's more like a road. […] JADE: kinda like the yellow brick road? JOHN: sure, why not!

Well, we have plenty of Witches and tin men, but Nepeta's really more of a kitten than a lion. Plus, she sure ain't no coward.

JOHN: what… JOHN: the fuck… JOHN: is that?

Do not look upon the face of God.

[theastralsage]

Mine. Only Mine

❤︎ tags and content: tease play, power dynamics, bratty reader, examination table/office sex, overstimulation, spanking, aftercare ❤︎ author note: reuploaded 🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources ©2025 theastralsage do not repost, copy, translate, or modify

You decide to tease your very serious, very possessive boyfriend, Dr. Zayne, thinking you can get away with it. Spoiler alert: You absolutely cannot.

Two trips to Akso Hospital, one locked door, and one very sturdy examination table later, you learn a valuable lesson: don’t poke the beast unless you’re ready to be devoured.

The antiseptic scent of Akso Hospital clings to the air as you make your way down the familiar hallways, the warmth of the lunchbox seeping into your fingers. It’s well past noon, and you know for a fact that Dr. Li hasn’t eaten yet. He’s too disciplined, too absorbed in his work to indulge in something as trivial as a break.

That’s what you’re here for.

The nurses barely glance at you anymore—your presence in this part of the hospital has become routine. A quiet, lingering shadow in Zayne’s orbit. You don’t mind. If anything, the predictability of it is comforting.

But as you step into his office, you aren’t greeted by the usual calm, sterile quiet. Instead, Dr. Greyson is there, leaning against Zayne’s desk with a casual, easy slouch, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Akso’s resident angel.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward. “That’s dramatic.”

“Not at all,” Greyson counters smoothly. “Bringing lunch to our esteemed Dr. Li? That’s a noble cause. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to keep him from wasting away completely.”

You chuckle, shifting the lunchbox in your hands. “Someone has to.”

Behind Greyson, Zayne is silent.

You don’t have to look at him to feel the weight of his gaze, steady and unreadable. He stands near his desk, arms crossed, the crisp white of his coat sharp against the dark material of his undershirt.

Greyson, either oblivious or enjoying himself a little too much, grins. “You know, if he doesn’t appreciate this, I’d be more than happy to—”

“That’s enough.”

Zayne doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The words cut clean through the air, precise and sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Greyson pauses, then huffs a quiet laugh under his breath. “Relax, doc. Just messing around.” He pushes off the desk with a lazy stretch before tossing you an exaggerated wink. “Enjoy your lunch, you two.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

Silence settles in its place.

You glance at Zayne, tilting your head. “You know he was joking, right?”

No response.

His eyes are still on you, steady and dark, but there’s something unreadable in them. He doesn’t frown, doesn’t look angry, but there’s a weight in the air now—something heavy pressing against your skin, something unspoken lingering between you.

Your lips curl, slow and deliberate. Oh.

This could be fun.

You don’t look away, not right away. Instead, you take your time, setting the lunchbox down on his desk with deliberate ease, as if you don’t notice the weight of his silence.

But you do.

You feel it in the way the air shifts, in the way his posture hasn’t relaxed since Greyson left. His arms remain crossed, his jaw tight—just enough to tell you he’s thinking about it.

So, naturally, you decide to poke the bear.

“You really didn’t like that, did you?” you muse, tilting your head slightly, watching him.

Still, nothing.

You take a step closer, just enough to invade his space, just enough to press against that invisible line you know he won’t cross. Not yet. “What was it?” you continue, voice light, teasing. “The joke? The compliment? Or maybe just the idea of me having lunch with someone else?”

That earns you something. Not much, but a subtle shift—a sharp flicker of his gaze, a small twitch in his fingers before he schools himself back into stillness.

Interesting.

Your smile lingers as you lean a fraction closer, deliberately slow, just to see if he’ll move. He doesn’t. But you can feel the tension in him, a coiled wire drawn just a little too tight.

“It’s cute,” you murmur, tilting your chin up slightly. “You getting all—” your fingers ghost through the air between you, as if searching for the right word before landing on, “—quiet about it.”

His silence is different now. He’s watching you.

Not ignoring. Not unaffected.

Watching.

That alone makes something warm curl in your stomach.

You exhale a soft laugh, finally stepping back, letting the moment stretch just long enough to leave an imprint. “Come on,” you say, patting the lunchbox, acting as if you aren’t enjoying every second of this. “You should eat before your next patient.”

For a second, you almost expect him to say something. But instead, he just exhales, slow and measured, and moves past you to sit at his desk.

You swear, just before he opens the lunchbox, you catch the briefest flicker of something else in his expression—something dark, something possessive.

You settle into the chair across from his desk, chin resting in your palm as you watch him lift the lid off the lunchbox with practiced precision. He hasn’t spoken a word since Greyson left, hasn’t even given you so much as a look outside of that initial tension, but you know better.

He’s holding onto control by a thread.

So, naturally, you pull at it.

“Do you think Greyson would’ve actually taken me out to lunch if I’d said yes?” you muse, tapping your fingers idly against the desk.

His hands still for half a second before continuing, smooth and controlled. “No.”

You blink, feigning innocence. “No?”

Zayne doesn’t look at you, doesn’t take the bait. “He wouldn’t have gotten the chance.”

Ah.

Your smile spreads, slow and syrupy. “Oh? And why is that?”

Nothing.

You lean forward slightly, propping your chin up with both hands, elbows pressing into his desk like you belong there. “Come on, Doc, you’ve been awfully quiet. Cat got your tongue?”

Zayne exhales, long and slow, before placing his chopsticks down with meticulous precision. Then, finally, finally, he looks at you.

It’s unreadable at first. Just his usual impassive stare, cool and calculating. But now, you see it—the weight of it. Like he’s thinking something, something he can’t say, something dangerous curling behind those sharp, dark eyes.

It sends a delicious little shiver down your spine.

“Go.”

One word.

Flat. Measured. Controlled.

You blink, caught off guard for a split second before a laugh bubbles out of you. “What?”

His jaw tightens. “Leave.”

He isn’t angry—you don’t think he’s angry—but his voice is clipped, taut with something you can’t quite name. You stare at him, searching, but he’s already looking back down at his food, deliberately ignoring you.

And for some reason, that just makes you want to push him more.

So when you rise from your chair, stepping past his desk, you let your fingers ghost lightly over the smooth surface—just enough to brush against his arm as you pass.

Then, just as you’re next to him, just as your lips are close enough that only he can hear—

“I’m not wearing any underwear.”

It’s barely a whisper, barely even a breath, but the second the words slip past your lips, you feel the change in him.

His fingers twitch. His breath stutters just slightly before he inhales slow, controlled, like a man holding onto the last fraying edges of restraint.

You don’t stay to see what happens next.

Instead, you walk away with a pleased little smirk, slipping out of his office without another word.

But just before the door closes behind you, you swear you hear it—

A quiet, dark chuckle.

The walk back to your apartment is unhurried, the city moving around you in a steady hum of voices and passing hovercars. The air is crisp but pleasant, the kind of weather that makes you want to curl up in a blanket with something warm.

It’s your day off. And you intend to enjoy every second of it.

When you step inside, the familiar quiet of your apartment greets you, a welcome contrast to the sterile brightness of Akso Hospital. You toe off your shoes, stretching your arms over your head as you let out a contented sigh.

First things first—a shower.

You make your way to the bathroom, peeling off your clothes with lazy ease before stepping under the hot spray. The warmth soaks into your skin, steam curling around you as you tip your head back, letting the water wash away the morning.

No schedules. No responsibilities. Just you.

By the time you step out, skin flushed from the heat, you feel loose and unhurried. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you move through your apartment at a slow pace, tying your damp hair up as you rifle through your skincare routine. The soft scent of floral oils lingers in the air as you smooth lotion over your legs, the simple ritual soothing in a way that makes you feel the luxury of a day off.

You throw on your softest shorts, an oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder as you pad barefoot across the floor, scrolling idly through your messages.

Nothing urgent. Nothing pressing.

You exhale, settling onto the couch, pulling your legs up beneath you as you nurse a warm cup of tea.

For once, there’s no rush. No alarms. No calls pulling you away.

Just the quiet comfort of a day that belongs entirely to you.

You’re curled up on the couch, fingers lazily scrolling through your messages, when your phone buzzes with a new notification.

You glance down.

Zayne Li: Come back. You forgot something.

Your fingers hover over the screen.

Forgot something?

Your brows knit together as you scan the short message again. You were only at the hospital for a little while, and you’re sure you didn’t leave anything behind. Your bag is right next to you, your keys by the door.

Still, something about the text makes you pause.

Zayne isn’t the type to call you back over something trivial. If you’d left behind, say, a pen or a hair tie, he wouldn’t bother. If it were something important, he’d have just told you outright.

But instead, just—Come back.

You chew your lip, debating for a brief second. Then, before you can overthink it, you sigh, pushing yourself up from the couch.

You grab your coat, slipping it over your sweater as you step into your shoes, phone still warm in your grip.

Outside, the city hums on, unaware of the way your heart beats just a little faster as you make your way back to Akso Hospital.

The hospital is quieter in the evening, the halls less crowded, the fluorescent lights casting everything in a pale glow. You move past the nurses’ station with ease—no one stops you, no one questions why you’re back.

It’s almost unsettling how expected your presence is here.

One of the nurses glances up, barely hesitating before nodding toward Zayne’s office. “Dr. Li is waiting for you.”

Something flickers at the base of your spine.

Still, you go.

Your knuckles barely graze the door before it unlocks with a quiet click, swinging open just enough for you to step inside. The moment you do, the air changes.

The door slams shut behind you.

You whirl around just in time to hear the sharp snick of the lock sliding into place.

And then—

Zayne is on you.

Not touching. Not yet. But there, his presence pressing into the space around you, suffocating in its intensity. He’s so close you can feel the heat of him even through your sweater, can hear the steady, measured sound of his breathing.

Slow. Controlled. Barely contained.

Your back hits the door.

You don’t remember moving, don’t remember taking a single step, but you’re caged now, trapped between Zayne’s body and the cool wood behind you.

His hands are braced on either side of your head, fingers curling against the door, boxing you in.

You inhale, and his scent fills your lungs.

Clean, sharp—like antiseptic and something darker underneath. Something unmistakably him.

Slowly, so slowly, he tilts his head, studying you with dark, unreadable eyes.

“You think you’re clever,” he murmurs, voice low, velvet-smooth.

Your breath catches.

A slow, deliberate pause stretches between you. His gaze drops, dragging down the line of your throat, your lips, before flicking back up—pinning you in place.

Heat pools deep in your stomach.

“Zayne,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “What—”

“You forgot something.”

The words are a near whisper, ghosting over your skin. His fingers twitch against the door.

You swallow. “What did I forget?”

His lips curve—not a smile. Something dangerous. Something possessive.

His head dips, lips brushing just over the shell of your ear.

“Your lesson.”

Your pulse spikes.

Before you can react, before you can even think, Zayne moves—

And this time, he does touch you.

The second his hands find you, it’s over.

Zayne moves deliberately—not rushed, not frantic. He doesn’t need to be. Control has always been his strongest weapon, and right now, he’s wielding it against you with surgical precision.

His fingers skim along your jaw, barely a touch, tilting your chin up just enough to force your gaze to his. Dark, consuming, smoldering. He drinks you in like he’s already imagining what he’s going to do to you.

Heat coils low in your stomach.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, thumb dragging over your parted lips, tauntingly slow. “Did you really think you’d get away with that little stunt?”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you refuse to look away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His lips curve, dark amusement flickering in his gaze.

“No?”

Before you can process it, his hands move—one gripping your wrist, the other bracing low on your waist as he spins you, pressing your back flush against his chest.

You gasp, fingers flying to grip his forearm as he cages you there, heat radiating off him like a second skin.

“Then let me remind you.”

His voice is right at your ear, a deep murmur that seeps into your veins, curling hot and wicked in your stomach. His grip doesn’t hurt—no, it’s something far more devastating than that.

It’s commanding.

Like he owns you.

Like he’s already made up his mind about what’s coming next.

And then, his fingers—clever, practiced—trail down your sides, skimming over the hem of your sweater.

“You’ve been running that mouth all day,” he muses, voice dark and silken. “Let’s see if you can follow instructions just as well.”

You swallow hard, heart hammering against your ribs.

“Undress.”

A single word. No hesitation. No room for argument.

Your breath stutters. He’s still behind you, still pressed against you like a second shadow, and you know—you know—he’s waiting.

So you move.

Slowly, your fingers curl into the fabric of your sweater, lifting it inch by inch. Zayne doesn’t touch you, doesn’t guide you—just watches. You feel his eyes on every new inch of exposed skin, on the slow reveal of your bare back, your shoulders, the swell of your breasts as you tug the sweater over your head and let it drop to the floor.

Your shorts follow.

By the time you’re bare, standing in nothing but the hush of the dimly lit office, your body is thrumming with anticipation.

Zayne hums in approval, a sound that sends another shiver skittering through you. His hands return—this time, trailing down your arms, ghosting over your hips, fingertips tracing the dip of your spine.

Then—his grip tightens.

And with almost no effort, he turns you, guides you back, and before you know it—

Your bare skin meets cool leather.

The examination table.

Heat floods your cheeks as realization slams into you, but Zayne doesn’t give you time to protest. He leans in, bracing a hand next to your head, his presence overwhelming, consuming.

“You wanted to tease?” he murmurs, gaze flicking over you, sharp and possessive. “Then let’s see how much teasing you can take.”

The cool leather beneath your bare skin is a sharp contrast to the heat pulsing through you, your body burning under the weight of Zayne’s gaze. He’s still standing over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other trailing idly along the inside of your thigh—so close to where you need him, but not nearly enough.

You shift, trying to press into his touch, but his grip tightens, pinning you in place.

“Stay still.” His voice is low, unyielding, each syllable sinking into your skin like a slow-moving current.

Your breath hitches.

Then—his fingers move.

Deliberate. Teasing. Cruel.

A slow drag up your thigh, just enough to make your stomach tighten, before he ghosts over your center without giving you anything of what you need. His touch is light, maddening, barely there as he traces patterns against your skin.

You bite back a whimper.

Zayne watches you with dark amusement, his lips curving slightly. “Not so bold now, are you?”

You inhale sharply, willing yourself not to react, but he knows. He sees the way your body twitches, the way your breath stutters every time he almost gives you what you want.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me,” he murmurs, fingers trailing just where you ache for him. “How does it feel to be teased?”

A soft, broken sound escapes you before you can swallow it down.

Zayne hums, satisfied. “Not so fun when you’re the one squirming.”

Then, finally—finally—he presses his fingers against you, sliding through the slick heat he’s been tormenting.

Your body jerks.

He’s slow at first, methodical. Testing. One finger, circling, teasing—working you open, pulling another soft whimper from your lips. Then another, pressing deeper, stretching you with wicked precision.

Your hips shift without thinking, chasing the pleasure, but his other hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping you still.

“Good girls listen,” he murmurs, his tone almost mocking. “Do I need to remind you?”

You shake your head quickly, already feeling the heat building, pleasure pooling low in your stomach as he sets a slow, devastating rhythm.

You don’t know how long he keeps you like that—edging you, bringing you so close only to slow down again, dragging you right back to the brink before cruelly denying you.

It’s torture.

Your head is spinning, your body burning, sweat beading along your spine. “Zayne—”

“Not yet.” His fingers curl just right, pulling a ragged moan from your throat. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

Tears prick your eyes, frustration twisting through the pleasure. Your fingers claw uselessly at the leather of the table, your breath coming in desperate, broken gasps.

“Please.”

He exhales slowly, like he’s savoring the word. “Please what?”

Your pride is gone. Drowned out by the raw, unbearable need consuming you. “Please—please, I need you.”

For a second, he doesn’t move.

Then—everything snaps.

Zayne pulls back so fast you barely register it before he’s hauling you up, spinning you, pressing you down against the examination table. Your hands brace against the cool leather as he steps behind you, his body flush against yours, broad and hot and unshakably firm.

“You need me?” His voice is low, right against your ear. “You think I don’t know that?”

A sharp smack lands against the curve of your ass, sending a shock of pleasure through your veins. You gasp, body jerking, but his hands are already gripping your waist, holding you there.

“You’re mine,” he growls, voice like smoldering embers. “Only mine.”

The sharp clink of his belt unfastening lingers in the air, a cruel, tantalizing sound that sends a shiver straight down your spine.

You can’t see him—not really.

But you feel him.

Standing behind you, heat radiating against your bare skin, his presence a dark, looming force that has you pressing your palms flat against the cool leather of the examination table, your breathing shallow and uneven.

Then—his hands.

Slow. Steady. Claiming.

They glide up the backs of your thighs, barely grazing the sensitive skin before spreading over the curve of your hips, gripping just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he murmurs, voice like a slow drag of velvet and steel.

A small, involuntary whimper escapes you.

Zayne chuckles. A low, dangerous sound that sends another pulse of heat straight between your legs.

His thumbs press into your skin, kneading slightly before pulling you back against him.

And then—

You feel him.

Hard. Heavy. Pressing against your entrance, teasing, not quite giving you what you want.

Your fingers clench against the leather.

“Zayne,” you breathe, shifting your hips, trying to urge him forward.

His hands tighten—holding you still.

“Patience.”

“You were so eager to tease,” he murmurs, his fingers smoothing over the spot he just struck. “Now you don’t want to wait?”

You groan, the frustration nearly unbearable.

But before you can say anything—before you can beg—he pushes inside.

Deep.

A sharp, keening moan rips from your throat, your body stretching around him, every nerve igniting at once. The sudden, overwhelming fullness sends a wave of heat crashing through you, your body tightening, clinging to him.

Zayne curses under his breath, his fingers digging into your hips, his composure fracturing for just a moment.

Then—he moves.

His first thrust is slow, deliberate, forcing you to feel every inch of him as he drags back before snapping forward again, knocking the breath from your lungs.

The table shudders beneath you.

Your moan is wrecked, barely coherent.

But he’s not gentle.

Not now.

Now, he’s claiming you, dragging his hands up your spine, gripping your shoulders as he pulls you back into each brutal snap of his hips.

The sound of skin against skin echoes through the office, sharp and rhythmic, mingling with your desperate, gasping moans.

“Mine,” he growls, punctuating the word with a particularly deep thrust that has your toes curling, your body arching against him.

You can’t answer—you can’t—because he’s driving everything else from your mind, filling you so completely, so thoroughly, that all you can do is take it.

The examination table creaks beneath you, shifting with each forceful movement.

But Zayne doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

Not until you’re completely undone.

Not until this room, this space, smells like you and him and this.

Zayne fucks you like he’s trying to ruin you.

Like he needs to.

Like every second of restraint he’s ever had is snapping apart, unraveling with every sharp, punishing thrust that slams you forward against the examination table.

The leather creaks beneath you, the steady rhythm of skin meeting skin filling the room, raw and obscene. Each snap of his hips forces a choked, gasping moan from your throat, your fingers gripping the edges of the table in a desperate attempt to steady yourself—useless.

Zayne won’t let you steady yourself.

He wants you falling apart.

His grip is bruising, fingers digging deep into your hips as he pulls you back into every ruthless thrust, making you take him deeper, harder.

“Look at you,” he growls, voice thick, wrecked with pleasure. “So fucking desperate.”

You can’t answer—can’t—because the only thing spilling from your lips are helpless, shattered moans, pleasure winding so tight in your stomach it’s blinding.

Zayne leans forward, his breath searing against the back of your neck as he drags his nails down your spine.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmurs, low and taunting, punctuating each word with another devastating thrust. “You wanted to tease me all day, and now look at you—”

His hand snaps around your throat, not squeezing, just holding you there, keeping you in place as he pounds into you so deep it sends you spiraling.

“You can barely fucking breathe.”

A ragged, broken moan rips from your throat, your body clenching around him so tight he groans, his grip tightening.

“Fuck—” His voice is strained, edged with something dangerously close to losing control.

And then—

Zayne changes his pace.

It’s brutal.

Fast, relentless, his hips snapping forward in short, perfectly angled thrusts that send shocks of white-hot pleasure surging through your veins, pushing you closer, dragging you higher, forcing you to the very edge—

“Zayne—” you gasp, barely able to form words.

He knows.

He feels the way you’re trembling, tightening around him, breaking beneath him.

His hand leaves your throat, his arm wrapping around your waist instead, lifting you slightly as he slams into you, each movement sharp and devastatingly deep.

“Come for me,” he growls, voice dark, commanding.

That’s all it takes.

Pleasure crashes through you, sharp and consuming, stealing every ounce of air from your lungs. Your body convulses, tightening around him so hard you swear you see stars, your moan ripping through the room as you fall apart.

Zayne curses, his pace stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt, his grip bruising as he jerks forward one last time, his groan vibrating against your skin as he spills inside you.

The air is thick, humid, filled with the scent of sweat and sex, the room absolutely wrecked with what just happened.

Zayne doesn’t let you go right away.

He stays pressed against you, his hand splayed over your stomach, keeping you anchored as you both gasp for breath, bodies trembling from the force of it.

Then, after a long, breathless moment—

His lips press softly to the back of your shoulder.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, voice rough, final.

Like a promise.

Like a warning.

The weight of him lingers against your back, his breath still warm against your shoulder, both of you wrecked in the aftermath of what just happened.

Your body feels boneless, pleasure still pulsing in slow, lingering waves through your limbs. Every inch of you is oversensitive, raw in the best possible way.

Zayne stays close.

His fingers trace slow, idle patterns against your skin, smoothing over the marks he left—the bruises at your hips, the faint scratches along your thighs. His touch is light, careful, like he’s grounding you.

It’s such a stark contrast from just moments ago that it makes something warm bloom in your chest.

Still pressed against you, his lips brush the back of your neck, barely a whisper of contact. “Are you okay?”

Your breath is still uneven, but you manage a soft, satisfied hum. “Mmhm.”

He huffs a quiet chuckle, shifting slightly so he’s not completely crushing you against the examination table.

For a few blissful seconds, there’s nothing but the steady sound of your breathing, the weight of his hands still on you, grounding, possessive.

Then—

A sharp knock at the door.

You both freeze.

Zayne lifts his head, the tension snapping back into his body as a voice calls from the other side—

“Dr. Li?” It’s one of the nurses. “Is everything… okay in there?” A pause. Then, hesitantly, “…We heard screaming.”

Oh. Oh.

Your face burns.

Zayne exhales slowly, as if already regretting everything that led up to this moment. Then, with a reluctant, measured calm, he pulls back—finally slipping out of you, leaving you unbearably empty in more ways than one.

You barely have time to move before he’s already tucking himself back into his slacks, smoothing his shirt down, his expression cool, composed—like he didn’t just fuck you senseless against a damn hospital examination table.

You, on the other hand? A disaster.

Your legs shake as you push yourself upright, skin flushed, bite-marked, still buzzing from everything he just did to you.

Zayne notices.

His gaze flicks over you, eyes darkening again for just a second before he exhales sharply, reaching for a nearby drawer. Without a word, he pulls out a clean white lab coat and drapes it over your shoulders, letting it fall down to cover the mess of your very naked body.

The knock comes again.

“Dr. Li?”

Zayne finally answers, voice infuriatingly calm. “Everything is fine.”

A long pause.

Then, a slow, unconvinced “…Alright.” Footsteps retreat down the hall.

Silence.

Then—Zayne looks at you.

And the corner of his lips twitches.

“Oh, shut up,” you mutter, flustered beyond belief, shoving at his chest as you wrap the coat tighter around you.

His chuckle is low, smug, and utterly satisfied.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice dipping into something darker, promising, “you should remember to keep quiet.”

The silence lingers for a moment after the nurse walks away, leaving the two of you still caught in the warm haze of what just happened.

You’re spent, your body buzzing, muscles loose and trembling in the aftermath. The lab coat around your shoulders feels too big, the scent of antiseptic barely masking the deeper, richer scent of him clinging to the fabric.

Zayne is still standing close, his hands adjusting the coat to make sure it fully covers you. His touch is softer now, absent of the possessive grip that had once marked your skin. His fingers ghost down your arms, then settle at your waist, grounding you.

A deep exhale leaves his lips.

“You’re okay?” he asks again, voice lower this time. Not demanding. Not teasing. Just… checking.

The tenderness in it makes something in your chest ache.

You nod, letting yourself lean into him, your forehead pressing against his chest. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out quieter than you expect—hoarse from earlier, but still warm. “You didn’t actually break me, surprisingly.”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, his fingers tightening on your waist just slightly before smoothing over your skin. “That was never the goal.” He shifts, pressing the softest kiss to the crown of your head. “But I can make sure you don’t move for a few days next time, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You swat at his arm, making him chuckle.

His hands slide up, moving to cradle your face, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at him. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, and his expression shifts—still dark, still intense, but something gentler there, too.

Something devoted.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, like it’s not a question, not up for debate. “You know that, don’t you?”

A slow warmth spreads through your chest. You meet his gaze, a lazy, satisfied smile curling at your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I know.”

His lips press to yours—not demanding this time, not desperate. Just soft. A slow, lingering kiss that makes your stomach flutter, different from everything that came before it.

When he pulls back, he exhales, like he’s still trying to steady himself. “Come on,” he murmurs, tugging you toward the small private bathroom in his office. “Let’s clean you up.”

You sigh dramatically, letting him lead you, warmth thrumming in your veins. “Wow. You break me over an examination table and I get aftercare? Lucky me.”

Zayne smirks. “You are lucky.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue.

Because, honestly? You are.

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 07: off the table

preview: ". . . Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. . ."

content warning: smut! dirty talk, hair pulling, fingering, handjobs, pronebone!! (she's a filthy one), mention of abandonment issues.

word count: 5k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa@bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: the google doc file for this fanfic has officially reached 100 pages woohoooo 🥳🩷 im actually very excited because this is where the story picks up and starts to get a little saucyyyy 😋🙌🏻btw, ex boyfriend reveal!! had to include the fan favorite, the fandom's boyfriend: mitsuya takashi himself🙂‍↕️and sorry to disappoint yall, chifuyu is just our friend, he doesn't wanna get in our pants. anywayyy can't wait for the next chapter hehe🥰

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

“Chifuyu,” you sound out of breath. Hair disheveled and such choice of clothing confirms to the man that you hadn’t intended for anyone to visit you this time of the night. You stare back at the man, hair now dyed jet black and sporting a very fancy suit, and it dawns on you how long you haven’t seen him. 

An entire decade.

Chifuyu didn’t intend for the two of you to separate this way, but clearly he had no choice but to keep you away from Toman’s nasty business (something Hanma failed to do). When he first heard that you were going to move away for your studies, he was sad and the two of you cried as you hugged at the train station with your boyfriend by your side. He remembers the man you used to date and feels his heart sink. 

“Can we talk?” 

What’s up with men from your past showing up at your door? Not that you mind Chifuyu’s presence, a part of you was still mad that he had lied for all these years about his whereabouts. He doesn’t have to tell you for you to figure it out, the way he fiddles with his thumbs and avoids your eyes as you lead him inside says it all.

“So?”

“What are you doing?” Chifuyu jumps straight to the point, and you’re a bit taken aback by how alarmed he sounds. “With Hanma what are you– this isn’t right, you know that?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you come here to lecture me? It’s been 10 years, Chifuyu!” you cross your arms over your chest, heat rising to your face. “You lied about where you were and you lied about being with Toman–”

“For a good cause!” Chifuyu’s volume rises and you scoff. “You had to stay away from Toman’s business.”

“Why does everyone think it’s okay for them to decide how I get to live my life?” you question bitterly and Chifuyu’s lips are sealed shut. “I mean really–first Ran and Rindou, then Hanma comes back and he’s acting all mysterious and now you?”

“You can get hurt.”

“I don’t care.” You spit out venomously. “You have no idea how isolating it feels to watch everyone around you distance themselves from you thinking it will protect you. All it did was make me scared to try to make friends.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t just Chifuyu or your brothers or even Hanma that you were mad about. Not their absence, or their lies or their futile attempts to shelter you from a familiar life of crime and violence –you were bitter about where you had ended up, what you could’ve had with your previous lover that went so badly even you couldn’t recover from it. 

When you moved away for your studies, your relationship with your brothers had already been strained, broken even. They had betrayed your trust in irreconcilable ways, so you turned to the one person you loved so much. You loved and cherished him, you were ready to offer up your heart to him as he whispered promises of a happy family in the near future, with a big house and a pretty garden where you'd water the plants and harvest some vegetables. Then he’d come home and he would show you the latest piece of clothing he had designed for you. You’d wear it happily and show it off to him as he gave you a look mixed with adoration and lust. He promised that he would fill your tummy to the brim, that he would fuck a baby into you as many times as you wanted. It was a shared dream of yours.

Perhaps it was too good to be true. 

That man switched up on you overnight–because of a project that had been consuming him for a month straight, he wasn’t able to spend time with you anymore. Becoming a fashion designer was everything to Mitsuya Takashi. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to let anything hold him back even if it was a partner. 

You had been in a long, six year relationship when Mitsuya started to put more distance between the two of you, prioritizing his projects over date nights and coming home very late at night after events and gatherings. And every time you tried to talk to him about it–about your relationship–you were met with nothing but a look of exhaustion and disdain. The warmth he once had for you was gone and was soon replaced by a cold, distant look. His touch no longer lingered against your skin during the early hours of the morning, sex had become a chore to the same man who would spend hours making love to you under the moonlight. 

That’s when you realized that perhaps, it was time to part ways. 

It wasn’t easy at all–you cried in his arms and he apologized for not being able to keep his promise of the perfect family the two of you were once eager to have. And before the two of you could part ways, you watched as the man reached for his neck to unclasp the jewelry wrapped around it. Stepping behind you, he wrapped the necklace around your neck and the two of you shared one last warm look, filled with the love you will always have for one another.

“Keep this. Maybe we’ll meet again one day.” 

One day turned into six years of not seeing the lavender haired man. Six years of praying and hoping for something, anything. To no avail. You hadn’t even heard of him on the news, nor were you able to find any of his works anywhere and it broke your heart at the thought of him moving out of the country completely. To think that he needed to change his entourage in order to see some growth–you hope that you weren’t the type of girlfriend to try to grab his wings and pin him to the ground. 

Chifuyu had been watching you this whole time. He had been watching your every move, ensuring your safety without having to approach you or so much as get out of his car. He knew of your breakup with Mitsuya, and all he could think of was the last conversation you had with him before moving away for your studies.

“I can’t wait to marry him,” there was a slight blush to your cheeks. Mitsuya had really been the boyfriend to you and Chifuyu could feel the love pouring out of you. “He’ll be such a good dad.” 

To say that you were broken after the relationship had ended was an understatement. You didn’t go to work for a week. 

But Chifuyu couldn’t approach you still–and all he could do was watch and pray that you take care of yourself and find a way to lift yourself back up.

So it’s safe to say that when Chifuyu heard that Hanma found you, he was enraged. Toman was used to Chifuyu’s calm and collected demeanor–a false facade he had learned to put up in order to get on Kisaki’s good side which helped him a lot. As he approached the man’s office, he could hear a second man’s voice and quickly recognized it to be Hanma’s.

“So what is this about?” Chifuyu doesn’t care that he is interrupting something as he knocks. He waits for Kisaki to tell him to come in and pushes the door open. Hanma’s back is facing him as he sits on the chair and Chifuyu stands near the door with his hands behind his back.

“Kokonoi said that the report concerning his IT business is taking too long due to a bug in the system.” The dark haired man speaks in a monotone voice, his body unmoving. He’s clearly not happy to be here, but he has to do it for his job.

Chifuyu can’t see what’s happening from his position, but he notices that Hanma places a picture on Kisaki’s desk before leaning back in his chair. 

“You found her?” 

Her. It could be so many people–this girl Kisaki had been stalking, or maybe one of the strippers that had escaped Hanma’s club due to the poor treatment by nasty and rude customers. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the bomb that was about to drop.

“She’s back in Shinjuku.”

“(Name). What was her last name again?” Kisaki brings your picture closer to his face, inspecting and analyzing every feature on your face, down to the way you got dressed. 

“Used to be Haitani. Changed it after her brothers got involved in some weird, shady business.” 

Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, yet his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. The dark haired man was terrified that Hanma was after you just for fun, that his attempts at protecting you would fail now that the tall, tattooed man was back in your life. 

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki puts the picture away and starts to rummage through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

No no no–Chifuyu can’t let that happen. He can’t and won’t let anyone hurt you. His fists clench on his sides, body tensing up. Then he notices. Hanma had gone eerily silent instead of doing his usual, insane laugh. 

Kisaki seems to realize the same thing. Sensing the tall man’s silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes were devoid of any playfulness, and Tetta doesn’t miss the way his jaw clenches. 

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Chifuyu still wasn’t able to trust him. It had never been easy to do so, a man as dangerous as Hanma was as unpredictable as a wild card in the deck. Had his intentions been clear, Matsuno wouldn’t feel the need to watch your every move even closer since that day. 

Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. 

Flustered and perhaps feeling as though he was being creepy, he looks away from your neck and watches as you cover yourself more with your robe. You noticed. 

“It was to protect you.” Chifuyu’s voice is soft like butter. He doesn’t have it in him to argue with you, he doesn’t want to argue with you he just– 

He misses you so much and it was driving him crazy that he held himself back for all these years, and all it took for Hanma was to see you once at a metro station and he was back in your life. It just wasn’t fair. 

Losing Baji had taken a toll on Chifuyu’s mental and physical well being. You were worried about the boy and you voiced it out many times to Mitsuya when the two of you went out to get him a couple of snacks as well as some food for his cat. 

It was that worry that made the two of you as close as ever even if your friendship was very short lived before you packed your things and moved away. Luckily enough, Takemichi was in the picture and you had nothing to worry about this time. 

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that everything Chifuyu has done was to protect you. Even if it meant hurting himself in the process. 

“It’s dangerous, Toman.” He speaks lowly as he takes a seat on your couch. “It’s not like how it used to be.”

“I know.” you admit, voice as small as ever. Chifuyu doesn’t want to know how you found out, but he quickly realizes it has something to do with Hanma and sighs deeply. 

“Did you ever think it would get this bad?” you ask, taking a seat next to the man who can only sigh and run a hand through his hair. 

“I…would like to say no, but things have changed a lot. Mikey is different, people are different–money made them…disgusting.” You remember your first encounter with Hanma. The fancy clothes, expensive shoes and watches didn’t draw a smile on his face. He looked bored out of his mind, like he wanted something to happen in his life and the expression on his face when he realized that he had finally found you after so many years of not seeing you, felt like the first time that man had used his face muscles to smile. 

So yeah, Toman was different. 

The two of you sit in silence. It’s a comfortable one this time, like a silence between songs–you get to sit and process what you had just listened to and your brain is trying to make sense of everything all at once. But it doesn’t pain you, nor does it leave a heavy feeling behind. You sit there next to your friend from your teenage years and you don’t feel the need to pretend to be anything else. You can be yourself around Chifuyu, even after so many years.

“So,” Chifuyu is the first to break the silence, turning his head as he rests it on the couch. He stares at you with those eyes that mirror a winter sky. “Hanma Shuji, huh?”

Despite his disappointment and perhaps even anger, the man doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease you. You flush at the tone of his voice and look away, completely flustered.

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”

“Is he really that good?” he continues to tease you, narrowing his eyes at you when your jaw drops and you can’t hide that your face was in flames.

“Can we not! Yes, he’s good and we’re two adults having fun.”

“Yeah,” his eyes shift to the love bites on your skin and the state of your disheveled hair. “You’re having a lot of fun.

“Please shut up.” you sigh deeply as you sink on the couch. “He’s actually a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure he’s a pain in your ass–”

“Seriously!” you cover your face. “...I don’t care. As long as I get some action, I guess.” 

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he’s been less annoying lately,” Chifuyu admits. “Don’t get me wrong, he gets on everyone’s nerves–.” typical Hanma. “--but he’s been different lately.”

“Different?”

You can’t deny that this has piqued your curiosity. What Hanma was to you wasn’t the same to everyone else–you’ve known the man as a teenager and meeting him again as an adult, you realize you may have missed the most formative years of his life—the years that shaped him through struggles and hardships, leaving him the monotone, robotic, and emotionless man he is today. 

Toman knew an entirely different version, so a small shift in his behavior is easily noticeable. 

Chifuyu recalls an incident that happened three nights ago that really solidified to him that there might be something going on with the tall man. Hanma had walked inside the Toman headquarters all wet and disheveled. Not the kind that would leave you wondering if the criminal had sex. It had been pouring outside for hours on no end, and Chifuyu narrows his eyes when he sees Shuji’s wet clothes–however, he doesn’t seem annoyed. He calmly walks towards the front desk where he asks the receptionist (and his personal assistant when he is having a good day) where his bag of spare clothes was. The assistant, clearly taken aback, leads him towards a giant closet and hands him his bag. 

“Thanks.” The tattooed man mutters to the assistant who stands there frozen and shocked. 

Did Hanma just… thank him? 

Even Chifuyu couldn’t believe his own eyes and ears. 

“Yeah. A good type of different.” The dark haired male’s hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, a habit he couldn’t get rid of (not that you minded) then pushes himself off the couch.

“Well…I’m glad it didn’t go that bad.” 

“It could’ve, had I not missed you so much.” You say in a small voice and Chifuyu’s heart breaks a little. 

“Sorry…” 

“Oh it’s fine, I’m used to people leaving.” You try to lighten up the mood, but Chifuyu can tell that this wasn’t a joke to you. The thought of people leaving you was terrifying, but you always managed to find a way to brush it off as nothing but an overreaction. 

“I won’t lea–”

“Don’t.” A hand rests on Chifuyu’s shoulder, and all he can do is stare at you. He feels the small tremble in your hand, and he can read your mind. He knows what you mean. 

You don’t want empty promises.

“Okay.” He whispers in return, resting his hand on top of yours. “I got it.” 

—

Just how busy can a criminal’s life be in a city like Tokyo? Well, it depends. If you were to ask Chifuyu, he would tell you that it was very busy–hopping from one meeting to another, helping manage businesses and attending opening nights and events. Kisaki would say the same, although with the help of his assistant, it feels less hectic and suffocating. And the same goes for every man in Toman. 

Everyone but a certain tall man. 

Hanma’s specialty was torture. His skill relies on methodically, agonizingly breaking a person’s mind and body until they were reduced to an empty shell. He took pride in the way he unraveled them, a twisted thrill evident in his blown-out pupils—enjoying the process far more than any normal person ever would. So missions were a fun part of Shuji’s job. 

Until they aren’t, and he has to request for Kisaki to push them back a day or two.

“What?” Kisaki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you can’t do it today?”

“Exactly what it means.” Hanma says in a breathy voice, and Kisaki sighs at the end of the line. 

“Do I even have to ask why?”

When the tall man laughs, Kisaki’s face twists with disgust. He recognizes that laugh, it was an indicator that Hanma had simply found something far more entertaining than his missions–which was rare to say the least. But he continues to laugh, before heaving out a long, content sigh. 

“Oh man,” a tattooed hand brushes the skin of your exposed back, a small meek noise escapes your swollen lips at the touch. “Not sure if I can answer that.” The same tattooed hand then fists your hair and he pulls harshly until your neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle. You try to shoot him a glare, but he pushes his cock deeper and you find yourself biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your noises. 

“Bye.” You hear Kisaki hanging up on the other line and look over your shoulder. 

“You’re insufferable!” Shuji is amused by the glare you send him, tugging at your hair so that your back is now pressed against his chest. 

“I get that often.” You hear the grin in his voice, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers hotly into it. After a beat of silence, Hanma’s hips slam against your ass and your jaw falls open. 

“F-Fuck!” you cry out. Shuji’s free hand then goes around your body to grope your boobs, slapping them as he continues to fuck into you hard. Desperately, you dig your nails into his forearm for support and gasp when the hand travels down to your clit. 

Your head now rests fully against his shoulder, body twitching and trembling as he continues to thrust into you while rubbing the sensitive bud. 

Hanma loved seeing you like this. Not your usual, bratty self who refused to even glance his way–turning you into putty on his cock was something he took pride in, and he couldn’t deny that the more the two of you fucked, the more addicted he became. 

A week into your agreement with him, and you had been bent over every surface of your apartment.

First was your couch. Hanma insisted that he wanted to replace the memory of him getting cockblocked by your cat with a nice one. You forgot that the man’s sheer strength was enough to send you reeling, and he wasn’t able to control himself as he snapped his hips against your ass cheeks until the couch had moved spots.

“S-Slow down–!” you tried to beg, powerless as he held your wrists behind your back and pushed your face into the cushion of the couch. Your pussy was squeezing him too tightly for him to think of anything but letting you milk him dry.

“Can’t do t-that doll.” hearing the small stutter in his voice has your stomach fluttering. His fingers dig into your skull as he pushes your face deeper into the couch, muffling any of your noises as he thrusts harder and deeper into you. 

Your kitchen counter was next.

The small, crowded space of your kitchen was Hanma’s least favorite spot in your apartment. You shoot him yet another one of your signature glares as he voices his displeasure, and watch as amusement paints his features.

“Small ass kitchen you got here.”

“Not your first time being here.” You try to focus on the food you’re stirring in the pot, and not Hanma’s body towering over yours from behind. 

“Anybody fucked ya here before?” His hands grip your waist, pinning you in place and the hand that’s not busy stirring the food grips his forearm. 

“Yes Hanma. I am not a virgin.” But given the redness of your face, you might as well be one.

“Oh really? Who was it?”

“You don’t have to know!” 

“I gotta know if he was good. Did he make you cum?” You gasp when his hand slides inside your pants, fingers grazing the tuft of pubic hair covered by your panties. 

“I-I’m cooking–”

“Did he use his fingers like this?” You feel pathetic as your hand drops the wooden spoon to grip the kitchen counter, body bending forward when the rough pads of his fingers find your clit and start to rub it in circles. He moves further down, collecting some of your arousal before smearing it all over your sensitive bud. 

“Stop talking.” You say through gritted teeth, but your hard exterior soon melts away when he pushes his middle and ring finger into your pussy. He doesn’t start slow, nor does he give you time to get used to the sheer size of him as he starts pistoning his fingers into you. Groaning at the feeling of your snug walls gripping his fingers, he buries his face in your neck and pushes you closer to him. You’re reeling at the pleasure, unable to muffle your noises and you would’ve melted to the ground had his arm not been wrapped so tightly around your middle. 

As payback, you give him a handjob on your couch. 

It’s not that often where you don’t stare at your sexual partners while pleasuring them, but eye contact with Hanma was intense. It felt too…nerve racking for the two of you. So you sit next to him, blanket draped over your laps as your spit covered hand grips his cock. You move it up and down, stroking in the same motion that has the man’s head thrown over the back of the couch and his jaw going slack. From the corner of your eye, you see his reddened cheeks and his furrowed eyebrows and squeeze your own thighs. You ignore the flutter in your stomach, thumbing at his tip and removing the blanket when he starts to buck up his hips, fucking into your hand. 

And since you don’t want to make a mess, you wrap your lips around his dick and let him cum down your throat. 

“Holy shit,” he says, out of breath. You still refuse to stare at him as you wipe your mouth and grab the remote control to press play again. 

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you are. 

So you don’t expect special treatment as he batters your cunt with his mean cock, nor do you wait for him to caress your body and whisper sweet nothings into your ear after slapping your boobs so painfully. You like that. You like how mean he is and it’s fucking with your head.

The louder you get, the easier it is for Hanma to fuck into you–arousal is dripping down your thighs, and the sound of skin slapping bounced off the walls of your bedroom. You can’t hide how horny you were, or just how good he was making you feel. All you can do in response to his hypnotizing thrusts is grip his skin and leave your own marks. A way to show that he was yours for the night, even if he were to leave after this and go fuck someone else. 

“I-I’m cumming,” you gasp, sounding desperate and clearly not in control of your own volume and voice. Your brain feels fuzzy from all the pleasure, Hanma lets go of your hair and pushes you down until you are on all fours. You’re bent over so perfectly for him that a quiet curse escapes his lips. “S-Shuji, I’m cumming–” not Hanma, not asshole. Shuji. 

You’re not sure what kind of noises you’re making, but it sounds so pathetic and whiny that it sends the tall man behind you over the edge. However, you make the mistake of looking over your shoulder and the sight that greets you makes your stomach flip. 

A sweaty, red faced Hanma is fucking you so eagerly, hypnotized by the recoil of your ass that he forgets to close his mouth. Fucked out is the best way to describe him. A man who is usually either so amused by others’ discomfort and pain, wearing such a pornographic expression makes you grip the bed sheets and moan loudly as you cum all over his cock. 

He lets you ride out your orgasm, gripping your ass cheek and kneading the skin before delivering a harsh smack to it as he picks up his pace until he is emptying himself inside your warm walls. Leaning over, he presses his lips against the skin of your shoulders before asking. 

“You...You aren’t fucking anyone else, right?” 

“You’re asking that now?” After fucking me and cumming inside me so much? 

Obviously you’re not fucking anyone else!

“Just answer.” He demands with a slap to your clit that has you squealing, trapped under the weight of his body.

“N-No!” 

“Good.” His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder, and he places both hands on either side of your bodies as he presses his body weight against yours. “Good fucking girl.”

Not sure what he would’ve done had you said yes. 

“What?” You’re in a haze, but you still manage to catch bits of what he says and Hanma chuckles to himself.

“Don’t worry.”

“No, you said someth–ah!” your jaw goes slack when he starts to fuck you into the mattress. This position allows him to trap you beneath him with so much ease, until you have no choice but to take his cock and blabber nonsense into the pillow.

“Focus baby girl,” his teeth nip at your earlobe as he sinks his cock again into your cunt “I’m not done with ya.” 

Guilt is a weak emotion. Fear, anger and even jealousy are much stronger and can affect someone greatly. If consumed by any of the aforementioned, you’ll find out that sleep doesn’t come to you easily. 

Insomnia has followed Hanma Shuji his entire life. There hasn’t been a day where he slept through the night without being woken up in cold sweat and a loud gasp, or without feeling the need to reach for the nearest weapon to him. But as he lays next to you at 3 O’clock in the morning, he starts to question what triggers his insomnia. He’s never felt guilty after a mission, anger only consumed him if someone betrayed him–that leaves out jealousy. 

His golden eyes land on your worn out, sleeping figure. He chuckles as he notices your furrowed eyebrows, and his hand starts to move towards your face before freezing. What is he doing? He pulls his hand away, eyes drifting towards your exposed chest before pulling up the covers. He sees the pendant of the necklace resting comfortably around your neck and suddenly feels the need to fix it. Before his hand can reach for the jewelry, your fingers grip it protectively and you pull the covers tightly around your body. 

Hah. What’s that about? 

“No,” his ears perk up when he hears your sleepy voice mumble into your pillow. “..not..go.”

Not go? 

You were obviously talking in your sleep. It wasn’t supposed to make sense. 

“Don’t..go.” Sleepiness is replaced with distress. “..kashi.” 

Hanma scoffs. Honestly, that’s all he can do in such a situation. After fucking you into a deep slumber, you still manage to mumble another man’s name in your sleep. Which was completely fucking fine of course, you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours. 

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you agreed on.

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 3

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 12.6+

A/N: Guys. Idk where to start, but this chapter needs a warning because it is big and beefy. I didn’t want the 1.03-1.04 story arc to be dragged out further into 4 chapters and, because of that, this chapter exists. I truly hope it is one that you enjoy. It took a lot of time and love. So please, get out some 🍿 cause it’s going to be a ride. P.S. To everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, and sent me messages about Chaos in Their Bones: thank you. You have all made this such a wonderful experience and a fun one. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Chapter 1 Previous Next

So far Operation Petty was getting off to a rough start. 

Your original plan of stealing every glass of wine Zoro poured seemed like a good one. Golf claps for everyone. Except, that good idea slowly began to disappear five glasses ago. 

Unfortunately for you, and to the dismay of the entire table, you were a giggling mess. 

After the sixth glass you were lucky you could even see straight. It wasn’t until after Zoro poured the next glass and slid it over to you the wheels in your head finally added all the small clues you’d missed. Zoro had let you think you’d stolen glass after glass of his wine. When in reality, he’d just been trying to get you drunk. 

Zoro was already on his fourth bottle of wine and still seemed able to function like a person. 

You leaned, not so gracefully, over to his side of the table. A “Psst,” hiccuping out of you to garner his attention. You knew you had it. He was just hiding a majority of his face inside the glass. 

Just to make sure though - “Psst!” 

“Ugh, Doc, we can all hear you,” Usopp said somewhere behind you. 

You waved him off. Your eyes honed in on both Zoro’s. 

“What do you want?” He hummed. 

“Hey, Mosshead,” you snapped. That got his head to swivel an inch away from the safety of the glass. “You did this on purpose.”

You were leaning so far forward your cheek was almost flush with your arm. Your fingers wiggled near him and you watched as his eyes darted down to watch them before side-eyeing you. 

“Yup,” he answered, sharply pronouncing the p. “You want to steal my wine as payback, well I can drink you under the table.” You weren’t expecting him to drop the glass and move towards you. The movement wasn’t huge, but he was closer than you anticipated and it made you scared to blink. “I can be petty too.” 

Fuck. 

He was so close - almost kissably close and - No! Why are you thinking of kissing at a time like this? When Zoro’s close enough you could see the sun kissed freckles that dusted over the top of his cheeks and nose. The playful glint in his eyes that brightened them to shine like mini constellations. 

With a devious smirk sliding across his lips, Zoro regarded you one last time before he straightened up. His hand reaching out to take back the glass he’d previously sat down and brought it back up to his lips. 

“You are diabolical,” you huffed. 

When you went to straighten up, you felt your world tilt. You were going to need - “Can I get some water, please?” 

You needed to sober up and fast. Inwardly, you could already hear your inner monologue being set up to chastise your childish behavior. You were so worried about Zoro and annoying him that it was all you focused on. 

I’m not here for him. 

You’d come with Usopp with the goal in mind to help Kaya. That was who you’d come here for and who you still had every intention to help. The plan to do so was still there, but somehow within the last few hours you’d allowed yourself to be distracted by a pretty face. 

A soft cough from Kaya’s direction was all the clarity necessary to get your head back on straight. Or as straight as it could be in your current state. No more Zoro. No more looking at him, talking to him, looking at him-

You could sense him moving off to your right, but you were not going to look. Nope. Most definitely not going to look, but was your head tilting? 

Drunk you seriously needed to work on some self-control. 

You were heavily lost in your head again. So lost that you weren’t sure how many times Luffy or anyone else attempted to bring you into a conversation. It wasn’t until a gentle hand on your shoulder jolted you back into the present. 

Looking to your left, you saw Usopp waiting for you to answer him. His concern etched into every scrunch of his face. 

“Luffy asked how long you’ve been a doctor,” he offered slowly, as if he spoke too fast he’d lose you again. 

“Well, technically, I’m a doctor-in-training.”

“So, not a real doctor.”

Of course, Zoro just had to butt in. You still weren’t going to look at him. 

“I am a doctor. Naan has taught me over the years how to handle every illness and broken bone that has come through this village. I think one of the biggest things she’s taught me is that sometimes kindness can be the strongest medicine and other times defending those who can’t defend themselves is a bigger responsibility.” 

“Wow,” Luffy smiled in response. “You must have helped a lot of people. Your grandma must be really proud of you.” 

Luffy looked so…genuine. The very thought of you going out of your way to help others seemed to make him regard you differently. While the smile on his face wasn’t expansive and filled with its usual childlike mischief, it held one of praise. As if it was a rare thing for someone to have the drive to help another person. Maybe over the last decade or so that might have been true, but Naan didn’t raise you to turn a blind eye to those in need. 

You couldn’t help but respond to Luffy’s smile with one of your own. Although, you hoped it didn’t wilt as you prepared yourself with your reply. 

“She’s an orphan,” Sham interjected as she set down a dinner plate that was intricately decorated with fish and vegetables. “Usopp too. Isn’t that right?” 

Not true. Orphan meant that there had been no one there for you. No family to help take care of you when you needed protection, and while Naan wasn’t your real grandma she was family because she chose to be. 

You dropped your hands down into your lap and could feel your fingers curl into your palms. 

“What does it matter if they’re orphans or not?” Your eyes narrowed in on Nami. She sat beside Luffy, opposite of Usopp, and her cool gaze was trained on Sham. She watched closely while Sham placed the next plate hastily down in front of Usopp. “I’m curious to hear your answer.” 

“Forgive my staff, Miss,” Klahadore stepped in. “Sham spoke out of turn when it was not her place.” 

“I’m sure she meant no harm, Klahadore.”

Kaya smiled up at him and he responded with a smile of his own. You hated how Kaya was always apologizing for everyone around her, especially for those who didn’t deserve it. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Nami continued. “If she didn’t mean to say it she would’ve kept her mouth shut.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal, guys,” Usopp offered. 

You weren’t surprised to see him looking at Kaya. The two of them shared a small smile between them and it took everything in you not to lightly smack him on the arm. If Kaya wanted to be peacemaker, Usopp would do everything in his power to play along. Anything Kaya wanted Usopp would make sure he did everything in his power to make sure it happened. 

What felt worse was that Sham’s attempt at an insult did bother you. It was meant to remind you that they considered you nothing, which was odd coming from waitstaff and a butler. 

A doctor to pirates was about as valuable as gold. 

“Yeah, not a big deal,” you mumbled. Your fingers riddled with your fork; debating if eating Buchi’s food was worth the risk. With your luck they probably poisoned it. “I do hope I make her proud someday, Luffy. I still have a lot to learn.”

Luffy was already a mouthful deep into his plate and wasn’t showing any reservation in taking another hardy bite. Thank god he waited to swallow first before he replied, “The fact you came here to help Kaya tells me all I need to know. You’re a good person, Doc.”

“That’s very kind of you, Luffy. Thank you.”

God, I will not cry right now. 

Why did random words of kindness - from a stranger - matter so much? Luffy didn’t owe you any act of kindness or to bother being so nice to you or Usopp. Yet, here he was being an actual ball of sunshine. You knew dozens of people in this town who disregarded Usopp and his stories. Who grumbled and complained when he started talking. Luffy had only treated him with respect: he listened to his stories no matter how bat shit crazy they must have sounded. 

You knew Luffy and his friends would eventually leave but for the time they were here (besides Zoro) you were grateful. 

“It says a lot about who you are. You’re a good person.” 

You felt your smile wilt a little as you watched a few flecks of food fall out of his mouth as he spoke. Flying food aside, you were really starting to count yourself lucky that Luffy and his friends ended up in your sleepy little village. 

Sham was still depositing plates of tonight’s only special when you heard Kaya ask if she could try some. She’d barely finished asking before Klahadore was there beside her. 

“I’m sorry that won’t be possible, Miss Kaya. You know how certain foods affect your constitution. Here,” he waved his hand free from his chest ushering in Buchi. “Buchi has prepared your special soup.”

“Why is it blue?” You blanched. 

When all eyes turned to regard you, you realized you hadn’t said that in your head. The wine was seriously starting to make your body too comfortable. 

“It’s made with a special fruit,” Buchi growled back. 

“What’s the name of the fruit? I’ve skowered this entire island top to bottom with Naan and have never seen a fruit that color here.” 

“It’s imported.”

“From where-“

“It’s not important where her food comes from,” Klahadore interrupted. Each word was more forced than the last. “All that matters is it helps Miss Kaya.” 

“If that was true then why is she still sick?”

Klahadore’s eyes were practically shooting daggers into your skull. You were willing to bet a million berry’s that if he got you alone in a room, you wouldn’t be making it out. That thought only seemed to ignite something inside you that you’d been pushing down for months.

You rolled your tongue along your bottom teeth as you struggled to reign in your temper. The wine made your blood warm and fuzzy, but now you felt as if you were boiling alive. Your legs were bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and your hands were curling into fists-

Suddenly a hiccup of a gasp lodged itself in your throat. The tip of a shoe was pressed gently against your ankle and the tip of said shoe belonged to the very moss-headed oaf who’d been plaguing your every waking minute. Yes, you said you weren’t going to look at him, but you didn’t expect him to touch you. Even just this small amount. 

When you did glance at him, Zoro didn’t return your stare. His eyes were trained solely on Klahadore with a slight draw of his brow confirming your suspicions. Zoro was starting to notice something was off with Klahadore too and was warning you. 

“Kaya it’s your birthday. You should be able to eat whatever you want.” 

Nami’s soft voice cut through the tension and brought Klahadore back to the present. His eyes glazed back with mock servitude, but you’d seen it. Maybe now so had Zoro. Your eyes were only for Klahadore as you watched the exchange between him and Nami. You loved the way she was sticking up for Kaya and the challenge in her eyes as she stared him down-

“You need to relax.” 

Fuck. 

You struggled to keep a shudder from making its way down your spine but you weren’t so lucky in keeping the soft gasp from trickling out from your lips. The husk of his voice was unnecessarily sexy. 

Slowly, you turned to look to your right and found Zoro casually sitting back in his seat. His eyes trained forward and his hands took his silverware as if he hadn’t just whispered across your skin like sin. 

You couldn’t think past what had just happened. It didn’t matter how much you tried to formulate a sentence. Your brain was just not having it. You could do this. You were an intelligent woman who was not easily swayed. 

“What?” 

A masterful reply. 

Zoro looked at you from his peripherals before placing the napkin down into his lap. 

“I would stop antagonizing him before he kicks you out.”

And here you thought he was just worried about you. 

“I’m a doctor and Kaya needs me.” 

“Has she told you that? Has she physically looked at you and specifically asked for you to save her or do you just need to feel important?”

“Why are you such an asshole?!”

You spoke every word through gritted teeth. The anger that Zoro erased by killing your brain cells, which now felt like an insult to yourself, was stoked back to life. Your body singed with the need to get a hold of him because - who the fuck talked to people like this? 

What you hadn’t expected was for that anger - god, that hurt - to soak deeply into your words. Each one raised and sharp with the intention he knew you meant it. 

Zoro didn’t respond. He just started eating his fish. You suddenly didn’t feel hungry. 

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t want to look at Usopp. Not when he sounded like that. What would happen if you did? Would you cry or scream that you weren’t? The panic you’d been shoving down the last few hours was beginning to weasel its way to the surface. You were running out of options and ideas on how you could help. What if Zoro was right? What if Kaya didn’t need you and you’d allowed yourself to be dragged into a story that wasn’t real?

The thought alone was enough to make you look at your best friend and the panic was replaced with guilt. The shame was enough to make the first sharp prick of tears threaten to spill free from your eyes. Usopp didn’t deserve your anger or your doubt. He may have told a lot of stories, but he was good. His heart was pure. You weren’t worried about whether or not you smiled at him if he could tell you were lying. You knew somehow Usopp would understand your frustration. 

“Yeah, Usopp everything is alright.” 

He side-eyed Zoro over your shoulder before he brought his attention back to the room. Clearing his throat, he looked over at Luffy and asked, “Luffy, isn’t there something you wanted to talk to Kaya about?”

“Ah, yes. Usopp tells me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

Kaya smiled gracefully in reply, before she looked away. A sadness creeping into her voice. 

“Well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard, and Merry’s been running the business since…well since they passed.” You watched as Luffy followed her words and glanced over to the man sitting at the table. A courtesy raise of his glass to salute the dead. For a split second, all the joy in Luffy was replaced by something that didn’t seem to fit. A melancholy that didn’t belong. “But all that’s about to change. At midnight tonight I will become sole owner.” 

“Ah well, that’s great because we want to buy a ship from you.”

Now this was the Luffy you’d grown to know. All smiles and cheerfulness like a rainbow as he lifted his champagne glass and took a sip. 

“I see,” Kaya responded in kind. “Usopp mentioned that you were sailors.” 

“Nope, not sailors. Pirates.” 

Your head spun sharply back in his direction. He seemed so happy about what he just said. Like it wasn’t the worst kind of omission that could get you all killed or arrested by the local Marines. Usopp definitely had a reason to be choking on his own drink. 

You glanced at Nami and back at Zoro and both of them, respectfully, looked worried as shit. 

“Pirates?”

“Yep. We haven’t sailed together for very long, but we have already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a Marine captain with an axe for a hand!”

“Usopp, what is he talking about?” You whispered sharply over to him. 

Usopp was still covered in his own spit as he furiously tried to wipe it off. The worry evident in the fine creases in his forehead as he glanced around the room. 

“I don’t-“

“These sound a lot like your adventures, Usopp,” Kaya mentioned lovingly. 

“Yeah. It’s crazy.”

Kaya thought that Luffy was joking! While you were sure Luffy meant what he was saying you were also incredibly confused. Pirates weren’t nice. The ones you’d met a few times had forced Naan to help them. They’d been rough, mean, and downright nasty. Luffy was none of that. 

“Oh yeah, and we are just getting started!” Unexpectedly, Luffy stood up in his chair and began to stand on the table. 

“What are you doing?” Klahadore snapped as he came forth from the shadows. “Get down from there this instant!”

“Being a pirate has been my dream for as long as I can remember and I’m finally going to make it a reality. We are heading off to the grand line where even more adventures await us.” With an eager smile gracing his lips, drink in hand, Luffy began to walk his way down to where Kaya sat. “At the end of the journey I’m gonna find the ultimate treasure, the One Piece and become King of The Pirates.”

When he got to Kaya Luffy stopped and took one last sip of his drink before handing it off to Klahadore. You would honestly pay to have this moment replay in a time loop, it was so damn good. Besides the fact that, you know, they were pirates. 

“Kaya, you have a beautiful ship out there. A caravel with a sheep figurehead. It spoke to me. That is the ship we need to follow our dreams. I promise we will take care of it. Maintain it. Because a ship isn’t just a vessel; it’s also a home.” 

It felt like such a genuine moment. Luffy didn’t appear to be like every pirate you’ve ever met. They were usually selfish, ugly, and cruel men who found pleasure in others misfortunes or creating them themselves. Even now, after his confession, it wasn’t the vibe you got from Luffy, and that’s what made it all the more confusing. 

“That will be quite enough!” Your body gave a jump in surprise as Klahadore screamed. His body thundering over to stand next to Kaya. “I should’ve known Usopp would bring rift raft to our doorstep.”

“Klahadore it’s okay-“ 

Kaya tried to defend them, but a violent coughing fit cut her short. Usopp edged toward the end of his seat noticeably wanting to get up and go to her. The both of you knew if he made any moves right now, unfortunately, who knew what this butler would do. 

“Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve all upset Miss Kaya. I want you all out of here, at once!”

“No,” Kaya interjected. “Let them stay the night.” 

“Very well, Miss Kaya. But they are out of here first thing in the morning.” 

Stay the night? 

“Fuck,” you huffed under your breathe. 

You had no intention of staying in this manor with any of them. You turned to tell Usopp you should both head back and noticed the way his puppy dog eyes followed Kaya as Klahadore led her away. He wasn’t going to leave her and maybe that meant you shouldn’t either. 

“Well, that went well.”

Luffy really needed to learn to read the room. 

You waited for Buchi and Sham to follow after their master before you pushed back your chair and did your best not to trip on any of the tulle at your feet. You needed to get out of this dress immediately. It wasn’t because you were much of a fighter. No, that wasn’t you. However, you did enjoy running from danger and this dress made it damn near impossible. 

“Where are you going?” 

Luffy and his kaleidoscope of happiness. You wondered what it was like to always be so optimistic. 

“I am going back to my room and probably leaving.” 

“What?” Usopp turned to look at you. “Why are you leaving.”

“Yeah. What was all that holier than thou talk about helping her,” Zoro cut in. 

“Oh, what the hell does it matter to you, anyways?” You snapped. “First, you insult me for trying to help and now you insult me, again, for leaving.”

“Cowards give up when it gets hard.”

Was it physically possible to blow smoke out of your nose? It felt like it as your eyes narrowed in on him. He didn’t even have the decency to look at you. 

“Zoro, you got a real stick up your ass,” Nami huffed as she grabbed her glass and took a drink. 

“That’s not the real reason she wants to leave” he shot back, eyes on Nami. “Is it? It’s because she heard the word, “Pirates.” 

“That’s crazy,” Luffy laughed around the words. “We’re good guys.” 

“Pirates are not good guys,” you snapped at him. It was your turn to feel like an asshole as you looked between them. Luffy noticeably hurt. “I have met plenty of pirates when they came looking for Naan and her services. She hid me every single time, because she was scared of what they might do. If they would take me. Doctors are more valuable to pirates than gold. That was the lesson she taught me and I learned it well.”

“Pirates have been to Syrup Village?” 

Usopp didn’t seem to grasp the fact that they hadn’t come raiding and he’d have to ring the bell for real. No one knew how close pirates really were to Syrup Village. It was one of the reasons why Naan’s home was hidden so deep within the bamboo forest. 

“Yes, Usopp.”

You needed to get away. You were tired - drained - from feeling like you needed to apologize to them. You didn’t know what's real anymore and maybe you were being a coward. Maybe you were just tired of being wrong. 

With one last tug on the tulle, you moved away from the table and gave them one quick glance before you headed out towards the dining room doors. 

————————————-

It’d been over an hour since you’d made your less than graceful exit from the dining room. Even after getting back into the comfort of your own clothes, it didn’t keep the nagging feeling that you’d been an asshole from clawing its way to the surface. 

You had been an asshole. 

You’d been pacing the confines of your suite chewing on your nails until you were positive you must have gnawed them into dust. There was no denying Kaya’s home was beautiful. It was everything you could imagine money could buy in the form of creature comforts, but there was no happiness within its walls. 

The room you’d been given was more than what you and Naan lived in now. When you’d first been shown inside, you’d felt silly having all this space and having no idea what to do with it. It was all lovely. From the four poster bed with intricate wooden detailing to the velvet curtains that ran the length of the wall that held a window overlooking the garden. The wallpaper, you were positive, held gold within its designs. 

It wasn’t the fanciest, but you would take your small home with Naan then stay in a place like this. Speaking of home…

It would be so easy for you to turn tail and run. To go out the front door and never come back but what would you tell Naan? That you never got to see Kaya? That you were unnecessarily rude to a group of people who’d been nothing but friendly (except one) all because their captain called them pirates? 

Coward. That’s what Zoro called you. The worst part was maybe he wasn’t wrong. So, ninety-five percent of your plan had gone to shit. You at least still had five percent of it. 

Neither Luffy, Nami, or Zoro did anything that warranted your hasty judgment, and nothing they did reflected what you’d been exposed to all your life. What you hated the most was that you could feel the need for an apology brewing in your gut, and if you didn’t do it you would never get any sleep. 

After you’d gotten dressed and strapped on much more comfortable shoes, you made your way out of your room and back inside the maze of hallways. You were closing in on the main corridor when the sound of a door opening made you stop in your tracks. 

What if it was Sham? You prepared yourself to see her unpleasant face when orange hair wrapped in an orange designed bandanna crept out into the hall. 

“Nami?”

She startled as you called her name and turned to face you. The sound of clanking caught your attention and your eyes followed the sound to a very filled pillowcase in her right hand. 

You quirked an eyebrow as you asked, “Doing some spring cleaning?”

You watched as her usual friendly demeanor changed into squared shoulders and eyes filled with defiance. It made you feel like you were about to embark on a fight you didn’t realize you were having. 

“You want to hurl some more generic insults my way? Tell me how much of a bad person I am-“

Now you were raising your hands up but not in surrender. It was an attempt to quiet her down. You’d already been berating yourself about words, and the power they held to equally heal or destroy someone. How many times had Naan chastised you about being reckless with your words? Reminding you that the things spoken can be enough to heal or mend hearts and bodies, but can also easily break them. 

“A healer is more than just someone mending a body, girl. Sometimes we heal by listening. Giving dying men the forgiveness they seek.” 

And here you were slinging verbal canon balls at these people. 

I’m such an asshole

“Nami! Nami! While I hundred percent deserve that, it’s not what I was going to do.” She didn’t seem like she believed you in the slightest. That was fair. “I was actually on my way to try and find you guys.”

“Why? So, you could tell us some more about how you hate pirates?”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“Oh, I think that’s more than fair. You are not the only one who hates pirates or holds the lottery for the shittest interactions with them.”

Again, your hands were up. Why did this have to feel like you were with a lion inside of a cage? One wrong move and you were sure she was going to bite your head off. 

“I never said that, ok? Did I have a shit reaction to finding out that you were pirates? Yes. That’s why I’m here. I came to apologize to all of you. You defended me tonight at dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”

All the anger that swirled in the gray of her irises began to soften. Good. At least she was no longer looking ready to turn you into literal sashimi. 

“Yeah, we’ll, she was acting like a real bitch.”

“Agreed,” you hummed, “but that’s beside the point. You didn’t have to say anything but you did and how did I repay that? By being an asshole so on that note: Nami, I’m sorry.”

Why was she just staring? You thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest at any minute. Nami wasn’t smiling or appeared angry or upset. She was completely stone faced and you were desperately trying not to fidget. 

“I think that’s the first time anyone’s apologized to me before.” 

“That sucks.”

God, you really did have a way with words. Nami was equally as shocked at your bluntness, but in a way that sent a warm smile to lift the edges of your lips. Nami sputtered out a laugh as she placed her hands on her hips. The motion and sound of clinking whatever was in there reminding you both that she was currently doing something illegal. 

“Are you going to say anything? Report me to Klahadore?” 

Even just the sound of his name was enough to drop the smile from your face. A sneer replacing it as you replied, “God no. I’d rather just let you steal than say anything to that jackal.”

“You and the waitstaff seem to be big fans of each other,” Nami teased. 

It earned her a laugh as you looked down the hallway. Just to be safe since you were both equally unwanted in the manor and, well, Nami had a pillowcase full of the house goodies. 

“I suppose you could say that.”

You stuck your hand between you both and waited patiently for her to take it. Nami regarded your hand like it belonged to a sea monster. 

“Friends?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

Her words were soft and direct. As if she’d come to terms with being alone for a while now. You didn’t pull your hand away and let it fall back to your side. You kept it suspended between the two of you, and patiently waited for her to feel comfortable enough to take it. 

“Well, at least now you’ll know you have one in Syrup village.” 

A spark of something ignited in her eyes and whatever it was your words made her think of, it wasn’t something happy. When a small smile curled her lips it didn’t reach her eyes. They stayed distant; mourning something you may never be made aware of. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Nami reached out her hand and gently grabbed yours. You waited to secure your fingers around her hand, just in case she had second thoughts. When she didn’t pull away you allowed yourself to fully smile at her, which earned you one back. 

“Where were you headed to, anyways?”

You both released each other, and you started slowly moving around her to get to the corridor. 

“I was going to look around for Luffy. I need to apologize to him too.”

“Check the kitchen. If you’re going to find him anywhere it’s going to be in there.”

“Thank you. You just saved me some time. See you later, Nami.”

You were a few feet away when she called your name. You turned halfway to see her still standing in the same spot you’d left her. 

“Are you going to apologize to Zoro?”

“I’m still debating,” you answered truthfully.

You aren’t sure what Nami expected you to say, but apparently that hadn’t been it. She immediately erupted into laughter as she turned and headed to the next room. 

You really hoped she wasn’t going to get caught by Klahadore or anyone else. You were positive it would get him all riled up and send him screeching for the marines to come. Maybe even throw in some insults, because that was just the kind of man he was. 

It took you longer than you wanted to locate the kitchen and you were considering bringing it up to Kaya about putting signs up around the manor. Ones that let you know with arrows which way to go. Why was it so easy to get lost in such a big house? You were still trying to come up with a way to bring up that little suggestion when you heard Usopp’s voice coming from the kitchen. Usopp was there too? Your curiosity spurred you forward - almost at a sprint - until you heard another voice grumble from the kitchen. 

“You don’t think she like - like likes me, do you?”

What kind of conversation were you walking into? You rounded the corner to find Usopp and Zoro staring at one another. Usopp looked hopeful while Zoro regarded him with as much emotion as a rock. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy.”

“I would second that, Usopp.”

At the sound of your voice all eyes turned to you. 

“Doc! Hey! What brings you to the kitchen?” 

Luffy sounded like his usual happy-go-lucky self. He didn’t seem to be holding a grudge or feelings about what had happened only an hour ago between you. All Luffy seemed to care about was the leftover appetizers and being amongst friends. 

How could you ever think he was anything like other pirates? 

His cheerfulness was contagious and soon you found yourself making your way around to the stairs. Luffy waves you down to join him with an appetizer in hand. 

“You didn’t seem to eat at the dinner. You should try some of these. They’re delicious!”

“Are you sure there is any left?”

“Oh, I have some in my pockets if you want those.” 

He really was digging through his pocket to pull out some appetizers. You didn’t know why it surprised you so much but you couldn’t keep your laughter from bubbling to the surface. 

“It’s okay, Luffy. I appreciate your willingness to share, but I’ll pass for now.” 

“You sure? These are really good!” 

Just to prove his point, Luffy popped whatever he pulled from his pocket into his mouth. His fingers noticeably tinted with a pink hue from it melting. 

“Pretty sure.” 

You snagged a stool on the opposite side of Luffy, which unfortunately kept you on the same side as Zoro. Who was actively staring daggers into your skull. 

“I actually came to find you so I could apologize.” 

“Apologize?”

“For how I acted at dinner.”

“Where’s my apology?” 

Zoro’s husky voice cut through your good mood and instantly made you bitter. You turned in your seat to look at him, who was opening and closing drawers every two seconds. 

“I’m still debating on if you deserve one.” 

Zoro had been opening his next set of cupboard doors when he stopped short. His head tilting the slightest to glance at you over your shoulder. You waited for him to make another smart ass comment and when it didn’t come, well, color you surprised. All you got was a tick of his jaw before he turned back to opening and shutting doors. 

“What is he doing?” You asked Usopp. 

“He’s looking for something to drink,” Luffy offered up in between his next bite.

Where the hell did he find a chicken leg? You fixed yourself to sit more comfortably on the stool and placed your satchel on the table. You looked between the three men again and remembered what it was they’d been talking about before. 

“So, what were you guys talking about?” 

Usopp scratched the back of his neck and looked anywhere but at you. What was making him so nervous? You’d been friends since you were kids. There literally couldn’t be anything that embarrassing-

“Usopp is in love with Kaya and wanted to know if we think she’s in love with him too.”

Luffy happily continued to eat the chicken that you still couldn’t figure out where it came from. Usopp, on the other hand, looked like his soul was about to leave his body. 

“Sounds about right.”

Your response must have been a shock to Usopp because that’s exactly how he looked. His hand was still nervously fidgeting with his bandana. 

“You know?”

You rolled your eyes as you looked around the kitchen island. Maybe you were starting to feel a little bit hungry.

“Usopp, even Naan knows how you feel about Kaya. She called it like two years ago.” 

You were still looking for something to eat when Luffy slid a plate with chicken thighs and legs between you. They smelled wonderful and the skin was perfectly crisp. It was garnished with what might have been green onion or chive. 

“If you guys are going to talk about feelings I’m seriously going to need a drink.”

“Shocker.”

The few steps Zoro took came to an abrupt end just a few feet from you. You had a piece of chicken thigh between your lips as you made eye contact with his award-winning brooding face. There was a millisecond, as you both looked at each other, that you wondered if he would’ve replied. 

“There’s a wine cellar down in the basement.” 

“Why didn’t you mention that before?”

Usopp opened and closed his mouth. While he was unsure of what to say, you felt like you had plenty. Usopp didn’t waste another second as he grabbed his satchel off the island and started leading Zoro up the stairs. 

“Luffy, you coming?” 

“No, you go ahead. I’m going to sit with Doc for a while.” 

They were walking on the opposite walkway, high up enough to look down at both of you. Zoro glanced over his shoulder at the both of you and it took every last ounce of control on your body not to stick your tongue out at him. 

How odd it was that you felt like you could actually breathe now that he was gone. Sure, you knew you should say sorry to him and, realistically, him calling you a coward was part of the reason you’d stayed. Did you ever want to share that information with him? Hell no. 

The man was already insufferable enough. You didn’t need to add to it. 

The sound of Luffy’s chair scraping against the floor brought you back to where your attention was needed: Luffy. Not Zoro’s retreating back. 

Why did he have to look good from both sides?

Shaking your head to bring you back to why you came there in the first place, you watched as Luffy went back to walking around the kitchen. He kept searching until he came across a bronze pot that was left on the stove. When he lifted the lid you could see the neon blue hue of Kaya’s soup from where you sat. 

“What are you doing?”

Luffy turned with the large pot in hand and walked back over to the table. He looked like a child who’d gotten lost in a chocolate factory. 

“Eating.” 

You felt your brows enter your hairline and possibly the ceiling as you watched Luffy bring the pot to his lips, and begin to gulp the contents down. 

“Are you seriously going to eat all of that?”

He took a few rather large gulps before he set the pot down to look at you. A blue mustache formed on his upper lip. 

“Soup isn’t my usual choice, but it’s not half bad.”

You tried to shake the smile off your face but failed miserably. 

“You know, you don’t need to apologize. I understand being protective of the people you care about.”

The change in topics was giving you mental whiplash. Luffy regarded you with a softness you hadn’t expected. Underneath was that playfulness you’d grown accustomed to, but it was submerged under something serious. Or as serious as Luffy could be. It was the softness you hadn’t expected, however, and you quickly looked down at your hands. 

“Naan raised me to admit when I’m wrong, and I was wrong, Luffy.”

“You talk about your Naan a lot.”

“I have a lot of respect for her. She didn’t have to take me in, teach me what she knows, but she did. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay her.” 

Luffy regarded you coolly as he picked up the pot and took another giant gulp. His mouth was getting bluer by the minute.

“I’m sure she appreciates you helping her, but I don’t think she’d want to keep you from your dream.”

“I don’t have a dream.”

“Everybody has a dream. Mine is to be King of the pirates. Now you say yours.” 

Luffy was right. Everyone has a dream. Just not all of them were attainable. There were realistic dreams and unrealistic ones and yours had to be classified under the latter. Luffy’s too. 

But who was to say dreams weren’t attainable if you weren’t willing to strive for them? 

You inhaled sharply, your words exhaling in rush. 

“I want to be one of the world’s greatest doctors. I want to help people. Not just humans, but fishmen and people who have eaten Devil fruits. Their physiology is so changed that no one knows what happens when they get certain wounds.” 

“That’s great because I ate the gum gum fruit.”

How could anyone just casually chug an entire pot of soup? Or openly share that kind of information. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? Did you just say you ate a Devil fruit?”

“Yup. It turned my body into rubber.”

“I have so many questions.”

“It’s a long story.”

His words came out slurred; as if they sat heavy on his tongue and made it impossible to speak. You watched as he blinked slowly to try and clear his vision and when that didn’t work he went to stand and immediately stumbled backwards. 

“Luffy!”

Your body immediately launched itself over the table. You didn’t care that your clothes were covered in a rainbow assortment of food. By the time you’d already made it to his side of the table, Luffy fell back against a cabinet. His body sliding limp to the floor. 

“Luffy! What's wrong? Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

He was obviously lethargic. His pupils blown wide and unable to focus. It sounded like he was trying to answer your previous question, but his tongue had swollen up making none of it audible. You barely reached him before he completely crumbled to the floor. Your hands dove underneath his arms until you pulled him into a bear hug. 

Luffy was too damn heavy. If you kept holding him you would end up in a heap together on the floor. With as much strength as you could muster you tried to hoist him onto the table. 

“Zoro! Usopp!”

As you pulled him up onto the table, you heard countless silverware and plates crashing to the floor. There was so much commotion surely someone would have to come investigate. You didn’t have time to wait to see if anyone did. After you had him laid out as good as you were going to get him, you rushed over to his head. You pulled up his eyelid and watched as his eye rolled up inside his head. 

“Damn it! Zoro! Usopp! Where the fuck are you guys!”

The panic in your voice was tittering on hysteria. You wanted to scream. You definitely were going to start crying if your brain didn’t get it together. Luffy needed you. 

You placed two fingers on the artery in his neck. His pulse fluttered against your fingertips and with each beat felt slower than the last. Drawing your hands back you noticed the slight foam that was forming at the corners of his mouth and - “Poison.” 

Your eyes zoned in on the now empty pot. Luffy had eaten all of it and whatever was inside was enough to make its effects be instantaneous. It was the same soup they’d given to Kaya. The same color as her tea. 

“Son of a bitch!” 

They’d been poisoning her this whole time. The only reason she didn’t drop dead in front of them was because she’d never even taken a bite. Every time Usopp told you stories about Klahadore, Buchi, and Sham it always felt off. None of it ever added up and now, now you know why. 

Those bastards had been trying to kill her this whole time. 

A soft groan huffed from Luffy bringing you back to the very important present. Why hadn’t anyone answered you? It didn’t matter. You needed to help Luffy - Kaya - before it was too late. 

“Luffy, I have to go back to Naan’s. I can’t carry you out of here or we won’t make it. I promise I’ll be back. I’m going to save you. I’m going to save Kaya.” 

With one last look at Luffy, you tightened the strap on your satchel and bolted for the nearest exit. 

——————————

Your lungs were screaming with every breath you took and your muscles burning, threatening to collapse, as you pushed forward. You couldn’t afford to stop running. Not since you left the front door of Kaya’s house. The last time you saw Luffy glued itself to your retinas and refused to let go. A constant reminder that no matter how much your body wanted to give up, you couldn’t let it. 

Luffy and Kaya were counting on you. 

By the time you passed through the town and started up the hill behind the tree line to Naan’s you were running on fumes. It was probably the reason why you not so gracefully barreled through the front door. Your legs wobble to a shaky halt as you attempt to walk them over to the cupboard that held every tonic known to man.  

“Naan! Naan, I need help, please!” 

Your voice cracked and melted into the old boards of the house. You were still struggling to catch a breath as you opened the doors to the cupboard. Everything about you felt unstable. Your hands shook as they moved around the bottles, almost toppling them over and threatening to make a bigger mess of your night. 

“What in the hell is going on down here?”

Naan’s voice crocked with sleep but her words were full of fire. She was pissed you woke her up, but it was all for a damn good reason. The dim light from her candle grew brighter as she advanced down the stairs. 

“Naan, I’m down here. Please, I need your help.”

You rushed to the stars to wait to help her down the rest of the way. The minute she grabbed your hands to help her down, you moved to take her toward the cabinet but she held on tight. She wasn’t budging until you looked at her. She called your name repeatedly to get you to look at her. Why wouldn’t you look at her? 

The overwhelming feeling of failure was crashing in on you. You’d known. You knew, in the pit of your stomach, that something wasn’t right with them. You should have fought harder. You could’ve done more and now, now Luffy was dying of a poison Kaya ingested for years and Nami, Usopp, and even Zoro were in danger. 

A sob tore its way out from your throat, through your lips, and ended in a guttural scream. 

“What in the hell is happening, child?”

“Naan,” you sobbed. “Naan, Luffy has been poisoned-“

“Poisoned?”

“With the same stuff they’ve been giving Kaya for years. Kaya has slowly been poisoned and she’s going to die. We need to help her. I need to help them Naan, please.”

You weren’t sure when it happened. When you were no longer supporting Naan but she was supporting you. Her paper thin hands held your face gently as her thumbs smoothed your tears down. She made you follow her breathing until your breaths were even and slow. Only then did she begin to talk to you. 

“Do you know what kind he ingested?” 

Fuck. 

“No, I-“

Naan held her hand up to stop you. With one hand still supporting her weight on your arm, she came off the last step and moved towards the cabinet you’d massacred. You knew Naan had noticed it too when a displeased click of her tongue filled the silence in the room. 

“If you don’t know what it is, it could be tricky. I can give you what I have, but you are going to need to examine them both before you give them anything. Give them the wrong one, and it will kill them as quickly as the poison will.”

Naan calmly went through each bottle. She knew by heart where everything would be. Just like she could blindly feel through ingredients or measure it without actually measuring it. She turned around with five bottles clutched in her hands and shuffled her way back over to you. She motioned for you to open your satchel and placed them one-by-one carefully inside. 

“I don’t know if you should be doing this.” 

For the first time, you heard the waiver in her voice. She watched as you secure your satchel closed; her eyes trained to the worn leather before she looked back at you. You weren’t expecting her to look so scared. It was your turn to place your hands on her shoulders and give them a soft squeeze. 

“You’ve always taught me there is no greater service in life than to serve others. I can’t let them die, Naan.” 

“I know,” she smiled sadly. The worry made the wrinkles more severe than before. “It’s just…be careful. Please.”

With another squeeze you did your best to smile at her, to reassure her, before you stepped back. 

“I’ll be back, Naan. Don’t you worry.” 

You didn’t know that for sure. There was a chance Klahadore or Buchi would spot you before you made it back to Luffy. Who knew what they were doing to everyone while you were here. 

With that uncertainty of what could happen stewing in your chest, you leaned forward quickly and planted a kiss on Naan’s cheek before you bolted out the door. This time, your body was prepared for the brutal run back to the manor. You were almost to the edge of town when the bell rang out in warning and moments later the sound of Usopp’s, “The pirates are here!” Ringing out. 

At the sound of his voice, you allowed yourself a moment to thank the universe that he was okay. You wanted to stop and turn back to the village. To find Usopp and ask him just to come back with you and the two of you would figure it out together. 

Luffy didn’t have that kind of time. 

With that truth taking over your thought, you began to pick up the pace. You had a captain to save. 

—————————-

The front of the manor was beginning to be covered in the fog that was rolling in from the ocean. This was hands down the creepiest you had ever seen the Manor. It was giving definite horror vibes. The worst part? Even from this far you could see the damn pirate shutters were enabled. 

“Fuck!” You screamed. 

How in the hell were you going to get inside to help them? Those things were heavy and meant to be impenetrable. There was no way you were going to be able to break it down with a few kicks. 

“Think,” you huffed, as your hand slid across your face. 

What options did you have? You could go back to find Usopp, but there was a high chance you’d only end up missing each other in passing. You couldn’t just go up to the front door and knock. Not unless, you know, you wanted to die. 

You were pacing back and forth when a very loud grunt echoed from the well. 

You hadn’t read many horror novels, but the ones you had read, well, this was giving haunted zombie island vibes. You wish you could claim to be unafraid, but when the grunt came again, this time closer and louder than the last, you knew you’d be lying. 

So, why were you ever so slowly edging your way towards the well? Curiosity did always kill the cat. Right when you finally got to the edge of the stone, you exhaled to prepare yourself to look over. 

Who knows, maybe it was just your imagination overreacting. Right when you went to glance over the side, a hand smacked its way over the top and you felt your soul evacuate your body. A few seconds later, green hair popped over the top that sat on top of a familiar face, but your brain was stuck in fear mode, so when Zoro asked, “Doc?” The only response he’d gotten was your fist connecting with his face. 

“What the fuck!”

His scream echoed into the well. You could hear him slipping and knew it was because you’d shoved your knuckles into his cheekbone. Just as he was about to slip, you launched yourself over the side to grab a hold of his arm. 

“What the fuck!” Zoro shouted up at you. 

“I’m sorry, okay! I thought you were a zombie and oh my god is that a fucking body?!”

You almost let Zoro go as your eyes focused on what looked like very real feet attached to very real legs. 

“Yeah. It’s that Merry, guy.”

Zoro grunted as he tried to find purchase for the foot that had slipped. You were struggling to hold him up and each time his foot slipped it seemed to tug you down with him. 

“For fuck’s sake, what are you made of bricks?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my weight inconveniencing you? If it wasn’t for you I would be out already,” Zoro  growled out each word.

“I said I was sorry, okay! What more do you want?”

You move your hand further down until you reach his elbow. At first, it seemed like a solid plan. Strategically, it was a better option to give you more leverage in helping pull him up. The reality of it was Zoro was sweaty - very sweaty - from climbing about twenty-feet up the inside of a well. The minute your hand clamped down on the lubricated skin, it slipped free. 

When he started to come loose from your hands you expected him to scream. All you saw was a grimace as his back slammed into the wall of the well and a glare that could give death a run for his money. 

“Just pull me up already and stop screwing around.” 

“I am trying but you are a hefty, hefty man,” you stated with each word strained. 

Okay. You needed to get serious. You’d allowed his weight to lift your feet off the ground. You swung them back until you could get your toes pressed against the River rock of the well. Your heels were still slightly lifted in the air, but you knew this could work in your favor. You took in a deep breath and began to lean back as hard as you could. It may not have been super comfortable, but it was pulling him up enough that you could hear his boot finally find the footing it needed. 

“Okay, you can let go now. I said you can let go-!”

You fully intended to let go. Whatever Zoro had done to help launch himself out, mixed with your pulling, sent you falling backwards. 

With Zoro landing directly on top of you. 

His weight mixed in with the fall knocked your breath clean out of your lungs. You were trying to get your lungs to expand by letting your body relax so you attempted to think of soothing things. The night sky and her stars were looking incredible tonight. It was the clearest you’d seen them in a while. Too bad it was on a night like tonight. 

Zoro slowly lifted his head up from your shoulder, his arms on either side of you, until you were both face-to-face. Suddenly, it felt like the air was knocked out of you all over again. 

His skin still held a sheen from his previous excretion of climbing. The edges of his hair was damp with sweat giving him a look that reminded you of when you’d run into him earlier wet from his shower. It shouldn’t have made him look this damn good. 

You were painfully aware that he was still between your legs. Zoro was close enough you could feel his stomach extend with each heavy breath he took. Could easily count the freckles that endless days in the sun had kissed on his skin. His lips were parted, eyes scanning your face, and for one devious miscalculation of judgment, you wanted to fist your fingers in his shirt and pull him towards you to see if his lips were as soft as you imagined. 

Nope. Nooooope!

That moment was enough to bring you crashing back to reality. Plus, Luffy. Kaya. 

You smack his chest for good measure. Just to let him know you meant it when you said, “Are you trying to crush me to death? Get off me!” 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he grunted. 

Once he was up, you expected him to stick his hand out to help you up. Instead, he was already walking in the opposite direction of what appeared to be away from the house. 

“Hey! Where are you going?”

You scrambled up from your spot and hurried to try and catch up with him. Your hands rearranging your satchel to make sure your bottles weren’t crushed. 

“I’m going back to the house.”

“Yeah, so am I but the house is back this way.”

Zoro stopped for a split second to look behind you before deciding what you offered was wrong. 

“How about we split up and figure out who was right?”

“Fat chance, Mosshead.”

You fell into step beside him and you were positive if Zoro could’ve, he would’ve thrown you down the well. Just to make sure you stayed away from him. If this was a different time, one where you didn’t just pull him from a well where a dead body was, Luffy wasn’t poisoned, and Kaya and Nami were in danger you would have steered clear of him. So, unlucky for you both, you were newfound partners in unfortunate crime. 

Neither of you spoke a word as you continued to walk down the path. You were pretty sure that Zoro was sending you the wrong way. You were two seconds away from telling him he was most definitely wrong, and you’d been most definitely right, until you both observed something up ahead. 

Was that marines? And were they carrying- “Luffy,” you said in a hush tone. 

Zoro saw it too. Two marines were carrying his limp body between them until he launched himself forward and began vomiting in the trees. It shouldn’t be possible. Poison when ingested - by anyone - was fatal. Even with as much vomiting he was doing it shouldn’t be possible. And yet, you saw it happening. 

It has to be the Devil fruit…

Zoro waved for you to hide inside the bamboo but you brushed him off. As quietly as you could, you reached down and grabbed a fallen bamboo branch. You made sure you had a good grip on the bottom as you made your way quietly forward. 

They were arguing between themselves. One of them with an extremely terrible haircut was holding a gun to the other with glasses and back to Luffy. The two spare marines were just standing watching and-

With as much force as you could muster, you smacked the one on the left on the side of his head. Zoro just used his fist for the other one. At the sound of their bodies falling, bad haircut turned around and when he saw Zoro walking towards him he turned sheet white. 

“Zoro!” Luffy called happily as he got to his feet. “And Doc?” 

You scratched the back of your head as you watched Zoro knock out bad haircut in one punch. 

“Yeah. I came back to rescue you. Surprise,” you joked, throwing your hands up in mock celebration. 

“Thanks. Come on. We need to get back to the house.”

Without another word, Luffy pressed between you and started making his way back towards the house. You side-eyed Zoro to see if he was paying attention, because Luffy had just proven you were right. You opened your mouth to tease him when a soft shout of Luffy’s name sent you all turning to see who it was.

They stood in front of you - pale as moonlight - and a little frightened with black rimmed circle glasses and pink hued hair. You weren’t sure who they were but all you needed to know was that they knew Luffy by name. 

“Koby, I know you got a job to do. But I’m going to go back and help my friends. Don’t try and stop me.” 

Yup. Luffy was officially the most polite pirate you’d ever met. 

Koby gave Luffy the smallest of nods. A silent affirmation that he wouldn’t be following suit. You had so many questions about what happened between everyone tonight and would make sure to ask later. If given the chance. 

Adjusting his hat back on his head, Luffy turned and started sprinting down the path. Zoro gave you one last look before he ran after him with his hands securely holding onto his swords. A soft groan left you as your feet padded along like the little engine that could. 

“Ugh, why are we doing more running? I hate running.” 

No one answered you and that was fine. You were going to need as much air as you could trying to keep up with the two of them. 

——————————-

Zoro and Luffy were at the door when you came up. The two of them looked at the giant metal shudder. You were ready to tell them there wasn’t going to be any other way inside the house when Zoro bent down on one knee and worked his fingers underneath. 

“That’s not going to work.”

Luffy turned to you with a wide smile. 

“You don’t know Zoro.”

As if on queue, Zoro let out a grunt and began to push the shudder up. No way. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to even remotely lift it an inch. Usopp told you hundreds of times that pirate shudders were over six-hundred pounds of metal. They were meant to withstand canon balls and here Zoro was lifting it to his waist. 

Luffy grabbed a statue and placed it underneath the shudder allowing Zoro to let go, and kick the double doors open. Luffy wasted no time in bending down and looking inside to make sure they could enter without interruption. When he was sure it was clear, he moved inside and Zoro shortly followed. Luffy went to shut the doors when you quickly moved inside. 

“Doc, I think you should wait outside.”

“Fuck that,” you seethed. “These are my friends too, Luffy. I’m not leaving until I know they’re safe.”

Why was he smiling? 

“Alright, but we split up. Cover more ground that way.”

Neither of them wasted any time taking off in their respective directions. It wasn’t until they were gone that you realized you didn’t have a clue where to go and what were you supposed to do if you found them.

You let out a huff of air that ended in a raspberry as you decided to go down the opposite side of the corridor than Zoro. You may not have any abilities from eating Devil fruit or be insanely good with swords, but you did have your wits. Yeah. That’s what was going to save you. Wits. 

Maybe you could just go back to the kitchen and see if the pot was still there. If it was, you’d have a chance to  get samples of what Buchi had laced inside the soup. In Kaya’s tea. God, just thinking about it pissed you off all over again. 

If the house felt eerily quiet before, it felt even worse now. All signs of life were completely drained from the halls to the point your own breathing felt too loud in the large space. You were tempted to make noise, to call out for Zoro like playing a game of Marco Polo. Probably wouldn’t have been one of your best ideas in a house full of homicidal waitstaff. 

When you got to the kitchen you made a quick note that the bronze pot in question was missing. Of course they wouldn’t have kept it. It was evidence of a plot they’d spent three years perfecting, but you just needed to search to be sure. 

Quickly, you made your way around to the stairs and into the step down of the kitchen. Someone had done the dishes. It was all gone. You tried not to allow the bitterness of that thought to settle, but damn if it wasn’t hard. How were you going to be able to know what treatment to start giving Kaya if you didn’t have anything to base it off? 

You looked around the kitchen one last time when the sounds of fighting erupted somewhere in the distance. It could be Luffy or Zoro. Hell, it could be one of the other three too. Either way, it didn’t matter who it was. You were going to help them. 

First things first…

You looked quickly around the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the way of weapons that were going to strike fear in the hearts of anyone. You saw a tiny pot that was sitting on the sink counter and rushed forward to grab it by the handle. As soon as you knew you had it, you bolted back up the stairs and towards the main lobby. 

The closer you got the more intense the fighting became. Swords. Those definitely sounded like swords, which meant it was Zoro fighting, but also someone else with swords. And here you were bringing a pot to a sword fight.

You weren’t given a chance to backtrack on your choice of weapon. The minute you came out from the French double doors that lead back into the foray of the house, you watched as Zoro fought off Buchi and Sham. 

You never saw a real swordsman or met one for that matter. It wasn’t like Syrup village was brimming with up and coming anything, really, but as you watched Zoro effortlessly move between blocking and attacking you were willing to bet no one compared to him. 

You were so caught up in gawking that you weren’t aware that Buchi and Sham were made aware of your presence until they hissed at you. Hissing? Really? You could feel a smart ass comment brewing, but now didn’t seem like the appropriate time to say it. Buchi was who turned on you first with Sham still attacking Zoro. She had her back to you, and when she came up from a missed swing you rushed forward and launched the small pot at the back of her head. 

The sound of it connecting with its intended target resonated through the room. Sham’s head was as hollow as you thought. 

Everything slowed down for a second as you all waited to see what would happen. Luckily for you, the result was Sham falling face first into the hardwood completely passed out. 

“Holy shit. It worked! Zoro, did you see that!” 

“You little bitch!” 

How the hell did you forget about Buchi? He came stomping towards you causing the floor to shake as he did. You were getting ready to bolt in the opposite direction when Zoro jumped in the way. You took that as your queue to move. 

You dashed toward where Sham’s body had fallen and kicked away her sword and - wait, was that a broom handle? You no longer felt embarrassed about using a pot. 

Taking hold of the unconscious Sham, you began to move her more towards the front door. Zoro finished with Buchi with ease and knocked him unconscious. It didn’t dawn on you that something was different about him until he dragged Buchi over to where you’d placed Sham. Zoro was wearing a black bandana. And no, you did not notice how the veins in his arms were very much showing. 

“We should get some rope to tie them up.”

“Good idea.” 

By the time everyone made it down, Buchi and Sham had regained consciousness and you and Zoro were sitting far apart. 

There was no denying when you saw them all come down the stairs, a relief so intense flooded your veins and soaked into your bones. When Usopp hugged you, you allowed yourself to hug him back just a little bit tighter. 

A part of you knew that the adventures of yesterday would come to an end back in the shipyard. It would end with Kaya giving Luffy that ship he’d so lovingly given his speech for, and more so knew Luffy would ask Usopp to go with him. 

It was Usopp’s dream - his real dream. Part of that dream was experiencing the freedom that the sea offered, just like his dad did. How could you ever ask someone you considered your friend - your best friend - to stay just because you weren’t ready to part with them? No. Usopp deserved adventures as grand as his stories.

While he’d been talking to Kaya you’d taken the opportunity to slip away. It’s not that you weren’t happy for him, because you were. The idea of not having him around anymore, however, began to dig a hole in your soul. So, you went to the one place that always mended it. 

You were sitting with Naan at the kitchen table folding linens with water boiling on the stove and ingredients beside it. You were still waiting for Kaya to come by so you could perform an assessment. Before you could treat her, you would have to find out how extensive the damage was, and what would be the best form of treatment. 

“So, Usopp’s going to be going, then?” 

You didn’t expect Naan to sound sad. While she wasn’t mean like the rest of the village, she most definitely was not a fan of rising early just to hear the bell and the yelling. 

“Yeah. They should already be out to sea.” 

You were folding your next set of linens when Naan reached out and gently took your hand in hers. The act stops you from finishing the next fold. 

“It’s all going to work out the way that it should, child.”

“I know, Naan.”

A knock on the door rescued you from having to continue whatever talk was brewing in Naan. It saved you from more than likely crying like a baby on her shoulder too. You got up from your chair and made your way over to the door when another knock came seconds before you reached it. 

“Kaya, I’m coming! God, are rich people always so impatient?”

When you swung the door open, you hadn’t expected to find Luffy there smiling or the rest of the crew waiting behind him. Kaya was plainly missing from the group. 

“Who is it, child?” 

You felt too dumbfounded to speak. Why were they here? 

“It’s alright, Naan,” you called over your shoulder, eyes still glued to Luffy. “It’s just Luffy.”

“Luffy?”

“Straw hat.”

The sound of her chair sliding back against the wood was what tore your gaze away. You looked back to find Naan struggling to get to her cane with her left hand holding her weight up by the table. You moved back from the entrance, waving him in as you rushed over to grab her cane and hand it to her. 

“What are you guys doing here? I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“We were about to head out when the strangest thing happened.” You crossed your arms as you listened to Luffy. The cliff hanger his words left you on threatened to drop fresh anxiety into your gut. “I turned to get my crew onboard and realized my doctor was missing.” 

“What?” You breathed. 

“That’s you.”

You closed your eyes for a split second as you tried to collect your thoughts. 

“Luffy, I wouldn’t make a good pirate.”

“You don’t have to be. Just like with Usopp, I saw what you did. The way you fought to protect people. I need you in my crew.” 

You dropped your arms as you turned to regard Naan. The way her body leaned heavily on the cane. Her once strong body was becoming more frail by the day. You couldn’t leave her. 

You swallowed hard before you replied, “Luffy, that is a splendid offer. One I don’t think anyone could pass up but I can’t leave.”

“Why the hell not?” Naan fired off. 

“Naan-“

“And if you say it’s because of me, just remember you aren’t too old for me to throttle you with my cane.” 

She finally pushed her hip from the side of the table and waddled over to the rack that held your satchel. Naan reached up and pulled it down, turning slowly until you came back into view, and tossed the satchel in your direction. 

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? You know, for being smart you sure can be dumb sometimes.” 

Your eyes looked down at the satchel in your hands. You rubbed the worn leather with your thumbs as you remembered her giving you this very bag on your thirteenth birthday. The pricks of tears came unannounced and most definitely unwanted a few moments later. It made you terrified to look up. For her to see that saying goodbye might kill a piece of you, you’d never get back. 

You’d never get her back either. 

“Naan-“ You tried to speak but your voice cracked around her name. “Who is going to take care of you if I’m gone?”

A tsk of disbelief shot from her lips. Both her hands now came to rest on top of the cane as she regarded you coolly. 

“I’ve been an old woman for a long time now. I think I can manage without you.”

“See - it’s settled,” Luffy began. “You are welcome to join our crew and that way you don’t have to give up on your dream.”

He remembered? 

How silly that question was. He was Monkey D. Luffy. Of course, he was going to remember. Glancing down at the satchel in your hands once more you allowed yourself to debate one last time before you grabbed the strap and placed it over your shoulder. 

Before you took that first step towards the door, you turned one last time to Naan and took one of her hands in yours. You tried to tell yourself you wouldn’t cry. You never cried, but the first tear slid down your face and called you a liar.

“Please, take care Naan. You’ve done so much for me, my whole life. If it wasn’t for you I don’t know where I would be.” 

“Dead,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

It was so blunt. So incredibly Naan that you couldn’t stop the sharp bark of laughter that came from you. The soft feather of her hand reached up to cup your face and forced you to look at her. A long silence pulled between you, and you wondered if she was going to say anything at all when a soft smile cracked her thin lips. 

“Go, child. Be great.”

Shaking your head in agreement, the both of you broke free and you followed Luffy out of the house. You spared one last glance at Naan’s home - your home - and found her at the door seeing you off. You raised your hand in one last goodbye and watched as she did it too. 

Maybe Luffy was right. It was time to go on your own adventure and you had no doubt Luffy and his crew were going to give it to you. 

________

As always, comments and reblogs are always welcome

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If I missed anyone, please let me know! TY

[multiheadcanons]

READY TO CHARGE!

aka mercs when they’re ubered

scout: for those 8 seconds, he’s got 80 years. he sees his life flashing in his mind with every shot ringing off; and it almost feels like he’s moving slower than he normally does. the first time he got ubered he wasted it in favor of experiencing being hit with bullets and watching them fly off as he lived an entire life in his mind. the doc was not happy when it was over and they got absolutely obliterated. he’s had to learn to push his mind back so he can make use of the power he’s given.

soldier: it feels like he took a bump of coke. he’s ripping, roaring, ready to massacre. he feels nothing. he’s thinking of nothing except who’s the closest that he can melee and where he can fire off a rocket to cause maximum damage. one of the more fun mercs medic gets to uber because it is almost always a guaranteed push into enemy territory. and the kings always arrive adorned in garlands of viscera. with a well timed uber on soldier, they can win the match. and when they do they yell at each other (in a good way) and shake each other by the shoulders. medic and soldier are good friends on the field.

pyro: pyro really wishes that medic would give them more ample warning before they’re ubered, because they will be skipping along, having a wonderful day, the sun is shining, the birds are singing; and then they’re filled with this heat. burning hot heat as their vision completely whites out. and they have no idea what’s going on, they’re just listening for their team, following the directions. left, right, fall back, push forward, spy on the flank, and when they come back, there’s confetti everywhere! except it’s not confetti. it’s charred body parts. and everyone except medic is standing in momentary shock as they continue to push into enemy territory.

demo: that’s the best crossfade he’s ever had when he’s drunk. also; normally medic is also drunk when he’s ubering demo. sure, they’re stumbling, and sometimes he’s still missing shots, but his favorite thing to do is take doc out sticky jumping with the quick fix. the extra durability helps as they fly across the map, landing directly in enemy spawn. then they lie in wait. when he’s sober, it’s like he cracked a bottle and didn’t stop until that shit was empty. he feels hearty, intelligent, lively, aggressive. he can see the particles of gunpowder through the shells of his bombs. he can hear the potassium chlorite whispering to him to shake the bombs. he can hear god telling him to fight. and when it’s over, and he turns behind him, it’s just his doctor. urging him forward. pushing him to fight.

heavy: he can feel medic’s hands on his face. on his chest. directly on his heart. physically massaging it to beat harder. faster. the doctor’s eyes take up his vision, and he’s floored by the sea of blue. he can hear the man whisper that it’s just them, it’s them against the world, and there’s nobody else the doctor can rely on. he’s got to succeed or they will all fail. medic is not saying any of this. medic is telling the russian to move in and start shooting. his eyes are dilated. he can hardly see anything past the barrel of his gun. he just hears the whir as he subconsciously pulls the trigger, and his doctor whisper “it’s all up to you.” he’s bricked up frfr. he’s mentally exhausted after an uber. it’s hard for him to keep focus in the heat of battle after being in nirvana. he fiends for the ubercharge. nothing compares to it. it’s like inhaling kilos of meth. he wants to feel that way forever.

engineer: that’s the most energy he’s had in years. he’s not normally given the grace of the uber unless everyone else is dead and it’s only him and the doctor and the point against the entire enemy team charging full speed ahead. and he’ll be honest, no, he doesn’t particularly like the doctor. but when they’re both playing god, it’s almost like two bullies in the sandbox. they go around and they break the other teams toys and laugh about it to their decapitated heads. they’ve gotten good at playing around each other. the enemy team feels the burn of a shotgun and as they’re looking down for the texan they miss the german with the ubersaw flying in at mach 10, only lengthening the time the uber goes on as he flashes the texan again. 8 seconds turns into 16 as the rest of their team joins the carnage. but there’s nothing for them to do. the scientists have it covered.

medic: the first time he attempted the uber he did die. he had a solid 8 seconds of euphoria, and as it ended, his eyes fluttered shut and he collapsed. now; after many more trials, it just feels like he took a mile long bump of coke. his hands tremble, but he’s gripping the medigun so hard it’s not noticeable. it has taken a lot of work to have the mental fortitude to actually focus and use the uber in a way that will matter. he relies on his team to take him where he needs to go as much as they rely on him to power them to cause maximum carnage. tunnel visions very hard when he’s about to pop an uber. makes him easy pickings for the enemy spy. the red medic is more prone to panic pop an uber to get him and whoever is around him out of danger.

sniper: sniper, along with spy, are more used to being “flashed” the uber to get them out of dodge with minimal harm moreso than they’re used to being actually ubered for the full duration. the one time sniper got a full uber, used exclusively on him and nobody else, no sloppy seconds, he got lost in the sauce. all he heard was the doctor behind him say “you want to have some fun today?” and all of a sudden his third eye opened and all he could see is white. he saw god. he heard the sound of battle slow, then stop. and god looked down upon sniper, and gave him the biggest thumbs up, and said “use the piss jars, mick.” and use the piss jars he did, laughing the whole time. the enemy team was disgusted, but they couldn’t be disgusted for long when they were dead. and they won. so obviously they did something right. one of few times snipes truly enjoys the doctor, and what his presence means for the team. that uber he’s got is a lovely little treat. that’s addicting, almost. and the doctor can not help but laugh as he escorts the aussie back to his nest. this sniper of theirs is a freaky little animal. he should do this more often.

spy: spy is a fiend for the ubercharge. spy does not get ubered in standard battle in a way that he can use it. but when medic is feeling a little silly goofy, or is drunk… fuck it! uber the spy! nobody even recognizes him as he’s cloaked in red, nobody realizes who it is until he’s got a six killstreak on the board; and by the time they think to call out that the spy got ubered, both the doctor and the spy have split from view. and the enemy team has to decide whether they want to risk going after the doctor, who at this point has probably regrouped with the team, or try to find the spy, who will always get the jump on them. and now they have to decide while they’re down half the team which way the rest of them want to go. ubering spy is a long shot, but when it works they can absolutely decimate the team.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone. 

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg. 

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad. 

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed. 

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself. 

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way. 

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

 As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town. 

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived. 

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months. 

The smell of the outdoors. 

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.” 

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.